CHAPTER XI.—BERTIE GOES BACK TO BUSINESS.
Mr. murray's conversation with Mr. Clair had been a long and interesting one, as far as the boys were concerned. Mr. Murray heard every particular of Mr. Rivers' losses which Mr. Clair knew, and also gained a good insight into the character and temper of the lads. What he heard of Bertie pleased him greatly, especially as it agreed exactly with what Mr. Gregory said; about Eddie he looked a little grave, and puckered up his forehead for full five minutes, as Mr. Clair described his restlessness, discontent, and want of application, and, worst of all, the foolish idea that he was really very clever, and very much misunderstood and unappreciated by his relatives.
"The boy is fairly clever, but he's not a genius," Mr. Clair said. "If he would only work, he might get on; but Eddie prefers to dream noble things rather than do them; he will spend hours looking at beautiful pictures, and then nearly break his childish heart because he can't do something equally good. His ideas, his ambitions, are excellent, but he will not work."
"Is there no other profession he might get on better at? Would he make a lawyer, or a doctor, do you think?" Mr. Murray asked.
"I'm afraid not; he really wants to be an artist; besides, he's so proud and sensitive, that he never would make his way in the world if he had to mix with people, and fight for a place. Poor Eddie, I am sorry for him," Mr. Clair said, kindly. "He has such an unhappy disposition."
"And the little girl?" Mr. Murray said. "How is she provided for? She is Frank Rivers' child, I think you said?"
"Yes; and she's the worst off of them all. Being a girl, and so delicate, I really do not see what's to become of her if anything should happen to us. It's a great pity she is not stronger," Mr. Clair remarked; "she has a wonderful talent for drawing, and is the most patient, painstaking, intelligent pupil I ever met. If Eddie had only half her diligence, he would get on much better."
Then he heard of the peculiarly solitary life Bertie led at Kensington, and listened in wonder, while Mr. Clair said Eddie was never asked to his uncle's, had never seen his cousins, and that he did not even know the Gregorys were in Brighton.
"You see, we are very different sort of people, Mr. Murray: our tastes, habits, and manner of life are so widely apart, that it is perhaps all for the best that we should not meet frequently. Still, he is Eddie's uncle: the boys are his first cousins; it seems a little odd that they should be complete strangers."
"Odd! why, it's very strange. I can't comprehend it!" Mr. Murray cried, looking quite fierce. "I must make them better acquainted. Ah! I've hit on the very thing. I'm going to take the Gregory boys for a trip in my yacht along the south coast; the Rivers lads shall come too. You must all come: there's nothing to make people acquainted and set them at their ease like a few days at sea in a small craft. Promise me you will join us. We start on Monday morning, and will land you anywhere, and at any time you like. A week's cruise would do you all good."
"I'm afraid you must excuse us, Mr. Murray. We should not be a very welcome addition to your party," Uncle Clair said, coldly. "I have no desire to force my acquaintance on Mr. Gregory."
"He's not coming with us, in the first place, and even if he were, I suppose I am at liberty to choose what guests I please to accompany me on my trip?" Mr. Murray cried, almost fiercely; "but"—turning to Mrs. Clair—"we need not discuss that point: it's the children we were talking about. It would be a first-rate opportunity for both lads to make friends with their cousins."
"Yes," Aunt Amy answered, thoughtfully. "They have so few friends in the world, poor children, that it would be a sad pity to miss a chance of increasing them. I feel half inclined to accept your kind invitation for the children's sake, but we have arranged to return home a week from Monday, and I almost fear my husband's engagements will not permit him to remain another day."
"Very well, Mrs. Clair; a week will, I think, be sufficient for our purpose. I'll find out in that time what the lads are really made of. I've had so many boys grow up under my eye, that I can read them pretty accurately now, and what's more, study them when they least imagine I'm thinking of them. As for your husband, he wants three months' complete rest, and a cruise to the Mediterranean in my yacht; and he shall have it, later on!" and Mr. Murray seeming as if he were in a fearful passion with some one, frowned quite terribly, and shook his head fiercely, whereas he was only making a very kind and generous proposal to a poor artist, who could never afford more than a brief holiday, and always had, so to speak, to carry his profession along with him. Mr. Clair, however, did not seem very pleased with the suggestion, however much he might like it—and in his own mind he felt that he really needed just such a complete rest and change of scene, soft climate, and freedom from all care and anxiety, to enable him to shake himself free from a strange feeling of dulness and languor that had been stealing over him lately, and a sort of mental depression that was harder to bear than actual illness. But three months away from his pupils and work seemed absolutely out of the question to Mr. Clair, therefore he did not let his mind dwell on it, but returned to the question of the children.
