“Do you think Farintosh will—will call, ma’am?” asked Sir Barnes demurely.
“He will be going through to Newmarket. He has been where we have been at two or three places in Scotland,” replies the lady, with equal gravity. “His poor mother wishes him to give up his bachelor’s life—as well she may—for you young men are terribly dissipated. Rossmont is quite a regal place. His Norfolk house is not inferior. A young man of that station ought to marry, and live at his places, and be an example to his people, instead of frittering away his time at Paris and Vienna amongst the most odious company.”
“Is he going to Drummington?” asks the grandson.
“I believe he has been invited. We shall go to Paris for November: he probably will be there,” answered the Dowager casually; “and tired of the dissipated life he has been leading, let us hope he will mend his ways, and find a virtuous, well-bred young woman to keep him right.” With this her ladyship’s apothecary is announced, and her banker and grandson takes his leave.
Sir Barnes walked into the City with his umbrella, read his letters, conferred with his partners and confidential clerks; was for a while not the exasperated husband, or the affectionate brother, or the amiable grandson, but the shrewd, brisk banker, engaged entirely with his business. Presently he had occasion to go on ’Change, or elsewhere, to confer with brother-capitalists, and in Cornhill behold he meets his uncle, Colonel Newcome, riding towards the India House, a groom behind him.
The Colonel springs off his horse, and Barnes greets him in the blandest manner. “Have you any news for me, Barnes?” cries the officer.
“The accounts from Calcutta are remarkably good. That cotton is of admirable quality really. Mr. Briggs, of our house, who knows cotton as well as any man in England, says——”
“It’s not the cotton, my dear Sir Barnes,” cries the other.
“The bills are perfectly good; there is no sort of difficulty about them. Our house will take half a million of ’em, if——”
“You are talking of bills, and I am thinking of poor Clive,” the Colonel interposes. “I wish you could give me good news for him, Barnes.”