CHAPTER XVI.. SOME MISUNDERSTANDINGS.
Lord Culduff and Colonel Bramleigh spoke little to each other as they journeyed back to Ireland. Each fell back upon the theme personally interesting to him, and cared not to impart it to his neighbor. They were not like men who had so long travelled the same road in life that by a dropping word a whole train of associations can be conjured up, and familiar scenes and people be passed in review before the mind.
A few curt sentences uttered by Bramleigh told how matters stood in the City—money was “tight” being the text of all he said; but of that financial sensitiveness that shrinks timidly from all enterprise after a period of crash and bankruptcy, Culduff could make nothing. In his own craft nobody dreaded the fire because his neighbor's child was burned, and he could not see why capitalists should not learn something from diplomacy.
Nor was Colonel Bramleigh, on his side, much better able to follow the subjects which had interest for his companion. The rise and fall of kingdoms, the varying fortunes of states, impressed themselves upon the City man by the condition of financial credit they implied, and a mere glance at the price of a foreign loan conveyed to his appreciation a more correct notion of a people than all the blue-books and all the correspondence with plenipotentiaries.
These were not Culduffs views. His code—it is the code of all his calling—was: No country of any pretensions, no more than any gentleman of blood and family, ever became bankrupt. Pressed, hard-pushed, he would say, Yes! we all of us have had our difficulties, and to surmount them occasionally we are driven to make unprofitable bargains, but we “rub through,” and so will Greece and Spain and those other countries where they are borrowing at twelve or twenty per cent, and raise a loan each year to discharge the dividends.
Not only, then, were these two little gifted with qualities to render them companionable to each other, but from the totally different way every event and every circumstance presented itself to their minds, each grew to conceive for the other a sort of depreciatory estimate as of one who only could see a very small part of any subject, and even that colored and tinted by the hues of his own daily calling.
“So, then,” said Culduff, after listening to a somewhat lengthy explanation from Bramleigh of why and how it was that there was nothing to be done financially at the moment,—“so, then, I am to gather the plan of a company to work the mines is out of the question?”
“I would rather call it deferred than abandoned,” was the cautious reply.
“In my career what we postpone we generally prohibit. And what other course is open to us?”
“We can wait, my Lord, we can wait. Coal is not like indigo or tobacco; it is not a question of hours—whether the crop be saved or ruined. We can wait.”
“Very true, sir; but I cannot wait. There are some urgent calls upon me just now, the men who are pressing which will not be so complaisant as to wait either.”
“I was always under the impression, my Lord, that your position as a peer, and the nature of the services that you were engaged in, were sufficient to relieve you from all the embarrassments that attach to humbler men in difficulties?”
“They don't arrest, but they dun us, sir; and they dun with an insistence and an amount of menace, too, that middle-class people can form no conception of. They besiege the departments we serve under with their vulgar complaints, and if the rumor gets abroad that one of us is about to be advanced to a governorship or an embassy, they assemble in Downing Street like a Reform demonstration. I declare to you I had to make my way through a lane of creditors from the Privy Council Office to the private entrance to F. O., my hands full of their confounded accounts—one fellow, a boot-maker, actually having pinned his bill to the skirt of my coat as I went. And the worst of these impertinences is, that they give a Minister who is indisposed towards you a handle for refusing your just claims. I have just come through such an ordeal: I have been told that my debts are to be a bar to my promotion.”
The almost tremulous horror which he gave to this last expression—as of an outrage unknown to mankind—warned Bramleigh to be silent.
“I perceive that you do not find it easy to believe this, but I pledge my word to you it is true. It is not forty-eight hours since a Secretary of State assumed to make my personal liabilities—the things which, if any things are a man's own, are certainly so—to make these an objection to my taking a mission of importance. I believe he was sorry for his indiscretion; I have reason to suppose that it was a blunder he will not readily repeat.”
“And you obtained your appointment?” asked Bramleigh.
“Minister extraordinary and plenipotentiary to the court of Hochmaringen,” said Culduff, with a slow and pompous enunciation.
Bramleigh, pardonably ignorant of the geography of the important state alluded to, merely bowed in acknowledgment. “Is there much—much to do at one of these courts?” asked he, diffidently, after a pause.
“In one sense there is a great deal. In Germany the action of the greater cabinets is always to be discovered in the intrigues of the small dukedoms, just as you gather the temper of the huntsman from the way he lashes the hounds. You may, therefore, send a 'cretin,' if you like, to Berlin or Vienna; you want a man of tact and address at Sigmaringen or Kleinesel-stadt. They begin to see that here at home, but it took them years to arrive at it.”
Whether Bramleigh was confounded by the depth of this remark, or annoyed by the man who made it, he relapsed into a dreamy silence that soon passed into sleep, into which state the illustrious diplomatist followed, and thus was the journey made till the tall towers of Castello came into view, and they found themselves rapidly careering along with four posters towards the grand entrance. The tidings of their coming soon reached the drawing-room, and the hall was filled by the young members of the family to welcome them. “Remember,” said Bramleigh, “we have had nothing but a light luncheon since morning. Come and join us, if you like, in the dining-room, but let us have some dinner as soon as may be.”
It is not pleasant, perhaps, to be talked to while eating by persons quite unemployed by the pleasures of the table; but there is a sort of “free and easy” at such times not wholly unconducive to agreeable intercourse, and many little cares and attentions, impossible or unmeaning in the more formal habits of the table, are now graceful adjuncts to the incident. Thus was it that Marion contrived by some slight service or other to indicate to Lord Culduff that he was an honored guest; and when she filled his glass with champagne, and poured a little into her own to pledge him, the great man felt a sense of triumph that warmed the whole of that region where, anatomically, his heart was situated. While the others around were engaged in general conversation, she led him to talk of his journey to town, and what he had done there; and he told her somewhat proudly of the high mission about to be entrusted to him, not omitting to speak of the haughty tone he had used towards the Minister, and the spirit he had evinced in asserting his just claims. “We had what threatened at one time to be a stormy interview. When a man like myself has to recall the list of his services, the case may well be considered imminent. He pushed me to this, and I accepted his challenge. I told him, if I am not rich, it is because I have spent my fortune in maintaining the dignity of the high stations I have filled. The breaches in my fortune are all honorable wounds. He next objected to what I could not but admit as a more valid barrier to my claims. Can you guess it?”
She shook her head in dissent. It could not be his rank, or anything that bore upon his rank. Was it possible that official prudery had been shocked by the noble Lord's social derelictions? Had the scandal of that old elopement survived to tarnish his fame and injure his success? and she blushed as she thought of the theme to which he invited her approach.
“I see you do divine it,” said he, smiling courteously.
“I suspect not,” said she, diffidently, and still blushing deeper.
