England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Genealogy -- Fiction
Gradually, bit by bit, he confided all this, broken-hearted, to
Gillespie. There were no secrets between them now; for the facts as to
poor Mr. Plantagenet's pitiable profession had come out fully at the
inquest, and all Oxford knew that night that Plantagenet of Durham, the
clever and rising history man, who was considered safe for the
Marquis of Lothian's Essay, was, after all, but the son of a country
dancing-master. So Dick, with a crimson face, putting his pride in his
pocket, announced to his friend the one plan for the future that now
seemed to him feasible--to return at once to Chiddingwick and take up
his father's place, so as to keep together the _clientele_. Clearly he
must do something to make money without delay; and that sad resolve was
the only device he could think of on the spur of the moment.
'Wouldn't it be better to try for a schoolmaster-ship?' Gillespie
suggested cautiously. He had the foresight of his countrymen. 'That
wouldn't so much unclass you in the end as the other. You haven't a
degree, of course, and the want of one would naturally tell against you.
But you might get a vacant place in some preparatory school--though the
pay, of course, would be something dreadfully trivial.'
'That's just it,' Dick answered, bursting with shame and misery, but
facing it out like a man. 'Gillespie, you're kindness itself--such a
dear, good fellow!--and I could say things to you I couldn't say to
anybody else on earth that I know of, except my own family. But even to
you I can't bear to say what must be said sooner or later. You see,
for my mother's sake, for my sisters', for my brothers', I _must_ do
whatever enables me to make most money. I must pocket my pride--and I've
got a great deal--ever so much too much--but I must pocket it all the
same, and think only of what's best in the end for the family. Now, I
should _hate_ the dancing--oh, my dear, dear fellow, I can't tell you
how I should hate it! But it's the one thing by which I could certainly
earn most money. There's a good connection there at Chiddingwiok, and
it's all in the hands of the family.
People would support me because I was my father's son. If I went home
at once, before anybody else came to the town to fill the empty place,
I could keep the connection together; and as I wouldn't spend any
money--well, in the ways my poor father often spent it--I should easily
earn enough to keep myself and the children. It'll break my heart to do
it--oh, it'll break my heart!--for I'm a very proud man; but I see no
way out of it. And I, who hoped to build up again by legitimate means
the fortunes of the Plantagenets!'
Gillespie was endowed with a sound amount of good Scotch common-sense.
He looked at things more soberly.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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