“Suppose it should be Isabella Featherstone,” replied Philip; but in such a manner as abundantly proved that the supposition was perfectly gratuitous.
His lordship shook his head; and then, with very great earnestness of manner, said to his son: “Philip, let me speak to you seriously and as a friend. I would not have you rely too confidently on the expectation of inheriting your cousin’s estate. I have my reasons for what I say, and it is for your welfare that I speak. The Featherstones are a very respectable and an old family, but you must look for something more than mere family; you cannot keep up the dignity of your rank without an accession, and a very considerable accession of fortune, which you cannot have from the Featherstones. I wish I could persuade you to apply yourself to public business; I am sure you might make a good figure in the house, and provide for yourself far better and more honorably than by living in a state of dependence.”
Philip, for the first time in his life, heard patiently this exhortation; and greatly to the surprise and satisfaction of his lordship, went so far as to say, that he would take the matter into serious consideration. So pleased was Lord Martindale even with this faint promise, that he hasted immediately to communicate the same to Lady Martindale. The first dinner-bell was ringing as Lord Martindale left his son’s apartment; and at nearly the same instant, Mr. John Martindale entered it.
There appeared to be a cloud on the old man’s brow; and there was a manifest coolness in his manner as he entered the apartment, and said to the young gentleman:
“Now, young man, I am going to pay you greater attention than you paid to me the other day. I am going to London; and I come to let you know. I have made some discoveries, of which you shall know more hereafter. At present, all I can say is, I am going to London; and I must request that you will make some apology to our guests for my sudden departure.”
“You are not going to-day, sir; it is near dinner-time,” replied Mr. Philip.
“I can’t help that,” replied the old gentleman; “then you must dine without me; and if any excuse is needed for my absence, you must invent one; or if you are at a loss for a lie, peradventure Oliver can help you to one. I have no time for any more prate, so farewell.”
Thus speaking, the queer old gentleman left the room; and poor Mr. Philip found himself in a very sad and sorrowful perplexity at his departure; especially, coupled as it was with such reports abroad, and such language from the old gentleman himself. The last sentence of all, in which allusion was made to Oliver’s inventive faculty, most closely touched the honorable tenant of Brigland Abbey; though the fact is, that Mr. John Martindale did not thereby design any particular or express allusion to any one individual part of Oliver’s conduct, yet in this light the young gentleman regarded it; and it therefore grieved him, and gave him an additional impulse towards thoughts and efforts of independence. But there were obstacles and impediments in the way which he could not mention to Lord Martindale; and if they had been known, his lordship would not have found it an easy task to remove them. The considerations dwelt heavily on the mind of the young gentleman, and made him regret that he had been so long acting the part of a simpleton.