“It would be a great boon to me—a most encouraging assurance,” said he, in a low and earnest voice, “if I could believe that your interest in me went so far as actually to read the story and anticipate the catastrophe of my life. Tell me then, I entreat you, that you know what I allude to.”
She hesitated. “Was it possible,” thought she, “that he wished me to admit that my opinion of him was not prejudiced by this 'escapade' of thirty years ago? Is he asking me to own that I am tolerant towards such offences?” His age, his tone generally, his essentially foreign breeding, made this very possible. Her perplexity was great, and her confusion increased with every minute.
At this critical moment there was a general move to go into the drawing-room, and as he gave her his arm, Lord Culduff drew her gently towards him, and said in his most insinuating voice, “Let me hear my fate.”
“I declare, my Lord,” said she, hesitatingly, “I don't know what to say. Moralists and worldly people have two different measures for these things. I have no pretensions to claim a place with the former, and I rather shrink from accepting all the ideas of the latter. At all events, I would suppose that after a certain lapse of time, when years have gone over—profitably, I would hope—in fact, I mean—in short, I do not know what I mean.”
“You mean, perhaps, that it is not at my time of life men take such a step with prudence. Is that it?” asked he, trying in vain to keep down the irritation that moved him.
“Well, my Lord, I believe about the prudence there can scarcely be two opinions, whether a man be young or old. These things are wrong in themselves, and nothing can make them right.”
“I protest I am unable to follow you,” said he, tartly.
“All the better, my Lord, if I be only leading you where you have no inclination to wander. I see Nelly wants me at the piano.”
“And you prefer accompanying her to me” said he, reproachfully.
“At least, my Lord, we shall be in harmony, which is scarcely our case here.”
He sighed, almost theatrically, as he relinquished her arm, and retiring to a remote part of the room, affected to read a newspaper. Mr. Cutbill, however, soon drew a chair near, and engaged him in conversation.
“So Bramleigh has done nothing,” whispered Cutbill, as he bent forward. “He did not, so far as I gather, even speak of the mine in the City.”
“He said it was of no use; the time was unfavorable.”
“Did you ever know it otherwise? Is n't it with that same cant of an unfavorable time these men always add so much to the premium on every undertaking?”
“Sir, I am unable to answer your question. It is my first—I would I may be able to say, and my last—occasion to deal with this class of people.”
“They 're not a bad set, after all; only you must take them in the way they're used to—the way they understand.”
“It is a language I have yet to learn, Mr. Cutbill.”
“The sooner your Lordship sets to work at it the better then.”
Lord Culduff wheeled round in his chair, and stared with amazement at the man before him. He saw, however, the unmistakable signs of his having drunk freely, and his bloodshot eyes declared that the moment was not favorable for calm discussion.
“It would be as well, perhaps, to adjourn this conversation,” said Culduff.
“I'm for business—anywhere and at any moment. I made one of the best hits I ever chanced upon after a smash on the Trent Valley line. There was Boulders—of the firm of Skale and Boulders Brothers—had his shoulder dislocated and two of his front teeth knocked out. He was lying with a lot of scantling and barrel-staves over him, and he cried out, 'Is there any one there?' I said, 'Yes; Cutbill. Tom Cutbill, of Viceregal Terrace, St. John's Wood.'”
Lord Culduff s patience could stand no more, and he arose with a slight bow and moved haughtily away. Cutbill, however, was quickly at his side. “You must hear the rest of this; it was a matter of close on ten thousand pounds to me, and this is the way it came out—”
“I felicitate you heartily, sir, on your success, but beg I may be spared the story of it.”
“You've heard worse. Egad, I'd not say you haven't told worse. It's not every fellow, I promise you, has his wits about him at a moment when people are shouting for help, and an express train standing on its head in a cutting, and a tender hanging over a viaduct.”
“Sir, there are worse inflictions than even this.”
“Eh, what?” said Cutbill, crossing his arms on his chest, and looking fully in the other's face; but Lord Culduff moved quietly on, and, approaching a table where Ellen was seated, said, “I'm coming to beg for a cup of tea;” not a trace of excitement or irritation to be detected in his voice or manner. He loitered for a few moments at the table, talking lightly and pleasantly on indifferent subjects, and then moved carelessly away till he found himself near the door, when he made a precipitate escape and hurried up to his room.
It was his invariable custom to look at himself carefully in the glass whenever he came home at night. As a general might have examined the list of killed and wounded after an action, computing with himself the cost of victory or defeat, so did this veteran warrior of a world's campaign go carefully over all the signs of wear and tear, the hard lines of pain or checkered coloring of agitation, which his last engagement might have inflicted.
As he sat down before his mirror now, he was actually shocked to see what ravages a single evening had produced. The circles around his eyes were deeply indented, the corners of his mouth drawn down so fixedly and firmly that all attempts to conjure up a smile were failures, while a purple tint beneath his rouge totally destroyed that delicate coloring which was wont to impart the youthful look to his features.
The vulgar impertinence of Cutbill made indeed but little impression upon him. An annoyance while it lasted, it still left nothing for memory that could not be dismissed with ease. It was Marion. It was what she had said that weighed so painfully on his heart, wounding where he was most intensely and delicately sensitive. She had told him—what had she told him? He tried to recall her exact words, but he could not. They were in reply to remarks of his own, and owed all their significance to the context. One thing she certainly had said—that there were certain steps in life about which the world held but one opinion, and the allusion was to men marrying late in life; and then she added a remark as to the want of “sympathy”—or was it “harmony” she called it?—between them. How strange that he could not remember more exactly all that passed, he, who, after his interviews with Ministers and great men, could go home and send off in an official despatch the whole dialogue of the audience. But why seek for the precise expressions she employed? The meaning should surely be enough for him, and that was—there was no denying it—that the disparity of their ages was a bar to his pretensions. “Had our ranks in life been alike, there might have been force in her observation; but she forgets that a coronet encircles a brow like a wreath of youth;” and he adjusted the curls of his wig as he spoke, and smiled at himself more successfully than he had done before.
“On the whole, perhaps it is better,” said he, as he arose and walked the room. “A mésalliance can only be justified by great beauty or great wealth. One must do a consumedly rash thing, or a wonderfully sharp one, to come out well with the world. Forty thousand, and a good-looking girl—she is n't more—would not satisfy the just expectations of society, which, with men like myself, are severely exacting.”
He had met with a repulse, he could not deny it, and the sense of pain it inflicted galled him to the quick. To be sure, the thing occurred in a remote, out-of-the-way spot, where there were no people to discover or retail the story. It was not as if it chanced in some cognate land of society where such incidents get immediate currency and form the gossip of every coterie. Who was ever to hear of what passed in an Irish country-house? Marion herself indeed might write it—she most probably would—but to whom?
