Mr Wharton as he went away to Lincoln's Inn, bewailed himself because he knew he was not hard-hearted.What his sister-in-law had said to him in that respect was true enough.If he could only rid himself of a certain internal ague which made him feel that his life was, indeed, a burden to him while his daughter was unhappy, he need only remain passive and simply not give the permission without which his daughter would not ever engage herself to this man.But the ague troubled every hour of his present life.That sister-in-law of his was a silly, vulgar, worldly, and most untrustworthy woman;--but she had understood what she was saying.
And there had been something in that argument about the Duchess of Omnium's parties, and Mr Happerton, which had its effect.If the man did live with the great and wealthy, it must be because they thought well of him and his position.The fact of his being "a nasty foreigner", and probably of Jewish descent, remained.
To him, Wharton, the man must always be distasteful.But he could hardly maintain his opposition to one of whom the choice spirits of the world thought well.And he tried to be fair on the subject.It might be that it was a prejudice.Others probably did not find a man to be odious because he was swarthy, or even object to him if he were a Jew by descent.But it was wonderful to him that his girl should like such a man,--should like such a man well enough to choose him as the one companion of her life.She had been brought up to prefer English men, and English thinking, and English ways,--and English ways, too, somewhat of a past time.He thought as did Brabantio, that it could not be that without magic, his daughter had also shunned--"The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, Would ever have, to incur a general mock, Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom Of such a thing as--"the distasteful Portuguese.
That evening he said nothing further to his daughter, but sat with her, silent and disconsolate.Later in the evening, after she had gone to her room, Everett came in while the old man was still walking up and down the drawing-room.'Where have you been?' asked the father,--not caring a straw as to any reply when he asked the question, but roused almost to anger by the answer when it came.
'I have been dining with Lopez at the club.'
'I believe you live with that man.'
'Is there a reason, sir, why I should not?'
'You know there is a good reason why there should be no peculiar intimacy.But I don't suppose that my wishes, or your sister's welfare, will interest you.'
'That is severe, sir.'
'I am not such a fool as to suppose that you are to quarrel with a man because I don't approve of his addressing your sister; but I do think that while this is going on, and while he perseveres in opposition to my distinct refusal, you need not associate with him in any special manner.'
'I don't understand your objection to him, sir.'
'I dare say not.There are a great many things you don't understand.But I do object.'
'He's a very rising man.Mr Roby was saying to me just now--'
'Who cares a straw what a fool like Roby says?'
'I don't mean Uncle Dick, but his brother,--who, I suppose, is somebody in the world.He was saying to me just now that he wondered why Lopez does not go into the House;--that he would be sure to get a seat if he chose, and safe to make a mark when he got there.'
'I dare say he would get into the House.I don't know any well-to-do blackguard of whom you might not predict as much.A seat in the House of Commons doesn't make a man a gentleman, as far as I can see.'
'I think everyone allows that Ferdinand Lopez is a gentleman.'
'Who was his father?'
'I didn't happen to know him, sir.'
'And who was his mother? I don't suppose you will credit anything because I say it, but as far as my experience goes, a man doesn't often become a gentleman in the first generation.Aman may be very worthy, very clever, very rich,--very well worth knowing, if you will;--but when one talks of admitting a man into close family communion by marriage, one would, I fancy, wish to know something of his father and mother.' Then Everett escaped, and Mr Wharton was again left to his own meditations.
Oh, what a peril, what a trouble, what a labyrinth of difficulties was a daughter! He must either be known as a stern, hard-hearted parent, utterly indifferent to his child's feelings, using with tyranny the power over her which came to him only from a sense of filial duty,--or else he must give up his own judgement, and yield to her in a matter as to which he believed that such yielding would be most pernicious to her own interests.
Hitherto he really knew nothing of the man's means;--nor, if he could have his own way, did he want to such information.But, as things were going now, he began to feel that if he could hear anything averse to the man, he might thus strengthen his hands against him.On the following day he went into the city, and called on an old friend, a banker,--one whom he had known for nearly half a century, and of whom, therefore, he was not afraid to ask a question.For Mr Wharton was a man not prone, in the ordinary intercourse of life, either to ask or to answer questions.'You don't know anything, do you, of a man named Ferdinand Lopez?'
'I have heard of him.But why do you ask?'
'Well; I have reason for asking.I don't know that I quite wish to say what my reason is.'
'I have heard of him as connected with Hunky's house,' said the banker,--'or rather with one of the partners in the house.'
'Is he a man of means?'
'I imagine him to be so;--but I know nothing.He has rather large dealings, I take it, in foreign stocks.Is he after my old friend, Miss Wharton?'
'Well;--yes.'
'You had better get more information than I can give you.But, of course, before anything of that kind was done, you would see that money was settled.' This was all he heard in the city, and this was not satisfactory.He had not liked to tell his friend that he wished to hear that the foreigner was a needy adventurer, --altogether untrustworthy; but that had really been his desire.
