The Bramleighs of Bishop's Folly Part 55

"Will you not take more wine, Mr. Cutbill?" said Augustus, blandly, and without the faintest sign of irritation.

"No; not a drop. I'm sorry I've taken so much. I began by filling my gla.s.s whenever I saw the decanter near me--thinking, like a confounded fool as I was, we were in for a quiet confidential talk, and knowing that I was just the sort of fellow a man of your own stamp needs and requires; a fellow who does nothing from the claims of a cla.s.s--do you understand?--nothing because he mixes with a certain set and dines at a certain club; but acts independent of all extraneous pressure--a bit of masonry, Bramleigh, that wants no b.u.t.tress. Can you follow me, eh?"

"I believe I can appreciate the strength of such a character as you describe."

"No, you can't, not a bit of it. Some flighty fool that would tell you what a fine creature you were, how greathearted--that's the cant, great-hearted!--would have far more of your esteem and admiration than Tom Cutbill, with his keen knowledge of life and his thorough insight into men and manners."

"You are unjust to each of us," said Bramleigh, quietly.

"Well, let us have done with it. I 'll go and ask Miss Ellen for a cup of tea, and then I 'll take my leave. I 'm sure I wish I 'd never have come here. It's enough to provoke a better temper than mine. And now let me just ask you, out of mere curiosity--for, of course, I must n't presume to feel more--but just out of curiosity let me ask you, do you know an art or an industry, a trade or a calling, that would bring you in fifty pounds a year? Do you see your way to earning the rent of a lodging even as modest as this?"

"That is exactly one of the points on which your advice would be very valuable to me, Mr. Cutbill."

"Nothing of the kind. I could no more tell a man of your stamp how to gain his livelihood than I could make a tunnel with a corkscrew. I know your theory well enough. I 've heard it announced a thousand times and more. Every fellow with a silk lining to his coat and a taste for fancy jewelry imagines he has only to go to Australia to make a fortune; that when he has done with Bond Street he can take to the bush. Isn't that it, Bramleigh--eh? You fancy you 're up to roughing it and hard work because you have walked four hours through the stubble after the partridges, or sat a 'sharp thing' across country in a red coat! Heaven help you! It isn't with five courses and finger-gla.s.ses a man finishes his day at Warra-Warra."

"I a.s.sure you, Mr. Cutbill, as regards my own case, I neither take a high estimate of my own capacity nor a low one of the difficulty of earning a living."

"Humility never paid a butcher's bill, any more than conceit!" retorted the inexorable Cutbill, who seemed bent on opposing everything. "Have you thought of nothing you could do? for, if you 're utterly incapable, there's nothing for you but the public service."

"Perhaps that is the career would best suit me," said Bramleigh, smiling; "and I have already written to bespeak the kind influence of an old friend of my father's on my behalf."

"Who is he?"

"Sir Francis Deighton."

"The greatest humbug in the Government! He trades on being the most popular man of his day, because he never refused anything to anybody--so far as a promise went; but it's well known that he never gave anything out of his own connections. Don't depend on Sir Francis, Bramleigh, whatever you do."

"That is sorry comfort you give me."

"Don't you know any women?"

"Women--women? I know several."

"I mean women of fashion. Those meddlesome women that are always dabbling in politics and the Stock Exchange--very deep where you think they know nothing, and perfectly ignorant about what they pretend to know best. They 've two-thirds of the patronage of every government in England; you may laugh, but it's true."

"Come, Mr. Cutbill, if you 'll not take more wine we 'll join my sister," said Bramleigh, with a faint smile.

