CHAPTER XIV.
The parson joined Mr. Richard Avenel on the road. It was a fine night,
and the moon clear and shining.
"So, then," said Mr. Richard, thoughtfully, "poor Jane, who was always
the drudge of the family, has contrived to bring up her son well; and the
boy is really what you say, eh,--could make a figure at college?"
"I am sure of it," said the parson, hooking himself on to the arm which
Mr. Avenel proffered.
"I should like to see him," said Richard. "Has he any manner? Is he
genteel, or a mere country lout?"
"Indeed, he speaks with so much propriety, and has so much modest dignity
about him, that there's many a rich gentleman who would be proud of such
a son."
"It is odd," observed Richard, "what a difference there is in families.
There's Jane, now, who can't read nor write, and was just fit to be a
workman's wife, had not a thought above her station; and when I think of
my poor sister Nora--you would not believe it, sir, but she was the most
elegant creature in the world,--yes, even as a child (she was but a child
when I went off to America). And often, as I was getting on in life,
often I used to say to myself, 'My little Nora shall be a lady after
all.' Poor thing--but she died young." Richard's voice grew husky.
The parson kindly pressed the arm on which he leaned, and said, after a
pause,--
"Nothing refines us like education, sir. I believe your sister Nora had
received much instruction, and had the talents to profit by it: it is the
same with your nephew."
"I'll see him," said Richard, stamping his foot firmly on the ground,
"and if I like him, I'll be as good as a father to him. Look you, Mr.--
what's your name, sir?"
"Dale."
"Mr. Dale, look you, I'm a single man. Perhaps I may marry some day;
perhaps I sha' n't. I'm not going to throw myself away. If I can get a
lady of quality, why--but that's neither here nor there; meanwhile I
should be glad of a nephew whom I need not be ashamed of. You see, sir,
I am a new man, the builder of my own fortunes; and though I have picked
up a little education--I don't well know how,--as I scramble on still,
now I come back to the old country, I'm well aware that I 'm not exactly
a match for those d---d aristocrats; don't show so well in a drawing-room
as I could wish. I could be a parliament man if I liked, but I might
make a goose of myself; so, all things considered, if I can get a sort of
junior partner to do the polite work, and show off the goods, I think the
house of Avenel & Co. might become a pretty considerable honour to the
Britishers. You understand me, sir?"
"Oh, very well," answered Mr. Dale, smiling, though rather gravely.
"Now," continued the New Man, I'm not ashamed to have risen in life by my
own merits; and I don't disguise what I've been. And, when I'm in my own
grand house, I'm fond of saying, 'I landed at New York with L10 in my
purse, and here I am!' But it would not do to have the old folks with
me. People take you with all your faults if you're rich; but they won't
swallow your family into the bargain. So if I don't have at my house my
own father and mother, whom I love dearly, and should like to see sitting
at table, with my servants behind their chairs, I could still less have
sister Jane. I recollect her very well, but she can't have got genteeler
as she's grown older. Therefore I beg you'll not set her on coming after
me! it would not do by any manner of means. Don't say a word about me to
her. But send the boy down here to his grandfather, and I'll see him
quietly, you understand."
"Yes, but it will be hard to separate her from the boy."
"Stuff! all boys are separated from their parents when they go into the
world. So that's settled. Now, just tell me. I know the old folks
always snubbed Jane,--that is, Mother did. My poor dear father never
snubbed any of us. Perhaps Mother has not behaved altogether well to
Jane. But we must not blame her for that; you see this is how it
happened. There were a good many of us, while Father and Mother kept
shop in the High Street, so we were all to be provided for anyhow; and
Jane, being very useful and handy at work, got a place when she was a
little girl, and had no time for learning. Afterwards my father made a
lucky hit, in getting my Lord Lansmere's custom after an election, in
which he did a great deal for the Blues (for he was a famous
electioneerer, my poor father). My Lady stood godmother to Nora; and
then all my brothers, and two of my sisters, died off, and Father retired
from business; and when he took Jane from service, she was so common-like
that Mother could not help contrasting her with Nora. You see Jane was
their child when they were poor little shop-people, with their heads
scarce above water; and Nora was their child when they were well off, and
had retired from trade, and lived genteel: so that makes a great
difference. And Mother did not quite look on her as on her own child.
