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

them? Nobody thinks that I know anything about business. Of course I’m in Parliament, but I don’t often go there unless they want me to vote. Everybody knows that I’m hard up. I can’t understand it. The Governor said that I was to do it, and so I’ve done it.”

“They say, you know⁠—there’s something between you and Melmotte’s daughter.”

“But if there is, what has that to do with a railway in the city? And why should Carbury be there? And, heaven and earth, why should old Grendall be a Director? I’m impecunious; but if you were to pick out the two most hopeless men in London in regard to money, they would be old Grendall and young Carbury. I’ve been thinking a good deal about it, and I can’t make it out.”

“I have been thinking about it too,” said Paul.

“I suppose old Melmotte is all right?” asked Nidderdale. This was a question which Montague found it difficult to answer. How could he be justified in whispering suspicions to the man who was known to be at any rate one of the competitors for Marie Melmotte’s hand? “You can speak out to me, you know,” said Nidderdale, nodding his head.

“I’ve got nothing to speak. People say that he is about the richest man alive.”

“He lives as though he were.”

“I don’t see why it shouldn’t be all true. Nobody, I take it, knows very much about him.” When his companion had left him, Nidderdale sat down, thinking of it all. It occurred to him that he would “be coming a cropper rather,” were he to marry Melmotte’s daughter for her money, and then find that she had got none.

A little later in the evening he invited Montague to go up to the card-room. “Carbury, and Grasslough, and Dolly Longestaffe are there waiting,” he said. But Paul declined. He was too full of his troubles for play. “Poor Miles isn’t there, if you’re afraid of that,” said Nidderdale.

“Miles Grendall wouldn’t hinder me,” said Montague.

“Nor me either. Of course it’s a confounded shame. I know that as well as anybody. But, God bless me, I owe a fellow down in Leicestershire heaven knows how much for keeping horses, and that’s a shame.”

“You’ll pay him some day.”

“I suppose I shall⁠—if I don’t die first. But I should have gone on with the horses just the same if there had never been anything to come;⁠—only they wouldn’t have given me tick, you know. As far as I’m concerned it’s just the same. I like to live whether I’ve got money or not. And I fear I don’t have many scruples about paying. But then I like to let live too. There’s Carbury always saying nasty things about poor Miles. He’s playing himself without a rap to back him. If he were to lose, Vossner wouldn’t stand him a £10 note. But because he has won, he goes on as though he were old Melmotte himself. You’d better come up.”

But Montague wouldn’t go up. Without any fixed purpose he left the club, and slowly sauntered northwards through the streets till he found himself in Welbeck Street. He hardly knew why he went there, and certainly had not determined to call on Lady Carbury when he left the Beargarden. His mind was full of Mrs. Hurtle. As long as she was present in London⁠—as long at any rate as he was unable to tell himself that he had finally broken away from her⁠—he knew himself to be an unfit companion for Henrietta Carbury. And, indeed, he was still under some promise made to Roger Carbury, not that he would avoid Hetta’s company, but that for a certain period, as yet unexpired, he would not ask her to be his wife. It had been a foolish promise, made and then repented without much attention to words;⁠—but still it was existing, and Paul knew well that Roger trusted that it would be kept. Nevertheless Paul made his way up to Welbeck Street and almost unconsciously knocked at the door. No;⁠—Lady Carbury was not at home. She was out somewhere with Mr. Roger Carbury. Up to that moment Paul had not heard that Roger was in town; but the reader may remember that he had come up in search of Ruby Ruggles. Miss Carbury was at home, the page went on to say. Would Mr. Montague go up and see Miss Carbury? Without much consideration Mr. Montague said that he would go up and see Miss Carbury. “Mamma is out with Roger,” said Hetta endeavouring to save herself from confusion. “There is a soirée of learned people somewhere, and she made poor Roger take her. The ticket was only for her and her friend, and therefore I could not go.”

“I am so glad to see you. What an age it is since we met.”

“Hardly since the Melmottes’ ball,” said Hetta.

“Hardly indeed. I have been here once since that. What has brought Roger up to town?”

“I don’t know what it is. Some mystery, I think. Whenever there is a mystery I am always afraid that there is something wrong about Felix. I do get so unhappy about Felix, Mr. Montague.”

“I saw him today in the city, at the Railway Board.”

“But Roger says the Railway Board is all a sham,”⁠—Paul could not keep himself from blushing as he heard this⁠—“and that Felix should not be there. And then there is something going on about that horrid man’s daughter.”

“She is to marry Lord Nidderdale, I think.”

“Is she? They are talking of her marrying Felix, and of course it is for her money. And I believe that man is determined to quarrel with them.”

“What man, Miss Carbury?”

“Mr. Melmotte himself. It’s all horrid from beginning to end.”

“But I saw them in the city today and they seemed to be the greatest friends. When I wanted to see Mr. Melmotte he bolted himself into an inner room, but he took your brother with him. He would not have done that if they had not been friends. When I saw it I almost thought that