It was with a slightly accelerated pulse that Horace went next morning
to the "George" to keep his appointment. He seemed to have put his own
fortune on the cast, and temper and ambition alike forbade his drawing
back. Either he must secure Stenhouse as an ally and coadjutor, bound to
him by secret ties of interest, or else he must establish his own career
upon the charitable and Christian work of restoring to Roger Musgrave
such remnants of his inheritance as it might be possible to rescue from
the hands of Pouncet and Stenhouse. This last alternative was not
captivating to Horace. It was not in his nature, had he been the
instrument of such a restoration, to do it otherwise than grudgingly.
He was too young as yet to have added any great powers of dissimulation
to his other good qualities, and his own disposition sided much more
with the clever operator who served his own interests by means of some
unsuspecting simpleton, than with the simpleton who permitted himself to
be so cheated. Accordingly, his thoughts were very reluctant to
undertake that side of the question--still, it was his alternative, and
as such he meant to use it.
Mr. Stenhouse entertained his young visitor sumptuously, and exerted all
his powers to captivate him. He, too, was ignorant of the person he had
to deal with, and did not suspect how entirely uninfluenceable by such
friendly cajoleries was the young bear of Marchmain, who had scarcely
heart enough to be flattered by them, and had acuteness sufficient to
perceive the policy. He began, at length, cautiously enough, upon the
subject of their last night's conversation--cautiously, though with all
his usual apparent candour and openness of tone.
"Let us have a little talk now about this business, this hold which you
think you have got over poor old Pouncet," said Mr. Stenhouse. "Do you
know, my dear fellow, Pouncet has been established here some thirty
years, and the people believe in him; do you think they will take your
word, at your age, against so old an authority? I advise you to think of
it a little, my friend, before you begin."
"My word has very little to do with it," said Horace; "of course, I know
nothing of the transaction except by evidence, which has satisfied my
own mind; and Squire Musgrave was quite as well known, while he lived,
as Mr. Pouncet. Besides, it is your own opinion that the public verdict
is always against the attorney; and then," said Horace, with a slight
irrepressible sneer at his own words, "we have all the story in our
favour, and the sympathy which everybody feels for a disinherited heir."
"But then, your disinherited heir has not a penny in his purse, nor the
means of raising one--a private in a marching regiment," said Stenhouse,
with a laugh; "you yourself are one or two-and-twenty at the outside,
have spent a year in Mr. Pouncet's office, and do not assert yourself,
so far as I am aware, to have any command of capital. How are you to do
it?--your father, eh?--your father has a place in the country, and
perhaps influence--you mean to seek support by his means?"
"My father," said Horace, rudely enough, "has no influence--and, if he
had, would never use it for me; my father is my greatest enemy, or takes
me for his, which is the same thing."
"That is very extraordinary," said Stenhouse, with a sudden appearance
of interest; "takes you for his enemy?--how is that?--there is surely
some mystery here."
"I don't see that it matters at all to what we were speaking of," said
Horace. "Look here, Mr. Stenhouse, I'll speak plainly: Pouncet and you
are in the same boat--if you don't actually lose money by having this
brought to a trial, you'll lose reputation--I know you will. I know well
enough the thing was your doing. I don't pretend to be very clever,"
continued Horace; "but I think I know a man when I see him. It was you
who found out the secret about that land--it was you who put the affair
into Pouncet's head--it was you who managed it all along--the success of
the undertaking belongs to you, and you know it. Now, look here--perhaps
there's no legal hold upon you; but you are a flourishing man, with
people who believe in you, as much as some other people believe in Mr.
Pouncet. If this matter should come to a trial, how would your
reputation come out of it? I ask you boldly, because you know better
than I do the whole affair."
