“What! go to London at this time of year!—Let me know nothing about it!—What is he gone for?”
“I cannot conjecture,” replied the reverend divine, “what can be Mr. Philip’s motive for visiting the metropolis at this unusual season.”
“Conjecture!” said Mr. Martindale; “no, I suppose not. But it is so very odd that he should go in such a violent hurry, and not say a word to me on the subject.”
In this, the old gentleman was wrong; for it was by no means unusual for the Hon. Philip Martindale to make an excursion for a day or two without saying any thing about the matter to his worthy relative. These excursions were sometimes to Moulsey, and sometimes to Epsom, and sometimes to Newmarket, and sometimes to St. Mary Axe; and as these excursions were on a species of business with which the old gentleman had no sympathy, the young gentleman thought it superfluous to announce his departure and arrival. A present advantage arising from this arrangement was, that he enjoyed a greater reputation for steadiness than he really deserved, though without a knowledge of these matters his indulgent and opulent relative thought the young man rather too wild. A future disadvantage, however, was likely to compensate for the present advantage; for it was next to impossible to carry on this game without detection, and also very difficult to escape from the vortex.
The knowledge of Philip’s absence without leave discomposed the old gentleman, and rendered him not very well disposed for the enjoyment of company; he had, however, the consolation of anticipating the exercise of a little extra tyranny over his dependent relative, in consequence of this transgression. It is a truth, and a sad one too, that many persons, situated as Mr. John Martindale, are not always really sorry for an opportunity of showing their authority by means of the eloquence or annoyance of rebuke. Had Philip, by any exertion of his own, or by any spirit of pride, removed himself from a state of dependence, it would have been a serious loss to his cousin; and even the very appearance of an act of independence disturbed the old gentleman, and rendered him for a considerable time silent and sulky.
Soon after dinner, however, Mr. Martindale recovered his spirits. He became quite cheerful with the thought that he should make the young man do penance for his transgression. He was, however, not altogether at ease, because his curiosity was excited as to the object of the young gentleman’s excursion. Mr. Denver was unable or unwilling to satisfy his curiosity; and therefore, without making any apology to his guests, the old gentleman withdrew from table, and walked up to the Abbey, with a view of ascertaining, if possible, from some of the servants, the cause of their master’s sudden absence from home.
When three persons have dined together, and have been talking about nothing, or next to nothing, and when one of the three withdraws, it is not very unusual or unnatural that he should form a topic for the remaining two to discourse upon. This was the case when Mr. Martindale left the clergyman and the barrister together.
“It is very singular,” said Markham to his companion, “that a man of such large fortune as Mr. Martindale, should, after building so splendid a mansion, content himself with residing in such a cottage as this.”
“So it appears to us, who have no such choice,” replied Mr. Denver; “but to Mr. Martindale, who is rolling in riches, some other stimulus is necessary than the mere outward manifestation of wealth; and I dare say that he enjoys more pleasure from the whim of having a dependent relative in the great house, than you or I should from dwelling there ourselves. This I can venture to say, that Philip Martindale has not received any great addition to his happiness from being placed at the Abbey. The old gentleman scarcely allows him a maintenance, and is constantly dictating to him in the merest trifles imaginable.”
“What a miserable existence it must be to live dependent on another’s caprice!” exclaimed Horatio.