We could produce numerous examples of this extreme prejudice, but it is not needful. The reader must take for granted that it does exist, and that Tom Grigson had imbibed it. Of course he had heard, in one way or another, that Mr. Elliston had at some former time been in some kind of business (he had never troubled himself to find out in what kind of business) in London; and that, having made a large fortune by trading, he had retired to the country, and bought the estate on which he now lived. He knew, too, that Mr. Elliston had all, or most of, the tastes and feelings of a gentleman, which he rather wondered at.
And let it be confessed, that when he first of all became conscious of the peculiar sensation which, for want of a better word, we call love, towards the fair Kate, he made a strong though unsuccessful effort to overcome it, on the ground of her distant connection with what he would, in any other case, have called the "shop." And when eventually, he made up his mind not to let that obstacle stand in his way, he gave himself credit, I am afraid, for wonderful magnanimity in overlooking that blot on the lady's escutcheon, and for great discernment in having arrived at the conclusion that the ex-tradesman's daughter was after all not unworthy of his fond admiration.
I daresay that this part of our veracious history will be looked upon by some readers as apocryphal. But it is not; and, taking our word for it that it is a true representation, it may be conceived how great a blow it was to poor Tom's self-pride to be told that he must stoop still lower than he had yet stooped, in order to possess the prize he longed for.
All these thoughts and remembrances possibly rushed through Tom's mind in a few brief moments; and then followed his mental resolution, "After all, I can't and won't give up Kate;" adding aloud, "I should like to consult my brother about it."
"By all means speak to Mr. Richard," said the old gentleman; and there the subject was, for that time, dropped, Master Tom being quietly, though courteously enough, dismissed without seeing the young lady for whom he was expected to make such a sacrifice.
Tom returned to the Manor House somewhat disconsolate, and was soon pouring out his sorrows into Richard Grigson's ear.
"Why, this is another Tincroft affair," said the elder brother, when the younger had gone over the several items of the previous interview. He said it with such mock gravity that Tom remonstrated.
"Don't laugh at me, Richard. I want your advice."
"To follow if you like it, I suppose. Well, Tom, here goes, then."
But as I am writing Tom's history only in brief, and just so far as concerns our friend John Tincroft, it is enough to say that the elder brother gave the younger brother very good advice, and the younger brother took it. For the very next day he presented himself at the Mumbles, and was again in conference with Kate's father.