The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 by William Dean Howells (read dune txt) 📕

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A Stranger As It Is.  I Hope Mrs. Lapham Is Well? And

Your Daughter?"

 

"Thank You," Said Lapham,  "They'Re Quite Well."

 

"They Were Very Kind To My Wife----"

 

"Oh,  That Was Nothing!" Cried lapham.  "There'S Nothing

Mrs. Lapham Likes Better Than A Chance Of That Sort.

Mrs. Corey And The Young Ladies Well?"

 

"Very Well,  When I Heard From Them.  They'Re Out Of Town."

 

"Yes,  So I Understood," Said Lapham,  With A Nod Toward

The Son.  "I Believe Mr. Corey,  Here,  Told Mrs. Lapham."

He Leaned back In his Chair,  Stiffly Resolute To Show That He

Was Not Incommoded by The Exchange Of These Civilities.

 

"Yes," Said Bromfield Corey.  "Tom Has Had The Pleasure

Which I Hope For Of Seeing you All.  I Hope You'Re

Able To Make Him Useful To You Here?" Corey Looked

Round Lapham'S Room Vaguely,  And Then Out At The Clerks

In Their Railed enclosure,  Where His Eye Finally Rested

On An Extremely Pretty Girl,  Who Was Operating a Type-Writer.

 

"Well,  Sir," Replied lapham,  Softening for The First Time

With This Approach To Business,  "I Guess It Will Be Our Own

Fault If We Don'T. By The Way,  Corey," He Added,  To The

Younger Man,  As He Gathered up Some Letters From His Desk,

"Here'S Something in your Line.  Spanish Or French,

I Guess."

 

"I'Ll Run Them Over," Said Corey,  Taking them To His Desk.

 

His Father Made An Offer To Rise.

 

"Don'T Go," Said Lapham,  Gesturing him Down Again.

"I Just Wanted to Get Him Away A Minute.  I Don'T Care

To Say It To His Face,--I Don'T Like The Principle,--But

Since You Ask Me About It,  I'D Just As Lief Say That I'Ve

Never Had Any Young Man Take Hold Here Equal To Your Son.

I Don'T Know As You Care"

 

"You Make Me Very Happy," Said Bromfield Corey.

"Very Happy Indeed.  I'Ve Always Had The Idea That There

Was Something in my Son,  If He Could Only Find The Way

To Work It Out.  And He Seems To Have Gone Into Your

Business For The Love Of It."

 

"He Went To Work In the Right Way,  Sir! He Told Me About It.

He Looked into It.  And That Paint Is A Thing that Will

Bear Looking into."

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"Oh Yes.  You Might Think He Had Invented it,  If You

Heard Him Celebrating it."

 

"Is That So?" Demanded lapham,  Pleased through

And Through.  "Well,  There Ain'T Any Other Way.

You'Ve Got To Believe In a Thing before You Can Put Any

Heart In it.  Why,  I Had A Partner In this Thing once,

Along Back Just After The War,  And He Used to Be Always

Wanting to Tinker With Something else.  'Why,' Says I,

'You'Ve Got The Best Thing in god'S Universe Now.

Why Ain'T You Satisfied?' I Had To Get Rid Of Him At Last.

I Stuck To My Paint,  And That Fellow'S Drifted round Pretty

Much All Over The Whole Country,  Whittling his Capital

Down All The While,  Till Here The Other Day I Had To Lend

Him Some Money To Start Him New.  No,  Sir,  You'Ve Got

To Believe In a Thing.  And I Believe In your Son.

And I Don'T Mind Telling you That,  So Far As He'S Gone,

He'S A Success."

 

"That'S Very Kind Of You."

 

"No Kindness About It.  As I Was Saying the Other Day

To A Friend Of Mine,  I'Ve Had Many A Fellow Right Out

Of The Street That Had To Work Hard All His Life,

And Didn'T Begin To Take Hold Like This Son Of Yours."

 

Lapham Expanded with Profound Self-Satisfaction. As He

Probably Conceived it,  He Had Succeeded in praising,

In A Perfectly Casual Way,  The Supreme Excellence

Of His Paint,  And His Own Sagacity And Benevolence;

And Here He Was Sitting face To Face With Bromfield Corey,

Praising his Son To Him,  And Receiving his Grateful

Acknowledgments As If He Were The Father Of Some Office-Boy

Whom Lapham Had Given A Place Half But Of Charity.

 

"Yes,  Sir,  When Your Son Proposed to Take Hold Here,

I Didn'T Have Much Faith In his Ideas,  That'S The Truth.

But I Had Faith In him,  And I Saw That He Meant Business

From The Start.  I Could See It Was Born In him.

Any One Could."

 

"I'M Afraid He Didn'T Inherit It Directly From Me,"

Said Bromfield Corey; "But It'S In the Blood,

On Both Sides." "Well,  Sir,  We Can'T Help Those Things,"

Said Lapham Compassionately.  "Some Of Us Have Got It,

And Some Of Us Haven'T. The Idea Is To Make The Most Of

What We Have Got."

 

"Oh Yes; That Is The Idea.  By All Means."

 

"And You Can'T Ever Tell What'S In you Till You Try.

Why,  When I Started this Thing,  I Didn'T More Than Half

Understand My Own Strength.  I Wouldn'T Have Said,

Looking back,  That I Could Have Stood The Wear And Tear

Of What I'Ve Been Through.  But I Developed as I Went Along.

It'S Just Like Exercising your Muscles In a Gymnasium.

You Can Lift Twice Or Three Times As Much After You'Ve

Been In training a Month As You Could Before.  And I

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Can See That It'S Going to Be Just So With Your Son.

