Passages from the diary of a late physician / by Samuel Warren, author of 'Ten thousand a-year'.

  • Samuel Warren
Date:
[1890]
Catalogue details

Licence: Public Domain Mark

Credit: Passages from the diary of a late physician / by Samuel Warren, author of 'Ten thousand a-year'. Source: Wellcome Collection.

Provider: This material has been provided by Royal College of Physicians, London. The original may be consulted at Royal College of Physicians, London.

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    the enthusiasm of the moment, he at- teinptod to communicate to his com- panion. By tlie ileatli of his aged uncle he had become Lord Sccliington ; the proprietor of Secliington Castle, in shire : one or two other houses in different imrts of the country ; and a splendid mansion in Street ; with a rent-roll of upwards of £25,000 a-year, and not less tlum £200,000 in the Funds. At the first impulse of his generous feelings he determined to settle on Mrs. St. Helen the .sura of £000a-year, which he permitted licr to spend wherever she eliose—oll'eriug to give her a thousand pounds in addition if she would not return to England. She began now to be unreasonable ; and af- fected to receive his liberal proposal with con.sternatiou. And was it then possible that, after all he had said and done, she was not to become Lady Seckington ! Even if Col. St. Helen should take successful proceedings for a divorce? Horror— horror unutterable ! » • « • » The next communications that reach- ed Lord Seckington consisted of en- treaties from his solicitor, and his la- mented uncle, the late Lord Secking- ton, that he would lose no time in com- ing to London, as tliere were many matters requiring his attention. He was glad to see tlieir letters accompani- ed with one that bore the handwriting of his friend, Cnpfain Leicester. He o)iened it, ami read thus— 'i)ear Seokington — ' Pshnw, how odd it looks. Of oourse T congratulate you. Don't cut your old friends, tbitt's all. But I write to say— wait abroad a little, only till the excite- ment of the tiling lias gone down. That unhappy devil St. H is in town ; but I hear bo's going back to India in doublo-qniek tiire. Would it mU hp. as well to wait till ///;'.s' oif, and ihc coast is clear t Eternally yours, 'F. LKXCKSTi;n. ' The KiglitHon. Lord Seokington.' On perusing this letter, it occurred to Ijord Seckington that he had various matters of importance to settle in dif- ferent parts of the Continent; and so he wrote to his solicitors—to their as- tonishment and vexation. He was jireparing to set off lor Brussels two or three days afterwards, when another letter reached him from the same friend- ly pen. ( Private.) ' London, 8th August 18—. 'Dear Seckington, ' What the deuce is in the wind? per- haps you ca n better guess than I can ti ll; but I lose no time in ivriting, to say that Col. St. Helen, who had ap- pointi'd to sail tolndi'i, .ind taken leavo of evoiybody in a yloomy way, to seek an honourable erave. 4c. &o., has changed his mind, couutf^rmanded all Ills arrangements, and stops in lyondon. Every one is amazed at this queer move. 1 have reason to know that he had actually engaged his passage by a ship th.it started two or three daj-s n„-o, and has forfeited all tlie passage-money. This looks unpleasant—are we to look out for a squall f Do you think he has seen that, iinportineiit par.agraph about yiui in the pui'.i!rs, and is waiting for !/ou ? If so, I (ear you are in aa awk- ward predinanient, and I scarce know how to advise you. It will hardly do to keep out of the way a little longer, will it y A.-k , and , and above all. Count . Ever yours, more and more, ' ]•'. I,.' As Lord Seckington read this letter his face became white. Several letters lay before him unattended to. With Cap- tain Leicester's in his hand, he remain- ed motionless for half an hour; at the expiration of which peiiod he was on the point of going into his bedroom and putting the muzzle of a pistol into liis ear. Probably what he endured in that interval cnunterhalancetl all the ]>Ieasure of his life. Lord Seckington was a hopeless reprobate, but he was no coward ; he was as brave a man as ever wore epaulets. But consider his situation. Here he was, scarce two-and-thirty years old, suddenly become a peer of tlie realm, having succeeded to a very ancient 1 itle ; and with all appliances and means to boot—in short, occupy- ing as brilliant a position as man could be placed in : yet amidst all the daz- zling iirospcct that was opened before liim, his eye settled on one fell figure only—that of Colonel St. Helen, standing at ten or twelve paces dis- tance from him, his outstretclied arm pointing a pistol at his head, with deadly imrpose and aim unerring. It was frightful. What wouM he have cared for it in the heyday of his career as Captain Al- verley ; or as he was only a few sliort days before—des]iprately in debt,driven from the army, disgusted with tlie pre- sence anil stunned with the shrieks of a woman he liad long loathed ; but now —Pei iiition ! The cold swe.'it stood on his brow, and he felt sick to death. Tf'/iKj in'is to bi' done, t He could not keep (Hit of the way—the spirit of a man could not endure the idea of such co- wardice: no, his coronet slioulil never be ileHled by the head of a coward. So there was no alternative. To London he must go, and that without delay, with tlie all but certainty that, within a few hour of his arriv.nl, Col. St. Helen would have avenaed all the wrongs he had suffered by sending a bullet through