To some friend as little in the world as herself, and none knew better than Lord Culduff of how few people the “world” was composed. It was a defeat, but a defeat that need never be gazetted. And, after all, are not the worst things in all our reverses, the comments that are passed upon them? Are not the censures of our enemies and the condolences of our friends sometimes harder to bear than the misfortunes that have evoked them?
What Marion's manner towards him might be in future, was also a painful reflection. It would naturally be a triumphant incident in her life to have rejected such an offer. Would she be eager to parade this fact before the world? Would she try to let people know that she had refused him? This was possible. He felt that such a slight would tarnish the whole glory of his life, whose boast was to have done many things that were actually wicked, but not one that was merely weak.
The imminent matter was to get out of his present situation without defeat. To quit the field, but not as a beaten army; and revolving how this was to be done he sunk off to sleep.
CHAPTER XVII. AT CASTELLO.
A private letter from a friend had told Jack Bramleigh that his father's opposition to the Government had considerably damaged his chance of being employed, but that he possibly might get a small command on the African station. With what joy then did he receive the “official,” marked on H.M.'s service, informing him that he was appointed to the “Sneezer” despatch gunboat, to serve in the Mediterranean, and enjoining him to repair to town without unnecessary delay, to receive further orders.
He had forborne, as we have seen, to tell Julia his former tidings. They were not indeed of a nature to rejoice over, but here was great news. He only wanted two more years to be qualified for his “Post,” and once a captain, he would have a position which might warrant his asking Julia to be his wife, and thus was it that the great dream of his whole existence was interwoven into his career, and his advancement as a sailor linked with his hopes as a lover; and surely it is well for us that ambitions in life appeal to us in other and humbler ways than by the sense of triumph, and that there are better rewards for success than either the favor of princes or the insignia of rank.
To poor Jack, looking beyond that two years, it was not a three-decker, nor even frigate, it was the paradise of a cottage overgrown with sweetbrier and honeysuckle, that presented itself,—and a certain graceful figure, gauzy and floating, sitting in the porch, while he lay at her feet, lulled by the drowsy ripple of the little trout-stream that ran close by. So possessed was he by this vision, so entirely and wholly did it engross him, that it was with difficulty he gave coherent replies to the questions poured in upon him at the breakfast-table, as to the sort of service he was about to be engaged in, and whether it was as good or a better thing than he had been expecting.
“I wish you joy, Jack,” said Augustus. “You're a lucky dog to get afloat again so soon. You have n't been full six months on half-pay.”
“I wish you joy, too,” said Temple, “and am thankful to Fate it is you, and not I, have to take the command of H.M.'s gunboat 'Sneezer.'”
“Perhaps, all things considered, it is as well as it is,” said Jack, dryly.
“It is a position of some importance. I mean it is not the mere command of a small vessel,” said Marion, haughtily; for she was always eager that every incident that befell the family should redound to their distinction, and subserve their onward march to greatness.
“Oh, Jack,” whispered Nelly, “let us walk over to the cottage, and tell them the news;” and Jack blushed as he squeezed her hand in gratitude for the speech.
“I almost wonder they gave you this, Jack,” said his father, “seeing how active a part I took against them; but I suppose there is some truth in the saying that Ministers would rather soothe enemies than succor friends.”
“Don't you suspect, papa, that Lord Culduff may have had some share in this event? His influence, I know, is very great with his party,” said Marion.
“I hope and trust not,” burst out Jack; “rather than owe my promotion to that bewigged old dandy, I 'd go and keep a lighthouse.”
“A most illiberal speech,” said Temple. “I was about to employ a stronger word, but still not stronger than my sense of its necessity.”
“Remember, Temple,” replied Jack, “I have no possible objection to his being your patron. I only protest that he shan't be mine. He may make you something ordinary or extraordinary to-morrow, and I 'll never quarrel about it.”
“I am grateful for the concession,” said the other, bowing.
“If it was Lord Culduff that got you this step,” said Colonel Bramleigh, “I must say nothing could be more delicate than his conduct; he never so much as hinted to me that he had taken trouble in the matter.”
“He is such a gentleman!” said Marion, with a very enthusiastic emphasis on the word.
“Well, perhaps it's a very ignoble confession,” said Nelly; “but I frankly own I 'd rather Jack owed his good fortune to his good fame than to all the peers in the calendar.”
“What pains Ellen takes,” said Marion, “to show that her ideas of life and the world are not those of the rest of us.”
“She has me with her whenever she goes into the lobby,” said Jack, “or I 'll pair with Temple, who is sure to be on the stronger side.”
“Your censure I accept as a compliment,” said Temple.
“And is this all our good news has done for us,—to set us exchanging tart speeches and sharp repartees with each other?” said Colonel Bramleigh. “I declare it is a very ungracious way to treat pleasant tidings. Go out, boys, and see if you could n't find some one to dine with us, and wet Jack's commission as they used to call it long ago.”
“We can have the L'Estranges and our amiable neighbor, Captain Craufurd,” said Marion; “but I believe our resources end with these.”
“Why not look up the Frenchman you smashed some weeks ago, Jack?” said Augustus; “he ought to be about by this time, and it would only be common decency to show him some attention.”
“With all my heart. I'll do anything you like but talk French with him. But where is he to be found?”
“He stops with Longworth,” said Augustus, “which makes the matter awkward. Can we invite one without the other, and can we open our acquaintance with Longworth by an invitation to dinner?”
“Certainly not,” chimed in Temple. “First acquaintance admits of no breaches of etiquette. Intimacies may, and rarely, too, forgive such.”
“What luck to have such a pilot to steer us through the narrow channel of proprieties,” cried Jack, laughing.
“I think, too, it would be as well to remember,” resumed Temple, “that Lord Culdufif is our guest, and to whatever accidents of acquaintanceship we may be ready to expose ourselves, we have no right to extend these casualties to him.”
“I suspect we are not likely to see his lordship to-day, at least. He has sent down his man to beg he may be excused from making his appearance at dinner: a slight attack of gout confines him to his room,” said Marion.
“That 's not the worst bit of news I 've heard to-day,” broke in Jack. “Dining in that old cove's company is the next thing to being tried by a court-martial. I fervently hope he 'll be on the sick list till I take my departure.”
“As to getting these people together to-day, it's out of the question,” said Augustus. “Let us say Saturday next, and try what we can do.”
This was agreed upon, Temple being deputed to ride over to Longworth's, leaving to his diplomacy to make what further advances events seemed to warrant,—a trustful confidence in his tact to conduct a nice negotiation being a flattery more than sufficient to recompense his trouble. Jack and Nelly would repair to the cottage to secure the L'Estranges. Craufurd could be apprised by a note.
“Has Cutbill got the gout, too?” asked Jack. “I have not seen him this morning.”
