"You make me blush," returned his father gaily, "for the folly ofyour nature, in which--but we never know ourselves--I devoutly hopethere is no reflection of my own. With regard to the young ladyherself, she has done what is very natural and proper, my dearfellow; what you yourself proposed, as I learn from Haredale; andwhat I predicted--with no great exercise of sagacity--she would do.
She supposed you to be rich, or at least quite rich enough; andfound you poor. Marriage is a civil contract; people marry tobetter their worldly condition and improve appearances; it is anaffair of house and furniture, of liveries, servants, equipage, andso forth. The lady being poor and you poor also, there is an endof the matter. You cannot enter upon these considerations, andhave no manner of business with the ceremony. I drink her healthin this glass, and respect and honour her for her extreme goodsense. It is a lesson to you. Fill yours, Ned."
"It is a lesson," returned his son, "by which I hope I may neverprofit, and if years and experience impress it on--"
"Don"t say on the heart," interposed his father.
"On men whom the world and its hypocrisy have spoiled," said Edwardwarmly, "Heaven keep me from its knowledge."
"Come, sir," returned his father, raising himself a little on thesofa, and looking straight towards him; "we have had enough ofthis. Remember, if you please, your interest, your duty, yourmoral obligations, your filial affections, and all that sort ofthing, which it is so very delightful and charming to reflect upon;or you will repent it."
"I shall never repent the preservation of my self-respect, sir,"
said Edward. "Forgive me if I say that I will not sacrifice it atyour bidding, and that I will not pursue the track which you wouldhave me take, and to which the secret share you have had in thislate separation tends."
His father rose a little higher still, and looking at him as though curious to know if he were quite resolved and earnest, droppedgently down again, and said in the calmest voice--eating his nutsmeanwhile,"Edward, my father had a son, who being a fool like you, and, likeyou, entertaining low and disobedient sentiments, he disinheritedand cursed one morning after breakfast. The circumstance occurs tome with a singular clearness of recollection this evening. Iremember eating muffins at the time, with marmalade. He led amiserable life (the son, I mean) and died early; it was a happyrelease on all accounts; he degraded the family very much. It is asad circumstance, Edward, when a father finds it necessary toresort to such strong measures.
"It is," replied Edward, "and it is sad when a son, proffering himhis love and duty in their best and truest sense, finds himselfrepelled at every turn, and forced to disobey. Dear father," headded, more earnestly though in a gentler tone, "I have reflectedmany times on what occurred between us when we first discussed thissubject. Let there be a confidence between us; not in terms, buttruth. Hear what I have to say."
"As I anticipate what it is, and cannot fail to do so, Edward,"
returned his father coldly, "I decline. I couldn"t possibly. I amsure it would put me out of temper, which is a state of mind Ican"t endure. If you intend to mar my plans for your establishmentin life, and the preservation of that gentility and becoming pride,which our family have so long sustained--if, in short, you areresolved to take your own course, you must take it, and my cursewith it. I am very sorry, but there"s really no alternative."
"The curse may pass your lips," said Edward, "but it will be butempty breath. I do not believe that any man on earth has greaterpower to call one down upon his fellow--least of all, upon his ownchild--than he has to make one drop of rain or flake of snow fallfrom the clouds above us at his impious bidding. Beware, sir, whatyou do."
"You are so very irreligious, so exceedingly undutiful, so horriblyprofane," rejoined his father, turning his face lazily towardshim, and cracking another nut, "that I positively must interruptyou here. It is quite impossible we can continue to go on, uponsuch terms as these. If you will do me the favour to ring thebell, the servant will show you to the door. Return to this roofno more, I beg you. Go, sir, since you have no moral senseremaining; and go to the Devil, at my express desire. Good day."
Edward left the room without another word or look, and turned hisback upon the house for ever.
The father"s face was slightly flushed and heated, but his mannerwas quite unchanged, as he rang the bell again, and addressed theservant on his entrance.
"Peak--if that gentleman who has just gone out--"
"I beg your pardon, sir, Mr Edward?"
"Were there more than one, dolt, that you ask the question?--Ifthat gentleman should send here for his wardrobe, let him have it,do you hear? If he should call himself at any time, I"m not athome. You"ll tell him so, and shut the door."
So, it soon got whispered about, that Mr Chester was veryunfortunate in his son, who had occasioned him great grief andsorrow. And the good people who heard this and told it again,marvelled the more at his equanimity and even temper, and said whatan amiable nature that man must have, who, having undergone so much, could be so placid and so calm. And when Edward"s name wasspoken, Society shook its head, and laid its finger on its lip, andsighed, and looked very grave; and those who had sons about hisage, waxed wrathful and indignant, and hoped, for Virtue"s sake,that he was dead. And the world went on turning round, as usual,for five years, concerning which this Narrative is silent.