Cousin Henry E-Book

Anthony Trollope

• Herausgeber: Anthony Trollope
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

Anthony Trollope (/ˈtrɒləp/; 24 April 1815 – 6 December 1882) was one of the most successful, prolific and respected English novelists of the Victorian era. Some of his best-loved works, collectively known as the Chronicles of Barsetshire, revolve around the imaginary county of Barsetshire. He also wrote perceptive novels on political, social, and gender issues, and on other topical matters. Trollope's literary reputation dipped somewhat during the last years of his life,[2] but he regained the esteem of critics by the mid-twentieth century (font: Wikipedia)

Leseprobe

Cousin Henry

Anthony Trollope

Table of Contents

Uncle Indefer

Isabel Brodrick

Cousin Henry

The Squire’s Death

Preparing for the Funeral

Mr Apjohn’s Explanation

Looking for the Will

The Reading of the Will

Alone at Llanfeare

Cousin Henry Dreams a Dream

Isabel at Hereford

Mr Owen

The Carmarthen Herald

An Action for Libel

Cousin Henry Makes Another Attempt

Again at Hereford

Mr Cheekey

Cousin Henry Goes to Carmarthen

Mr Apjohn Sends for Assistance

Doubts

Mr Apjohn’s Success

How Cousin Henry Was Let Off Easily

Isabel’s Petition

Conclusion

Chapter 1 Uncle Indefer

“I have a conscience, my dear, on this matter,” said an old gentleman to a young lady, as the two were sitting in the breakfast parlour of a country house which looked down from the cliffs over the sea on the coast of Carmarthenshire.

“And so have I, Uncle Indefer; and as my conscience is backed by my inclination, whereas yours is not—”

“You think that I shall give way?”

“I did not mean that.”

“What then?”

“If I could only make you understand how very strong is my inclination, or disinclination—how impossible to be conquered, then—”

“What next?”

“Then you would know that I could never give way, as you call it, and you would go to work with your own conscience to see whether it be imperative with you or not. You may be sure of this,—I shall never say a word to you in opposition to your conscience. If there be a word to be spoken it must come from yourself.”

There was a long pause in the conversation, a silence for an hour, during which the girl went in and out of the room and settled herself down at her work. Then the old man went back abruptly to the subject they had discussed. “I shall obey my conscience.”

“You ought to do so, Uncle Indefer. What should a man obey but his conscience?”

“Though it will break my heart.”

“No; no, no!”

“And will ruin you.”

“That is a flea’s bite. I can brave my ruin easily, but not your broken heart.”

“Why should there be either, Isabel?”

“Nay, sir; have you not said but now, because of our consciences? Not to save your heart from breaking,—though I think your heart is dearer to me than anything else in the world,—could I marry my cousin Henry. We must die together, both of us, you and I, or live broken-hearted, or what not, sooner than that. Would I not do anything possible at your bidding?”

“I used to think so.”

“But it is impossible for a young woman with a respect for herself such as I have to submit herself to a man that she loathes. Do as your conscience bids you with the old house. Shall I be less tender to you while you live because I shall have to leave the place when you are dead? Shall I accuse you of injustice or unkindness in my heart? Never! All that is only an outside circumstance to me, comparatively of little moment. But to be the wife of a man I despise!” Then she got up and left the room.

A month passed by before the old man returned to the subject, which he did seated in the same room, at the same hour of the day,—at about four o’clock, when the dinner things had been removed.