Part 9 (1/2)
The interview between the father and the son was long. When Endymion left the room his countenance was pale, but its expression was firm and determined. He went forth into the garden, and there he saw Myra. ”How long you have been!” she said; ”I have been watching for you. What is settled?”
He took her arm, and in silence led her away into one of the glades Then he said: ”I have settled to go, and I am resolved, so long as I live, that I will never cost dear papa another s.h.i.+lling. Things here are very bad, quite as bad as you have sometimes fancied. But do not say anything to poor mamma about them.”
Mr. Ferrars resolved that Endymion should go to London immediately, and the preparations for his departure were urgent. Myra did everything.
If she had been the head of a family she could not have been more thoughtful or apparently more experienced. If she had a doubt, she stepped over to Mrs. Penruddock and consulted her. As for Mrs. Ferrars, she had become very unwell, and unable to attend to anything. Her occasional interference, fitful and feverish, and without adequate regard to circ.u.mstances, only embarra.s.sed them. But, generally speaking, she kept to her own room, and was always weeping.
The last day came. No one pretended not to be serious and grave. Mrs.
Ferrars did not appear, but saw Endymion alone. She did not speak, but locked him in her arms for many minutes, and then kissed him on the forehead, and, by a gentle motion, intimating that he should retire, she fell back on her sofa with closed eyes. He was alone for a short time with his father after dinner. Mr. Ferrars said to him: ”I have treated you in this matter as a man, and I have entire confidence in you. Your business in life is to build up again a family which was once honoured.”
Myra was still copying inventories when he returned to the drawing-room.
”These are for myself,” she said, ”so I shall always know what you ought to have. Though you go so early, I shall make your breakfast to-morrow,”
and, leaning back on the sofa, she took his hand. ”Things are dark, and I fancy they will be darker; but brightness will come, somehow or other, to you, darling, for you are born for brightness. You will find friends in life, and they will be women.”
It was nearly three years since Endymion had travelled down to Hurstley by the same coach that was now carrying him to London. Though apparently so uneventful, the period had not been unimportant in the formation, doubtless yet partial, of his character. And all its influences had been beneficial to him. The crust of pride and selfishness with which large prosperity and illimitable indulgence had encased a kind, and far from presumptuous, disposition had been removed; the domestic sentiments in their sweetness and purity had been developed; he had acquired some skills in scholars.h.i.+p and no inconsiderable fund of sound information; and the routine of religious thought had been superseded in his instance by an amount of knowledge and feeling on matters theological, unusual at his time of life. Though apparently not gifted with any dangerous vivacity, or fatal facility of acquisition, his mind seemed clear and painstaking, and distinguished by common sense. He was brave and accurate.
Mr. Rodney was in waiting for him at the inn. He seemed a most distinguished gentleman. A hackney coach carried them to Warwick Street, where he was welcomed by Mrs. Rodney, who was exquisitely dressed. There was also her sister, a girl not older than Endymion, the very image of Mrs. Rodney, except that she was a brunette--a brilliant brunette. This sister bore the romantic name of Imogene, for which she was indebted to her father performing the part of the husband of the heroine in Maturin's tragedy of the ”Castle of St. Aldobrand,” and which, under the inspiration of Kean, had set the town in a blaze about the time of her birth. Tea was awaiting him, and there was a mixture in their several manners of not ungraceful hospitality and the remembrance of past dependence, which was genuine and not uninteresting, though Endymion was yet too inexperienced to observe all this.
Mrs. Rodney talked very much of Endymion's mother; her wondrous beauty, her more wondrous dresses; the splendour of her fetes and equipages.
As she dilated on the past, she seemed to share its l.u.s.tre and its triumphs. ”The first of the land were always in attendance on her,” and for Mrs. Rodney's part, she never saw a real horsewoman since her dear lady. Her sister did not speak, but listened with rapt attention to the gorgeous details, occasionally stealing a glance at Endymion--a glance of deep interest, of admiration mingled as it were both with reverence and pity.
Mr. Rodney took up the conversation if his wife paused. He spoke of all the leading statesmen who had been the habitual companions of Mr.
Ferrars, and threw out several anecdotes respecting them from personal experience. ”I knew them all,” continued Mr. Rodney, ”I might say intimately;” and then he told his great anecdote, how he had been so fortunate as perhaps even to save the Duke's life during the Reform Bill riots. ”His Grace has never forgotten it, and only the day before yesterday I met him in St. James' Street walking with Mr. Arbuthnot, and he touched his hat to me.”
