CHAPTER XXVII.
FATHER AND SONS.
[Illustration (untitled)]
Things were not going on any better at Hamley Hall. Nothing hadoccurred to change the state of dissatisfied feeling into which theSquire and his eldest son had respectively fallen; and the longcontinuance merely of dissatisfaction is sure of itself to deepenthe feeling. Roger did all in his power to bring the father and sontogether; but sometimes wondered if it would not have been better toleave them alone; for they were falling into the habit of each makinghim their confidant, and so defining emotions and opinions whichwould have had less distinctness if they had been unexpressed. Therewas little enough relief in the daily life at the Hall to help themall to shake off the gloom; and it even told on the health of boththe Squire and Osborne. The Squire became thinner, his skin as wellas his clothes began to hang loose about him, and the freshnessof his colour turned to red streaks, till his cheeks looked likeEardiston pippins, instead of resembling "a Katherine pear on theside that's next the sun." Roger thought that his father sate indoorsand smoked in his study more than was good for him, but it hadbecome difficult to get him far afield; he was too much afraid ofcoming across some sign of the discontinued drainage works, or beingirritated afresh by the sight of his depreciated timber. Osborne waswrapt up in the idea of arranging his poems for the press, and soworking out his wish for independence. What with daily writing tohis wife--taking his letters himself to a distant post-office, andreceiving hers there--touching up his sonnets, &c., with fastidiouscare--and occasionally giving himself the pleasure of a visit to theGibsons, and enjoying the society of the two pleasant girls there,he found little time for being with his father. Indeed, Osborne wastoo self-indulgent or "sensitive," as he termed it, to bear wellwith the Squire's gloomy fits, or too frequent querulousness. Theconsciousness of his secret, too, made Osborne uncomfortable in hisfather's presence. It was very well for all parties that Roger wasnot "sensitive," for, if he had been, there were times when it wouldhave been hard to bear little spurts of domestic tyranny, by whichhis father strove to assert his power over both his sons. One ofthese occurred very soon after the night of the Hollingfordcharity-ball.
Roger had induced his father to come out with him; and the Squirehad, on his son's suggestion, taken with him his long unused spud.The two had wandered far afield; perhaps the elder man had found theunwonted length of exercise too much for him; for, as he approachedthe house, on his return, he became what nurses call in children"fractious," and ready to turn on his companion for every remark hemade. Roger understood the case by instinct, as it were, and bore itall with his usual sweetness of temper. They entered the house bythe front door; it lay straight on their line of march. On the oldcracked yellow-marble slab, there lay a card with Lord Hollingford'sname on it, which Robinson, evidently on the watch for their return,hastened out of his pantry to deliver to Roger.
"His lordship was very sorry not to see you, Mr. Roger, and hislordship left a note for you. Mr. Osborne took it, I think, whenhe passed through. I asked his lordship if he would like to see Mr.Osborne, who was indoors, as I thought. But his lordship said he waspressed for time, and told me to make his excuses."
"Didn't he ask for me?" growled the Squire.
"No, sir; I can't say as his lordship did. He would never havethought of Mr. Osborne, sir, if I hadn't named him. It was Mr. Rogerhe seemed so keen after."
"Very odd," said the Squire. Roger said nothing, although henaturally felt some curiosity. He went into the drawing-room, notquite aware that his father was following him. Osborne sate at atable near the fire, pen in hand, looking over one of his poems, anddotting the _i_'s, crossing the _t_'s, and now and then pausing overthe alteration of a word.
"Oh, Roger!" he said, as his brother came in, "here's been LordHollingford wanting to see you."
"I know," replied Roger.
"And he's left a note for you. Robinson tried to persuade him it wasfor my father, so he's added a 'junior' (Roger Hamley, Esq., junior)in pencil." The Squire was in the room by this time, and what he hadoverheard rubbed him up still more the wrong way. Roger took hisunopened note and read it.
"What does he say?" asked the Squire.
Roger handed him the note. It contained an invitation to dinner tomeet M. Geoffroi St. H----, whose views on certain subjects Roger hadbeen advocating in the article Lord Hollingford had spoken about toMolly, when he danced with her at the Hollingford ball. M. GeoffroiSt. H---- was in England now, and was expected to pay a visit atthe Towers in the course of the following week. He had expressed awish to meet the author of the paper which had already attracted theattention of the French comparative anatomists; and Lord Hollingfordadded a few words as to his own desire to make the acquaintance of aneighbour whose tastes were so similar to his own; and then followeda civil message from Lord and Lady Cumnor.
Lord Hollingford's hand was cramped and rather illegible. The squirecould not read it all at once, and was enough put out to decline anyassistance in deciphering it. At last he made it out.
"So my lord lieutenant is taking some notice of the Hamleys at last.The election is coming on, is it? But I can tell him we're not to begot so easily. I suppose this trap is set for you, Osborne? What'sthis you've been writing that the French mounseer is so taken with?"
"It is not me, sir!" said Osborne. "Both note and call are forRoger."
