Part 36 (1/2)
”He takes a great interest in the theatre. I suppose you'll say that may be serious too,” Nick laughed.
”Oh!”--and Mr. Carteret looked as if he scarcely understood. Then he continued; ”Well, it can't hurt you.”
”It can't hurt me?”
”If Mrs. Dallow takes an interest in your interests.”
”When a man's in my situation he feels as if nothing could hurt him.”
”I'm very glad you're happy,” said Mr. Carteret. He rested his mild eyes on our young man, who had a sense of seeing in them for a moment the faint ghost of an old story, the last strange flicker, as from cold ashes, of a flame that had become the memory of a memory. This glimmer of wonder and envy, the revelation of a life intensely celibate, was for an instant infinitely touching. Nick had harboured a theory, suggested by a vague allusion from his father, who had been discreet, that their benevolent friend had had in his youth an unhappy love-affair which had led him to forswear for ever the commerce of woman. What remained in him of conscious renunciation gave a throb as he looked at his bright companion, who proposed to take the matter so much the other way. ”It's good to marry and I think it's right. I've not done right, I know that.
If she's a good woman it's the best thing,” Mr. Carteret went on. ”It's what I've been hoping for you. Sometimes I've thought of speaking to you.”
”She's a very good woman,” said Nick.
”And I hope she's not poor.” Mr. Carteret spoke exactly with the same blandness.
”No indeed, she's rich. Her husband, whom I knew and liked, left her a large fortune.”
”And on what terms does she enjoy it?”
”I haven't the least idea,” said Nick.
Mr. Carteret considered. ”I see. It doesn't concern you. It needn't concern you,” he added in a moment.
Nick thought of his mother at this, but he returned: ”I daresay she can do what she likes with her money.”
”So can I, my dear young friend,” said Mr. Carteret.
Nick tried not to look conscious, for he felt a significance in the old man's face. He turned his own everywhere but toward it, thinking again of his mother. ”That must be very pleasant, if one has any.”
”I wish you had a little more.”
”I don't particularly care,” said Nick.
”Your marriage will a.s.sist you; you can't help that,” Mr. Carteret declared. ”But I should like you to be under obligations not quite so heavy.”
”Oh I'm so obliged to her for caring for me----!”
”That the rest doesn't count? Certainly it's nice of her to like you.
But why shouldn't she? Other people do.”
”Some of them make me feel as if I abused it,” said Nick, looking at his host. ”That is, they don't make me, but I feel it,” he corrected.
”I've no son ”--and Mr. Carteret spoke as if his companion mightn't have been sure. ”Shan't you be very kind to her?” he pursued. ”You'll gratify her ambition.”
”Oh she thinks me cleverer than I am.”
”That's because she's in love,” the old gentleman hinted as if this were very subtle. ”However, you must be as clever as we think you. If you don't prove so----!” And he paused with his folded hands.