“No; that very cool gentleman took out my cob pony, Fritz, this morning at daybreak,” said Augustus, “saying he was off to the mines at Lisconnor, and would n't be back till evening.”
“And do you mean to let such a liberty pass unnoticed?” asked Temple.
“A good deal will depend upon how Fritz looks after his journey. If I see that the beast has not suffered, it is just possible I may content myself with a mere intimation that I trust the freedom may not be repeated.”
“You told me Anderson offered you two hundred for that cob,” broke in Temple.
“Yes, and asked how much more would tempt me to sell him.”
“If he were a peer of the realm, and took such a liberty with me, I 'd not forgive him,” said Temple, as he arose and left the room in a burst of indignation.
“I may say we are a very high-spirited family,” said Jack, gravely, “and I 'll warn the world not to try any familiarities with us.”
“Come away, naughty boy,” whispered Eleanor; “you are always trailing your coat for some one to stand upon.”
“Tell me, Nelly,” said he, as they took their way through the pinewood that led to the cottage, “tell me, Nelly, am I right or wrong in my appreciation—for I really want to be just and fair in the matter—are we Bramleighs confounded snobs?”
The downright honest earnestness with which he put the question made her laugh heartily, and for some seconds left her unable to answer him.
“I half suspect that we may be, Jack,” said she, still smiling.
“I'm certain of one thing,” continued he, in the same earnest tone; “our distinguished guest deems us such. There is a sort of simpering enjoyment of all that goes on around him, and a condescending approval of us that seems to say, 'Go on, you 'll catch the tone yet. You 're not doing badly by any means.' He pushed me to the very limit of my patience the other day with this, and I had to get up from luncheon and leave the house to avoid being openly rude to him. Do you mind my lighting a cigar, Nelly, for I 've got myself so angry that I want a weed to calm me down again?”
“Let us talk of something else; for on this theme I'm not much better tempered than yourself.”
“There 's a dear good girl,” said he, drawing her towards him, and kissing her cheek. “I 'd have sworn you felt as I did about this old fop; and we must be arrant snobs, Nelly, or else his coming down amongst us here would not have broken us all up, setting us exchanging sneers and scoffs, and criticising each other's knowledge of life. Confound the old humbug; let us forget him.”
They walked along without exchanging a word for full ten minutes or more, till they reached the brow of the cliff, from which the pathway led down to the cottage. “I wonder when I shall stand here again?” said he, pausing. “Not that I 'm going on any hazardous service, or to meet a more formidable enemy than a tart flag-captain; but the world has such strange turns and changes that a couple of years may do anything with a man's destiny.”
“A couple of years may make you a post-captain, Jack; and that will be quite enough to change your destiny.”
He looked affectionately towards her for a moment, and then turned away to hide the emotion he could not master.
“And then, Jack,” said she, caressingly, “it will be a very happy day that shall bring us to this spot again.”
“Who knows, Nelly?” said he, with a degree of agitation that surprised her. “I have n't told you that Julia and I had a quarrel the last time we met.”
“A quarrel!”
“Well, it was something very like one. I told her there were things about her manner,—certain ways she had that I didn't like; and I spoke very seriously to her on the subject. I did n't go beating about, but said she was too much of a coquette.”
“Oh, Jack!”
“It's all very well to be shocked, and cry out, 'Oh, Jack!' but isn't it true? Haven't you seen it yourself? Hasn't Marion said some very strange things about it?”
“My dear Jack, I need n't tell you that we girls are not always fair in our estimates of each other, even when we think we are,—and it is not always that we want to think so. Julia is not a coquette in any sense that the word carries censure, and you were exceedingly wrong to tell her she was.”
“That's how it is!” cried he, pitching his cigar away in impatience. “There's a freemasonry amongst you that calls you all to arms the moment one is attacked. Is n't it open to a man to tell the girl he hopes to make his wife that there are things in her manner he does n't approve of and would like changed?”
“Certainly not; at least it would require some nicer tact than yours to approach such a theme with safety.”
“Temple, perhaps, could do it,” said he, sneeringly.
“Temple certainly would not attempt it.”
Jack made a gesture of impatience, and, as if desirous to change the subject, said, “What 's the matter with our distinguished guest? Is he ill, that he won't dine below-stairs to-day?”
“He calls it a slight return of his Greek fever, and begs to be excused from presenting himself at dinner.”
“He and Temple have been writing little three-cornered notes to each other all the morning. I suppose it is diplomatic usage.”
The tone of irritation he spoke in seemed to show that he was actually seeking for something to vent his anger upon, and trying to provoke some word of contradiction or dissent; but she was silent, and for some seconds they walked on without speaking.
“Look!” cried he, suddenly; “there goes Julia. Do you see her yonder on the path up the cliff; and who is that clambering after her? I'll be shot if it's not Lord Culduff.”
“Julia has got her drawing-book, I see. They're on some sketching excursion.”
“He was n't long in throwing off his Greek fever, eh?” cried Jack, indignantly. “It's cool, isn't it, to tell the people in whose house he is stopping that he is too ill to dine with them, and then set out gallivanting in this fashion?”
“Poor old man!” said she, in a tone of half-scornful pity.
“Was I right about Julia now?” cried he, angrily. “I told you for whose captivation all her little gracefulnesses were intended. I saw it the first night he stood beside her at the piano. As Marion said, she is determined to bring him down. She saw it as well as I did.”
“What nonsense you are talking, Jack; as if Julia would condescend—”
“There 's no condescension, Nelly,” he broke in. “The man is a Lord, and the woman he marries will be a peeress; and there 's not another country in Europe in which that word means as much. I take it, we need n't go on to the cottage now?”
“I suppose we could scarcely overtake them?”
“Overtake them! Why should we try? Even my tact, Nelly, that you sneered at so contemptuously a while ago, would save me from such a blunder. Come, let's go home and forget, if we can, all that we came about. I at least will try and do so.”
“My dear, dear Jack, this is very foolish jealousy.”
“I am not jealous, Nelly. I'm angry; but it is with myself. I ought to have known what humble pretensions mine were, and I ought to have known how certainly a young lady, bred as young ladies are now-a-days, would regard them as less than humble; but it all comes of this idle shore-going, good-for-nothing life. They 'll not catch me at it again, that's all.”
“Just listen to me patiently, Jack. Listen to me for one moment.”
“Not for half a moment. I can guess everything you want to say to me, and I tell you frankly, I don't care to hear it. Tell me whatever you like to-morrow—”
He tried to finish his speech, but his voice grew thick and faltering, and he turned away and was silent.
They spoke little to each other as they walked homewards. A chance remark on the weather, or the scenery, was all that passed till they reached the little lawn before the door.
“You'll not forget your pledge, Jack, for to-morrow?” said Ellen, as he turned towards her before ascending the steps.