But it was Jane's own fault: for Mother would have made it up with her if
she had married the son of our neighbour the great linen-draper, as she
might have done; but she would take Mark Fairfield, a common carpenter.
Parents like best those of their children who succeed best in life.
Natural. Why, they did not care for me till I came back the man I am.
But to return to Jane: I'm afraid they've neglected her. How is she
off?"
"She earns her livelihood, and is poor, but contented."
"Ah, just be good enough to give her this" (and Richard took a bank-note
of L50 from his pocket-book).
"You can say the old folks sent it to her; or that it is a present
from Dick, without telling her he has come back from America."
"My dear sir," said the parson, "I am more and more thankful to have made
your acquaintance. This is a very liberal gift of yours; but your best
plan will be to send it through your mother. For, though I don't want to
betray any confidence you place in me, I should not know what to answer
if Mrs. Fairfield began to question me about her brother. I never had
but one secret to keep, and I hope I shall never have another. A secret
is very like a lie!"
"You had a secret then?" said Richard, as he took back the bank-note. He
had learned, perhaps in America, to be a very inquisitive man. He added
point-blank, "Pray, what was it?"
"Why, what it would not be if I told you," said the parson, with a forced
laugh,--"a secret!"
"Well, I guess we're in a land of liberty. Do as you like. Now, I dare
say you think me a very odd fellow to come out of my shell to you in this
off-hand way; but I liked the look of you, even when we were at the inn
together. And just now I was uncommonly pleased to find that, though you
are a parson, you don't want to keep a man's nose down to a shopboard, if
he has anything in him. You're not one of the aristocrats--"
"Indeed," said the parson, with imprudent warmth, "it is not the
character of the aristocracy of this country to keep people down. They
make way amongst themselves for any man, whatever his birth, who has the
talent and energy to aspire to their level. That's the especial boast of
the British constitution, sir!"
"Oh, you think so, do you?" said Mr. Richard, looking sourly at the
parson. "I dare say those are the opinions in which you have brought up
the lad. Just keep him yourself and let the aristocracy provide for
him!"
The parson's generous and patriotic warmth evaporated at once, at this
sudden inlet of cold air into the conversation. He perceived that he had
made a terrible blunder; and as it was not his business at that moment to
vindicate the British constitution, but to serve Leonard Fairfield, he
abandoned the cause of the aristocracy with the most poltroon and
scandalous abruptness. Catching at the arm which Mr. Avenel had
withdrawn from him, he exclaimed,--
"Indeed, sir, you are mistaken; I have never attempted to influence your
nephew's political opinions. On the contrary, if, at his age, he can be
said to have formed any opinions, I am greatly afraid--that is, I think
his opinions are by no means sound--that is, constitutional. I mean, I
mean--" And the poor parson, anxious to select a word that would not
offend his listener, stopped short in lamentable confusion of idea.
Mr. Avenel enjoyed his distress for a moment, with a saturnine smile, and
then said,--
"Well, I calculate he's a Radical. Natural enough, if he has not got a
sixpence to lose--all come right by and by. I'm not a Radical,--at least
not a Destructive--much too clever a man for that, I hope. But I wish to
see things very different from what they are. Don't fancy that I want
the common people, who've got nothing, to pretend to dictate to their
betters, because I hate to see a parcel of fellows who are called lords
and squires trying to rule the roast. I think, sir, that it is men like
me who ought to be at the top of the tree! and that's the long and the
short of it. What do you say?"
"I've not the least objection," said the crestfallen parson, basely.
But, to do him justice, I must add that he did not the least know what he
was saying!