"Get them to make you a Commissioner--it doesn't matter of what--Woods and Forests--Bankruptcy--Lunacy--anything; it 's always two thousand a year, and little to do for it. And if you can't be a Commissioner, be an Inspector, and then you have your travelling expenses;" and Cutbill winked knowingly as he spoke, and sauntered away to the drawing-room.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII. THE APPOINTMENT

"What will Mr. Cutbill say now?" cried Ellen, as she stood leaning on her brother's shoulder, while he read a letter marked' "On Her Majesty's Service," and sealed with a prodigious extravagance of wax. It ran thus:--

Downing Street, September 10th Sir,--I have received instructions from Sir Francis Deighton, Her Majesty's Princ.i.p.al Secretary of State for the Colonies, to acknowledge your letter of the 9th instant; and while expressing his regret that he has not at this moment any post in his department which he could offer for your acceptance, to state that Her Majesty's Secretary for Foreign Affairs will consent to appoint you consul at Cattaro, full details of which post, duties, salary, &c, will be communicated to you in the official despatch from the Foreign Office.

Sir Francis Deighton is most happy to have been the means through which the son of an old friend has been introduced into the service of the Crown.

I have the honor to be, sir,

Your obedient Servant,

Grey Egerton D'Eyncourt, Private Secretary.

"What will he say now, Gusty?" said she, triumphantly.

"He will probably say, 'What 's it worth?' Nelly. 'How much is the income?'"

"I suppose he will. I take it he will measure a friend's good feeling towards us by the scale of an official salary, as if two or three hundred a year more or less could affect the grat.i.tude we must feel towards a real patron."

A slight twinge of pain seemed to move Bramleigh's mouth; but he grew calm in a moment, and merely said, "We must wait till we hear more."

"But your mind is at ease, Gusty? Tell me that your anxieties are all allayed?" cried she, eagerly.

"Yes; in so far that I have got something,--that I have not met a cold refusal."

"Oh, don't take it that way," broke she in, looking at him with a half-reproachful expression. "Do not, I beseech you, let Mr. Cutbill's spirit influence you. Be hopeful and trustful, as you always were."

"I 'll try," said he, pa.s.sing his arm round her, and smiling affectionately at her.

"I hope he has gone, Gusty. I do hope we shall not see him again. He is so terribly hard in his judgments, so merciless in the way he sentences people who' merely think differently from himself. After hearing him talk for an hour or so, I always go away with the thought that if the world be only half as bad as he says it is, it's little worth living in."

"Well, he will go to-morrow, or Thursday at farthest; and I won't pretend I shall regret him. He is occasionally too candid."

"His candor is simply rudeness; frankness is very well for a friend, but he was never in the position to use this freedom. Only think of what he said to me yesterday: he said that as it was not unlikely I should have to turn governess or companion, the first thing I should do would be to change my name. 'They,' he remarked,--but I don't well know whom he exactly meant,--'they don't like broken-down gentlefolk. They suspect them of this, that, and the other;' and he suggested I should call myself Miss Cutbill. Did you ever hear impertinence equal to that?"

"But it may have been kindly intentioned, Nelly. I have no doubt he meant to do a good-natured thing."

"Save me from good-nature that is not allied with good manners, then,"

said she, growing crimson as she spoke.

"I have not escaped scot-free, I a.s.sure you," said he, smiling; "but it seems to me a man really never knows what the world thinks of him till he has gone through the ordeal of broken fortune. By the way, where is Cattaro? the name sounds Italian."

"I a.s.sumed it to be in Italy somewhere, but I can't tell you why."

Bramleigh took down his atlas, and pored patiently over Italy and her outlying islands for a long time, but in vain. Nelly, too, aided him in his search, but to no purpose. While they were still bending over the map, Cutbill entered with a large despatch-shaped letter in his hand.

"The Queen's messenger has just handed me that for you, Bramleigh. I hope it's good news."

Bramleigh opened and read:--

"Foreign Office.

"Sir,--I have had much pleasure in submitting your name to Her Majesty for the appointment of consul at Cattaro, where your salary will be two hundred pounds a year, and twenty pounds for office expenses. You will repair to your post without unnecessary delay, and report your arrival to this department.

"I am, &c, &c,