“I 'll not forget it,” said he, coldly, and he moved off as he spoke, and entered an alley of the shrubbery.
CHAPTER XVIII. A DULL DINNER.
The family dinner on that day at Castello was somewhat dull. The various attempts to secure a party for the ensuing Saturday, which had been fixed on to celebrate Jack's promotion, had proved failures. When Temple arrived at Longworth's he learned that the host and 'his guest were from home and not to return for some days—we have seen how it fared as to the L'Estranges—so that the solitary success was Captain Craufurd, a gentleman who certainly had not won the suffrages of the great house.
There were two vacant places besides at the table; for butlers are fond of recording, by napkins and covers, how certain of our friends assume to treat us, and thus, as it were, contrast their own formal observances of duty with the laxer notions of their betters.
“Lord Culduff is not able to dine with us,” said Colonel Bramleigh, making the apology as well to himself as to the company.
“No, papa,” said Marion; “he hopes to appear in the drawing-room in the evening.”
“If not too much tired by his long walk,” broke in Jack.
“What walk are you dreaming of?” asked Marion.
“An excursion he made this morning down the coast, sketching or pretending to sketch. Nelly and I saw him clambering up the side of a cliff—”
“Oh, quite impossible; you must be mistaken.”
“No,” said Nelly, “there was no mistake. I saw him as plainly as I see you now; besides, it is not in these wild regions so distinguished a figure is like to find its counterpart.”
“But why should he not take his walk? why not sketch, or amuse himself in any way he pleased?” asked Temple.
“Of course it was open to him to do so,” said the Colonel; “only that to excuse his absence he ought not to have made a pretext of being ill.”
“I think men are 'ill' just as they are 'out,'” said Temple. “I am ill if I am asked to do what is disagreeable to me, as I am out to the visit of a bore.”
“So that to dine with us was disagreeable to Lord Culduff?” asked Jack.
“It was evidently either an effort to task his strength, or an occasion which called for more exertion than he felt equal to,” said Temple, pompously.
“By Jove!” cried Jack, “I hope I 'll never be a great man! I trust sincerely I may never arrive at that eminence in which it will task my energies to eat my dinner and chat with the people on either side of me.”
“Lord Culduff converses: he does not chat; please to note the distinction, Jack.”
“That 's like telling me he does n't walk, but he swaggers.”
It was fortunate at this moment, critical enough as regarded the temper of all parties, that Mr. Cutbill entered, full of apologies for being late, and bursting to recount the accidents that befell him, and all the incidents of his day. A quick glance around the table assured him of Lord Culduff's absence, and it was evident from the sparkle of his eye that the event was not disagreeable to him.
“Is our noble friend on the sick list?” asked he, with a smile.
“Indisposed,” said Temple, with the air of one who knew the value of a word that was double-shotted.
“I 've got news that will soon rally him,” continued Cut-bill. “They've struck a magnificent vein this morning, and within eighty yards of the surface. Plmmys, the Welsh inspector, pronounced it good Cardiff, and says, from the depth of 'the lode,' that it must go a long way.”
“Harding did not give me as encouraging news yesterday,” said Colonel Bramleigh, with a dubious smile.
“My tidings date from this morning—yesterday was the day before the battle; besides, what does Harding know about coal?”
“He knows a little about everything,” said Augustus.
“That makes all the difference. What people want is not the men who know things currently, but know them well and thoroughly. Eh, Captain,” said he to Jack, “what would you say to popular notions about the navy?”
“Cutty's right,” said Jack. “Amateurship is all humbug.”
“Who is Longworth?” asked Cutbill. “Philip Longworth?”
“A neighbor of ours; we are not acquainted, but we know that there is such a person,” said Colonel Bramleigh.
“He opines,” continued Cutbill, “that this vein of ours runs direct from his land, and I suspect he's not wrong; and he wants to know what we mean to do,—he 'll either sell or buy. He came over this morning to Kilmannock with a French friend, and we took our breakfast together. Nice fellows, both of them, and wide awake, too; especially the Frenchman. He was with Lesseps in Egypt, in what capacity I couldn't find out; but I see he's a shrewd fellow.”
“With Lesseps?” said Colonel Bramleigh, showing a quicker and more eager interest than before; for his lawyer had told him that the French claimant to his property had been engaged on the works of the Suez Canal.
“Yes; he spoke as if he knew Lesseps well, and talked of the whole undertaking like one who understood it.”
“And what is he doing here?”
“Writing a book, I fancy; an Irish tour,—one of those mock sentimentalities with bad politics and false morality Frenchmen ventilate about England. He goes poking into the cabins and asking the people about their grievances; and now he says he wants to hear the other side, and learn what the gentlemen say.”
“We 'll have to ask him over here,” said Colonel Bramleigh, coolly, as if the thought had occurred to him then for the first time.
“He'll amuse you, I promise you,” said Cutbill.
“I'd like to meet him,” said Jack. “I had the ill-luck to bowl him over in the hunting-field, and cost him a broken leg. I 'd like to make all the excuses in my power to him.”
“He bears no malice about it; he said it was all his own fault, and that you did your best to pick him up, but your horse bolted with you.”
“Let's have him to dinner by all means,” said Augustus; “and now that Temple has made a formal visit, I take it we might invite him by a polite note.”
“You must wait till he returns the call,” said Marion, stiffly.
“Not if we want to show a courteous desire to make his acquaintance,” said Temple. “Attentions can be measured as nicely and as minutely as medicaments.”
“All I say,” said Jack, “is, have him soon, or I may chance to miss him; and I 'm rather curious to have a look at him.”
Colonel Bramleigh turned a full look at Jack, as though his words had some hidden meaning in them; but the frank and easy expression of the sailor's face reassured him at once.
“I hope the fellow won't put us in his book,” said Temple. “You are never quite safe with these sort of people.”
“Are we worth recording?” asked Jack, with a laugh.
Temple was too indignant to make any answer, and Cutbill went on: “The authorship is only a suspicion of mine, remember. It was from seeing him constantly jotting down little odds and ends in his note-book that I came to that conclusion; and Frenchmen are not much given to minute inquiries if they have not some definite object in view.”
Again was Bramleigh's attention arrested; but, as before, he saw that the speaker meant no more than the words in their simplest acceptance conveyed.
A violent ringing of the door-bell startled the company; and after a moment's pause of expectancy a servant entered to say that a Government messenger had arrived with some important despatches for Lord Culduff, which required personal delivery and acceptance.
“Will you step up, Mr. Cutbill, and see if his Lordship is In his room?”
“I'll answer for it he 's not,” said Jack to his father.
Cutbill rose, however, and went on his mission; but instead of returning to the dining-room, it was perceived that he proceeded to find the messenger, and conduct him upstairs.
