The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope [good story books to read .txt] 📗

“That wasn’t her fault.”

“The money will all be there, Lord Nidderdale.”

“The money’s all right, I’ve no doubt. And there isn’t a man in all London would be better pleased to settle down with a good income than I would. But, by Jove, it’s a rather strong order when a girl has just run away with another man. Everybody knows it.”

“In three months’ time everybody will have forgotten it.”

“To tell you the truth, sir, I think Miss Melmotte has got a will of her own stronger than you give her credit for. She has never given me the slightest encouragement. Ever so long ago, about Christmas, she did once say that she would do as you bade her. But she is very much changed since then. The thing was off.”

“She had nothing to do with that.”

“No;⁠—but she has taken advantage of it, and I have no right to complain.”

“You just come to the house, and ask her again tomorrow. Or come on Sunday morning. Don’t let us be done out of all our settled arrangements by the folly of an idle girl. Will you come on Sunday morning about noon?” Lord Nidderdale thought of his position for a few moments and then said that perhaps he would come on Sunday morning. After that Melmotte proposed that they two should go and “get a bit of lunch” at a certain Conservative club in the City. There would be time before the meeting of the Railway Board. Nidderdale had no objection to the lunch, but expressed a strong opinion that the Board was “rot.” “That’s all very well for you, young man,” said the chairman, “but I must go there in order that you may be able to enjoy a splendid fortune.” Then he touched the young man on the shoulder and drew him back as he was passing out by the front stairs. “Come this way, Nidderdale;⁠—come this way. I must get out without being seen. There are people waiting for me there who think that a man can attend to business from morning to night without ever having a bit in his mouth.” And so they escaped by the back stairs.

At the club, the City Conservative world⁠—which always lunches well⁠—welcomed Mr. Melmotte very warmly. The election was coming on, and there was much to be said. He played the part of the big City man to perfection, standing about the room with his hat on, and talking loudly to a dozen men at once. And he was glad to show the club that Lord Nidderdale had come there with him. The club of course knew that Lord Nidderdale was the accepted suitor of the rich man’s daughter⁠—accepted, that is, by the rich man himself⁠—and the club knew also that the rich man’s daughter had tried⁠—but had failed⁠—to run away with Sir Felix Carbury. There is nothing like wiping out a misfortune and having done with it. The presence of Lord Nidderdale was almost an assurance to the club that the misfortune had been wiped out, and, as it were, abolished. A little before three Mr. Melmotte returned to Abchurch Lane, intending to regain his room by the back way; while Lord Nidderdale went westward, considering within his own mind whether it was expedient that he should continue to show himself as a suitor for Miss Melmotte’s hand. He had an idea that a few years ago a man could not have done such a thing⁠—that he would be held to show a poor spirit should he attempt it; but that now it did not much matter what a man did⁠—if only he were successful. “After all it’s only an affair of money,” he said to himself.

Mr. Longestaffe in the meantime had progressed from weariness to impatience, from impatience to ill-humour, and from ill-humour to indignation. More than once he saw Miles Grendall, but Miles Grendall was always ready with an answer. That Canadian Deputation was determined to settle the whole business this morning, and would not take itself away. And Sir Gregory Gribe had been obstinate, beyond the ordinary obstinacy of a bank director. The rate of discount at the bank could not be settled for tomorrow without communication with Mr. Melmotte, and that was a matter on which the details were always most oppressive. At first Mr. Longestaffe was somewhat stunned by the Deputation and Sir Gregory Gribe; but as he waxed wroth the potency of those institutions dwindled away, and as, at last, he waxed hungry, they became as nothing to him. Was he not Mr. Longestaffe of Caversham, a Deputy-Lieutenant of his County, and accustomed to lunch punctually at two o’clock? When he had been in that waiting-room for two hours, it occurred to him that he only wanted his own, and that he would not remain there to be starved for any Mr. Melmotte in Europe. It occurred to him also that that thorn in his side, Squercum, would certainly get a finger into the pie to his infinite annoyance. Then he walked forth, and attempted to see Grendall for the fourth time. But Miles Grendall also liked his lunch, and was therefore declared by one of the junior clerks to be engaged at that moment on most important business with Mr. Melmotte. “Then say that I can’t wait any longer,” said Mr. Longestaffe, stamping out of the room with angry feet.

At the very door he met Mr. Melmotte. “Ah, Mr. Longestaffe,” said the great financier, seizing him by the hand, “you are the very man I am desirous of seeing.”

“I have been waiting two hours up in your place,” said the Squire of Caversham.

“Tut, tut, tut;⁠—and they never told me!”

“I spoke to Mr. Grendall half a dozen times.”

“Yes⁠—yes. And he did put a slip with your name on it on my desk. I do remember. My dear sir, I have so many things on my brain, that I hardly know how to get along with them. You are coming to the Board? It’s just the time now.”

“No;”⁠—said Mr. Longestaffe. “I