Torwood's Trust: A Novel (Complete)

9781465677723

213 pages

Library of Alexandria

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Overview

Philip Debenham, at the advanced age of eighteen years, was, to use his own words, ‘a desperate man.’ The cause of his desperation was a piece of information he had just received in a letter, which lay open before him, and which was signed ‘Your affectionate uncle, Alfred Belassis.’ The piece of intelligence was this, that his affectionate uncle had secured for his young nephew a clerkship in a City merchant’s counting-house, and that he was to repair thither on the following day to commence his uncongenial labours. In consequence of this arrangement, the affectionate uncle went on to explain, it would be impossible for the lad to pay the visit to the West-country home to which he had so long looked forward. ‘Indeed, we have all been anticipating with pleasure this visit,’ said the letter; ‘for eight years of continental school-life must have taught you much, and would doubtless render you a delightful companion for your cousins, to say nothing of dear Maud, who is spending her holidays here, and is greatly disappointed, as we all are, at this unforeseen turn affairs have taken. But business, my dear boy, must come before pleasure; and your sound common-sense will tell you that this opportunity is not one to be lost.’ ‘The old hypocrite! The old scoundrel!’ muttered Phil savagely. ‘As though he didn’t know he had always promised not to set me down to a desk at all; but to let me have an art education, or at least to teach me farming, and let me lead an outdoor life. I can’t stand a counting-house. I’d sooner run away to sea at once, only I’m rather too old to play that game. That Belassis is the biggest scoundrel that ever walked the earth! Does he think I don’t know how he ruined my father, and drove him into his grave? And now he wants to drive me to desperation and despair too!’ Phil pushed back his chair, and paced the narrow, dingy room angrily, looking and feeling not at all unlike a caged wild beast. Then he took up and opened another letter, which lay upon the darned white table-cloth. His breakfast was growing cold; but Phil was too much excited to think of food.