Phil objected at first to this arrangement as too generous. ‘You will tire of a rural existence, sir,’ he said, ‘ere six months are gone, and then—supposing me to have married in the meantime—I and my wife will have to rearrange our establishment once more. ’Twould be better for you to keep the house in town, and let me have another and smaller one.’
But Meadowes would not hear of this.
‘I cannot tell you, Phil, how it is with me,’ he said, leaning his head on his hand as he spoke. ‘And—may you never understand—a great weariness hath fallen over me, that is of the mind, not of the body. I care for nothing; the game is played out. So make no further parley over this; take what I offer and welcome: as you pointed out to me ’tis but your due, in a sense.’
‘Then you fully understand, sir, that I bring Carrie Shepley to live in your house?’
‘Bring her and welcome—ah, you think that will bring you happiness, Phil, but you are mistaken. Happiness is a creature of the fancy, she is never caught and held; always flits ahead. You’ll not find her in Carrie Shepley—no, nor in aught in this world.’
‘My dear sir, I fear you will be turning monk, when I hear you despise the good things of this world, as you do just now,’ said Phil. He laid his hand on his father’s shoulder with the caressing way he had to every one. Meadowes smiled.
‘I know better than to think happiness lies there either,’ he said.—‘But to return to business: you mean to marry this girl as soon as may be?’
‘So soon as she will have me, sir.’
‘I shall make you an allowance then, Phil, and the house in St. James’ Square; and you understand that the outer world still considers us as a devoted father and son.’
‘They will be right to name you a generous father at least, sir,’ said Phil, and he held out his hand suddenly to his father as he spoke. ‘Don’t name me ungrateful, sir,’ he added; ‘I see all you have done for me.’