CAPÍTULO 33.

 

            THAT afternoon, soon after Noel left him, Mr. Tresham went to call upon Lady and Miss Bevan. They had not previously met, but yet were sufficiently familiar with each other to make self-introduction easy. Lady Bevan’s anxiety and Sophia’s irritation under the rebuff they considered themselves to have received from Lord Littmass, would have made the old gentleman’s visit most welcome, – so eager was Sophia to vent her excitement in talking with somebody, – even if he had not come expressly upon the business which was uppermost in their minds.’

 

            ‘I am but an ambassador for my nephew,’ he began, ‘who desires me to express his regret that he is prevented by a sudden journey to the continent from obeying your summons. But he has confided to me the whole of the matter in which you are at present taking an interest, believing that I may prove a useful ally, and has requested me to make his apologies.’

 

            ‘What can have taken him abroad,’ exclaimed Sophia, ‘when only two or three days ago he was full of some literary project about which he was in haste to leave us and get back to London?’

 

            ‘I must refer you to his friend Mr. Maynard for particulars. It is some matter of a literary or scientific nature, I believe, in which they are both interested, and about which they have been talking and writing ever since they arrived.’

 

            And in deference to the bewilderment confessed by both ladies concerning this sudden conjunction of the two young

(p. 181)

men, Mr. Tresham related what he knew of the circumstances which had led to Maynard’s being a guest in his house.

 

            It soon came out that Mr. Tresham was a warm ally of Maynard’s, and intimate with Lord Littmass. On Lady Bevan expressing her fear lest his hesitation to let her see Margaret arose from a desire to spare her the pain of seeing how poor a creature the poor girl was, Mr. Tresham said, drily, –

 

            ‘I scarcely think that could have been the reason, since not only is that very superior man, Mr. Maynard, deeply in love with her; but in my interview with his lordship this morning, he did me the honour to propose an alliance between my nephew and his ward, the young lady in question.’

 

            ‘What! and throw over his own son!’ almost screamed Sophia. There, mamma, I told you Lord Littmass is a scoundrel.’

 

            ‘It is but quite a recent impression of yours, my dear,’ was the quiet response; ‘and you will pardon my slowness about coming to the same conclusion.’

 

            ‘Did you tell Lord Littmass,’ asked Sophia of Mr. Tresham, ‘that you knew of Mr. Maynard’s relationship to him?’

 

            ‘Not precisely. His coldness provoked me into an intimation that his conduct was scarcely consistent with the dictates of natural affection.’

 

            ‘Does James Maynard know it yet?’ asked Lady Bevan.

 

            ‘No. He and the young lady seem to be the only persons interested who do not.’

 

            ‘I wonder what would be the consequence of his learning it,’ said Sophia.

 

            ‘I am afraid that our little Mexican enterprise would lose the services of the acknowledged heir to Lord Littmass’s title and – debts.’

 

            ‘Do you speak seriously?’ asked Lady Bevan.

 

            ‘Lord Littmass’s embarrassments are no secret, at least, in the city, or I should not have alluded to them.’

 

            ‘And I, his intimate friend and cousin, believed him rich! No wonder he is so averse to parting with Margaret.’

 

            ‘Pray, may I inquire why?’

 

            ‘She has a comfortable little fortune, out of which her guardian has, of course, an allowance for her maintenance. It is partly a delicacy on this point that has prevented my seeking to have my niece with me.’

 

            ‘It is very clear to me, ladies,’ said Mr. Tresham, with an

(p. 182)

assumption of formality, ‘that there exists a very considerable discrepancy between our respective conceptions of his lordship’s position; and that it is therefore our bounden duty to reserve our judgment concerning him. I conceive it right, however, to mention, in addition to what has already transpired between us, that, in making the offer of his ward’s hand for my nephew, his lordship distinctly asserted that the young lady has no fortune whatever, beyond what he may be able to leave her in his will.’

 

            ‘And he is in debt! So that the poor child is penniless, according to your showing.’

 

            ‘A reason, madam, for denying her to his son, and wishing her to make an independent marriage.’

 

            ‘My poor cousin! I shall dread seeing him now; his explanations will be so painful.’

 

            ‘Not necessarily so, madam. His lordship is a man of much resource.’

 

            Here Sophia, who for the last few minutes had been silent and thinking, suddenly exclaimed, –

 

            ‘Edmund ought not to have gone away at such a moment, and left us all in the lurch. I shall tell him I consider it very selfish of him. He should have gone to Lord Littmass, and thanked him for his proposal, and seen the young lady. I am quite out with Mr. Maynard, too, for wanting Margaret to pledge herself to him before she has seen any one else. I begin to take Lord Littmass’s part, and to think he is right. Edmund and Margaret would suit each other perfectly. I never saw her, but I know it is so. And –––’

 

            ‘You are forgetting James Maynard and his prior claim,’ observed Lady Bevan.

 

            ‘No, I am not. I would find a wife for him elsewhere.’

 

            ‘My nephew is not the man to step in and supplant his friend,’ said Mr. Tresham. ‘Had I named his lordship’s proposition to Edmund, he would have gone abroad, and stayed there, until after his friend’s wedding.’

 

            ‘Much better to supplant him, as you call it, before marriage than afterwards; an event which is never improbable when men marry their wives from the nursery. Mr. Tresham, you have been entrusted with one delicate mission to-day. I have a great mind to ask you to undertake another, and tell Mr. Maynard that I take an interest in him, and – and am ready to listen favourably to anything he may have to say to me.’’

