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

with a title of your own. I suppose what he wants is a gentleman for his girl. I don’t see why he should not be perfectly satisfied. With all his enormous wealth a thousand a year or so can’t make any difference. And then he made you one of the Directors at his Board. Oh Felix;⁠—it is almost too good to be true.”

“I ain’t quite sure that I care very much about being married, you know.”

“Oh, Felix, pray don’t say that. Why shouldn’t you like being married? She is a very nice girl, and we shall all be so fond of her! Don’t let any feeling of that kind come over you; pray don’t. You will be able to do just what you please when once the question of her money is settled. Of course you can hunt as often as you like, and you can have a house in any part of London you please. You must understand by this time how very disagreeable it is to have to get on without an established income.”

“I quite understand that.”

“If this were once done you would never have any more trouble of that kind. There would be plenty of money for everything as long as you live. It would be complete success. I don’t know how to say enough to you, or to tell you how dearly I love you, or to make you understand how well I think you have done it all.” Then she caressed him again, and was almost beside herself in an agony of mingled anxiety and joy. If, after all, her beautiful boy, who had lately been her disgrace and her great trouble because of his poverty, should shine forth to the world as a baronet with £20,000 a year, how glorious would it be! She must have known⁠—she did know⁠—how poor, how selfish a creature he was. But her gratification at the prospect of his splendour obliterated the sorrow with which the vileness of his character sometimes oppressed her. Were he to win this girl with all her father’s money, neither she nor his sister would be the better for it, except in this, that the burden of maintaining him would be taken from her shoulders. But his magnificence would be established. He was her son, and the prospect of his fortune and splendour was sufficient to elate her into a very heaven of beautiful dreams. “But, Felix,” she continued, “you really must stay and go to the Longestaffes’ tomorrow. It will only be one day.⁠—And now were you to run away⁠—”

“Run away! What nonsense you talk.”

“If you were to start back to London at once I mean, it would be an affront to her, and the very thing to set Melmotte against you. You should lay yourself out to please him;⁠—indeed you should.”

“Oh, bother!” said Sir Felix. But nevertheless he allowed himself to be persuaded to remain. The matter was important even to him, and he consented to endure the almost unendurable nuisance of spending another day at the Manor House. Lady Carbury, almost lost in delight, did not know where to turn for sympathy. If her cousin were not so stiff, so pigheaded, so wonderfully ignorant of the affairs of the world, he would have at any rate consented to rejoice with her. Though he might not like Felix⁠—who, as his mother admitted to herself, had been rude to her cousin⁠—he would have rejoiced for the sake of the family. But, as it was, she did not dare to tell him. He would have received her tidings with silent scorn. And even Henrietta would not be enthusiastic. She felt that though she would have delighted to expatiate on this great triumph, she must be silent at present. It should now be her great effort to ingratiate herself with Mr. Melmotte at the dinner party at Caversham.

During the whole of that evening Roger Carbury hardly spoke to his cousin Hetta. There was not much conversation between them till quite late, when Father Barham came in for supper. He had been over at Bungay among his people there, and had walked back, taking Carbury on the way. “What did you think of our bishop?” Roger asked him, rather imprudently.

“Not much of him as a bishop. I don’t doubt that he makes a very nice lord, and that he does more good among his neighbours than an average lord. But you don’t put power or responsibility into the hands of anyone sufficient to make him a bishop.”

“Nine-tenths of the clergy in the diocese would be guided by him in any matter of clerical conduct which might come before him.”

“Because they know that he has no strong opinion of his own, and would not therefore desire to dominate theirs. Take any of your bishops that has an opinion⁠—if there be one left⁠—and see how far your clergy consent to his teaching!” Roger turned round and took up his book. He was already becoming tired of his pet priest. He himself always abstained from saying a word derogatory to his new friend’s religion in the man’s hearing; but his new friend did not by any means return the compliment. Perhaps also Roger felt that were he to take up the cudgels for an argument he might be worsted in the combat, as in such combats success is won by practised skill rather than by truth. Henrietta was also reading, and Felix was smoking elsewhere⁠—wondering whether the hours would ever wear themselves away in that castle of dullness, in which no cards were to be seen, and where, except at mealtimes, there was nothing to drink. But Lady Carbury was quite willing to allow the priest to teach her that all appliances for the dissemination of religion outside his own church must be naught.

“I suppose our bishops are sincere in their beliefs,” she said with her sweetest smile.

“I’m sure I hope so. I have no possible reason to doubt it as to the two or three whom I have seen⁠—nor