He was always offended and always offending. Such a
man could never succeed as a politician, a character who, of all others,
must learn to endure, to forget, and to forgive. He was soon universally
shunned; but his first friend was faithful, though bitterly tried, and
Dacre retired from public life on a pension.
His wife had died, and during the latter years of his life almost his
only companion was his son. He concentrated on this being all that
ardent affection which, had he diffused among his fellow-creatures,
might have ensured his happiness and his prosperity. Yet even sometimes
he would look in his child's face with an anxious air, as if he read
incubating treason, and then press him to his bosom with unusual
fervour, as if he would stifle the idea, which alone was madness.
This child was educated in an hereditary hate of the Dacre family. His
uncle was daily painted as a tyrant, whom he classed in his young mind
with Phalaris or Dionysius. There was nothing that he felt keener than
his father's wrongs, and nothing which he believed more certain than his
uncle's wickedness. He arrived at his thirteenth year when his father
died, and he was to be consigned to the care of that uncle.
Pages:
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243