 

            ‘My dear Sophia, how can you!’ exclaimed Lady Bevan.

 

(p. 183)

            ‘Such an arrangement would simplify matters wonderfully,’ said Mr. Tresham, turning to Sophia and laughing. ‘But I fear that you would hardly be prepared to go to Mexico, so that we should he deprived of his services there.’

 

            ‘There’s no knowing. We will settle that point afterwards.’

 

            After a little more conversation Mr. Tresham took his leave, and returned home to join Maynard at dinner.

 

            ‘I have a message from Lord Littmass, asking me to call on him this evening,’ said James. ‘I suppose that there is no fear of his raising any objection to my having the permanent appointment; because it is only on the strength of that appointment that I can ask what I have to ask of him.’

 

            ‘If it will strengthen your hands I do not mind telling you that in reality his lordship’s connection with the company is little more than nominal. I mean that, although its success will be to his advantage, yet its failure will not cost him sixpence.’

 

            In answer to Maynard’s look of surprise and inquiry he added, drily, –

 

            ‘The Social and the Commercial are sometimes curiously intermingled in this country.’ After a pause he continued, –

 

            ‘I have just been calling on some warm friends of yours.’

 

            ‘Of mine!’

 

            ‘Yes, though you scarcely know them and the best of it is, that they are connected with Lord Littmass, and have influence with him. I mean Lady and Miss Bevan.’

 

            ‘I have met the latter once or twice, but I can hardly claim acquaintance with either.’

 

            ‘Well, they know a good deal about you, and your history, and your – family; and are quite prepared to espouse your cause with Lord Littmass.’

 

            ‘I remember,’ said James; ‘Miss Bevan set me wondering, what she meant by saying she knew my family. And I came to the conclusion that it was a mere phrase, seeing that I myself know nothing whatever on the subjet.’

 

            ‘And you have never cared to ascertain?’

 

            ‘Ascertain what?’

 

            ‘Why, for instance, who and what your father was, or your mother, –– and ––’

 

            ‘And of whom, pray, should I have made these inquiries?’

 

            ‘Certainly, that information ought to have been vouchsafed

(p. 184)

to you long ago; say, when you came of age, if not sooner. Perhaps the absence of all interest on your part may have operated to prevent any communication being made to you.’

 

            ‘I certainly have not given a thought to the subject. I can remember no one in whom, as a child, I took any interest, and have always stuck to my work, supposing that if there was anything I ought to know, I should know it without doing anything about it myself. Perhaps I was wrong, but the detached life I have always led is not of the kind to make a man think about personal associations. I found myself in the world, much as Adam did, and I don’t suppose he ever thought of asking who his father was.’

 

            ‘Yet I am disposed to think that if Adam had been blest with a guardian who could have enlightened him on the subject, he would have at least asked him.’

 

            ‘Can it be possible,’ exclaimed James, suddenly, ‘that it is this knowledge of my parents that makes Lord Littmass object to my marrying Miss Waring? Yet he himself told me, or rather implied to me, that being a great heiress, he expected her to make a great marriage.’

 

            ‘Being Lord Littmass’s heiress would not entitle any young lady to make a great marriage on the score of fortune,’ observed the old man, quietly. I rather think it must be your parentage.’ ’

 

            ‘Can you tell me anything about my parents?’

 

            ‘There is but one person who can with propriety do that.’

 

            ‘Ought I to ask him before I make my proposal?’

 

            ‘Well, my dear sir, if you really desire my opinion on the course to be pursued, I shall be most happy to state it. You have a certain proposition to make to your late guardian, the importance of which you rate above all other considerations. You have delicately refrained from advancing this proposition until you should have attained a position which justifies you in doing so. Knowing now of no obstacle, you make your proposal, stating that the only obstacle, of the existence of which you were aware, being removed, you now venture to come forward and prefer your claim. It will then be for him to accept or refuse, or to refer you to the lady to decide. If all goes well, I should not, in my own case, seek to open any fresh subject, but should leave well alone. If, unhappily, your proposal meets with a rebuff in the first instance from his lordship himself, and he declines to refer you to the lady, you have an undoubted

(p. 185)

right to ask his reasons. He may decline to give them. You may then insist on being informed whether his objection is to yourself, your position, your fortune, or your parentage; and may demand to know who you are. He can scarcely, it seems to me, decline, at such a juncture, to afford information on this point. But should he do so, you risk nothing by stating that you shall draw your own inferences from his silence, and shall at once take means to verify them, still considering yourself at liberty to seek for an answer from the young lady herself.’

 

            ‘I go with you in all but the last suggestion but one. What reason have I to suppose that the discovery would be more injurious to him than to myself?’

 

            ‘I am supposing you to have pressed him so urgently, that it is unlikely he would still be in a disposition to withhold his information for the sake of sparing your feelings; and that therefore it is for his own sake.’

 

            ‘Your reasoning is logical, though the conclusion leaves me in the dark.’

 

            ‘Well, help me to finish this claret, and then you must be setting off. I shall await your return most anxiously.’

 

 

Índice Geral das Seções   Índice da Seção Atual   Índice da Obra Atual   Anterior: Capítulo 32   Seguinte: Capítulo 34