“But, Gomer, you are—a—rich—and a—a—man of the world—a—” responded Wilton.
“I am both,” answered Gomer, emphatically. “I am a man of the world, and I see that, like boys after butterflies, the majority of my kind pursue objects as gaudy and as useless when caught. I see the hollowness of most human purposes, the eagerness with which they are pursued, and the wretched, vexed vanities they prove to be when possessed. I am rich, Wilton; but I apprehend the true purpose of riches to be something different to self-deifying aggrandisement. The world is full of woe—the mission of wealth is to alleviate it: also, to assist and to elevate human worth, and to plant happiness where it has not been wont to bloom. Such have been the objects of my life-labours; and such, I trust, they will continue to be. I do not, however, pretend to attempt to control your actions, or guide you in the performance of your duties. That must be your own task. I simply reiterate what my award to Mr. Vivian would have been; and now I expect you will take upon yourself the office of acknowledging the debt of gratitude you owe to him—rather a heavy obligation to my thinking—and the consideration of the meet reward you will bestow upon him.”
Wilton, after a little reflection, said—
“It appears to me, in looking back on the past, Gomer, that—a—that you have exercised a considerable, I might say a very considerable influence over my actions, and have directed generally the course of my inclinations, a—a—and my intentions. Even now, a—though disclaiming such purpose, it seems to me that you are occupied—I—a—should say, actively occupied in forcing me to swallow a potion most repugnant to—a—to—to my nature, seeking to impel me by honeyed words concerning the good which a—a—must result from my acquiescence—a. Stay, don’t interrupt me now. I would fain acknowledge that you have hitherto shown the greatest interest in my personal affairs; that, I say, I think is undoubtedly clear. It is also plain and undeniable that your—a—um—your interference hitherto has been attended with the best possible result; that I admit. It might in the present instance—I say it might—I am by no means supposed to think it would, but it might operate beneficially if it succeeded in making me believe that it would be at least proper to bestow the hand of my daughter upon Mr. Vivian. But before I consent to re-open the case, and listen to a repetition of your arguments, be good enough to tell me who you are, and explain to me why you, a comparative stranger—merely the landlord of a house I once inhabited—should have mixed yourself up with my affairs, and now take upon yourself to direct me in the disposal of my children in marriage.”
Nathan Gomer rubbed his hands briskly over his chin and mouth, and champed with his teeth, as though his tongue and lips were parched. Presently he spoke; his voice grated harshly at first.
“Ha! ha! very true,” he said, with a grim chuckle; “I never reflected upon that very grave consideration—-my title to interfere in your affairs; it did not occur to me, I grant you I have been impertinent, officious. I ought to have left you to—no no”—he checked himself with a sudden dignity—“I must not permit myself to be betrayed into a weakness. Mr. Wilton, you have smitten me on one cheek; before I permit you to smite the other, I will inform you who I am, not at this moment, but at the proper time. It will come to your ears with sufficient speed when it does come. Farewell.”
“Hem—a—Gomer—stay!” cried Wilton, hurriedly. But Gomer was gone. The old man would have followed him, but a servant entered the library, followed by the Honorable Lester Vane.
Vane was dressed with studied elegance; his garb was in the highest style of fashion, and fitted him to perfection. Having quite recovered his health, of which, recently, he had purposely taken the greatest possible care, he looked, as he walked with an elevated gait—affected, and acquired by practice—a very handsome and polished specimen of the aristocracy.
Wilton was immediately struck by his appearance and manner. The words “Honorable Mr. Lester” rang in his ears, too, as the servant announced him. He had before noticed the superiority of mien and attire displayed by Vane, but, under existing circumstances, they now made a stronger impression than ever upon him.
Here evidently was the son-in-law proper to his own and his daughter’s condition in life. Nathan Gomer might preach as much as he pleased about two young hearts beating in happy unison, but was it possible that such would be the result of an unequal match? It was far more likely that Flora, wedded to a young, elegant fellow like Lester, and moving, after her marriage with him, in a high circle, would be much gayer and happier than if mated with one who had been accustomed only to the atmosphere of a workshop, and to mix with very moderate people. Wilton felt decided upon the point, and accordingly greeted Lester Vane with evident pleasure, which that astute personage responded to with consummate artifice. By his observations and his inquiries, he led Wilton to the conclusion that he possessed a noble spirit and unaffected kindness of heart. He even offered to give back to Wilton the promise he had received from him of Flora’s hand, and assured him, with well-simulated earnestness, that however deeply painful, and even heart-breaking, it might be to him to forego the honour of Miss Wilton’s alliance, he would rather sacrifice his eternal happiness than be the occasion of one moment’s grief to her. He had come down, he said, with the object of either being able to disabuse Flora’s mind of its false idea in respect to Vivian, and to win her love, or to resign her hand and retire from the field altogether—an alternative which old Wilton rather vehemently “pooh-poohed.”