He had not given himself up with any special
zeal to the education of his children, nor to the preservation of his
property. The result of his indifference has been told in a previous
chapter. His house was deserted, and his children were scattered
about the world. His eldest son, having means of his own, was living
an idle, desultory life, hardly with prospects of better success than
had attended his father.
Mr. Maule was now something about fifty-five years of age, and
almost considered himself young. He lived in chambers on a flat in
Westminster, and belonged to two excellent clubs. He had not been
near his property for the last ten years, and as he was addicted to
no country sport there were ten weeks in the year which were terrible
to him. From the middle of August to the end of October for him there
was no whist, no society,--it may almost be said no dinner. He had
tried going to the seaside; he had tried going to Paris; he had
endeavoured to enjoy Switzerland and the Italian lakes;--but all
had failed, and he had acknowledged to himself that this sad period
of the year must always be endured without relaxation, and without
comfort.
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