"they came to the little group" ([p. 229])
"While I thank you for your very kind proposal, Mr. Murray, I'll make no promises; let the boys choose for themselves. Bertie, of course, must obtain his Uncle Gregory's permission, as he promised, without fail, to be back at the office on Monday morning. I will not ever stand in the way of the boys' pleasure or profit, but I think it is truer kindness to have them go along quietly on the paths they have chosen. Bertie is happy and contented enough now, but he's a high-spirited lad, fond of the sea almost passionately; a voyage, be it ever so short, may unsettle his mind for the office. Eddie is discontented enough already; I don't really see what good can come of it. Of course, I don't really think that either of the boys is going to make his fortune, recover Riversdale, and live there in peace and plenty, ease and indolence, ever after. That's a pretty poetical little romance, and serves to cheer the children, and make their sudden change of circumstance more bearable, but I know they will have to fight the battle of life each by himself, and quite unaided. Neither possesses a magic wand to conjure up a fortune."
"And why not, pray? Has not many a London 'prentice lad found that magic wand in honest hard work and strict integrity? Why not Bertie Rivers as well as another? But let it be as you say: leave it to the boys' own choice. Suppose we go out and find them."
Mr. Clair went very willingly, and seemed as if he would be glad to have the whole matter settled. Aunt Amy smiled encouragingly; she was really anxious that the young cousins should know and love each other, and felt almost sure that Eddie would be much happier if he had some friends of his own age, especially if they were clever boys, who would make him feel anxious to shine in their eyes, and excel at least in his beloved painting, and that he talked so much of and performed so little.
Mr. Murray and Mr. Clair had not joined the children on the beach many minutes before Uncle Gregory came along with his two sons, one walking demurely on either side. When they came to the little group sitting and lounging in somewhat undignified fashion under the lee of the old tarry boat, they paused, Mr. Gregory looking somewhat astonished and scandalised at seeing his old friend Mr. Murray—Murray and Co., one of the most respected "houses" in the City of London—sprawling full-length, with his hat over his eyes, while Mr. Clair made an accurate two-inch sketch of him; but no matter what Mr. Murray did or said, he was in a sense privileged, and Mr. Gregory greeted him cordially, shook hands with Mr. Clair a little more stiffly, and introduced his sons. Bertie, at the first approach of his uncle Gregory, had edged to the other side of the boat, and watched the proceedings with an amused twinkle in his eyes, that peered about half an inch over the keel. Eddie was gravely polite, Agnes painfully shy, and Uncle Clair seemed to have become quite a grand gentleman too in a moment; but Mr. Murray never moved, and actually asked Mr. Gregory to sit down, pointing to a vacant scrap of pebbly beach, and indicating the tarry boat as something to lean against. At the proposition Bertie disappeared altogether: it was too absurd to see Uncle Gregory's expression of wonder, and he had to stuff his cap into his mouth to avoid laughing aloud, but Mr. Murray did not seem to mind a bit.
"Rather stand, eh? Yes, of course; I dare say you do get sitting down enough. I was just wanting to see you, to ask a favour. Can you give this lad—where is he, Bertie"—Bertie emerged solemn-faced, and rather scared, from the other side of the boat, and bowed to his uncle—"can you give this youngster another week's holiday? I want him and his brother, and this lassie here, to come for a sail with your boys. Mr. and Mrs. Clair have also kindly promised to join us for a week, so that we shall be quite a pleasant party, eh, lads? You would like it."
Dick and Harry Gregory instinctively drew nearer to their father, and their faces expressed anything but lively satisfaction at the proposal. On the other side, Eddie and Agnes had glanced at each other, and edged behind Uncle Clair, who had resumed his sketching; only Eddie and Mr. Gregory looked straight at each other, and old Mr. Murray from under his shaggy eyebrows watched them both.
"Well, Bertie, would you like to go on this excursion very much?" Uncle Gregory asked, in his hardest voice, and with his most chilling smile.
"No, thank you, uncle. I would rather go back to the office on Monday morning."
"Thank you, Bert," Eddie whispered, giving his brother's hand a hearty squeeze. "Of course we can't go without you."
Indeed, Bertie's words seemed to have brought a sort of relief to the whole party. Mr. Gregory's smile was quite pleasant as he laid his hand on the boy's head.
"You're quite right," he said, genially. "You and I are business people, and can't afford taking holidays at random. We will go up to town together, Bertie, on Monday morning, and I hope the others will enjoy their trip."
"I'm sure Eddie will not care to go without Bertie," Uncle Clair said, rising. "We must only wait for some more favourable opportunity for becoming better acquainted with your lads, Mr. Gregory. Now, children, it's dinner-time, and your Aunt Amy will be waiting. If you will join us"—turning to Uncle Gregory—"it will give us much pleasure."
"Not to-day, thank you, as I have an engagement; but Mrs. Gregory will take an early opportunity of waiting on Mrs. Clair;" and after a great many ceremonious bows and smiles, they separated; Mr. Gregory, his sons, and Mr. Murray (frowning, shaking his head, clenching his hands in the most ridiculous manner) going one way, Uncle Clair, with Agnes clinging to his arm, and Eddie and Bertie behind, hurrying away in the opposite direction; but not a single word was spoken till they reached the house, and then Aunt Amy saw by their faces that the old gentleman's good-natured plan had failed, for that time, at least; but if she thought for a moment that Mr. Murray gave up an idea so easily after once forming it, it showed that she knew nothing whatever either of his goodness of heart or force of character.