"There are times when we are diverted out of errors, but could
not be preached out of them.--There are practitioners who can cure
us of one disorder, though, in ordinary cases, they be but poor
physicians--nay, dangerous quacks."-STEPHEN MONTAGUE.
LUMLEY FERRERS had one rule in life; and it was this: to make all things
and all persons subservient to himself. And Ferrers now intended to go
abroad for some years. He wanted a companion, for he disliked solitude:
besides, a companion shared the expenses; and a man of eight hundred a
year, who desires all the luxuries of life, does not despise a partner
in the taxes to be paid for them. Ferrers, at this period, rather liked
Ernest than not: it was convenient to choose friends from those richer
than himself, and he resolved, when he first came to Temple Grove, that
Ernest should be his travelling companion. This resolution formed, it
was very easy to execute it.
Maltravers was now warmly attached to his new friend, and eager for
change. Cleveland was sorry to part with him; but he dreaded a relapse,
if the young man were again left upon his hands. Accordingly, the
guardian's consent was obtained; a travelling carriage was bought, and
fitted up with every imaginable imperial and /malle/. A Swiss (half
valet and half courier) was engaged, one thousand a year was allowed to
Maltravers;--and one soft and lovely morning, towards the close of
October, Ferrers and Maltravers found themselves midway on the road to
Dover.
"How glad I am to get out of England," said Ferrers: "it is a famous
country for the rich; but here, eight hundred a year, without a
profession, save that of pleasure, goes upon pepper and salt; it is a
luxurious competence abroad."
"I think I have heard Cleveland say that you will be rich some day or
other."
"O yes: I have what are called expectations! You must know that I have
a kind of settlement on two stools, the Well-born and the Wealthy; but
between two stools--you recollect the proverb! The present Lord
Saxingham, once plain Frank Lascelles, and my father, Mr. Ferrers, were
first cousins. Two or three relations good-naturedly died, and Frank
Lascelles became an earl; the lands did not go with the coronet; he was
poor, and married an heiress. The lady died; her estate was settled on
her only child, the handsomest little girl you ever saw. Pretty
Florence, I often wish I could look up to you! Her fortune will be
nearly all at her own disposal, too, when she comes of age; now she is
in the nursery, 'eating bread and honey.' My father, less lucky and
less wise than his cousin, thought fit to marry a Miss Templeton--a
nobody. The Saxingham branch of the family politely dropped the
acquaintance. Now, my mother had a brother, a clever, plodding fellow,
in what is called 'business:' he became richer and richer: but my father
and mother died, and were never the better for it. And I came of age,
and /worth/ (I like that expression) not a farthing more or less than
this often-quoted eight hundred pounds a year. My rich uncle is
married, but has no children. I am, therefore, heir-presumptive,--but
he is a saint, and close, though ostentatious. The quarrel between
Uncle Templeton and the Saxinghams still continues. Templeton is angry
if I see the Saxinghams and the Saxinghams--my Lord, at least--is by no
means so sure that I shall be Templeton's heir as not to feel a doubt
lest I should some day or other sponge upon his lordship for a place.
Lord Saxingham is in the administration, you know. Somehow or other I
have an equivocal amphibious kind of place in London society, which I
don't like; on one side I am a patrician connection, whom the /parvenu/
branches always incline lovingly to--and on the other side I am a
half-dependent cadet, whom the noble relations look civilly shy at.
Some day, when I grow tired of travel and idleness, I shall come back
and wrestle with these little difficulties, conciliate my methodistical
uncle, and grapple with my noble cousin. But now I am fit for something
better than getting on in the world. Dry chips, not green wood, are the
things for making a blaze! How slow this fellow drives! Hollo, you
sir! get on! mind, twelve miles to the hour! You shall have sixpence a
mile. Give me your purse, Maltravers; I may as well be cashier, being
the elder and the wiser man; we can settle accounts at the end of the
journey. By Jove, what a pretty girl!"