The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly. Lever Charles James
“I think a duke might make her a duchess, and no great condescension in the act.”
“Quite true, Nelly,” said Temple; “that’s exactly what a duke might do; but Mr. Bramleigh cannot. When you are at the top of the ladder, there’s nothing left for you but to come down again; but the man at the bottom has to try to go up.”
“But why must there be a ladder at all, Temple?” asked she, eagerly.
“Is n’t that speech Nelly all over?” cried Marion, haughtily.
“I hope it is,” said Ellen, “if it serves to convey what I faithfully believe, – that we are great fools in not enjoying a very pleasant lot in life instead of addressing ourselves to ambitions far and away beyond us.”
“And which be they?” asked Temple, crossing his arms over his mallet, and standing like a soldier on guard.
“To be high and titled, or if not titled, to be accepted among that class, and treated as their equals in rank and condition.”
“And why not, Nelly? What is this wonderful ten thousand that we all worship? Whence is it recruited, and how? These double wall-flowers are not of Nature’s making; they all come of culture, of fine mould, careful watering, and good gardening. They were single-petaled once on a time, like ourselves. Mind, it is no radical says this, girls, —moi qui vous parle am no revolutionist, no leveller! I like these grand conditions, because they give existence its best stimulus, its noblest aspirations. The higher one goes in life, – as on a mountain, – the more pure the air and the wider the view.”
“And do you mean to tell me that Augustus would consult his happiness better in marrying some fine lady, like our grand step-mamma for instance, than a charming girl like Julia?” said Ellen.
“If Augustus’ notions of happiness were to be measured by mine, I should say yes, unquestionably yes. Love is a very fleeting sentiment. The cost of the article, too, suggests most uncomfortable reflections. All the more as the memory comes when the acquisition itself is beginning to lose value. My former chief at Munich – the cleverest man of the world I ever met – used to say, as an investment, a pretty wife was a mistake. ‘If,’ said he, ‘you laid out your money on a picture, your venture might turn out a bargain; if you bought a colt, your two-year-old might win a Derby; but your beauty of to-day will be barely good-looking in five years, and will be a positive fright in fifteen.’”
“Your accomplished friend was an odious beast!” said Nelly. “What was his name, Temple?”
“Lord Culduff, one of the first diplomatists in Europe.”
“Culduff? How strange! Papa’s agent, Mr. Harding, mentioned the name at breakfast. He said there was a nobleman come over from Germany to see his estates in the north of Down, where they had some hopes of having discovered coal.”
“Is it possible Lord Culduff could be in our neighborhood? The governor must ask him here at once,” said Temple, with an animation of manner most unusual with him. “There must be no time lost about this. Finish your game without me, girls, for this matter is imminent;” and so saying, he resigned his mallet and hastened away to the house.
“I never saw Temple so eager about anything before,” said Nelly. “It’s quite charming to see how the mere mention of a grand name can call forth all his energy.”
“Temple knows the world very well; and he knows how the whole game of life is conducted by a very few players, and that every one who desires to push his way must secure the intimacy, if he can, or at least the acquaintance, of these.” And Marion delivered this speech with a most oracular and pretentious tone.
“Yes,” said Nelly, with a droll sparkle in her eye; “he declared that profound statement last evening in the very same words. Who shall say it is not an immense advantage to have a brother so full of sage maxims, while his sisters are seen to catch up his words of wisdom, and actually believe them to be their own?”
“Temple may not be a Talleyrand; but he is certainly as brilliant as the charming curate,” said Marion, tartly.
“Oh, poor George!” cried Nelly; and her cheek flushed, while she tried to seem indifferent. “Nobody ever called him a genius. When one says he is very good-looking and very good-humored, tout est dit!”
“He is very much out of place as a parson.”
“Granted. I suspect he thinks so himself.”
“Men usually feel that they cannot take orders without some stronger impulse than a mere desire to gain a livelihood.”
“I have never talked to him on the matter; but perhaps he had no great choice of a career.”
“He might have gone into the army, I suppose? He’d have found scores of creatures there with about his own measure of intelligence.”
“I fancied you liked George, Marion,” said the other. And there was something half tender, half reproachful, in her tone.
“I liked him so far, that it was a boon to find anything so like a gentleman in this wild savagery; but if you mean that I would have endured him in town, or would have noticed him in society, you are strangely mistaken.”
“Poor George!” and there was something comic in her glance as she sighed these words out.
“There; you have won,” said Marion, throwing down her mallet. “I must go and hear what Temple is going to do. It would be a great blessing to see a man of the world and a man of mark in this dreary spot, and I hope papa will not lose the present opportunity to secure him.”
“Are you alone, Nelly?” said her eldest brother, some time after, as he came up, and found her sitting, lost in thought, under a tree.
“Yes. Marion got tired and went in, and Temple went to ask papa about inviting some high and mighty personage who chances to be in our neighborhood.”
“Who is he?”
“Lord Culduff, he called him.”
“Oh! a tremendous swell; an ambassador somewhere. What brings him down here?”
“I forget. Yes! it was something about a mine; he has found tin, or copper, or coal, I don’t remember which, on some property of his here. By the way, Augustus, do you really think George L’Estrange a fool?”
“Think him a fool?”
“I mean,” said she, blushing deeply, “Marion holds his intelligence so cheaply that she is quite shocked at his presuming to be in orders.”
“Well, I don’t think him exactly what Temple calls an esprit fort, but he is a very nice fellow, very companionable, and a thorough gentleman in all respects.”
“How well you have said it, dear Augustus,” said she, with a face beaming with delight. “Where are you off to? Where are you going?”
“I am going to see the yearlings, in the paddock below the river.”
“May I go with you, Gussy?” said she, drawing her arm within his. “I do like a brisk walk with you; and you always go like one with a purpose.”
CHAPTER V. CONFIDENTIAL TALK
Temple found his father in his study, deeply engaged with a mass of papers and letters, and by the worn and fatigued expression of his face showing that he had passed a day of hard work.
“I hope I do not disturb you,” said Temple, as he leaned on the table at which the other was seated.
“Throw that cigar away, and I’ll tell you,” said the old man, with a faint smile. “I never can conquer my aversion to tobacco. What do you want to say? Is it anything we cannot talk over at dinner, or after dinner? – for this post leaves at such an inconvenient hour, it gives me scant time to write.”
“I beg a thousand pardons, sir; but I have just heard that a very distinguished member of our corps – I mean the diplomatic corps – is down in this neighborhood, and I want your permission to ask him over here.”
“Who