CHAPTER III.
I entered Trevanion's study. It was an hour in which he was rarely at
home, but I had not thought of that; and I saw without surprise that,
contrary to his custom, he was in his arm-chair, reading one of his
favorite classic authors, instead of being in some committee-room of the
House of Commons.
"A pretty fellow you are," said he, looking up, "to leave me all the
morning, without rhyme or reason! And my committee is postponed,--
chairman ill. People who get ill should not go into the House of
Commons. So here I am looking into Propertius: Parr is right; not so
elegant a writer as Tibullus. But what the deuce are you about?--why
don't you sit down? Humph! you look grave; you have something to say,--
say it!"
And, putting down Propertius, the acute, sharp face of Trevanion
instantly became earnest and attentive.
"My dear Mr. Trevanion," said I, with as much steadiness as I could
assume, "you have been most kind to me; and out of my own family there
is no man I love and respect more."
Trevanion.--"Humph! What's all this? [In an undertone]--Am I going to
be taken in?"
Pisistratus.--"Do not think me ungrateful, then, when I say I come to
resign my office,--to leave the house where I have been so happy"
Trevanion.--"Leave the house! Pooh! I have over-tasked you. I will be
more merciful in future. You must forgive a political economist; it is
the fault of my sect to look upon men as machines."
Pisistratus (smiling faintly).--"No, indeed; that is not it! I have
nothing to complain of, nothing I could wish altered; could I stay."
Trevanion (examining me thoughtfully).--"And does your father approve of
your leaving me thus?"
Pisistratus.--"Yes, fully."
Trevanion (musing a moment).--"I see, he would send you to the
University, make you a book-worm like himself. Pooh! that will not do;
you will never become wholly a man of books,--it is not in you. Young
man, though I may seem careless, I read characters, when I please it,
pretty quickly. You do wrong to leave me; you are made for the great
world,--I can open to you a high career. I wish to do so! Lady Ellinor
wishes it,--nay, insists on it,--for your father's sake as well as
yours. I never ask a favor from ministers, and I never will. But"
(here Trevanion rose suddenly, and with an erect mien and a quick
gesture of his arm he added)--"but a minister can dispose as he pleases
of his patronage. Look you, it is a secret yet, and I trust to your
honor. But before the year is out, I must be in the Cabinet. Stay with
me; I guarantee your fortunes,--three months ago I would not have said
that. By and by I will open Parliament for you,--you are not of age
yet; work till then. And now sit down and write my letters,--a sad
arrear!"
"My dear, dear Mr. Trevanion!" said I, so affected that I could scarcely
speak, and seizing his hand, which I pressed between both mine, "I dare
not thank you,--I cannot! But you don't know my heart: it is not
ambition. No! if I could but stay here on the same terms forever--
here," looking ruefully on that spot where Fanny had stood the night
before. "But it is impossible! If you knew all, you would be the first
to bid me go!"
"You are in debt," said the man of the world, coldly. "Bad, very bad--
still--"
"No, sir; no! worse."
"Hardly possible to be worse, young man--hardly! But, just as you--
will; you leave me, and will not say why. Goodby. Why do you linger?
Shake hands, and go!"
"I cannot leave you thus; I--I--sir, the truth shall out. I am rash and
mad enough not to see Miss Trevanion without forgetting that I am poor,
and--"
"Ha!" interrupted Trevanion, softly, and growing pale, "this is a
misfortune, indeed! And I, who talked of reading characters! Truly,
truly, we would-be practical men are fools--fools! And you have made
love to my daughter!"
"Sir? Mr. Trevanion!--no--never, never so base! In your house, trusted
by you,--how could you think it? I dared, it, may be, to love,--at all
events, to feel that I could not be insensible to a temptation too
strong for me. But to say it to your heiress,--to ask love in return: I
would as soon have broken open your desk! Frankly I tell you my folly:
it is a folly, not a disgrace."
