He might have gone further, but Cosmo, for all his freshness, knew what was passing in his father’s mind. There ran in his voice a grace and humility strangely contrasting with his heavy features and attitude.
“My dear father,” he said. “If I could do anything ... but no one takes me seriously in business yet.” His eyes smiled as he said it.
His father answered proudly. “They will, Cosmo, they will,” and never was his confidence in the future better placed.
“I only know men just as friends ... I know what you mean ... the University does that ... I was thinking who of all that lot understands the place best.... You know, for my part,” changing his tone to a digression, “I believe in it, but I mean politically; commercially it wants all sorts of special knowledge ...” then his face filled with thought and he stared at the fire.
Mr Burden smiled tolerantly: he had a reminiscent vision of his boy’s rapid successes: of the academic triumph in Modern Languages, and, still better, the firm friendships acquired with men proud to be his equals ... perhaps through these an introduction to families that would accept or even search an alliance: such early affections as.... But his reverie was cut short by an inspiration of Cosmo’s.
“Why not ask Lord Benthorpe?” he said.
“Lord Benthorpe!” cried Mr Burden. He was surprised and a little shocked, and he let it be perceived.
Lord Benthorpe was a public man; it was only by his own desire that he had not taken a high place in his party. As it was, in administration he had come near to being, he might yet be, a great Imperial Figure. Mr Burden could well remember how this somewhat younger man had been acclaimed as a worthy successor to his celebrated grandfather. His reputation, especially in youth, had been surrounded by that purely political atmosphere which the patriotism of purely commercial men turns into a halo. All these things Mr Burden insisted upon openly in reply to his son. Perhaps, as old men will, he somewhat exaggerated the importance of a name which recent years had somewhat lessened; but his life had run upon lines sufficiently remote from politics to warrant his humility, and, if he doubted the possibility of obtaining Lord Benthorpe’s advice upon so small a matter as the M’Korio, it was because he estimated at its full value the weight of that advice, should he but have the good fortune to receive it.
Cosmo was earnest. He protested that he could not see his father’s objection. He did not know Lord Benthorpe well, but he knew Lord Benthorpe’s son extremely well. He was absolutely certain, he said, that Mr Burden misunderstood the simplicity of such men. Then, apart from that, Lapthorne and Curley had asked advice on neutral matters, and had received it—he assured his father that Lord Benthorpe’s world had for the City as great a regard as ever the City for them; they knew upon what the Empire reposed, and they saw—and for the matter of that he, Cosmo, saw—that, but for some communication between the Benthorpes and the Burdens, the Empire could hardly survive.
He would have said more in the same strain, had not Mr Burden, whose pride was dimly suffering from so much protest, risen, rather abruptly, and announced a decision to take his own time in the matter. His son had the tact to say good-night.