"I don't understand it," said the Squire. "These Whig fellows havenever done their duty by me; not that I want it of them. The Dukeof Debenham used to pay the Hamleys a respect due to 'em--theoldest landowners in the county--but since he died, and thisshabby Whig lord has succeeded him, I've never dined at the lordlieutenant's--no, not once."
"But I think, sir, I've heard you say Lord Cumnor used to inviteyou,--only you did not choose to go," said Roger.
"Yes. What d'ye mean by that? Do you suppose I was going to desertthe principles of my family, and curry favour with the Whigs? No!leave that to them. They can ask the heir of the Hamleys fast enoughwhen a county election is coming on."
"I tell you, sir," said Osborne, in the irritable tone he sometimesused when his father was particularly unreasonable, "it is not meLord Hollingford is inviting; it is Roger. Roger is making himselfknown for what he is, a first-rate fellow," continued Osborne--asting of self-reproach mingling with his generous pride in hisbrother--"and he's getting himself a name; he's been writingabout these new French theories and discoveries, and this foreign_savant_ very naturally wants to make his acquaintance, and so LordHollingford asks him to dine. It's as clear as can be," lowering histone, and addressing himself to Roger; "it has nothing to do withpolitics, if my father would but see it."
Of course the Squire heard this little aside with the unluckyuncertainty of hearing which is a characteristic of the beginningof deafness; and its effect on him was perceptible in the increasedacrimony of his next speech.
"You young men think you know everything. I tell you it's a palpableWhig trick. And what business has Roger--if it is Roger the manwants--to go currying favour with the French? In my day we werecontent to hate 'em and to lick 'em. But it's just like your conceit,Osborne, setting yourself up to say it's your younger brother they'reasking, and not you; I tell you it's you. They think the eldest sonwas sure to be called after his father, Roger--Roger Hamley, junior.It's as plain as a pike-staff. They know they can't catch me withchaff, but they've got up this French dodge. What business had you togo writing about the French, Roger? I should have thought you weretoo sensible to take any notice of their fancies and theories; but ifit is you they've asked, I'll not have you going and meeting theseforeigners at a Whig house. They ought to have asked Osborne. He'sthe representative of the Hamleys, if I'm not; and they can't get me,let 'em try ever so. Besides, Osborne has got a bit of the mounseerabout him, which he caught with being so fond of going off to theContinent, instead of coming back to his good old English home."
He went on repeating much of what he had said before, till heleft the room. Osborne
had kept on replying to his unreasonablegrumblings, which had only added to his anger; and as soon as theSquire was fairly gone, Osborne turned to Roger, and said,--
"Of course you'll go, Roger? ten to one he'll be in another mindto-morrow."
"No," said Roger, bluntly enough--for he was extremely disappointed;"I won't run the chance of vexing him. I shall refuse."
"Don't be such a fool!" exclaimed Osborne. "Really, my father is toounreasonable. You heard how he kept contradicting himself; and such aman as you to be kept under like a child by--"
"Don't let us talk any more about it, Osborne," said Roger, writingaway fast. When the note was written, and sent off, he came and puthis hand caressingly on Osborne's shoulder, as he sate pretendingto read, but in reality vexed with both his father and his brother,though on very different grounds.
"How go the poems, old fellow? I hope they're nearly ready to bringout."
"No, they're not; and if it weren't for the money, I shouldn't careif they were never published. What's the use of fame, if one mayn'treap the fruits of it?"
"Come, now, we'll have no more of that; let's talk about the money.I shall be going up for my Fellowship examination next week, and thenwe'll have a purse in common, for they'll never think of not givingme a Fellowship now I'm senior wrangler. I'm short enough myself atpresent, and I don't like to bother my father; but when I'm Fellow,you shall take me down to Winchester, and introduce me to the littlewife."
"It will be a month next Monday since I left her," said Osborne,laying down his papers and gazing into the fire, as if by so doing hecould call up her image. "In her letter this morning she bids me giveyou such a pretty message. It won't bear translating into English;you must read it for yourself," continued he, pointing out a line ortwo in a letter he drew from his pocket.
