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 armchair, reading one of
his favourite 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 under tone_)--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 overtasked 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 favour 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
himself can dispose as he pleases of his patronage. Look you, it
is a secret yet, and I trust to your honour. 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 for ever--_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. Good-by. 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! I--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 daughter--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 leant against the book-case,
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, all 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 labour 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 placehunters. 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 should bring to me
the alliance of that house in England which is most necessary to me.
My life falls to the ground, like a house 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
for you, my dear, and frank, and high-souled young friend--for 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,)--for 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
every thing 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 honour
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 parlour,
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 leather chair, and the entrance stood open. I
joined my father.
"It is 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."