"And am not afraid of it, I assure you, my dear fellow; go on as briskly
as you please, so far as I am concerned," said Stenhouse; "but though I
don't care for this, I care for _you_. You have a natural genius for
this kind of work, not often to be met with. Pouncet would not
understand it, but I do. I'll tell you what, Scarsdale--you can't do me
any harm, but it is quite likely you might do me service. Another man
most probably would send you off with a defiance, but I am not so liable
to offence as most people; I never found it pay, somehow. You can't do
me any harm, as I tell you; but you are bold and capable, and might be
extremely useful to me: whilst I for my share could probably advance
your prospects. Pouncet was telling me something about you yesterday,
but I did not hope to have so clear a specimen of your powers. I want a
confidential man in my own office. What do you say to leaving Pouncet
and transferring your services to me?"
"I should have perhaps a few questions to ask, in the first place," said
Horace, who, elated with this sudden success, the first fruits of his
"power," though his antagonist concealed it so skilfully, was by no
means disinclined to be insolent; "about remuneration and prospects, and
how I should be employed; for I do not hold myself a common clerk, to be
hired by any man who pleases," added the young man, with something of
the rude arrogance that was in him. It was a new phase of his character
to his observant new friend.
"So I understand," he said gravely, but with a twinkle of sarcasm in his
eye, which disconcerted Horace. "I shall be glad to hear the facts of
your own private concern from yourself, and you may reckon on my best
advice. As for the terms of your engagement, if you enter upon one with
me, these, of course, you must consider on your own account, without
suffering me to influence you. I shall look after _my_ interests, to be
sure," added Mr. Stenhouse, with that charming candour of his, "and you
must attend to yours; and if you make up your mind afterwards to attack
Pouncet on behalf of your friend Musgrave," he continued, with a
pleasant smile, "why, well and good--you must follow your fancy. In the
meanwhile, I have no doubt I can employ you to good account, and give
you more insight into business than Pouncet could. Time for the
office--eh? I thought so. Well, you must consider my proposal; no hurry
about it--and let me know how you have decided; I'll mention it to
Pouncet, that there may be no difficulty there. Good morning, my young
friend; you have a famous spirit, and want nothing but practice; and
there is no saying what light you and I together may succeed in throwing
on your own affairs."
Thus dismissed, Horace had no resource but to take his hat, and shake
the smooth hand of Mr. Stenhouse, which grasped his with so much
apparent cordiality. The young man went to his business with a strange
mixture of sensations: humiliated, because he had suffered a seeming
conquest, and his antagonist had clearly borne away the victory, so far
as appearances were concerned; and flattered and excited at the same
time by the substantial proof he had just received that his threat had
not been in vain. Advancement greater and more immediate than to be made
the "confidential man" of a solicitor in excellent practice, after one
brief year of apprenticeship in Mr. Pouncet's office, he could not have
hoped for; and his ambition was not of that great and vague kind which
is always startled by the pettiness of reality. Then that last hint gave
a certain glow of eagerness to his excited mind: light upon his own
affairs!--light upon that mystery which shrouded the recluse of
Marchmain, and made his only son his enemy and opponent! Horace had
managed to content himself with inevitable work, and even to excite
himself into the ambition of making a fortune and his own way in the
world; but that was a mere necessity, to which his arrogance bowed
itself against its will; and the thought of leaping into sudden fortune,
and the bitter long-fostered enmity against his father which continually
suggested to his mind something which that father kept him out of,
remained as fresh as ever in his spirit when they were appealed to.
These thoughts came freshly upon him as he hastened to his daily
occupation, and again began to revive the dreams of Marchmain. Twice he
had succeeded in his private essays towards self-advancement. After an
hour or two's reflection, with returning confidence he exulted to see
his present and his future employer equally in his power, and made
himself an easy victory in his own mind over the plausibilities of Mr.
Stenhouse. Why should he not succeed as well in "his own affairs," and
with equal pains overcome as easily the defences of his father?--and
what if Stenhouse had actually some light to throw upon these concerns?
Horace revelled within himself with a secret arrogance and self-esteem
as he pondered. What if it remained to him, in as short a time as he had
taken to achieve these other successes, to dress himself in the grander
spoils of imagination from which his father's enmity or interest kept
him at present shut out.