The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 by William Dean Howells (inspirational novels TXT) 📖

He Should Be Delighted.  The Girls Exchanged

Looks With Each Other,  And Then With Their Mother.

Irene Curved her Pretty Chin In comment Upon Her

Father'S Incorrigibility,  And Penelope Made A Droll Mouth,

But The Colonel Remained serenely Content With His Finesse.

"I Got 'Em Out Of The Way," He Said,  As Soon As They

Were Gone,  And Before His Wife Had Time To Fall Upon Him,

"Because I'Ve Got Through My Talk With Him,  And Now I Want

To Talk With You.  It'S Just As I Said,  Persis; He Wants

To Go Into The Business With Me."

 

"It'S Lucky For You," Said His Wife,  Meaning that Now He

Would Not Be Made To Suffer For Attempting to Hoax Her.

But She Was Too Intensely Interested to Pursue That

Matter Further.  "What In the World Do You Suppose He

Means By It?"

 

"Well,  I Should Judge By His Talk That He Had Been Trying

A Good Many Different Things Since He Left College,

And He Hain'T Found Just The Thing he Likes--Or The Thing

That Likes Him.  It Ain'T So Easy.  And Now He'S Got An Idea

That He Can Take Hold Of The Paint And Push It In other

Countries--Push It In mexico And Push It In south America.

He'S A Splendid Spanish Scholar,"--This Was Lapham'S Version

Of Corey'S Modest Claim To A Smattering of The Language,--"And

He'S Been Among The Natives Enough To Know Their Ways.

And He Believes In the Paint," Added the Colonel.

 

"I Guess He Believes In something else Besides The Paint,"

Said Mrs. Lapham.

 

"What Do You Mean?"

 

"Well,  Silas Lapham,  If You Can'T See Now That He'S

After Irene,  I Don'T Know What Ever Can Open Your Eyes.

That'S All."

 

The Colonel Pretended to Give The Idea Silent Consideration,

As If It Had Not Occurred to Him Before.  "Well,  Then,

All I'Ve Got To Say Is,  That He'S Going a Good Way Round.

I Don'T Say You'Re Wrong,  But If It'S Irene,  I Don'T See

Why He Should Want To Go Off To South America To Get Her.

And That'S What He Proposes To Do.  I Guess There'S

Some Paint About It Too,  Persis.  He Says He Believes

In It,"--The Colonel Devoutly Lowered his Voice,--"And He'S

Willing to Take The Agency On His Own Account Down There,

And Run It For A Commission On What He Can Sell."

 

"Of Course! He Isn'T Going to Take Hold Of It Any Way

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So As To Feel Beholden To You.  He'S Got Too Much Pride

For That."

 

"He Ain'T Going to Take Hold Of It At All,  If He Don'T

Mean Paint In the First Place And Irene Afterward.

I Don'T Object To Him,  As I Know,  Either Way,  But The Two

Things Won'T Mix; And I Don'T Propose He Shall Pull The Wool

Over My Eyes--Or Anybody Else.  But,  As Far As Heard From,

Up To Date,  He Means Paint First,  Last,  And All The Time.

At Any Rate,  I'M Going to Take Him On That Basis.

He'S Got Some Pretty Good Ideas About It,  And He'S Been

Stirred up By This Talk,  Just Now,  About Getting our

Manufactures Into The Foreign Markets.  There'S An Overstock

In Everything,  And We'Ve Got To Get Rid Of It,  Or We'Ve

Got To Shut Down Till The Home Demand Begins Again.

We'Ve Had Two Or Three Such Flurries Before Now,

And They Didn'T Amount To Much.  They Say We Can'T Extend

Our Commerce Under The High Tariff System We'Ve Got Now,

Because There Ain'T Any Sort Of Reciprocity On Our Side,--We

Want To Have The Other Fellows Show All The Reciprocity,--And

The English Have Got The Advantage Of Us Every Time.

I Don'T Know Whether It'S So Or Not; But I Don'T See

Why It Should Apply To My Paint.  Anyway,  He Wants

To Try It,  And I'Ve About Made Up My Mind To Let Him.

Of Course I Ain'T Going to Let Him Take All The Risk.

I Believe In the Paint Too,  And I Shall Pay His Expenses

Anyway."

 

"So You Want Another Partner After All?" Mrs. Lapham

Could Not Forbear Saying.

 

"Yes,  If That'S Your Idea Of A Partner.  It Isn'T Mine,"

Returned her Husband Dryly.

 

"Well,  If You'Ve Made Up Your Mind,  Si,  I Suppose You'Re

Ready For Advice," Said Mrs. Lapham.

 

The Colonel Enjoyed this.  "Yes,  I Am.  What Have You

Got To Say Against It?"

 

"I Don'T Know As I'Ve Got Anything.  I'M Satisfied

If You Are."

 

"Well?"

 

"When Is He Going to Start For South America?"

 

"I Shall Take Him Into The Office A While.  He'Ll Get

Off Some Time In the Winter.  But He'S Got To Know

The Business First."

 

"Oh,  Indeed! Are You Going to Take Him To Board In the Family?"

 

"What Are You After,  Persis?"

 

"Oh,  Nothing! I Presume He Will Feel Free To Visit

In The Family,  Even If He Don'T Board With Us."

