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

him before he went. “Do you know anything about that young fellow?” Melmotte asked as soon as the door was closed.

“He’s a baronet without a shilling;⁠—was in the army and had to leave it,” said Lord Alfred as he buried his face in a big tumbler.

“Without a shilling! I supposed so. But he’s heir to a place down in Suffolk;⁠—eh?”

“Not a bit of it. It’s the same name, and that’s about all. Mr. Carbury has a small property there, and he might give it to me tomorrow. I wish he would, though there isn’t much of it. That young fellow has nothing to do with it whatever.”

“Hasn’t he now?” Mr. Melmotte as he speculated upon it, almost admired the young man’s impudence.

XXIV Miles Grendall’s Triumph

Sir Felix as he walked down to his club felt that he had been checkmated⁠—and was at the same time full of wrath at the insolence of the man who had so easily beaten him out of the field. As far as he could see, the game was over. No doubt he might marry Marie Melmotte. The father had told him so much himself, and he perfectly believed the truth of that oath which Marie had sworn. He did not doubt but that she’d stick to him close enough. She was in love with him, which was natural; and was a fool⁠—which was perhaps also natural. But romance was not the game which he was playing. People told him that when girls succeeded in marrying without their parents’ consent, fathers were always constrained to forgive them at last. That might be the case with ordinary fathers. But Melmotte was decidedly not an ordinary father. He was⁠—so Sir Felix declared to himself⁠—perhaps the greatest brute ever created. Sir Felix could not but remember that elevation of the eyebrows, and the brazen forehead, and the hard mouth. He had found himself quite unable to stand up against Melmotte, and now he cursed and swore at the man as he was carried down to the Beargarden in a cab.

But what should he do? Should he abandon Marie Melmotte altogether, never go to Grosvenor Square again, and drop the whole family, including the Great Mexican Railway? Then an idea occurred to him. Nidderdale had explained to him the result of his application for shares. “You see we haven’t bought any and therefore can’t sell any. There seems to be something in that. I shall explain it all to my governor, and get him to go a thou’ or two. If he sees his way to get the money back, he’d do that and let me have the difference.” On that Sunday afternoon Sir Felix thought over all this. “Why shouldn’t he ‘go a thou,’ and get the difference?” He made a mental calculation. £12 10s. per £100! £125 for a thousand! and all paid in ready money. As far as Sir Felix could understand, directly the one operation had been perfected the thousand pounds would be available for another. As he looked into it with all his intelligence he thought that he began to perceive that that was the way in which the Melmottes of the world made their money. There was but one objection. He had not got the entire thousand pounds. But luck had been on the whole very good to him. He had more than the half of it in real money, lying at a bank in the city at which he had opened an account. And he had very much more than the remainder in I.O.U.s from Dolly Longestaffe and Miles Grendall. In fact if every man had his own⁠—and his bosom glowed with indignation as he reflected on the injustice with which he was kept out of his own⁠—he could go into the city and take up his shares tomorrow, and still have ready money at his command. If he could do this, would not such conduct on his part be the best refutation of that charge of not having any fortune which Melmotte had brought against him? He would endeavour to work the money out of Dolly Longestaffe;⁠—and he entertained an idea that though it would be impossible to get cash from Miles Grendall, he might use his claim against Miles in the city. Miles was Secretary to the Board, and might perhaps contrive that the money required for the shares should not be all ready money. Sir Felix was not very clear about it, but thought that he might possibly in this way use the indebtedness of Miles Grendall. “How I do hate a fellow who does not pay up,” he said to himself as he sat alone in his club, waiting for some friend to come in. And he formed in his head Draconic laws which he would fain have executed upon men who lost money at play and did not pay. “How the deuce fellows can look one in the face, is what I can’t understand,” he said to himself.

He thought over this great stroke of exhibiting himself to Melmotte as a capitalist till he gave up his idea of abandoning his suit. So he wrote a note to Marie Melmotte in accordance with her instructions.

Dear M.,

Your father cut up very rough⁠—about money. Perhaps you had better see him yourself; or would your mother?

Yours always,

F.

This, as directed, he put under cover to Madame Didon⁠—Grosvenor Square, and posted at the club. He had put nothing at any rate in the letter which could commit him.

There was generally on Sundays a house dinner, so called, at eight o’clock. Five or six men would sit down, and would always gamble afterwards. On this occasion Dolly Longestaffe sauntered in at about seven in quest of sherry and bitters, and Felix found the opportunity a good one to speak of his money. “You couldn’t cash your I.O.U.s for me tomorrow;⁠—could you?”

“Tomorrow! oh, lord!”

“I’ll tell you why. You know I’d tell you anything