All this gossip and good nature, and the kind and lively scene, saved Endymion from the inevitable pang, or at least greatly softened it, which accompanies our first separation from home. In due season, Mrs.
Rodney observed that she doubted not Mr. Endymion, for so they ever called him, must be wearied with his journey, and would like to retire to his room; and her husband, immediately lighting a candle, prepared to introduce their new lodger to his quarters.
It was a tall house, which had recently been renovated, with a story added to it, and on this story was Endymion's chamber; not absolutely a garret, but a modern subst.i.tute for that sort of apartment. ”It is rather high,” said Mr. Rodney, half apologising for the ascent, ”but Mr.
Ferrars himself chose the room. We took the liberty of lighting a fire to-night.”
And the cheerful blaze was welcome. It lit up a room clean and not uncomfortable. Feminine solicitude had fas.h.i.+oned a toilette-table for him, and there was a bunch of geraniums in a blue vase on its sparkling dimity garniture. ”I suppose you have in your bag all that you want at present?” said Mr. Rodney. ”To-morrow we will unpack your trunks and arrange your things in their drawers; and after breakfast, if you please, I will show you your way to Somerset House.”
Somerset House! thought Endymion, as he stood before the fire alone.
Is it so near as that? To-morrow, and I am to be at Somerset House! And then he thought of what they were doing at Hurstley--of that terrible parting with his mother, which made him choke--and of his father's last words. And then he thought of Myra, and the tears stole down his cheek.
And then he knelt down by his bedside and prayed.
CHAPTER XX
Mr. Rodney would have accompanied Endymion to Somerset House under any circ.u.mstances, but it so happened that he had reasons of his own for a visit to that celebrated building. He had occasion to see a gentleman who was stationed there. ”Not,” as he added to Endymion, ”that I know many here, but at the Treasury and in Downing Street I have several acquaintances.”
They separated at the door in the great quadrangle which led to the department to which Endymion was attached, and he contrived in due time to deliver to a messenger a letter addressed to his future chief. He was kept some time in a gloomy and almost unfurnished waiting-room, and his thoughts in a desponding mood were gathering round the dear ones who were distant, when he was summoned, and, following the messenger down a pa.s.sage, was ushered into a lively apartment on which the sun was s.h.i.+ning, and which, with its well-lined book-shelves, and tables covered with papers, and bright noisy clock, and general air of habitation and business, contrasted favourably with the room he had just quitted. A good-natured-looking man held out his hand and welcomed him cordially, and said at once, ”I served, Mr. Ferrars, under your grandfather at the Treasury, and I am glad to see you here.” Then he spoke of the duties which Endymion would have at present to discharge. His labours at first would be somewhat mechanical; they would require only correctness and diligence; but the office was a large one, and promotion not only sure, but sometimes rapid, and as he was so young, he might with attention count on attaining, while yet in the prime of life, a future of very responsible duties and of no inconsiderable emolument. And while he was speaking he rang the bell and commanded the attendance of a clerk, under whose care Endymion was specially placed. This was a young man of pleasant address, who invited Endymion with kindness to accompany him, and leading him through several chambers, some capacious, and all full of clerks seated on high stools and writing at desks, finally ushered him into a smaller chamber where there were not above six or eight at work, and where there was a vacant seat. ”This is your place,” he said, ”and now I will introduce you to your future comrades. This is Mr.
Jawett, the greatest Radical of the age, and who, when he is President of the Republic, will, I hope, do a job for his friends here. This is Mr. St. Barbe, who, when the public taste has improved, will be the most popular author of the day. In the meantime he will give you a copy of his novel, which has not sold as it ought to have done, and in which we say he has quizzed all his friends. This is Mr. Seymour Hicks, who, as you must perceive, is a man of fas.h.i.+on.” And so he went on, with what was evidently accustomed raillery. All laughed, and all said something courteous to Endymion, and then after a few minutes they resumed their tasks, Endymion's work being to copy long lists of figures, and routine doc.u.ments of public accounts.
In the meantime, Mr. St. Barbe was busy in drawing up a public doc.u.ment of a different but important character, and which was conceived something in this fas.h.i.+on:--
”We, the undersigned, highly approving of the personal appearance and manners of our new colleague, are unanimously of opinion that he should be invited to join our symposium to-day at the immortal Joe's.”
This was quietly pa.s.sed round and signed by all present, and then given to Mr. Trenchard, who, all unconsciously to the copying Endymion, wrote upon it, like a minister of state, ”Approved,” with his initial.