There had been some
fine old oaks on the land when he inherited it, all mercilessly
stubbed-up at the beginning of his reign; there had been tall straggling
hedgerows, all of a tangle with blackberry bushes, ferns, and dog-roses,
hazel and sloe trees, all done away with by his order. No, he could never
bring himself to sell Wyncomb. Nor was the purchase of an annuity a
transaction which he was inclined to accomplish. It was a pleasing notion
certainly, that idea of concentrating all his hoarded money upon the
remaining years of his life--retiring from the toils of agriculture, and
giving himself up for the rest of his days to an existence of luxurious
idleness. But, on the other hand, it would be a bitter thing to surrender
his fondly-loved money for the poor return of an income, to deprive
himself of all opportunity of speculating and increasing his store.
So the annuity scheme lay dormant in his brain, as it were, for the time
being. It was something to have in reserve, and to carry out any day that
his wife gave him fair cause to doubt her fidelity.
In the mean time he went on living his lonely sulky kind of life,
drinking a great deal more than was good for him in his own churlish
manner, and laughing to scorn any attempt at remonstrance from his wife
or Mrs. Tadman. Some few times Ellen had endeavoured to awaken him to the
evil consequences that must needs ensue from his intemperate habits,
feeling that it would be a sin on her part to suffer him to go on without
some effort to check him; but her gently-spoken warnings had been worse
than useless.
Pages:
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633