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CHAPTER XVII
RALPH NEWTON’S DOUBTS
That month of August was a very sad time indeed for Ralph
the heir. With him all months were, we may say, idle months;
but, as a rule, August was of all the most idle. Sometimes he
would affect to shoot grouse, but hunting, not grouse-shooting, was his passion as a sportsman. He would leave London,
and spend perhaps a couple of days with Mr. Horsball looking
at the nags. Then he would run down to some sea-side place,
and flirt and laugh and waste his time upon the sands. Or he
would go abroad as far as Dieppe, or perhaps Biarritz, and so
would saunter through the end of the summer. It must not
be supposed of him that he was not fully conscious that this
manner of life was most pernicious. He knew it well, knew
that it would take him to the dogs, made faint resolves at improvement which he hardly for an hour hoped to be able to
keep, — and was in truth anything but happy. This was his
usual life; — and so for the last three or four years had he contrived to get through this month of August. But now the utmost
sternness of business had come upon him. He was forced to
remain in town, found himself sitting day after day in his lawyer’s anteroom, was compelled to seek various interviews with
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
Sir Thomas, in which it was impossible that Sir Thomas should
make himself very pleasant; and, — worst of all, — was at last
told that he must make up his own mind!
Squire Newton was also up in London; and though London was never much to his taste, he was in these days by no
means so wretched as his nephew. He was intent on a certain
object, and he began to hope, nay to think, that his object
might be achieved. He had not once seen his nephew, having
declared his conviction very strongly that it would be better
for all parties that they should remain apart. His own lawyer
he saw frequently, and Ralph’s lawyer once, and Sir Thomas
more than once or twice. There was considerable delay, but
the Squire would not leave London till something was, if not
settled, at any rate arranged, towards a settlement. And it was
the expression of his will conveyed through the two lawyers
which kept Ralph in London. What was the worth of Ralph’s
interest in the property? That was one great question. Would
Ralph sell that interest when the price was fixed? That was
the second question. Ralph, to whom the difficulty of giving
an answer was as a labour of Hercules, staved off the evil day
for awhile by declaring that he must know what was the price
before he could say whether he would sell the article. The exact
price could not be fixed. The lawyers combined in saying that
the absolute sum of money to include all Ralph’s interest in
the estate could not be named that side of Christmas. It was
not to be thought of that any actuary, or valuer, or lawyer, or
conveyancer, should dispose of so great a matter by a month’s
work. But something approaching to a settlement might be
made. A sum might be named as a minimum. And a compact
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RALPH THE HEIR
might be made, subject to the arbitration of a sworn appraiser.
A sum was named. The matter was carried so far, that Ralph
was told that he could sign away all his rights by the middle of
September, — sign away the entire property, — and have his
pockets filled with ample funds for the Moonbeam, and all
other delights. He might pay off Moggs and Neefit, and no
longer feel that Polly, — poor dear Polly, — was a millstone
round his neck. And he would indeed, in this event, be so well
provided, that he did not for a moment doubt that, if he chose
so to circumscribe himself, Clarissa Underwood might be his
wife. All the savings of the Squire’s life would be his, — enough,
as the opposing lawyer told him with eager pressing words, to
give him an estate of over a thousand a year at once. “And it
may be more, — probably will be more,” said the lawyer. But
at the very least a sum approaching to thirty thousand pounds
would be paid over to him at once. And he might do what he
pleased with this. There was still a remnant of his own paternal property sufficient to pay his debts.
But why should a man whose encumbrances were so trifling, sacrifice prospects that were so glorious? Could he not
part with a portion of the estate, — with the reversion of
half of it, so that the house of Newton, Newton Priory, with its
grouse and paddocks and adjacent farms, might be left to him?
If the whole were saleable, surely so also must be the half.
The third of the money offered to him would more than suffice for all his wants. No doubt he might sell the half, — but
not to the Squire, nor could he effect such sale immediately as
he would do if the Squire bought it, nor on such terms as were
offered by the Squire. Money he might raise at once, certainly;
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
but it became by degrees as a thing certain to him, that if once
he raised money in that way, the estate would fly from him.
His uncle was a hale man, and people told him that his own
life was not so much better than his uncle’s. His uncle had
a great object, and if Ralph chose to sell at all, that fact would
be worth thousands to him. But his uncle would not buy
the reversion of half or of a portion of the property. The Squire
at last spoke his mind freely on this matter to Sir Thomas. “It
shall never be cast in my son’s teeth,” he said, “that his next
neighbour is the real man. Early in life I made a mistake, and
I have had to pay for it ever since. I am paying for it now, and
must pay for it to the end. But my paying for it will be of small
service if my boy has to pay for it afterwards.” Sir Thomas understood him and did not press the point.