Roger suspected that one or two of the words were wrongly spelt;but their purport was so gentle and loving, and had such a touch ofsimple, respectful gratitude in them, that he could not help beingdrawn afresh to the little unseen sister-in-law, whose acquaintanceOsborne had made by helping her to look for some missing article ofthe children's, whom she was taking for their daily walk in HydePark. For Mrs. Osborne Hamley had been nothing more than a French_bonne_, very pretty, very graceful, and very much tyrannized overby the rough little boys and girls she had in charge. She was alittle orphan girl, who had charmed the heads of a travelling Englishfamily, as she had brought madame some articles of lingerie at anhotel; and she had been hastily engaged by them as _bonne_ to theirchildren, partly as a pet and plaything herself, partly because itwould be so good for the children to learn French from a native(of Alsace!). By-and-by her mistress ceased to take any particularnotice of Aimee in the bustle of London and London gaiety; but thoughfeeling more and more forlorn in a strange land every day, the Frenchgirl strove hard to do her duty. One touch of kindness, however, wasenough to set the fountain gushing; and she and Osborne naturallyfell into an ideal state of love, to be rudely disturbed by theindignation of the mother, when accident discovered to her theattachment existing between her children's _bonne_ and a young manof an entirely different class. Aimee answered truly to all hermistress's questions; but no worldly wisdom, nor any lesson to belearnt from another's experience, could in the least disturb herentire faith in her lover. Perhaps Mrs. Townshend did no more thanher duty in immediately sending Aimee back to Metz, where she hadfirst met with her, and where such relations as remained to the girlmight be supposed to be residing. But, altogether, she knew so littleof the kind of people or life to which she was consigning her deposedprotegee that Osborne, after listening with impatient indignation tothe lecture which Mrs. Townshend gave him when he insisted on seeingher in order to learn what had become of his love, that the young manset off straight for Metz in hot haste, and did not let the grassgrow under his feet until he had made Aimee his wife. All this hadoccurred the previous autumn, and Roger did not know of the step hisbrother had taken until it was irrevocable. Then came the mother'sdeath, which, besides the simplicity of its own overwhelming sorrow,brought with it the loss of the kind, tender mediatrix, who couldalways soften and turn his father's heart. It is doubtful, however,if even she could have succeeded in this, for the Squire looked high,and over high, for the wife of his heir; he detested all foreigners,and overmore held all Roman Catholics in dread and abominationsomething akin to our ancestors' hatred of witchcraft. All theseprejudices were strengthened by his grief. Argument would always haveglanced harmless away off his shield of utter unreason but a lovingimpulse, in a happy moment, might have softened his heart to what hemost detested in the former days. But the happy moments came not now,and the loving impulses were trodden down by the bitterness of hisfrequent remorse, not less than by his growing irritability; so Aimeelived solitary in the little cottage near Winchester in which Osbornehad installed her when she first came to England as his wife, andin the dainty furnishing of which he had run himself so deeply intodebt. For Osborne consulted his own fastidious taste in his purchasesrather than her simple childlike wishes and wants, and looked uponthe little Frenchwoman rather as the future mistress of Hamley Hallthan as the wife of a man who was wholly dependent on others atpresent. He had chosen a southern county as being far removed fromthose midland shires where the name of Hamley of Hamley was well andwidely known; for he did not wish his wife to assume, if only for atime, a name which was not justly and legally her own. In all thesearrangements he had willingly striven to do his full duty by her; andshe repaid him with passionate devotion and admiring reverence. Ifhis vanity had met with a check, or his worthy desires for collegehonours had been disappointed, he knew where to go for a comforter;one who poured out praise till her words were choked in her throat bythe rapidity of her thoughts, and who poured out the small vials ofher indignation on every one who did not acknowledge and bow down toher husband's merits. If she ever wished to go to the chateau--thatwas his home--and to be introduced to his family, Aimee never hinteda word of it to him. Only she did yearn, and she did plead, for alittle more of her husband's company; and the good reasons which hadconvinced her of the necessity of his being so much away when he waspresent to urge them, failed in their efficacy when she tried toreproduce them to herself in his absence.
The afternoon of the day on which Lord Hollingford called Rogerwas going upstairs, three steps at a time, when, at a turn on thelanding, he encountered his father. It was the first time he had seenhim since their conversation about the Towers' invitation to dinner.The Squire stopped his son by standing right in the middle of thepassage.
"Thou'rt going to meet the mounseer, my lad?" said he, half asaffirmation, half as question.
"No, sir; I sent off James almost immediately with a note decliningit. I don't care about it--that's to say, not to signify."
"Why did you take me up so sharp, Roger?" said his father pettishly."You all take me up so hastily now-a-days. I think it's hard when aman mustn't be allowed a bit of crossness when he's tired and heavyat heart--that I do."
"But, father, I should never like to go to a house where they hadslighted you."
"Nay, nay, lad," said the Squire, brightening up a little; "I thinkI slighted them. They asked me to dinner, after my lord was madelieutenant, time after time, but I never would go near 'em. I callthat my slighting them."
And no more was said at the time; but the next day the Squire againstopped Roger.
"I've been making Jem try on his livery-coat that he hasn't worn thisthree or four years,--he's got too stout for it now."
"Well, he needn't wear it, need he? and Morgan's lad will be gladenough of it,--he's sadly in want of clothes."
"Ay, ay; but who's to go with you when you call at the Towers? It'sbut polite to call after Lord What's-his-name has taken the troubleto come here; and I shouldn't like you to go without a groom."
"My dear father! I shouldn't know what to do with a man riding at myback. I can find my way to the stable-yard for myself, or there'll besome man about to take my horse. Don't trouble yo
urself about that."
"Well, you're not Osborne, to be sure. Perhaps it won't strike 'emas strange for you. But you must look up, and hold your own, andremember you're one of the Hamleys, who've been on the same land forhundreds of years, while they're but trumpery Whig folk who only cameinto the county in Queen Anne's time."
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