“Well, Nelly,” said Marion, in a whisper, “what do you say now; is it so certain that it was Lord Culduff you saw this morning?”
“I don't know what to make of it. I was fully as sure as Jack was.”
“I'll wager he's been offered Paris,” said Temple, gravely.
“Offered Paris?” cried Jack; “what do you mean?”
“I mean the embassy, of course,” replied he, contemptuously. “Without,” added he, “they want him in the Cabinet.”
“And is it really by men like this the country is governed?” said Nelly, with a boldness that seemed the impulse of indignation.
“I 'm afraid so,” said Marion, scornfully. “Mr. Canning and Lord Palmerston were men very like this,—were they not, Temple?”
“Precisely; Lord Culduff is exactly of the same order, however humble the estimate Ellen may form of such people.”
“I 'm all impatience for the news,” said Augustus. “I wish Cutbill would come down at once.”
“I 'll take the odds that he goes to F. O.,” said Temple.
“What the deuce could he do in China?” cried Jack, whose ear had led him into a cruel blunder.
Temple scarcely smiled at what savored of actual irreverence, and added, “If so, I 'll ask to be made private secretary.”
“Mr. Temple, sir, his Lordship would be glad to see you upstairs for a moment,” said a footman, entering. And Temple arose and left the room, with a pride that might have accompanied him if summoned to a cabinet council.
“More mysteries of State,” cried Jack. “I declare, girls, the atmosphere of political greatness is almost suffocating me. I wonder how Cutty stands it!”
A general move into the drawing-room followed this speech; and as Jack sauntered in he slipped his arm within Nelly's and led her towards a window. “I can't bear this any longer, Nelly,—I must trip my anchor and move away. I 'd as soon be lieutenant to a port admiral as live here. You're all grown too fine for me.”
“That's not it at all, Jack,” said she, smiling. “I see how you 've been trying to bully yourself by bullying us this hour back; but it will be all right to-morrow. We 'll go over to the cottage after breakfast.”
“You may; I'll not, I promise you,” said he, blushing deeply.
“Yes, you will, my dear Jack,” said she, coaxingly; “and you 'll be the first to laugh at your own foolish jealousy besides,—if Julia is not too angry with you to make laughing possible.”
“She may be angry or pleased, it's all one to me now,” said he, passionately. “When I told her she was a coquette, I did n't believe it; but, by Jove, she has converted me to the opinion pretty quickly!”
“You 're a naughty boy, and you 're in a bad humor, and I'll say no more to you now.”
“Say it now, I advise you, if you mean to say it,” said he, shortly; but she laughed at his serious face, and turned away without speaking.
“Is n't the cabinet council sitting late?” asked Augustus of Marion. “They have been nigh two hours in conference.”
“I take it it must be something of importance,” replied she.
“Isn't Cutbill in it?” asked Augustus, mockingly.
“I saw Mr. Cutbill go down the avenue, with his cigar in his mouth, just after we came into the drawing-room.”
“I 'll go and try to pump him,” said Jack. “One might do a grand thing on the Stock Exchange if he could get at State secrets like these.” And as Jack went out a silence fell over the party, only broken by the heavy breathing of Colonel Bramleigh as he slept behind his newspaper. At last the door opened gently, and Temple moved quietly across the room, and tapping his father on the shoulder,' whispered something in his ear. “What—eh?” cried Colonel Bramleigh, waking up. “Did you say 'out'?”
Another whisper ensued, and the Colonel arose and left the room, followed by Temple.
“Isn't Temple supremely diplomatic to-night?” said Nelly.
“I 'm certain he is behaving with every becoming reserve and decorum,” said Marion, in a tone of severe rebuke.
When Colonel Bramleigh entered the library, Temple closed and locked the door, and in a voice of some emotion said, “Poor Lord Culduff; it's a dreadful blow. I don't know how he'll bear up against it.”
“I don't understand it,” said Bramleigh, peevishly. “What's this about a change of Ministry and a dissolution? Did you tell me the Parliament was dissolved?”
“No, sir. I said that a dissolution was probable. The Ministry have been sorely pressed in the Lords about Culduff's appointment, and a motion to address the Crown to cancel it has only been met by a majority of three. So small a victory amounts to a defeat, and the Premier writes to beg Lord Culdufif will at once send in his resignation, as the only means to save the party.”
“Well, if it's the only thing to do, why not do it?”
“Culdufif takes a quite different view of it. He says that to retire is to abdicate his position in public life; that it was Lord Rigglesworth's duty to stand by a colleague to the last; that every Minister makes it a point of honor to defend a subordinate; and that—”
“I only half follow you. What was the ground of the attack? Had he fallen into any blunder,—made any serious mistake?”
“Nothing of the kind, sir; they actually complimented his abilities, and spoke of his rare capacity. It was one of those bursts of hypocrisy we have every now and then in public life, to show the world how virtuous we are. They raked up an old story of thirty years ago of some elopement or other, and affected to see in this escapade a reason against his being employed to represent the Crown.”
“I 'm not surprised—not at all surprised. There is a strong moral feeling in the heart of the nation, that no man, however great his abilities, can outrage with impunity.”
“If they dealt with him thus hardly in the Lords, we can fancy how he will be treated in the Lower House, where Rigby Norton has given notice of a motion respecting his appointment. As Lord Rigglesworth writes, 'R. N. has got up your whole biography, and is fully bent on making you the theme of one of his amusing scurrilities. Is it wise, is it safe to risk this? He 'll not persevere—he could not persevere—in his motion, if you send in your resignation. We could not—at least so Gore, our whip, says—be sure of a majority were we to divide; and even a majority of, say thirty, to proclaim you moral, would only draw the whole press to open your entire life, and make the world ring with your, I suppose, very common and every-day iniquities.'”
“I declare I do not see what can be alleged against this advice. It seems to me most forcible and irrefragable.”
“Very forcible, as regards the position of the Cabinet; but, as Lord Culduff says, ruin, positive ruin to him.”
“Ruin of his own causing.”
Temple shrugged his shoulders in a sort of contemptuous impatience; the sentiment was one not worth a reply.
“At all events, has he any other course open to him?”
“He thinks he has; at least, he thinks that, with your help and co-operation, there may be another course. The attack is to come from below the gangway on the Opposition side. It was to sit with these men you contested a county, and spent nigh twenty thousand pounds. You have great claims on the party. You know them all personally, and have much influence with them. Why, then, not employ it in his behalf?”
“To suppress the motion, you mean?”
Temple nodded.
