Part 55 (1/2)
”Well, Leonard,” said he, after a pause, ”it is time that I should give you some idea of my plans with regard to you. You have seen my manner of living--some difference from what you ever saw before, I calculate! Now I have given you, what no one gave me, a lift in the world; and where I place you, there you must help yourself.”
”Such is my duty and my desire,” said Leonard, heartily. ”Good. You are a clever lad, and a genteel lad, and will do me credit. I have had doubts of what is best for you. At one time I thought of sending you to college. That, I know; is Mr. Dale's wish; perhaps it is your own. But I have given up that idea; I have something better for you. You have a clear head for business, and are a capital arithmetician. I think of bringing you up to superintend my business; by and by I will admit you into partners.h.i.+p; and before you are thirty you will be a rich man.
Come, does that suit you?”
”My dear uncle,” said Leonard, frankly, but much touched by this generosity, ”it is not for me to have a choice. I should have preferred going to college, because there I might gain independence for myself and cease to be a burden on you. Moreover, my heart moves me to studies more congenial with the college than the counting-house. But all this is nothing compared with my wish to be of use to you, and to prove in any way, however feebly, my grat.i.tude for all your kindness.”
”You're a good, grateful, sensible lad,” exclaimed Richard, heartily; ”and believe me, though I'm a rough diamond, I have your true interest at heart. You can be of use to me, and in being so you will best serve yourself. To tell you the truth, I have some idea of changing my condition. There's a lady of fas.h.i.+on and quality who, I think, may condescend to become Mrs. Avenel; and if so, I shall probably reside a great part of the year in London. I don't want to give up my business.
No other investment will yield the same interest. But you can soon learn to superintend it for me, as some day or other I may retire, and then you can step in. Once a member of our great commercial cla.s.s, and with your talents you may be anything,--member of parliament, and after that, minister of State, for what I know. And my wife--hem! that is to be--has great connections, and you shall marry well; and--oh, the Avenels will hold their heads with the highest, after all! d.a.m.n the aristocracy! we clever fellows will be the aristocrats, eh?” Richard rubbed his hands.
Certainly, as we have seen, Leonard, especially in his earlier steps to knowledge, had repined at his position in the many degrees of life; certainly he was still ambitious; certainly he could not now have returned contentedly to the humble occupation he had left; and woe to the young man who does not hear with a quickened pulse and brightening eye words that promise independence, and flatter with the hope of distinction. Still, it was with all the reaction of chill and mournful disappointment that Leonard, a few hours after this dialogue with his uncle, found himself alone in the fields, and pondering over the prospects before him. He had set his heart upon completing his intellectual education, upon developing those powers within him which yearned for an arena of literature, and revolted from the routine of trade.
But to his credit be it said, that he vigorously resisted this natural disappointment, and by degrees schooled himself to look cheerfully on the path imposed on his duty, and sanctioned by the manly sense that was at the core of his character.
I believe that this self-conquest showed that the boy had true genius.
The false genius would have written sonnets and despaired.
But still, Richard Avenel left his nephew sadly perplexed as to the knotty question from which their talk on the future had diverged,--namely, should he write to the parson, and a.s.sure the fears of his mother? How do so without Richard's consent, when Richard had on a former occasion so imperiously declared that, if he did, it would lose his mother all that Richard intended to settle on her? While he was debating this matter with his conscience, leaning against a stile that interrupted a path to the town, Leonard Fairfield was startled by an exclamation. He looked up, and beheld Mr. Sprott the tinker.
CHAPTER XV.
The tinker, blacker and grimmer than ever, stared hard at the altered person of his old acquaintance, and extended his sable fingers, as if inclined to convince himself by the sense of touch that it was Leonard in the flesh that he beheld, under vestments so marvellously elegant and preternaturally spruce.
Leonard shrank mechanically from the contact, while in great surprise he faltered,--
”You here, Mr. Sprott! What could bring you so far from home?”
”'Ome!” echoed the tinker, ”I 'as no 'ome! or rather, d' ye see, Muster Fairfilt, I makes myself at 'ome verever I goes! Lor' love ye! I ben't settled on no parridge. I wanders here and I vanders there, and that's my 'ome verever I can mend my kettles and sell my tracks!”
So saying, the tinker slid his panniers on the ground, gave a grunt of release and satisfaction, and seated himself with great composure on the stile from which Leonard had retreated.
”But, dash my wig,” resumed Mr. Sprott, as he once more surveyed Leonard, ”vy, you bees a rale gentleman, now, surely! Vot's the dodge, eh?”
”Dodge!” repeated Leonard, mechanically, ”I don't understand you.” Then, thinking that it was neither necessary nor expedient to keep up his acquaintance with Mr. Sprott, nor prudent to expose himself to the battery of questions which he foresaw that further parley would bring upon him, he extended a crown-piece to the tinker; and saying, with a half-smile, ”You must excuse me for leaving you--I have business in the town; and do me the favour to accept this trifle,” he walked briskly off.
The tinker looked long at the crown-piece, and then sliding it into his pocket, said to himself,--
”Ho, 'ush-money! No go, my swell cove.”
After venting that brief soliloquy he sat silent a little while, till Leonard was nearly out of sight; then rose, resumed his fardel, and creeping quick along the hedgerows, followed Leonard towards the town.
Just in the last field, as he looked over the hedge, he saw Leonard accosted by a gentleman of comely mien and important swagger. That gentleman soon left the young man, and came, whistling loud, up the path, and straight towards the tinker. Mr. Sprott looked round, but the hedge was too neat to allow of a good hiding-place, so he put a bold front on it, and stepped forth like a man. But, alas for him! before he got into the public path, the proprietor of the land, Mr. Richard Avenel (for the gentleman was no less a personage), had spied out the trespa.s.ser, and called to him with a ”Hillo, fellow,” that bespoke all the dignity of a man who owns acres, and all the wrath of a man who beholds those acres impudently invaded.
The tinker stopped, and Mr. Avenel stalked up to him. ”What the devil are you doing on my property, lurking by my hedge? I suspect you are an incendiary!”
”I be a tinker,” quoth Mr. Sprott, not louting low, for a st.u.r.dy republican was Mr. Sprott, but, like a lord of human kind,--
”Pride in his port, defiance in his eye.”