His Going through College Won'T Hurt Him,--He'Ll Soon Slough

All That Off,--And His Bringing up Won'T; Don'T Be Anxious

About It.  I Noticed in the Army That Some Of The Fellows

That Had The Most Go-Ahead Were Fellows That Hadn'T Ever

Had Much More To Do Than Girls Before The War Broke Out.

Your Son Will Get Along."

 

"Thank You," Said Bromfield Corey,  And Smiled--Whether

Because His Spirit Was Safe In the Humility He

Sometimes Boasted,  Or Because It Was Triply Armed

In Pride Against Anything the Colonel'S Kindness Could Do.

 

"He'Ll Get Along.  He'S A Good Business Man,  And He'S

A Fine Fellow.  Must You Go?" Asked lapham,  As Bromfield

Corey Now Rose More Resolutely.  "Well,  Glad To See You.

It Was Natural You Should Want To Come And See What He

Was About,  And I'M Glad You Did.  I Should Have Felt

Just So About It.  Here Is Some Of Our Stuff," He Said,

Pointing out The Various Packages In his Office,

Including the Persis Brand.

 

"Ah,  That'S Very Nice,  Very Nice Indeed," Said His Visitor.

"That Colour Through The Jar--Very Rich--Delicious.

Is Persis Brand A Name?"

 

Lapham Blushed.

 

"Well,  Persis Is.  I Don'T Know As You Saw An Interview

That Fellow Published in the Events A While Back?"

 

"What Is The Events?"

 

"Well,  It'S That New Paper Witherby'S Started."

 

"No," Said Bromfield Corey,  "I Haven'T Seen It.

I Read The Daily," He Explained; By Which He Meant The

Daily Advertiser,  The Only Daily There Is In the Old-

Fashioned bostonian Sense.

 

"He Put A Lot Of Stuff In my Mouth That I Never Said,"

Resumed lapham; "But That'S Neither Here Nor There,

So Long As You Haven'T Seen It.  Here'S The Department

Your Son'S In," And He Showed him The Foreign Labels.

Then He Took Him Out Into The Warehouse To See The

Large Packages.  At The Head Of The Stairs,  Where His

Guest Stopped to Nod To His Son And Say "Good-Bye,  Tom,"

Lapham Insisted upon Going down To The Lower Door With Him

"Well,  Call Again," He Said In hospitable Dismissal.

"I Shall Always Be Glad To See You.  There Ain'T A Great

Deal Doing at This Season." Bromfield Corey Thanked him,

And Let His Hand Remain Perforce In lapham'S Lingering grasp.

"If You Ever Like To Ride After A Good Horse----"

The Colonel Began.

 

"Oh,  No,  No,  No; Thank You! The Better The Horse,  The More

I Should Be Scared.  Tom Has Told Me Of Your Driving!"

 

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"Ha,  Ha,  Ha!" Laughed the Colonel.  "Well! Every One

To His Taste.  Well,  Good Morning,  Sir!" And He Suffered

Him To Go.

 

"Who Is The Old Man Blowing to This Morning?" Asked walker,

The Book-Keeper,  Making an Errand To Corey'S Desk.

 

"My Father."

 

"Oh! That Your Father? I Thought He Must Be One Of Your

Italian Correspondents That You'D Been Showing round,

Or Spanish."

 

In Fact,  As Bromfield Corey Found His Way At His Leisurely

Pace Up Through The Streets On Which The Prosperity

Of His Native City Was Founded,  Hardly Any Figure Could

Have Looked more Alien To Its Life.  He Glanced up And Down

The Facades And Through The Crooked vistas Like A Stranger,

And The Swarthy Fruiterer Of Whom He Bought An Apple,

Apparently For The Pleasure Of Holding it In his Hand,

Was Not Surprised that The Purchase Should Be Transacted

In His Own Tongue.

 

Lapham Walked back Through The Outer Office To His Own

Room Without Looking at Corey,  And During the Day He Spoke

To Him Only Of Business Matters.  That Must Have Been

His Way Of Letting corey See That He Was Not Overcome

By The Honour Of His Father'S Visit.  But He Presented

Himself At Nantasket With The Event So Perceptibly On

His Mind That His Wife Asked: "Well,  Silas,  Has Rogers

Been Borrowing any More Money Of You? I Don'T Want You

Should Let That Thing go Too Far.  You'Ve Done Enough."

 

"You Needn'T Be Afraid.  I'Ve Seen The Last Of Rogers

For One While." He Hesitated,  To Give The Fact An Effect

Of No Importance.  "Corey'S Father Called this Morning."

 

"Did He?" Said Mrs. Lapham,  Willing to Humour His Feint

Of Indifference.  "Did He Want To Borrow Some Money Too?"

"Not As I Understood." Lapham Was Smoking at Great Ease,

And His Wife Had Some Crocheting on The Other Side Of The

Lamp From Him.

 

The Girls Were On The Piazza Looking at The Moon On

The Water Again.  "There'S No Man In it To-Night,"

Penelope Said,  And Irene Laughed forlornly.

 

"What Did He Want,  Then?" Asked mrs. Lapham.

 

"Oh,  I Don'T Know.  Seemed to Be Just A Friendly Call.

Said He Ought To Have Come Before."

 

Mrs. Lapham Was Silent A While.  Then She Said: "Well,

I Hope You'Re Satisfied now."

 

Lapham Rejected the Sympathy Too Openly Offered.

"I Don'T Know About Being satisfied.  I Wa'N'T In any

Hurry To See Him."

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