“They 'd not listen to it, not endure it for a moment. Norton would n't give up an attack for which he had prepared himself if he were to find out, in the interval, that the object of it was an angel. As I heard him say one day at 'the Reform,' 'Other men have their specialities. One fellow takes sugar, one the malt-duties, one Servia, or maybe, Ireland; my line is a good smashing personality. Show me a fellow—of course I mean a political opponent—who has been giving himself airs as a colonial governor, or “swelling” it as a special envoy at a foreign court, and if I don't find something in his despatches to exhibit him as a false prophet, a dupe, or a blunderer, and if I can't make the House laugh at him, don't call me Rigby Norton.' He knows he does these things better than any man in England, and he does them in a spirit that never makes him an enemy.”
“Culduff says that N. is terribly hard up. He was hit heavily at Goodwood, and asked for time to pay.”
“Just what he has been doing for the last twenty years. There are scores of ships that no underwriters would accept making safe voyages half across the globe. No, no; he 'll rub on for many a day, in the same fashion. Besides, if he should n't, what then?”
Temple made a significant gesture with his thumb in the palm of his hand.
“That's all your noble friend knows about England, then. See what comes of a man passing his life among foreigners. I suppose a Spanish or an Italian deputy might n't give much trouble, nor oppose any strenuous resistance to such a dealing; but it won't do here,—it will not.”
“Lord Culduff knows the world as well as most men, sir.”
“Yes, one world, I 'm sure he does! A world of essenced old dandies and painted dowagers, surrounded by thieving lackeys and cringing followers; where everything can be done by bribery, and nothing without it. But that's not England, I'm proud to say; nor will it be, I hope, for many a day to come.”
“I wish, sir, you could be induced to give your aid to Culduff in this matter. I need not say what an influence it would exert over my own fortunes.”
“You must win your way, Temple, by your own merits,” said he, haughtily. “I 'd be ashamed to think that a son of mine owed any share of his success in life to ignoble acts or backstairs influence. Go back and tell Lord Culduff from me, that so far as I know it, Lord Rigglesworth's advice is my own. No wise man ever courts a public scandal; and he would be less than wise to confront one, with the certainty of being overwhelmed by it.”
“Will you see him, sir? Will you speak to him yourself?”
“I 'd rather not. It would be a needless pain to each of us.”
“I suspect he means to leave this to-night.”
“Not the worst thing he could do.”
“But you 'll see him, to say good-bye?”
“Certainly; and all the more easily if we have no conversation in the mean while. Who's that knocking? Is the door locked?”
Temple hastened to open the door, and found Mr. Cutbill begging to have five minutes' conversation with Colonel Bramleigh.
“Leave us together, Temple, and tell Marion to send me in some tea. You 'll have tea, too, won't you, Mr. Cutbill?”
“No, thank you; I 'll ask for wine and water later. At present I want a little talk with you. Our noble friend has got it hot and heavy,” said he, as Temple withdrew, leaving Bramleigh and himself together; “but it's nothing to what will come out when Norton brings it before the House. I suppose there hasn't been such a scandal for years as he'll make of it.”
“I declare, Mr. Cutbill, as long as the gentleman continues my guest, I 'd rather avoid than invite any discussion of his antecedents,” said Bramleigh, pompously.
“All very fine, if you could stop the world from talking of them.”
“My son has just been with me, and I have said to him, sir, as I have now repeated to you, that it is a theme I will not enter upon.”
“You won't, won't you?”
“No, sir, I will not.”
“The more fool you, then, that's all.”
“What, sir, am I to be told this to my face, under my own roof? Can you presume to address these words to me?”
“I meant nothing offensive. You needn't look like a turkey-cock. All the gobble-gobble in the world would n't frighten me. I came in here in a friendly spirit. I was handsomely treated in this house, and I 'd like to make a return for it; that's why I 'm here, Bramleigh.”
“You will pardon me if I do not detect the friendliness you speak of in the words you have just uttered.”
“Perhaps I was a little too blunt—a little too—what shall I call it?—abrupt; but what I wanted to say was this: here's the nicest opportunity in the world, not only to help a lame dog over the stile, but to make a good hound of him afterwards.”
“I protest, sir, I cannot follow you. Your bluntness, as you call it, was at least intelligible.”
“Don't be in a passion. Keep cool, and listen to me. If this motion is made about Culduff, and comes to a debate, there will be such stories told as would smash forty reputations. I 'd like to see which of us would come well out of a biography, treated as a party attack in the House of Commons. At all events he could n't face it. Stand by him, then, and get him through it. Have patience; just hear what I have to say. The thing can be done; there 's eight days to come before it can be brought on. I know the money-lender has three of Norton's acceptances—for heavy sums, two of them. Do you see now what I'm driving at?”
“I may possibly see so much, sir, but I am unable to see why I should move in the matter.”
“I 'll show you, then. The noble Viscount is much smitten by a certain young lady upstairs, and intends to propose for her. Yes, I know it, and I 'll vouch for it. Your eldest daughter may be a peeress, and though the husband isn't very young, neither is the title. I think he said he was the eighth lord,—seventh or eighth, I 'm not sure which,—and taking the rank and the coal-mine together, don't you think she might do worse?”
“I will say, sir, that frankness like yours I've never met before.”
“That's the very thing I 'd like to hear you say of me. There's no quality I pride myself on so much as my candor.”
“You have ample reason, sir.”
“I feel it. I know it. Direct lines and a wide gauge—I mean in the way of liberality,—that 's my motto. I go straight to my terminus, wherever it is.”
“It is not every man can make his profession the efficient ally of his morality.”
“An engineer can, and there 's nothing so like life as a new line of railroad. But to come back. You see now how the matter stands. If the arrangement suits you, the thing can be done.”
“You have a very business-like way of treating these themes.”
“If I had n't, I could n't treat them at all. What I say to myself is, Will it pay? first of all; and secondly, How much will it pay? And that's the one test for everything. Have the divines a more telling argument against a life of worldliness and self-indulgence than when they ask, Will it pay? We contract for everything, even for going to heaven.”
“If I could hope to rival your eminently practical spirit, Mr. Cutbill, I 'd ask how far—to what extent—has Lord Culduff made you the confidant of his intentions?”
“You mean, has he sent me here this evening to make a proposal to you?”
“No, not exactly that; but has he intimated, has he declared—for intimation would n't suffice—has he declared his wish to be allied to my family?”
“He did n't say, 'Cutbill, go down and make a tender in my name for her,' if you mean that.”
“I opine not, sir,” said Bramleigh, haughtily.
“But when I tell you it's all right,” said Cutbill, with one of his most knowing looks, “I think that ought to do.”
“I take it, sir, that you mean courteously and fairly by me. I feel certain that you have neither the wish nor the intention to pain me; but I am forced to own that you import into questions of a delicate nature a spirit of commercial profit and loss, which makes all discussion of them harsh and disagreeable. This is not, let me observe to you, a matter of coal, or a new cutting on a railroad.”