Trevanion came up to me abruptly as I leaned against the bookcase, and,
grasping my hand with a cordial kindness, said, "Pardon me! You have
behaved as your father's son should I envy him such a son! Now, listen
to me: I cannot give you my daughter--"
"Believe me, sir; I never--"
"Tut, listen! I cannot give you my daughter. I say nothing of
inequality,--all gentlemen are equal; and if not, any impertinent
affectation of superiority, in such a case, would come ill from one who
owes his own fortune to his wife! But, as it is, I have a stake in the
world, won not by fortune only, but the labor of a life, the suppression
of half my nature,--the drudging, squaring, taming down all that made
the glory and joy of my youth,--to be that hard, matter-of-fact thing
which the English world expect in a statesman! This station has
gradually opened into its natural result,--power! I tell you I shall
soon have high office in the administration; I hope to render great
services to England,--for we English politicians, whatever the mob and
the Press say of us, are not selfish place-hunters. I refused office,
as high as I look for now, ten years ago. We believe in our opinions,
and we hail the power that may carry them into effect. In this cabinet
I shall have enemies. Oh, don't think we leave jealousy behind us, at
the doors of Downing Street! I shall be one of a minority. I know well
what must happen: like all men in power, I must strengthen myself by
other heads and hands than my own. My daughter shall bring to me the
alliance of that house in England which is most necessary to me. My
life falls to the ground, like a child's pyramid of cards, if I waste--I
do not say on you, but on men of ten times your fortune (whatever that
be)--the means of strength which are at my disposal in the hand of Fanny
Trevanion. To this end I have looked, but to this end her mother has
schemed; for these household matters are within a man's hopes, but
belong to a woman's policy. So much for us. But to you, my dear and
frank and high-souled young friend; to you, if I were not Fanny's
father, if I were your nearest relation, and Fanny could be had for the
asking, with all her princely dower (for it is princely),--to you I
should say, fly from a load upon the heart, on the genius, the energy,
the pride, and the spirit, which not one man in ten thousand can bear;
fly from the curse of owing everything to a wife! It is a reversal of
all natural position, it is a blow to all the manhood within us. You
know not what it is; I do! My wife's fortune came not till after
marriage,--so far, so well; it saved my reputation from the charge of
fortune-hunting. But, I tell you fairly, that if it had never come at
all, I should be a prouder and a greater and a happier man than I have
ever been, or ever can be, with all its advantages: it has been a
millstone round my neck. And yet Ellinor has never breathed a word that
could wound my pride. Would her daughter be as forbearing? Much as I
love Fanny, I doubt if she has the great heart of her mother. You look
incredulous,--naturally. Oh, you think I shall sacrifice my child's
happiness to a politician's ambition. Folly of youth! Fanny would be
wretched with you. She might not think so now; she would five years
hence! Fanny will make an admirable duchess, countess, great lady; but
wife to a man who owes all to her! No, no; don't dream it! I shall not
sacrifice her happiness, depend on it. I speak plainly, as man to man,
--man of the world to a man just entering it,--but still man to man!
What say you?"
"I will think over all you tell me. I know that you are speaking to me
most generously,--as a father would. Now let me go, and may God keep
you and yours!"
"Go,--I return your blessing; go! I don't insult you now with offers of
service; but remember, you have a right to command them,--in all ways,
in all times. Stop! take this comfort away with you,--a sorry comfort
now, a great one hereafter. In a position that might have moved anger,
scorn, pity, you have made a barren-hearted man honor and admire you.
You, a boy, have made me, with my gray hairs, think better of the whole
world; tell your father that."
I closed the door and stole out softly, softly. But when I got into the
hall, Fanny suddenly opened the door of the breakfast parlor, and
seemed, by her look, her gesture, to invite me in. Her face was very
pale, and there were traces of tears on the heavy lids.
I stood still a moment, and my heart beat violently. I then muttered
something inarticulately, and, bowing low, hastened to the door.
I thought, but my ears might deceive me, that I heard my name
pronounced; but fortunately the tall porter started from his newspaper
and his leathern chair, and the entrance stood open. I joined my
father.
"It's all over," said I, with a resolute smile. "And now, my dear
father, I feel how grateful I should be for all that your lessons--your
life--have taught me; for, believe me, I am not unhappy."
