Sybil, Or, The Two Nations, Earl of Beaconsfield Benjamin Disraeli [chrysanthemum read aloud TXT] 📗

that makes him a malcontent,” said Mr Trafford; “he bemoans the condition of the people.”

“If we are to judge of the condition of the people by what we see here,” said Lord de Mowbray, “there is little to lament in it. But I fear these are instances not so common as we could wish. You must have been at a great outlay, Mr Trafford?”

“Why,” said Mr Trafford, “for my part. I have always considered that there was nothing so expensive as a vicious population. I hope I had other objects in view in what I have done than a pecuniary compensation. They say we all have our hobbies; and it was ever mine to improve the condition of my workpeople, to see what good tenements and good schools and just wages paid in a fair manner, and the encouragement of civilizing pursuits, would do to elevate their character. I should find an ample reward in the moral tone and material happiness of this community; but really viewing it in a pecuniary point of view, the investment of capital has been one of the most profitable I ever made; and I would not, I assure you, for double its amount, exchange my workpeople for the promiscuous assemblage engaged in other factories.”

“The influence of the atmosphere on the condition of the labourer is a subject which deserves investigation,” said Lady Joan to Mr Jermyn, who stared and bowed.

“And you do not feel alarmed at having a person of such violent opinions as your inspector at the head of your establishment,” said Lady Firebrace to Mr Trafford, who smiled a negative.

“What is the name of the intelligent individual who accompanied us?” enquired Lord de Mowbray.

“His name is Gerard,” said Mr Trafford.

“I believe a common name in these parts,” said Lord de Mowbray looking a little confused.

“Not very,” said Mr Trafford; “‘tis an old name and the stock has spread; but all Gerards claim a common lineage I believe, and my inspector has gentle blood, they say, in his veins.”

“He looks as if he had,” said Lady Maud.

“All persons with good names affect good blood,” said Lord de Mowbray; and then turning to Mrs Trafford he overwhelmed her with elaborate courtesies of phrase; praised everything again; first generally and then in detail; the factory, which he seemed to prefer to his castle—the house, which he seemed to prefer even to the factory—the gardens, from which he anticipated even greater gratification than from the house. And this led to an expression of a hope that he would visit them. And so in due time the luncheon was achieved. Mrs Trafford looked at her guests, there was a rustling and a stir, and everybody was to go and see the gardens that Lord de Mowbray had so much praised.

“I am all for looking after the beautiful Nun,” said Mr Mountchesney to Lord Milford.

“I think I shall ask the respectable manufacturer to introduce me to her,” replied his lordship.

In the meantime Egremont had joined Gerard at the factory.

“You should have come sooner,” said Gerard, “and then you might have gone round with the fine folks. We have had a grand party here from the castle.”

“So I perceived,” said Egremont, “and withdrew.”

“Ah! they were not in your way, eh?” he said in a mocking smile. “Well, they were very condescending—at least for such great people. An earl! Earl de Mowbray,—I suppose he came over with William the Conqueror. Mr Trafford makes a show of the place, and it amuses their visitors I dare say, like anything else that’s strange. There were some young gentlemen with them, who did not seem to know much about anything. I thought I had a right to be amused too; and I must say I liked very much to see one of them looking at the machinery through his eye-glass. There was one very venturesome chap: I thought he was going to catch hold of the fly-wheel, but I gave him a spin which I believed saved his life, though he did rather stare. He was a lord.”

“They are great heiresses, his daughters, they say at Mowbray,” said Egremont.

“I dare say,” said Gerard. “A year ago this earl had a son—an only son, and then his daughters were not great heiresses. But the son died and now it’s their turn. And perhaps some day it will be somebody else’s turn. If you want to understand the ups and downs of life, there’s nothing like the parchments of an estate. Now master, now man! He who served in the hall now lords in it: and very often the baseborn change their liveries for coronets, while gentle blood has nothing left but—dreams; eh, master Franklin?”

“It seems you know the history of this Lord de Mowbray?”

“Why a man learns a good many things in his time; and living in these parts, there are few secrets of the notables. He has had the title to his broad acres questioned before this time, my friend.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes: I could not help thinking of that to-day,” said Gerard, “when he questioned me with his mincing voice and pulled the wool with his cursed white hands and showed it to his dame, who touched it with her little finger; and his daughters who tossed their heads like pea-hens—Lady Joan and Lady Maud. Lady Joan and Lady Maud!” repeated Gerard in a voice of bitter sarcasm. “I did not care for the rest; but I could not stand that Lady Joan and that Lady Maud. I wonder if my Sybil saw them.”

In the meantime, Sybil had been sent for by Mrs Trafford. She had inferred from the message that the guests had departed, and her animated cheek showed the eagerness with which she had responded to the call. Bounding along with a gladness of the heart which lent additional lustre to her transcendent brightness, she suddenly found herself surrounded in the garden by Lady Maud and her friends. The daughter of Lord de Mowbray, who could conceive nothing but humility as the cause of her alarmed look, attempted to re-assure her by condescending volubility, turning often to her friends and praising in admiring interrogatories Sybil’s beauty.

“And we took advantage of your absence,” said Lady Maud in a tone of amiable artlessness, “to find out all about you. And what a pity we did not know you when you were at the convent, because then you might have been constantly at the castle; indeed I should have insisted on it. But still I hear we are neighbours; you must promise to pay me a visit, you must indeed. Is not she beautiful?” she added in a lower but still distinct voice to her friend. “Do you know I think there is so much beauty among the lower order.”

Mr Mountchesney and Lord Milford poured forth several insipid compliments, accompanied with some speaking looks which they flattered themselves could not be misconstrued. Sybil said not a word, but answered each flood of phrases with a cold reverence.

Undeterred by her somewhat haughty demeanour, which Lady Maud only attributed to the novelty of her situation, her ignorance of the world, and her embarrassment under this overpowering condescension, the good-tempered and fussy daughter of Lord de Mowbray proceeded to re-assure