“And are you going to tell Tom Cutbill that out of his own line of business,—when he isn't up to his knees in earthworks, and boring a tunnel,—that he 's a fool and a nincompoop?”
“I should be sorry to express such a sentiment.”
“Ay, or feel it; why don't you say that?”
“I will go even so far, sir, and say I should be sorry to feel it.”
“That's enough. No offence meant; none is taken. Here's how it is now. Authorize me to see Joel about those bills of Norton's. Give me what the French call a carte blanche to negotiate, and I 'll promise you I'll not throw your ten-pound notes away. Not that it need ever come to ten-pound notes, for Rigby does these things for the pure fun of them; and if any good fellow drops in on him of a morning, and says, 'Don't raise a hue and cry about that poor beggar,' or 'Don't push that fellow over the cliff,' he 's just the man to say, 'Well, I 'll not go on. I 'll let it stand over;' or he 'll even get up and say, 'When I asked leave to put this question to the right honorable gentleman, I fully believed in the authentic character of the information in my possession. I have, however, since then discovered,'—this, that, and the other. Don't you know how these things always finish? There's a great row, a great hubbub, and the man that retracts is always cheered by both sides of the House.”
“Suppose, then, he withdraws his motion,—what then? The discussion in the Lords remains on record, and the mischief, so far as Lord Culduff is concerned, is done.”
“I know that. He 'll not have his appointment; he 'll take his pension and wait. What he says is this: 'There are only three diplomatists in all England, and short of a capital felony, any of the three may do anything. I have only to stand out and sulk,' says he, 'and they'll be on their knees to me yet.'”
“He yields, then, to a passing hurricane,” said Bramleigh, pompously.
“Just so. He 's taking shelter under an archway till he can call a hansom. Now you have the whole case; and as talking is dry work, might I ring for a glass of sherry and seltzer?”
“By all means. I am ashamed not to have thought of it before.—This is a matter for much thought and deliberation,” said Bramleigh, as the servant withdrew, after bringing the wine. “It is too eventful a step to be taken suddenly.”
“If not done promptly, it can't be done at all. A week is n't a long time to go up to town and get through a very knotty negotiation. Joel is n't a common money-lender, like Drake or Downie. You can't go to his office except on formal business. If you want to do a thing in the way of accommodation with him, you 'll have to take him down to the 'Ship,' and give him a nice little fish dinner, with the very best Sauterne you can find; and when you 're sitting out on the balcony over the black mud,—the favorite spot men smoke their cheroots in,—then open your business; and though he knows well it was all 'a plant,' he 'll not resent it, but take it kindly and well.”
“I am certain that so nice a negotiation could not be in better hands than yours, Mr. Cutbill.”
“Well, perhaps I might say without vanity, it might be in worse. So much for that part of the matter; now, as to the noble Viscount himself. I am speaking as a man of the world to another man of the world, and speaking in confidence, too. You don't join in that hypocritical cant against Culduff, because he had once in his life been what they call a man of gallantry? I mean, Bramleigh, that you don't go in for that outrageous humbug of spotless virtue, and the rest of it?”
Bramleigh smiled, and as he passed his hand over his mouth to hide a laugh, the twinkle of his eyes betrayed him.
“I believe I am old enough to know that one must take the world as it is pleased to present itself,” said he, cautiously.
“And not want to think it better or worse than it really is?”
Bramleigh nodded assent.
“Now we understand each other, as I told you the other evening we were sure to do when we had seen more of each other. Culduff is n't a saint, but he 's a peer of Parliament; he is n't young, but he has an old title, and if I 'm not much mistaken, he 'll make a pot of money out of this mine. Such a man has only to go down into the Black Country or amongst the mills, to have his choice of some of the best-looking girls in England, with a quarter of a million of money; isn't that fact?”
“It is pretty like it.”
“So that, on the whole, I 'll say this is a good thing, Bramleigh—a right good thing. As Wishart said the other night in the House, 'A new country'—speaking of the States—'a new country wants alliances with old States;' so a new family wants connection with the old historic houses.”
Colonel Bramleigh's face grew crimson, but he coughed to keep down his rising indignation, and slightly bowed his head.
“You know as well as I do, that the world has only two sorts of people,—nobs and snobs; one has no choice—if you 're not one, you must be the other.”
“And yet, sir, men of mind and intellect have written about the untitled nobility of England.”
“Silver without the hall-mark, Bramleigh, won't bring six shillings an ounce, just because nobody can say how far it's adulterated; it's the same with people.”
“Your tact, sir, is on a par with your wisdom.”
“And perhaps you haven't a high opinion of either,” said Cutbill, with a laugh that showed he felt no irritation whatever. “But look here, Bramleigh, this will never do. If there 's nothing but blarney or banter between us, we 'll never come to business. If you agree to what I 've been proposing, you have only me to deal with; the noble lord is n't in the game at all—he 'll leave this to-night—it's right and proper he should; he 'll go up to the mines for a few days, and amuse himself with quartz and red sandstone; and when I write or telegraph,—most likely telegraph,—'The thing is safe,' he 'll come back here and make his proposal in all form.”
“I am most willing to give my assistance to any project that may rescue Lord Culduff from this unpleasant predicament. Indeed, having myself experienced some of the persecution which political hatred can carry into private life, I feel a sort of common cause with him; but I protest at the same time—distinctly protest—against anything like a pledge as regards his Lordship's views towards one of my family. I mean I give no promise.”
“I see,” said Cutbill, with a look of intense cunning. “You 'll do the money part. Providence will take charge of the rest. Isn't that it?”
“Mr. Cutbill, you occasionally push my patience pretty hard. What I said, I said seriously and advisedly.”
“Of course. Now, then, give me a line to your banker to acknowledge my draft up to a certain limit,—say five hundred. I think five ought to do it.”
“It's a smart sum, Mr. Cutbill.”
“The article's cheap at the money. Well, well, I 'll not anger you. Write me the order, and let me be off.”
Bramleigh sat down at his table, and wrote off a short note to his junior partner in the bank, which he sealed and addressed; and handing it to Cutbill, said, “This will credit you to the amount you spoke of. It will be advanced to you as a loan without interest, to be repaid within two years.”
“All right; the thought of repayment will never spoil my night's rest. I only wish all my debts would give me as little trouble.”
“You ought to have none, Mr. Cutbill; a man of your abilities, at the top of a great profession, and with a reputation second to none, should, if he were commonly prudent, have ample means at his disposal.”
“But that's the thing I am not, Bramleigh. I 'm not one of your safe fellows. I drive my engine at speed, even where the line is shaky and the rails ill-laid. Good-bye; my respects to the ladies; tell Jack, if he 's in town within a week, to look me up at 'Limmer's.'” He emptied the sherry into a tumbler as he spoke, drank it off, and left the room.