Even though he might live out a few
more weary years, even though the cause to which he was attached should
be victorious, yet he knew that Durbelliere would be destroyed, and it
never could be anything to him how the sun set or rose in any other
place. His warm heart yearned towards his house; the very chair on which
he sat, the stool on which rested his crippled legs, were objects of an
affection which he had before felt, but never till now acknowledged.
Every object on which his eye rested gave him a new pang; every article
within his reach was a dear friend, whom he had long loved, and was now
to leave for ever.
Still he did not utter one word of complaint; he did not once murmur at
his fate; he never reminded his son that he had, by his impetuosity,
hurried on his old father to destruction. He never repined at the
sacrifice he had made--I will not say for his King, for King at present
he had none; the throne had been laid low, and the precious blood of him
who should have filled it had been shed.
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