The Way of All Flesh eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 579 pages of information about The Way of All Flesh.

Being so much older than he was, I anticipated no trouble in getting my own way, but he would not hear of it.  The utmost he would assent to was that he should be my guest till he could find a room for himself, which he would set about doing at once.

He was still much agitated, but grew better as he ate a breakfast, not of prison fare and in a comfortable room.  It pleased me to see the delight he took in all about him; the fireplace with a fire in it; the easy chairs, the Times, my cat, the red geraniums in the window, to say nothing of coffee, bread and butter, sausages, marmalade, etc.  Everything was pregnant with the most exquisite pleasure to him.  The plane trees were full of leaf still; he kept rising from the breakfast table to admire them; never till now, he said, had he known what the enjoyment of these things really was.  He ate, looked, laughed and cried by turns, with an emotion which I can neither forget nor describe.

He told me how his father and mother had lain in wait for him, as he was about to leave prison.  I was furious, and applauded him heartily for what he had done.  He was very grateful to me for this.  Other people, he said, would tell him he ought to think of his father and mother rather than of himself, and it was such a comfort to find someone who saw things as he saw them himself.  Even if I had differed from him I should not have said so, but I was of his opinion, and was almost as much obliged to him for seeing things as I saw them, as he to me for doing the same kind office by himself.  Cordially as I disliked Theobald and Christina, I was in such a hopeless minority in the opinion I had formed concerning them that it was pleasant to find someone who agreed with me.

Then there came an awful moment for both of us.

A knock, as of a visitor and not a postman, was heard at my door.

“Goodness gracious,” I exclaimed, “why didn’t we sport the oak?  Perhaps it is your father.  But surely he would hardly come at this time of day!  Go at once into my bedroom.”

I went to the door, and, sure enough, there were both Theobald and Christina.  I could not refuse to let them in and was obliged to listen to their version of the story, which agreed substantially with Ernest’s.  Christina cried bitterly—­Theobald stormed.  After about ten minutes, during which I assured them that I had not the faintest conception where their son was, I dismissed them both.  I saw they looked suspiciously upon the manifest signs that someone was breakfasting with me, and parted from me more or less defiantly, but I got rid of them, and poor Ernest came out again, looking white, frightened and upset.  He had heard voices, but no more, and did not feel sure that the enemy might not be gaining over me.  We sported the oak now, and before long he began to recover.

After breakfast, we discussed the situation.  I had taken away his wardrobe and books from Mrs Jupp’s, but had left his furniture, pictures and piano, giving Mrs Jupp the use of these, so that she might let her room furnished, in lieu of charge for taking care of the furniture.  As soon as Ernest heard that his wardrobe was at hand, he got out a suit of clothes he had had before he had been ordained, and put it on at once, much, as I thought, to the improvement of his personal appearance.

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The Way of All Flesh from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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