Then, compressing his lips as a man who forces himself to something he dislikes, he dipped his pen into the inkstand, and wrote rapidly thus to his kinsman:
MY DEAR COUSIN,—I lose not a post in replying to your kind and
considerate letter. It is not in my power at present to return to
England. I need not say how fondly I cherish the hope of
representing the dear old county some day. If Vavasour could be
induced to defer his resignation of the seat for another session, or
at least for six or seven months, why then I might be free to avail
myself of the opening; at present I am not. Meanwhile I am sorely
tempted to buy back the old Lodge; probably the brewer would allow
me to leave on mortgage the sum I myself have on the property, and a
few additional thousands. I have reasons for not wishing to
transfer at present much of the money now invested in the Funds. I
will consider this point, which probably does not press.
I reserve all Paris news till my next; and begging you to forgive so
curt and unsatisfactory a reply to a letter so important that it
excites me more than I like to own, believe me your affectionate
friend and cousin,
GRAHAM.
CHAPTER II.
AT about the same hour on the same day in which the Englishman held the conference with the Parisian detective just related, the Marquis de Rochebriant found himself by appointment in the cabinet d’affaires of his avoue M. Gandrin that gentleman had hitherto not found time to give him a definite opinion as to the case submitted to his judgment. The avoue received Alain with a kind of forced civility, in which the natural intelligence of the Marquis, despite his inexperience of life, discovered embarrassment.
“Monsieur le Marquis,” said Gandrin, fidgeting among the papers on his bureau, “this is a very complicated business. I have given not only my best attention to it, but to your general interests. To be plain, your estate, though a fine one, is fearfully encumbered—fearfully— frightfully.”
“Sir,” said the Marquis, haughtily, “that is a fact which was never disguised from you.”
“I do not say that it was, Marquis; but I scarcely realized the amount of the liabilities nor the nature of the property. It will be difficult—nay, I fear, impossible—to find any capitalist to advance a sum that will cover the mortgages at an interest less than you now pay. As for a Company to take the whole trouble off your hands, clear off the mortgages, manage the forests, develop the fisheries, guarantee you an adequate income, and at the end of twenty-one years or so render up to you or your heirs the free enjoyment of an estate thus improved, we must dismiss that prospect as a wild dream of my good friend M. Hebert. People in the provinces do dream; in Paris everybody is wide awake.”
“Monsieur,” said the Marquis, with that inborn imperturbable loftiness of sang froid which has always in adverse circumstances characterized the French noblesse, “be kind enough to restore my papers. I see that you are not the man for me. Allow me only to thank you, and inquire the amount of my debt for the trouble I have given.”
“Perhaps you are quite justified in thinking I am not the man for you, Monsieur le Marquis; and your papers shall, if you decide on dismissing me, be returned to you this evening. But as to my accepting remuneration where I have rendered no service, I request M. le Marquis to put that out of the question. Considering myself, then, no longer your avoue, do not think I take too great a liberty in volunteering my counsel as a friend,—or a friend at least to M. Hebert, if you do not vouchsafe my right so to address yourself.”