Ralph was nearly driven wild with the need of deciding. Moggs’s bill at two months was coming due, and he
knew that he could expect no mercy there. To Neefit’s establishment in Conduit Street he had gone once, and had had
words, — as Waddle had told to his rival. Neefit was still persistent in his wishes, — still urgent that Newton should go
forth to Hendon like a man, and “pop” at once. “I’ll tell you
what, Captain,” said he; — he had taken to calling Ralph Captain, as a goodly familiar name, feeling, no doubt, that Mister
was cold between father-in-law and son-in-law, and not quite
daring to drop all reverential title; — “if you’re a little hard up,
as I know you are, you can have three or four hundred if you
want it.” Ralph did want it sorely. “I know how you stand with
old Moggs,” said Neefit, “and I’ll see you all right there.” Neefit
was very urgent. He too had heard something of these dealings
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among the lawyers. To have his Polly Mrs. Newton of Newton Priory! The prize was worth fighting for. “Don’t let them
frighten you about a little ready money, Captain. If it comes to
that, other folk has got ready money besides them.”
“Your trust in me surprises me,” said Ralph. “I already owe
you money which I can’t pay you.”
“I know where to trust, and I know where not to trust.
If you’ll once say as how you’ll pop the question to Polly, fair
and honest, on the square, you shall have five hundred; — bless
me, if you shan’t. If she don’t take you after all, why then I must
look for my money by-and-bye. If you’re on the square with
me, Captain, you’ll never find me hard to deal with.”
“I hope I shall be on the square, at any rate.”
“Then you step out to her and pop.” Hereupon Ralph
made a long and intricate explanation of his affairs, the object of which was to prove to Mr. Neefit that a little more delay
was essential. He was so environed by business and difficulties
at the present moment that he could take no immediate step
such as Mr. Neefit suggested, — no such step quite immediately. In about another fortnight, or in a month at the furthest, he
would be able to declare his purpose. “And how about Moggs?”
said Neefit, putting his hands into his breeches-pocket, pulling down the corners of his mouth, and fixing his saucer eyes
full upon the young man’s face. So he stood for some seconds,
and then came the words of which Waddle had spoken. Neefit
could not disentangle the intricacies of Ralph’s somewhat fictitious story; but he had wit enough to know what it meant.
“You ain’t on the square, Captain. That’s what you ain’t,” he
said at last. It must be owned that the accusation was just, and
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
it was made so loudly that Waddle did not at all exaggerate in
saying that there had been words. Nevertheless, when Ralph
left the shop Neefit relented. “You come to me, Captain, when
Moggs’s bit of stiff comes round.”
A few days after that Ralph went to Sir Thomas, with the object of declaring his decision; — at least Sir Thomas understood that such was to be the purport of the visit. According to
his ideas there had been quite enough of delay. The Squire had
been liberal in his offer; and though the thing to be sold was in
all its bearings so valuable, though it carried with it a value
which, in the eyes of Sir Thomas, — and, indeed, in the eyes of
all Englishmen, — was far beyond all money price, though
the territorial position was, for a legitimate heir, almost a principality; yet, when a man cannot keep a thing, what can he do
but part with it? Ralph had made his bed, and he must lie upon
it. Sir Thomas had done what he could, but it had all amounted to nothing. There was this young man a beggar, — but for
this reversion which he had now the power of selling. As for
that mode of extrication by marrying the breeches-maker’s
daughter, — that to Sir Thomas was infinitely the worst evil of
the two. Let Ralph accept his uncle’s offer and he would still
be an English gentleman, free to live as such, free to marry
as such, free to associate with friends fitting to his habits of
life. And he would be a gentleman, too, with means sufficing
for a gentleman’s wants. But that escape by way of the breeches-maker’s daughter would, in accordance with Sir Thomas’s
view of things, destroy everything.
“Well, Ralph,” he said, sighing, almost groaning, as his late
ward took the now accustomed chair opposite to his own.
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“I wish I’d never been born,” said Ralph, “and that Gregory
stood in my place.”
“But you have been born, Ralph. We must take things as we
find them.” Then there was a long silence. “I think, you know,
that you should make up your mind one way or the other.
Your uncle of course feels that as he is ready to pay the money
at once he is entitled to an immediate answer.”
“I don’t see that at all,” said Ralph. “I am under no obligation to my uncle, and I don’t see why I am to be bustled by him.
He is doing nothing for my sake.”
“He has, at any rate, the power of retracting.”
“Let him retract.”
“And then you’ll be just where you were before, — ready to
fall into the hands of the Jews. If you must part with your property you cannot do so on better terms.”
