This eBook was produced by Dagny,
and David Widger,
Perchance you say that gold's the arch-exceller,
And to be rich is sweet?—EURIP. /Ion./, line 641.
* * * 'Tis not to be endured,
To yield our trodden path and turn aside,
Giving our place to knaves.—/Ibid./, line 648
"L'adresse et l'artifice out passe dans mon coeur;
Qu'ou a sous cet habit et d'esprit et de ruse."*—REGNARD.
* Subtility and craft have taken possession of my heart; but under thishabit one exhibits both shrewdness and wit.
IT was a fine morning in July, when a gentleman who had arrived in townthe night before—after an absence from England of several years—walkedslowly and musingly up the superb thoroughfare which connects theRegent's park with St. James's.
He was a man, who, with great powers of mind, had wasted his youth in awandering vagabond kind of life, but who had worn away the love ofpleasure, and began to awaken to a sense of ambition.
"It is astonishing how this city is improved," said he to himself."Everything gets on in this world with a little energy and bustle—andeverybody as well as everything. My old cronies, fellows not half soclever as I am, are all doing well. There's Tom Stevens, my very fag atEton—snivelling little dog he was too!—just made under-secretary ofstate. Pearson, whose longs and shorts I always wrote, is nowhead-master to the human longs and shorts of a public school—editingGreek plays, and booked for a bishopric. Collier, I see by the papers,is leading his circuit—and Ernest Maltravers (but /he/ had some talent)has made a name in the world. Here am I, worth them all put together,who have done nothing but spend half my little fortune in spite of allmy economy. Egad, this must have an end. I must look to the mainchance; and yet, just when I want his help the most, my worthy unclethinks fit to marry again. Humph—I'm too good for this world."
While thus musing, the soliloquist came in direct personal contact witha tall gentleman, who carried his head very high in the air, and did notappear to see that he had nearly thrown our abstracted philosopher offhis legs.
"Zounds, sir, what do you mean?" cried the latter.
"I beg your par—" began the other, meekly, when his arm was seized, andthe injured man exclaimed, "Bless me, sir, is it indeed /you/ whom Isee?"
"Ha!—Lumley?"
"The same; and how fares it, any dear uncle? I did not know you were in
London. I only arrived last night. How well you are looking!"
"Why, yes, Heaven be praised, I am pretty well."
"And happy in your new ties? You must present me to Mrs. Templeton."
"Ehem," said Mr. Templeton, clearing his throat, and with a slight butembarrassed smile, "I never thought I should marry again."
"/L'homme propose et Dieu dispose/," observed Lumley Ferrers; for it washe.
"Gently, my dear nephew," replied Mr. Templeton, gravely; "those phrasesare somewhat sacrilegious; I am an old-fashioned person, you know."
"Ten thousand apologies."
"/One/ apology will suffice; these hyperboles of phrase are almostsinful."
"Confounded old prig!" thought Ferrers; but he bowed sanctimoniously.
"My dear uncle, I have been a wild fellow in my day; but with yearscomes reflection; and under your