Part 70 (2/2)

”A nuisance!”

”Yes; a nuisance. When you see that a gentleman doesn't wish a thing, you oughtn't to do it.”

”But when a man's name is his name!”

”Never mind. When he doesn't wish it, you oughtn't to do it!”

”If it's a man's own real name!”

”Never mind,” said Mr. Jerningham.

”If it shoots a gintleman to be incognito, why isn't he to do as he plaises?” asked Geraghty.

”If the Duke of Middles.e.x did call himself Mr. Smith,” said Bobbin, ”any gentleman that was a gentleman would fall in with his views.”

Crocker, not conquered, but for the moment silenced, seated himself in a dudgeon at his desk. It might do very well for poor fellows, weak creatures like Jerningham, Bobbin, and Geraghty, thus to be done out of their prey;--but he would not be cheated in that way. The Duca di Crinola should be Duca di Crinola as far as he, Crocker, could make his voice heard; and all that heard him should know that the Duca was his own old peculiar friend.

In Paradise Row the world was decidedly against Roden; and not only were the Demijohns and Duffers against him, but also his own mother and her friend Mrs. Vincent. On the first Monday after Mrs. Roden's return Mrs. Vincent came to the Row as usual,--on this occasion to welcome her cousin, and to hear all the news of the family as it had been at last brought back from Italy. There was a great deal to be told. Many things had been brought to light which had had their commencement in Mrs. Vincent's days. There was something of the continuation of a mild triumph for her in every word that was spoken.

She had been against the Di Crinola marriage, when it had been first discussed more than a quarter of a century ago. She had never believed in the Duca di Crinola, and her want of faith had been altogether justified. She did not, after all those years, bear hardly on her friend,--but there was still that well-known tone of gentle censure and of gentle self-applause. ”I told you so,” said the elder crow to the younger crow. When does the old crow cease to remind the younger crow that it was so? ”A sad, sad story,” said Mrs. Vincent, shaking her head.

”All our stories I suppose have much in them that is sad. I have got my son, and no mother can have more reason to be proud of a son.”

Mrs. Vincent shook her head. ”I say it is so,” repeated the mother; ”and having such a son, I will not admit that it has all been sad.”

”I wish he were more ready to perform his religious duties,” said Mrs. Vincent.

”We cannot all agree about everything. I do not know that that need be brought up now.”

”It is a matter that should be brought up every hour and every day, Mary,--if the bringing of it up is to do any good.”

But it was not on this matter that Mrs. Roden now wished to get a.s.sistance from her cousin;--certainly not with any present view towards the amelioration of her son's religious faith. That might come afterwards perhaps. But it was her present object to induce her cousin to agree with her, that her son should permit himself to be called by his father's t.i.tle. ”But you think he should take his father's name?” she asked. Mrs. Vincent shook her head and tried to look wise. The question was one on which her feelings were very much divided. It was of course proper that the son should be called by his father's name. All the proprieties of the world, as known to Mrs.

Vincent, declared that it should be so. She was a woman, too, who by no means despised rank, and who considered that much reverence was due to those who were privileged to carry t.i.tles. Dukes and lords were certainly very great in her estimation, and even the humblest knight was respected by her, as having been in some degree lifted above the community by the will of his Sovereign. And though she was always in some degree hostile to George Roden, because of the liberties he took in regard to certain religious matters, yet she was good enough and kind enough to wish well to her own cousin. Had there been a question in regard to an English t.i.tle she certainly would not have shaken her head. But as to this outlandish Italian t.i.tle, she had her doubts. It did not seem to her to be right that an Englishman should be called a Duca. If it had been Baron, or even Count, the name would have been less offensive. And then to her mind hereditary t.i.tles, as she had known them, had been recommended by hereditary possessions. There was something to her almost irreligious in the idea of a Duke without an acre. She could therefore only again shake her head. ”He has as much right to it,” continued Mrs. Roden, ”as has the eldest son of the greatest peer in England.”

”I dare say he has, my dear, but--.”

”But what?”

”I dare say you're right, only--; only it's not just like an English peer, you know.”

”The privilege of succession is the same.”

”He never could sit in the House of Lords, my dear.”

”Of course not. He would a.s.sume only what is his own. Why should he be ashamed to take an Italian t.i.tle any more than his friend Lord Hampstead is to take an English one? It is not as though it would prevent his living here. Many foreign n.o.blemen live in England.”

”I suppose he could live here,” said Mrs. Vincent as though she were making a great admission. ”I don't think that there would be any law to turn him out of the country.”

”Nor out of the Post Office, if he chooses to remain there,” said Mrs. Roden.

”I don't know how that may be.”

<script>