“Why, dang it! my poor brother George, that’s gone, had six hundred when he went out as inspector over that silk factory! Two hundred a-year!” mused he; “and what do you get at your next promotion?”
“That is not quite certain. I might be named attaché at Vienna, which would, perhaps, give me one hundred more—or, if I had the good fortune to win the Ministers favour, I might be made a Secretary at some small legation and have five hundred—that is, however, a piece of luck not to be thought of.”
“Well, I’m sure,” sighed Martin; “I’m no judge of these matters; but it strikes me that’s very poor pay, and that a man like myself, who has his ten or twelve hundreds a-year—fifteen in good seasons—is better off than the great folk dining with kings or emperors.”
“Of course you are,” said I; “who doubts it? But we must all do something. England is not a country where idleness is honourable.”
“Why not turn farmer?” said Martin, energetically; “you’d soon learn the craft, I’ve not met any one this many a-year picks up the knowledge about it like yourself. You seem to like the life too.”
“If you mean such as I live now, I delight in it.”
“Do you, my dear boy?” cried he, grasping my hand, and squeezing it between both his own. “If so, then never leave us. You shall live with us—we’ll take that great piece of land there near the haugh—I’ve had an eye on it for years back; there’s a sheep run there as fine as any in Europe. I’ll lay down the whole of those two fields into meadow, and keep the green crops to the back altogether. Such partridge-shooting we will have there yet. In winter, too, the Duke’s hounds meet twice a-week. I’ve got such a strapping three-year-old—you haven’t seen him, but he’ll be a clipper. Well, don’t say nay. You’ll stay and marry Amy. I’ll give her twenty thousand down, and leave you all I have afterwards.”
This was poured forth in such a voluble strain, that an interruption was impossible; and at last, when over, the speaker stood with tearful eyes, gazing on me, as if on my reply his very existence was hanging.
Surprise and gratitude for the unbounded confidence he had shewn in me were my first sensations, soon to be followed by a hundred other conflicting and jarring ones. I should shame—even now, after years have gone by—to own to some of these. Alas! our very natures are at the mercy of the ordinances we ourselves have framed; and the savage red man yields not more devotion to the idol he has carved, than do we to the fashion we have made our Deity! I thought of the Lady Georginas and Carolines of my acquaintance, and grew ashamed of Amy Haverstock! If I had loved, this I am sure would not have been the case, but I cannot acquit myself that principle and good feeling should not have been sufficient without love! Whether from the length of time in which I remained without answering, or that in my confusion he read something adverse to his wishes, but Martin grew scarlet, and in a voice full of emotion said,—
“There, Mr. Templeton, enough said. I see it will not do—there’s no need of explaining. I was a fool, that’s all!”