England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"His _third_," interrupted Piers.
"No, my dear boy," said the other gravely, sympathetically. "That
intermediate connection was not legal."
"Not----? My mother was not----?"
"Don't worry about it," proceeded Daniel in a kind tone. "These are the
merest prejudices, you know. She could not become Mrs. Otway, being
already Mrs. Somebody-else. Her death, I fear, was a great misfortune
to our parent. I have gathered that they suited each other--fate, you
know, plays these little tricks. Your mother, I am sure, was a most
charming and admirable woman--I remember her portrait. _A l'heure qu'il
est_, no doubt, it has to be kept out of sight. She had, I am given to
understand, a trifling capital of her own, and this was to become
yours."
Piers stared at vacancy. When he recovered himself he said with
decision:
"Of course I shall hear about it. There's no hurry. Father knows I
don't want it just now. Why, of course he will tell me. The exam. comes
off in autumn, and no doubt he keeps the news back as a sort of reward
when I get my place. I think that would be just like him, you know."
"Or as a solatium, if you fail," remarked the other genially.
"Fail? Oh, I'm not going to fail," cried Piers in a voice of
half-resentful confidence.
"Bravo!" laughed the other; "I like that spirit. So you're going to
lunch with John Jacks. I don't exactly know him, but I know friends of
his very well. Known him long?"
Piers explained that as yet he had no personal acquaintance with Mr.
Jacks; that he had, to his surprise, received a written invitation a
few days ago.
"It may be useful," Daniel remarked reflectively. "But if you'll permit
the liberty, Piers, I am sorry you didn't pay a little more attention
to costume. It should have been a frock coat--really it should."
"I haven't such a thing," exclaimed the younger brother, with some
annoyance and confusion. "And what can it matter? You know very well
how father would go."
"Yes, yes; but Jerome Otway the democratic prophet and young Mr. Piers
Otway his promising son, are very different persons. Never mind, but
take care to get a frock coat; you'll find it indispensable if you are
going into that world. Where does Jacks live?"
"Queen's Gate."
Daniel Otway meditated, half closing his eyes as he seemed to watch the
smoke from his cigar. Dropping them upon his brother, he found that the
young man wore a look of troubled thoughtfulness.
"Daniel," began Piers suddenly, "are you quite sure about all you have
told me?"
"Quite. I am astonished it's news to you."
Piers was no longer able to converse, and very soon he found it
difficult to sit still. Observant of his face and movements, the elder
brother proposed that they should resume their walk together, and forth
they went. But both were now taciturn, and they did not walk far in
company.
"I shall look you up at Ewell," said Daniel, taking leave. "Address me
at that club; I have no permanent quarters just now. We must see more
of each other."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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