"You are a model of constancy, my love," said his mother, affectionately and admiringly. "No woman in the world is good enough for my dear son."
"Perhaps not, perhaps not," he muttered; "but I will die before I am thwarted. When did I give up an object upon which I set my heart? Never, and I will not give up this. Mark the hour that makes Mrs. Grantham my wife, and you will see me a changed man. She shall be my slave then, as I am hers now. During her visit to us I will conquer her irresolution, her obstinacy. Let Charlotte understand that her happiness depends upon mine; that will win her completely to my side. I will be the most affectionate of brothers; you shall be the most affectionate of mothers. Charlotte will say to herself, 'I have been mistaken in them; it is I who have been at fault all these years.' This will tell in my favor when she and Mrs. Grantham are talking together confidentially. We rob her, you see, of her power of detraction. You, I know, will do your best, and Charlotte shall do her best instead of her worst. She has defied me; she shall be made to pay for it. I have her promise for two months, and she is at my mercy. Do you understand now why I was so smooth with her?"
"Yes, my love. Depend upon me to do everything in my power."
"Before those two months have gone Mrs. Grantham and I shall be man and wife; and then, mother, Charlotte may go to the----"
"Exactly so, my love," said his mother.
[CHAPTER V.]
In which John Dixon informs Mr. Fox-Cordery that he has seen a Ghost.
It is an article of belief that every Englishman's private residence must include an apartment which, by a polite fiction, is denominated a study. This apartment, which generally smells of musty bones, is, as a rule, extremely small, extremely dark, and extremely useless. Dust lies thick upon the shabby furniture, by reason of the housemaid never being allowed to enter it with duster and broom; and the few volumes on the shelves of the parody of a bookcase lean against each other at a drunken angle, with a dissipated air of books that have lost all respect for themselves. To add to the conspicuous cheerlessness of the room, its one insufficient window looks out upon a dreary back wall, a constant contemplation of which would be likely to drive a man's thoughts in the direction of suicide. Provided with the necessary cupboard, no more suitable hiding-place could be found for the proverbial family skeleton, without which no well-regulated establishment can be said to be complete.
Into such an apartment was John Dixon shown when he was informed that Mr. Fox-Cordery would receive him.
This cold welcome was a sufficient indication that the master of the house did not regard his visitor in the light of a friend; but, clear as was the fact to John Dixon, it did not disturb him. With his rubicund face, his bright eyes, and his genial manners, he presented the appearance of a man not easily disturbed, of a man who accepted the rubs of life with equanimity, and made the best of them. He was in his prime, a well-built gentleman, with nothing particularly serious on his conscience, and when Mr. Fox-Cordery entered the room the advantage was on John Dixon's side, physically and morally.