Framley Parsonage by Anthony Trollope (good books to read for young adults TXT) 📕

enter that room.” And indeed this feeling was so strong with him, that from the day when his affairs took a turn he would never even walk down South Audley Street. On the morning in question into this torture-chamber Mr. Sowerby went, and there, after some two or three minutes, he was joined by Mr. Fothergill.

Mr. Fothergill was, in one respect, like to his friend Sowerby. He enacted two altogether different persons on occasions which were altogether different. Generally speaking, with the world at large, he was a jolly, rollicking, popular man, fond of eating and drinking, known to be devoted to the duke’s interests, and supposed to be somewhat unscrupulous, or at any rate hard, when they were concerned; but in other respects a good-natured fellow; and there was a report about that he had once lent somebody money, without charging him interest or taking security. On the present occasion Sowerby saw at a glance that he had come thither with all the aptitudes and appurtenances of his business about him. He walked into the room with a short, quick step; there was no smile on his face as he shook hands with his old friend; he brought with him a box laden with papers and parchments, and he had not been a minute in the room before he was seated in one of the old dingy chairs.

“How long have you been in town, Fothergill?” said Sowerby, still standing with his back against the chimney. He had resolved on only one thing⁠—that nothing should induce him to touch, look at, or listen to any of those papers. He knew well enough that no good would come of that. He also had his own lawyer, to see that he was pilfered according to rule.

“How long? Since the day before yesterday. I never was so busy in my life. The duke, as usual, wants to have everything done at once.”

“If he wants to have all that I owe him paid at once, he is like to be out in his reckoning.”

“Ah, well; I’m glad you are ready to come quickly to business, because it’s always best. Won’t you come and sit down here?”

“No, thank you; I’ll stand.”

“But we shall have to go through these figures, you know.”

“Not a figure, Fothergill. What good would it do? None to me, and none to you either, as I take it; if there is anything wrong, Potter’s fellows will find it out. What is it the duke wants?”

“Well; to tell the truth, he wants his money.”

“In one sense, and that the main sense, he has got it. He gets his interest regularly, does not he?”

“Pretty well for that, seeing how times are. But, Sowerby, that’s nonsense. You understand the duke as well as I do, and you know very well what he wants. He has given you time, and if you had taken any steps towards getting the money, you might have saved the property.”

“A hundred and eighty thousand pounds! What steps could I take to get that? Fly a bill, and let Tozer have it to get cash on it in the City!”

“We hoped you were going to marry.”

“That’s all off.”

“Then I don’t think you can blame the duke for looking for his own. It does not suit him to have so large a sum standing out any longer. You see, he wants land, and will have it. Had you paid off what you owed him, he would have purchased the Crown property; and now, it seems, young Gresham has bid against him, and is to have it. This has riled him, and I may as well tell you fairly, that he is determined to have either money or marbles.”

“You mean that I am to be dispossessed.”

“Well, yes; if you choose to call it so. My instructions are to foreclose at once.”

“Then I must say the duke is treating me most uncommonly ill.”

“Well, Sowerby, I can’t see it.”

“I can, though. He has his money like clockwork; and he has bought up these debts from persons who would have never disturbed me as long as they got their interest.”

“Haven’t you had the seat?”

“The seat! and is it expected that I am to pay for that?”

“I don’t see that anyone is asking you to pay for it. You are like a great many other people that I know. You want to eat your cake and have it. You have been eating it for the last twenty years, and now you think yourself very ill-used because the duke wants to have his turn.”

“I shall think myself very ill-used if he sells me out⁠—worse than ill-used. I do not want to use strong language, but it will be more than ill-usage. I can hardly believe that he really means to treat me in that way.”

“It is very hard that he should want his own money!”

“It is not his money that he wants. It is my property.”

“And has he not paid for it? Have you not had the price of your property? Now, Sowerby, it is of no use for you to be angry; you have known for the last three years what was coming on you as well as I did. Why should the duke lend you money without an object? Of course he has his own views. But I do say this; he has not hurried you; and had you been able to do anything to save the place you might have done it. You have had time enough to look about you.”

Sowerby still stood in the place in which he had first fixed himself, and now for awhile he remained silent. His face was very stern, and there was in his countenance none of those winning looks which often told so powerfully with his young friends⁠—which had caught Lord Lufton and had charmed Mark Robarts. The world was going against him, and things around him were coming to an end. He was beginning to perceive that he had in truth eaten his cake, and that there was now little