CHAPTER V.
_A Domestic Scene._
YEARS glided away without any remarkable incidents in the life of youngFerdinand. He seldom quitted home, except as companion to Glastonburyin his pedestrian excursions, when he witnessed a different kind of lifefrom that displayed in the annual visit which he paid to Grandison. Theboy amused his grandfather, with whom, therefore, he became a favourite.The old Lord, indeed, would have had no objection to his grandsonpassing half the year with him; and he always returned home with abenediction, a letter full of his praises, and a ten-pound note. LadyArmine was quite delighted with these symptoms of affection on the partof her father towards her child, and augured from them important futureresults. But Sir Ratcliffe, who was not blessed with so sanguine atemperament as his amiable lady, and who, unbiassed by blood, wasperhaps better qualified to form an opinion of the character of hisfather-in-law, never shared her transports, and seldom omitted anopportunity of restraining them.
'It is all very well, my dear,' he would observe, 'for Ferdinand tovisit his relations. Lord Grandison is his grandfather. It is veryproper that he should visit his grandfather. I like him to be seenat Grandison. That is all very right. Grandison is a first-rateestablishment, where he is certain of meeting persons of his own class,with whom circumstances unhappily,' and here Sir Ratcliffe sighed,'debar him from mixing; and your father, Constance, is a very good sortof man. I like your father, Constance, you know, very much. No personever could be more courteous to me than he has ever been. I have nocomplaints to make of him, Constance; or your brother, or indeed ofany member of your family. I like them all. Persons more kind, or morethoroughly bred, I am sure I never knew. And I think they like us. Theyappear to me to be always really glad to see us, and to be unaffectedlysorry when we quit them. I am sure I should be very happy if it were inmy power to return their hospitality, and welcome them at Armine: but itis useless to think of that. God only knows whether we shall be able toremain here ourselves. All I want to make you feel, my love, is, that ifyou are building any castle in that little brain of yours on the groundof expectations from Grandison, trust me you will be disappointed, mydear, you will, indeed.' 'But, my love--'
'If your father die to-morrow, my dear, he will not leave us a shilling.And who can complain? I cannot. He has always been very frank. Iremember when we were going to marry, and I was obliged to talk tohim about your portion; I remember it as if it were only yesterday; Iremember his saying, with the most flattering smile in the world,"I wish the 5,000L., Sir Ratcliffe, were 50,000L., for your sake;particularly as it will never be in my power to increase it."'
'But, my dear Ratcliffe, surely he may do something for his favourite,Ferdinand?'
'My dear Constance, there you are again! Why _favourite_? I hate thevery word. Your father is a good-natured man, a very good-natured man:he is one of the best-natured men I ever was acquainted with. He has nota single care in the world, and he thinks nobody else has; and what ismore, my dear, nobody ever could persuade him that anybody else has. Hehas no idea of our situation; he never could form an idea of it. IfI chose to attempt to make him understand it he would listen with thegreatest politeness, shrug his shoulders at the end of the story, tellme to keep up my spirits, and order another bottle of Madeira in orderthat he might illustrate his precept by practice. He is a good-naturedselfish man. He likes us to visit him because you are gay and agreeable,and because I never asked a favour of him in the whole course of ouracquaintance: he likes Ferdinand to visit him because he is a handsomefine-spirited boy, and his friends congratulate him on having such agrandson. And so Ferdinand is his _favourite;_ and next year I shouldnot be surprised were he to give him a pony: and perhaps, if he die, hewill leave him fifty guineas to buy a gold watch.'
'Well, I dare say you are right, Ratcliffe; but still nothing thatyou can say will ever persuade me that Ferdinand is not papa's decidedfavourite.'
'Well! we shall soon see what this favour is worth,' retorted SirRatcliffe, rather bitterly. 'Regularly every visit for the last threeyears your father has asked me what I intended to do with Ferdinand. Isaid to him last year more than I thought I ever could say to anyone. Itold him that Ferdinand was now fifteen, and that I wished to get him acommission; but that I had no influence to get him a commission, andno money to pay for it if it were offered me. I think that was prettyplain; and I have been surprised ever since that I ever could haveplaced myself in such a degrading position as to say so much.'
'Degrading, my dear Ratcliffe!' said his wife.
'I felt it as such; and such I still feel it.'
At this moment Glastonbury, who was standing at the other end of theroom examining a large folio, and who had evidently been uneasy duringthe whole conversation, attempted to quit the room.
'My dear Glastonbury,' said Sir Ratcliffe, with a forced smile, 'you arealarmed at our domestic broils. Pray, do not leave the room. You know wehave no secrets from you.'
'No, pray do not go, Mr. Glastonbury,' added Lady Armine: 'and if indeedthere be a domestic broil,' and here she rose and kissed her husband,'at any rate witness our reconciliation.'
Sir Ratcliffe smiled, and returned his wife's embrace with much feeling.
'My own Constance,' he said, 'you are the dearest wife in the world; andif I ever feel unhappy, believe me it is only because I do not see youin the position to which you are entitled.'
'I know no fortune to be compared to your love, Ratcliffe; and as forour child, nothing will ever persuade me that all will not go right, andthat he will not restore the fortunes of the family.'
'Amen!' said Glastonbury, closing the book with a reverberating sound.'Nor indeed can I believe that Providence will ever desert a great andpious line!'