“Thank you, I don’t think I need any information on that subject,” said Sir Robert. “Besides, I saw your Turner. It is a pretty picture—if it is authentic; but Wilson, you know—”
“Wasn’t a big-enough swell not to be authentic, eh?” said Mr. Copperhead. “Common name enough, and I don’t know that I ever heard of him in the way of painting; but I don’t pretend to be a judge. Here’s May; now, I dare say he knows all about it. Buying’s one thing, knowing’s another. Your knowing ones, when they’ve got any money, they have the advantage over us, Sir Robert; they can pick up a thing that’s good, when it happens to come their way, dirt cheap; but fortunately for us, it isn’t often they’ve got any money,” he added, with a laugh, slapping Mr. May on the shoulder in a way which made him totter. But the clergyman’s good-humour was equal even to this assault. It is wonderful how patient and tolerant we can all be when the motive is strong enough.
“That is true,” he said; “but I fear I have not even the compensation of knowledge. I know enough, however, to feel that the possessor of a Turner is a public personage, and may be a public benefactor if he pleases.”
“How that? If you think I am one to go lending my pictures about, or leaving them to the nation when I’m done for, that’s not my sort. No, I keep them to myself. If I consent to have all that money useless, it is for myself, you may depend, and not for other people. And I’ll leave it to my boy Clarence, if he behaves himself. He’s a curiosity, too, and has a deal of money laid out on him that brings no interest, him and his mother. I’ll leave it to Clar, if he doesn’t make a low marriage, or any folly of that kind.”
“You should make it an heirloom,” said Sir Robert, with sarcasm too fine for his antagonist; “leave it from father to son of your descendants, like our family diamonds and plate.”
Anne and Sophy looked at each other and smiled, the one sadly, the other satirically. The Dorset family jewels were rose-diamonds of small value, and the plate was but moderate in quantity, and not very great in quality. Poor Sir Robert liked to blow his little trumpet too, but it was not so blatant as that of his visitor, whose rude senses did not even see the intended malice.
“By George! I think I will,” he said. “I’m told it’s as safe as the bank, and worth more and more every year, and if it don’t bring in anything, it don’t eat anything; eh, May? Look here; perhaps I was hasty the other day,” he said, pushing the clergyman a little apart from the group with a large hand on his shoulder. “Clarence tells me you’re the best coach he ever saw, and that he’s getting on like a house on fire.”
“He does make progress, I think,” answered the tutor, thus gracefully complimented.
“But all the same, you know, I had a right to be annoyed. Now a man of your sense—for you seem a man of sense, though you’re a parson, and know what side your bread’s buttered on—ought to see that it’s an aggravating thing when a young fellow has been sent to a coach for his instruction, and to keep him out of harm’s way, to find him cheek by jowl with a nice-looking young woman. That’s not what a father has a right to expect.”
“You couldn’t expect me to do away with my daughter because I happened to take a pupil?” said Mr. May, half-amused; “but I can assure you that she has no designs upon your son.”
“So I hear, so I hear,” said the other, with a mixture of pique and satisfaction. “Won’t look at him, Clar tells me; got her eye on someone else, little fool! She’ll never have such a chance again. As for having no designs, that’s bosh, you know; all women have designs. I’m a deal easier in my mind when I’m told she’s got other fish to fry.”
“Other fish to fry?” said Mr. May; this time he was wholly amused, and laughed. “This is news to me. However, we don’t want to discuss my little Ursula; about your son it will be well that I should know, for I might be forming other engagements. This moment is a time of pecuniary pressure with me,” he added, with the ingratiating smile and half-pathetic frankness of the would-be borrower. “I have not taken pupils before, but I want money for the time. My son’s settlement in life, you see, and—but the father of a large family can always find good reasons for wanting money.”
“That’s it,” said Mr. Copperhead, seriously. “Why are you the father of a large family? That’s what I ask our ministers.
