“Failing Loo,” continued Fred calmly, “my father’s fortune goes to some distant relative.”
“But why? wherefore?” exclaimed Barret.
“You shall hear,” continued Auberly. “You are aware that ever since I was able to burn the end of a stick and draw faces on the nursery-door, I have had a wild, insatiable passion for drawing; and ever since the memorable day on which I was whipped by my father, and kissed, tearfully, by my beloved mother, for caricaturing our cook on the dining-room window with a diamond-ring, I have had an earnest, unextinguishable desire to become a—a painter, an artist, a dauber, a dirtier of canvas. D’ye understand?”
“Perfectly,” said Barret.
“Well, my father has long been resolved, it seems, to make me a man of business, for which I have no turn whatever. You are aware that for many years I have dutifully slaved and toiled at these heavy books in our office—which have proved so heavy that they have nearly squeezed the soul out of me—and instead of coming to like them better (as I was led to believe I should), I have only come to hate them more. During all this time, too, I have been studying painting late and early, and although I have not gone through the regular academical course, I have studied much in the best of all schools, that of Nature. I have urged upon my father repeatedly and respectfully, that it is possible for me to uphold the credit of the family as a painter; that, as the business can be carried on by subordinates, there is no necessity for me to be at the head of it; and that, as he has made an ample fortune already, the half of which he had told me was to be mine, I would be quite satisfied with my share, and did not want any more. But my father would never listen to my arguments. The last time we got on the subject he called me a mean-spirited fellow, and said he was sorry I had ever been born; whereupon I expressed regret that he had not been blessed with a more congenial and satisfactory son, and tried to point out that it was impossible to change my nature. Then I urged all the old arguments over again, and wound up by saying that even if I were to become possessor of the whole of his business to-morrow, I would sell it off, take to painting as a profession, and become the patron of aspiring young painters from that date forward!
“To my surprise and consternation, this last remark put him in such a towering rage, that he vowed he would disinherit me, if I did not then and there throw my palette and brushes into the fire. Of course, I declined to do such an act, whereupon he dismissed me from his presence for ever. This occurred on the morning of the day of the fire. I thought he might perhaps relent after such an evidence of the mutability of human affairs. I even ventured to remind him that Tooley Street was not made of asbestos, and that an occasional fire occurred there! But this made him worse than ever; so I went the length of saying that I would, at all events, in deference to his wishes, continue to go to the office at least for some time to come. But, alas! I had roused him to such a pitch that he refused to hear of it, unless I should ‘throw my palette and brushes into the fire!’ Flesh and blood, you know, could not do that, so I left him, and walked off twenty miles into the country to relieve my feelings. There I fell in with such a splendid ‘bit;’ a sluice, with a stump of a tree, and a winding bit of water with overhanging willows, and a peep of country beyond! I sat down and sketched, and forgot my woes, and rejoiced in the fresh air and delightful sounds of birds, and cows, and sheep, and hated to think of Tooley Street. Then I slept in a country inn, walked back to London next day, and, voilà! here I am!”
“Don’t you think, Fred, that time will soften your father?”
“No, I don’t think it. On the contrary, I know it won’t. He is a good man; but he has an iron will, which I never saw subdued.”
“Then, my dear Fred, I advise you to consider the propriety of throwing your palette and brushes into—”
“My dear John, I did not come here for your advice. I came for your sympathy.”