“It seems to me that I shall be selling £7,000 a year in land
for about £1,200 a year in the funds.”
“Just so; — that’s about it, I suppose. But can you tell me
when the land will be yours, — or whether it will ever be yours
at all? What is it that you have got to sell? But, Ralph, it is no
good going over all that again.”
“I know that, Sir Thomas.”
“I had hoped you would have come to some decision. If you
can save the property of course you ought to do so. If you can
live on what pittance is left to you — ”
“I can save it.”
“Then do save it.”
“I can save it by — marrying.”
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
“By selling yourself to the daughter of a man who
makes — breeches! I can give you advice on no other point; but
I do advise you not to do that. I look upon an ill-assorted marriage as the very worst kind of ruin. I cannot myself conceive
any misery greater than that of having a wife whom I could
not ask my friends to meet.”
Ralph when he heard this blushed up to the roots of his
hair. He remembered that when he had first mentioned to
Sir Thomas his suggested marriage with Polly Neefit he had
said that as regarded Polly herself he thought that Patience
and Clarissa would not object to her. He was now being told
by Sir Thomas himself that his daughters would certainly
not consent to meet Polly Neefit, should Polly Neefit become Mrs. Newton. He, too, had his ideas of his own standing in the world, and had not been slow to assure himself that
the woman whom he might choose for his wife would be a fit
companion for any lady, — as long as the woman was neither
vicious nor disagreeable. He could make any woman a lady;
he could, at any rate, make Polly Neefit a lady. He rose from
his seat, and prepared to leave the room in disgust. “I won’t
trouble you by coming here again,” he said.
“You are welcome, Ralph,” said Sir Thomas. “If I could assist you, you would be doubly welcome.”
“I know I have been a great trouble to you, — a thankless, fruitless, worthless trouble. I shall make up my mind, no
doubt, in a day or two, and I will just write you a line. I need not
bother you by coming any more. Of course I think a great deal
about it.”
“No doubt,” said Sir Thomas.
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“Unluckily I have been brought up to know the value of
what it is I have to throw away. It is a kind of thing that a man
doesn’t do without some regrets.”
“They should have come earlier,” said Sir Thomas.
“No doubt; — but they didn’t, and it is no use saying anything more about it. Good-day, sir.” Then he flounced out of
the room, impatient of that single word of rebuke which had
been administered to him.
Sir Thomas, as soon as he was alone, applied himself
at once to the book which he had reluctantly put aside when he
was disturbed. But he could not divest his mind of its trouble,
as quickly as his chamber had been divested of the presence of
its troubler. He had said an ill-natured word, and that grieved
him. And then, — was he not taking all this great matter too
easily? If he would only put his shoulder to the wheel thoroughly might he not do something to save this friend, — this
lad, who had been almost as his own son, — from destruction?
Would it not be a burden on his conscience to the last day of
his life that he had allowed his ward to be ruined, when by
some sacrifice of his own means he might have saved him?
He sat and thought of it, but did not really resolve that anything could be done. He was wont to think in the same way of
his own children, whom he neglected. His conscience had
been pricking him all his life, but it hardly pricked him sharp
enough to produce consequences.
During those very moments in which Ralph was leaving
Southampton Buildings he had almost made up his mind to
go at once to Alexandria Cottage, and to throw himself and
the future fate of Newton Priory at the feet of Polly Neefit.
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
Two incidents in his late interview with Sir Thomas tended to
drive him that way. Sir Thomas had told him that should he
marry the daughter of a man who made — breeches, no lady
would associate with his wife. Sir Thomas also had seemed to
imply that he must sell his property. He would show Sir
Thomas that he could have a will and a way of his own. Polly
Neefit should become his wife; and he would show the world
that no proudest lady in the land was treated with more delicate consideration by her husband than the breeches-maker’s daughter should be treated by him. And when it should
please Providence to decide that the present squire of Newton had reigned long enough over that dominion, he would
show the world that he had known something of his own position and the value of his own prospects. Then Polly should be
queen in the Newton dominions, and he would see whether
the ordinary world of worshippers would not come and worship as usual. All the same, he did not on that occasion go
out to Alexandria Cottage.
When he reached his club he found a note from his brother.
Newton Peele, September 8th, 186 — .
My dear Ralph, —
I have been sorry not to have had an answer from you to
the letter which I wrote to you about a month ago. Of course
I hear of what is going on. Ralph Newton up at the house tells
me everything. The Squire is still in town, as, of course, you
know; and there has got to be a report about here that he has,
as the people say, bought you out. I still hope that this is not
true. The very idea of it is terrible to me; — that you should sell
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