CHAPTER XXVIII.
YOUNG LAMBERT SPEAKS OUT.
“Yes, mother, it is the truth; I have seen the young lady more than once.”
“I know it, Ivon. You were seen walking by her side in the street.”
Mrs. Lambert spoke calmly, but with a cold intonation of the voice that her step-son understood as something far more expressive than an outburst of anger; but his answer was as quiet as her question had been.
“Once or twice I found myself on the same side-walk with the young lady to whom I have been properly introduced.”
“Properly introduced! How can that be? There is no proper introduction between a shop-girl and a young gentleman of position and fortune,” replied the lady, with an angry flush on her cheeks.
“Position, if you please; but as for the fortune, that depends—— I claim nothing on expectations. It would be arrogance if I did.’
“This is a sudden fit of humility, Ivon.”
“No, madam, it is not sudden; the thought has been in my mind a long time. No man has a right to discount on the future, or waste his energies because there is no immediate need that they should be put forth. Say that I am young, well educated, and have just property enough, from my father, for individual independence, and you will have defined my position exactly. Is it so very much better than that of the young lady we are speaking of?”
“The young lady, as you call her, is a shop-girl,” answered Mrs. Lambert, with unsuppressed scorn.
“And in that my superior. She earns her own independence, and aids those more helpless than herself, while I——Well, it is useless to say what my life has been. The greatest energies I have as yet been called upon to put forth, is exerted in collecting your rents, and depositing your money.”
“But you are my son—not one person in ten remembers that you are not actually so. Some day, if you do nothing to prevent it, the bulk of my property will be yours. All my real estate must descend to a Lambert. It is a proud old name, and needs wealth to sustain it. To your father I gave that wealth. It was a part of his greatness, and lifted him above all the petty economies which have so often degraded our American ministers abroad. It was my pride that through me his position at the Imperial Court had no such humiliating difficulties.”
“And it was his pride, for he told me so a hundred times, that no high-born lady of that proud land ever filled a lofty position with more dignity and grace. Young, beautiful, and richer in acquirements than in wealth, how could it be otherwise? Ah, madam, he thought less of your property than of those other things. Where love is, gold sinks to the bottom.”
Mrs. Lambert did not reply at once; a cold shadow crept over the animation of her face, but she answered at last.
“Love is a delirium, which comes in force and power but once in a lifetime—a dangerous insanity that never dies. Do not permit it to overpower your reason, Ivon. Of all the passions it is most to be dreaded.”
“But how is one to guard against it, madam?”
“I cannot advise,” answered the lady, “for no human being ever took counsel patiently from another, when this passion was upon him. I can only warn you, my son, that no greater trouble comes on earth than springs out of a low-born union. It is the one mistake which can never be wholly retrieved—class should match with class. When love descends, it is terrible.”
“But what constitutes class in a republic, mother, where society is ever changing? One must merge into the other. Look at the social upheaving which the war has brought about, where the very lowest strata of society has been forced to the surface, and claims rank with the best.”
“I know, I know!” cried the lady, impatiently. “Poverty itself is better than that!”
“It seems to me that honorable birth, talent, and pure morals, should form the aristocracy of a great nation—these are personal attributes which cannot be attained by accident or dishonesty, as money is often acquired.”
Mrs. Lambert made an impatient movement with her hand.
“It is useless arguing, Ivon. Class must be distinguished as we find it. The Lamberts have no need to doubt their position in any country. Be careful not to imperil it by too open attentions to the girl I have been speaking of.”
“But, mother, she is refined and beautiful.”
“So much the more dangerous.”
“Thoroughly educated, accomplished, even.”
“Perhaps! How am I to know?”
“You have seen her, heard her speak.”
“Yes, I have seen that she is dangerously beautiful; heard her speak with shrinking, that seemed almost repulsion. Ivon! Ivon! let me never hear of her again!”
“How can you be so prejudiced, mother, knowing so little of the poor girl?”
“How much can you know, Ivon?”
“Everything. I have taken pains to inquire.”
“Knowing that she was a shop-girl, what more did you wish to learn?”
“All that could be told.”
“Well, what did you learn?”
The lady spoke breathlessly, as if the subject pained her, and she was impatient to end it.
“I learned who her parents were.”
“Well?”
“Her father was a policeman.”
“A policeman! Well, what more?”
“Who is dead. This girl is helping to support his widow and two other children, one a confirmed invalid. They are very poor.”
“Then leave them in their poverty, I charge you.”
Mrs. Lambert spoke with unusual warmth. The subject had disturbed her greatly. Something more deep and subtle than her indomitable pride had been touched, of which she was even herself unconscious.