The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

her to have nothing at all to do with such adventurers. But then dear Roger was old fashioned, and knew nothing of people as they are now. He lived in a world which, though slow, had been good in its way; but which, whether bad or good, had now passed away. Then her eye settled on Mr. Broune. She was afraid of Mr. Alf. She had almost begun to think that Mr. Alf was too difficult of management to be of use to her. But Mr. Broune was softer. Mr. Booker was serviceable for an article, but would not be sympathetic as a friend. Mr. Broune had been very courteous to her lately;⁠—so much so that on one occasion she had almost feared that the “susceptible old goose” was going to be a goose again. That would be a bore; but still she might make use of the friendly condition of mind which such susceptibility would produce. When her guests began to leave her, she spoke a word aside to him. She wanted his advice. Would he stay for a few minutes after the rest of the company? He did stay, and when all the others were gone she asked her daughter to leave them. “Hetta,” she said, “I have something of business to communicate to Mr. Broune.” And so they were left alone.

“I’m afraid you didn’t make much of Mr. Melmotte,” she said smiling. He had seated himself on the end of a sofa, close to the armchair which she occupied. In reply, he only shook his head and laughed. “I saw how it was, and I was sorry for it; for he certainly is a wonderful man.”

“I suppose he is, but he is one of those men whose powers do not lie, I should say, chiefly in conversation. Though, indeed, there is no reason why he should not say the same of me;⁠—for if he said little, I said less.”

“It didn’t just come off,” Lady Carbury suggested with her sweetest smile. “But now I want to tell you something. I think I am justified in regarding you as a real friend.”

“Certainly,” he said, putting out his hand for hers.

She gave it to him for a moment, and then took it back again⁠—finding that he did not relinquish it of his own accord. “Stupid old goose!” she said to herself. “And now to my story. You know my boy, Felix?” The editor nodded his head. “He is engaged to marry that man’s daughter.”

“Engaged to marry Miss Melmotte?” Then Lady Carbury nodded her head. “Why, she is said to be the greatest heiress that the world has ever produced. I thought she was to marry Lord Nidderdale.”

“She has engaged herself to Felix. She is desperately in love with him⁠—as is he with her.” She tried to tell her story truly, knowing that no advice can be worth anything that is not based on a true story;⁠—but lying had become her nature. “Melmotte naturally wants her to marry the lord. He came here to tell me that if his daughter married Felix she should not have a penny.”

“Do you mean that he volunteered that⁠—as a threat?”

“Just so;⁠—and he told me that he had come here simply with the object of saying so. It was more candid than civil, but we must take it as we get it.”

“He would be sure to make some such threat.”

“Exactly. That is just what I feel. And in these days young people are not often kept from marrying simply by a father’s fantasy. But I must tell you something else. He told me that if Felix would desist, he would enable him to make a fortune in the city.”

“That’s bosh,” said Broune with decision.

“Do you think it must be so;⁠—certainly?”

“Yes, I do. Such an undertaking, if intended by Melmotte, would give me a worse opinion of him than I have ever held.”

“He did make it.”

“Then he did very wrong. He must have spoken with the purpose of deceiving.”

“You know my son is one of the Directors of that great American Railway. It was not just as though the promise were made to a young man who was altogether unconnected with him.”

“Sir Felix’s name was put there, in a hurry, merely because he has a title, and because Melmotte thought he, as a young man, would not be likely to interfere with him. It may be that he will be able to sell a few shares at a profit; but, if I understand the matter rightly, he has no capital to go into such a business.”

“No;⁠—he has no capital.”

“Dear Lady Carbury, I would place no dependence at all on such a promise as that.”

“You think he should marry the girl then in spite of the father?”

Mr. Broune hesitated before he replied to this question. But it was to this question that Lady Carbury especially wished for a reply. She wanted someone to support her under the circumstances of an elopement. She rose from her chair, and he rose at the same time. “Perhaps I should have begun by saying that Felix is all but prepared to take her off. She is quite ready to go. She is devoted to him. Do you think he would be wrong?”

“That is a question very hard to answer.”

“People do it every day. Lionel Goldsheiner ran away the other day with Lady Julia Start, and everybody visits them.”

“Oh yes, people do run away, and it all comes right. It was the gentleman had the money then, and it is said you know that old Lady Catchboy, Lady Julia’s mother, had arranged the elopement herself as offering the safest way of securing the rich prize. The young lord didn’t like it, so the mother had it done in that fashion.”

“There would be nothing disgraceful.”

“I didn’t say there would;⁠—but nevertheless it is one of those things a man hardly ventures to advise. If you ask me whether I think that Melmotte would forgive her, and make her an allowance afterwards⁠—I think he would.”

“I am so glad to hear you say that.”

“And I feel