The Way We Live Now Anthony Trollope (classic books for 11 year olds .txt) 📖

made his promise to Mr. Longestaffe and to Dolly, in the presence of Mr. Bideawhile, that he would, on the next day but one, pay to them a sum of fifty thousand pounds, thereby completing, satisfactorily as far as they were concerned, the purchase of the Pickering property, he intended to be as good as his word. The reader knows that he had resolved to face the Longestaffe difficulty⁠—that he had resolved that at any rate he would not get out of it by sacrificing the property to which he had looked forward as a safe haven when storms should come. But, day by day, every resolution that he made was forced to undergo some change. Latterly he had been intent on purchasing a noble son-in-law with this money⁠—still trusting to the chapter of chances for his future escape from the Longestaffe and other difficulties. But Squercum had been very hard upon him; and in connection with this accusation as to the Pickering property, there was another, which he would be forced to face also, respecting certain property in the East of London, with which the reader need not much trouble himself specially, but in reference to which it was stated that he had induced a foolish old gentleman to consent to accept railway shares in lieu of money. The old gentleman had died during the transaction, and it was asserted that the old gentleman’s letter was hardly genuine. Melmotte had certainly raised between twenty and thirty thousand pounds on the property, and had made payments for it in stock which was now worth⁠—almost nothing at all. Melmotte thought that he might face this matter successfully if the matter came upon him single-handed;⁠—but in regard to the Longestaffes he considered that now, at this last moment, he had better pay for Pickering.

The property from which he intended to raise the necessary funds was really his own. There could be no doubt about that. It had never been his intention to make it over to his daughter. When he had placed it in her name, he had done so simply for security⁠—feeling that his control over his only daughter would be perfect and free from danger. No girl apparently less likely to take it into her head to defraud her father could have crept quietly about a father’s house. Nor did he now think that she would disobey him when the matter was explained to her. Heavens and earth! That he should be robbed by his own child⁠—robbed openly, shamefully, with brazen audacity! It was impossible. But still he had felt the necessity of going about this business with some little care. It might be that she would disobey him if he simply sent for her and bade her to affix her signature here and there. He thought much about it and considered that it would be wise that his wife should be present on the occasion, and that a full explanation should be given to Marie, by which she might be made to understand that the money had in no sense become her own. So he gave instructions to his wife when he started into the city that morning; and when he returned, for the sake of making his offer to the Longestaffes, he brought with him the deeds which it would be necessary that Marie should sign, and he brought also Mr. Croll, his clerk, that Mr. Croll might witness the signature.

When he left the Longestaffes and Mr. Bideawhile he went at once to his wife’s room. “Is she here?” he asked.

“I will send for her. I have told her.”

“You haven’t frightened her?”

“Why should I frighten her? It is not very easy to frighten her, Melmotte. She is changed since these young men have been so much about her.”

“I shall frighten her if she does not do as I bid her. Bid her come now.” This was said in French. Then Madame Melmotte left the room, and Melmotte arranged a lot of papers in order upon a table. Having done so, he called to Croll, who was standing on the landing-place, and told him to seat himself in the back drawing-room till he should be called. Melmotte then stood with his back to the fireplace in his wife’s sitting-room, with his hands in his pockets, contemplating what might be the incidents of the coming interview. He would be very gracious⁠—affectionate if it were possible⁠—and, above all things, explanatory. But, by heavens, if there were continued opposition to his demand⁠—to his just demand⁠—if this girl should dare to insist upon exercising her power to rob him, he would not then be affectionate⁠—nor gracious! There was some little delay in the coming of the two women, and he was already beginning to lose his temper when Marie followed Madame Melmotte into the room. He at once swallowed his rising anger⁠—with an effort. He would put a constraint upon himself. The affection and the graciousness should be all there⁠—as long as they might secure the purpose in hand.

“Marie,” he began, “I spoke to you the other day about some property which for certain purposes was placed in your name just as we were leaving Paris.”

“Yes, papa.”

“You were such a child then⁠—I mean when we left Paris⁠—that I could hardly explain to you the purpose of what I did.”

“I understood it, papa.”

“You had better listen to me, my dear. I don’t think you did quite understand it. It would have been very odd if you had, as I never explained it to you.”

“You wanted to keep it from going away if you got into trouble.”

This was so true that Melmotte did not know how at the moment to contradict the assertion. And yet he had not intended to talk of the possibility of trouble. “I wanted to lay aside a large sum of money which should not be liable to the ordinary fluctuations of commercial enterprise.”

“So that nobody could get at it.”

“You are a little too quick, my dear.”

“Marie, why can’t you let your papa speak?” said Madame