 

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"I Presume He Will."

 

"And If He Don'T Use His Privileges,  Do You Think He'Ll

Be A Fit Person To Manage Your Paint In south America?"

 

The Colonel Reddened consciously.  "I'M Not Taking him

On That Basis."

 

"Oh Yes,  You Are! You May Pretend You Ain'T To Yourself,

But You Mustn'T Pretend So To Me.  Because I Know You."

 

The Colonel Laughed.  "Pshaw!" He Said.

 

Mrs. Lapham Continued: "I Don'T See Any Harm In

Hoping that He'Ll Take A Fancy To Her.  But If You

Really Think It Won'T Do To Mix The Two Things,

I Advise You Not To Take Mr. Corey Into The Business.

It Will Do All Very Well If He Does Take A Fancy To Her;

But If He Don'T,  You Know How You'Ll Feel About It.

And I Know You Well Enough,  Silas,  To Know That You Can'T

Do Him Justice If That Happens.  And I Don'T Think It'S

Right You Should Take This Step Unless You'Re Pretty Sure.

I Can See That You'Ve Set Your Heart On This Thing"

 

"I Haven'T Set My Heart On It At All," Protested lapham.

 

"And If You Can'T Bring it About,  You'Re Going to Feel

Unhappy Over It," Pursued his Wife,  Regardless Of His Protest.

 

"Oh,  Very Well," He Said.  "If You Know More About

What'S In my Mind Than I Do,  There'S No Use Arguing,

As I Can See."

 

He Got Up,  To Carry Off His Consciousness,  And Sauntered

Out Of The Door On To His Piazza.  He Could See The

Young People Down On The Rocks,  And His Heart Swelled

In His Breast.  He Had Always Said That He Did Not Care

What A Man'S Family Was,  But The Presence Of Young Corey

As An Applicant To Him For Employment,  As His Guest,

As The Possible Suitor Of His Daughter,  Was One Of The

Sweetest Flavours That He Had Yet Tasted in his Success.

He Knew Who The Coreys Were Very Well,  And,  In his Simple,

Brutal Way,  He Had Long Hated their Name As A Symbol

Of Splendour Which,  Unless He Should Live To See At

Least Three Generations Of His Descendants Gilded with

Mineral Paint,  He Could Not Hope To Realise In his Own.

He Was Acquainted in a Business Way With The Tradition

Of Old Phillips Corey,  And He Had Heard A Great Many

Things About The Corey Who Had Spent His Youth Abroad

And His Father'S Money Everywhere,  And Done Nothing

But Say Smart Things.  Lapham Could Not See The Smartness

Of Some Of Them Which Had Been Repeated to Him.  Once He

Had Encountered the Fellow,  And It Seemed to Lapham That

The Tall,  Slim,  White-Moustached man,  With The Slight Stoop,

Was Everything that Was Offensively Aristocratic.

He Had Bristled up Aggressively At The Name When His Wife

Told How She Had Made The Acquaintance Of The Fellow'S

Family The Summer Before,  And He Had Treated the Notion

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Of Young Corey'S Caring for Irene With The Contempt

Which Such A Ridiculous Superstition Deserved.

He Had Made Up His Mind About Young Corey Beforehand;

Yet When He Met Him He Felt An Instant Liking for Him,

Which He Frankly Acknowledged,  And He Had Begun To Assume

The Burden Of His Wife'S Superstition,  Of Which She Seemed

Now Ready To Accuse Him Of Being the Inventor.

 

Nothing had Moved his Thick Imagination Like This Day'S

Events Since The Girl Who Taught Him Spelling and Grammar

In The School At Lumberville Had Said She Would Have Him

For Her Husband.

 

The Dark Figures,  Stationary On The Rocks,  Began To Move,

And He Could See That They Were Coming toward The House.

He Went Indoors,  So As Not To Appear To Have Been

Watching them.

 

 

 

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A Week After She Had Parted with Her Son At Bar Harbour,

Mrs. Corey Suddenly Walked in upon Her Husband In their

House In boston.  He Was At Breakfast,  And He Gave Her

The Patronising welcome With Which The Husband Who Has

Been Staying in town All Summer Receives His Wife When She

Drops Down Upon Him From The Mountains Or The Sea-Side. For

A Little Moment She Feels Herself Strange In the House,

And Suffers Herself To Be Treated like A Guest,  Before Envy

Of His Comfort Vexes Her Back Into Possession And Authority.

Mrs. Corey Was A Lady,  And She Did Not Let Her Envy Take

The Form Of Open Reproach.

 

"Well,  Anna,  You Find Me Here In the Luxury You Left Me To.

How Did You Leave The Girls?"

 

"The Girls Were Well," Said Mrs. Corey,  Looking absently At

Her Husband'S Brown Velvet Coat,  In which He Was So Handsome.

No Man Had Ever Grown Grey More Beautifully.  His Hair,

While Not Remaining dark Enough To Form A Theatrical

Contrast With His Moustache,  Was Yet Some Shades Darker,

And,  In becoming a Little Thinner,  It Had Become A Little

More Gracefully Wavy.  His Skin Had The Pearly Tint

Which That Of Elderly Men Sometimes Assumes,  And The Lines

Which Time Had