Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Volume 54, No. 338, December 1843. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.
her young sons above the stars!
THE BANKING-HOUSE
A HISTORY IN THREE PARTS. PART II
CHAPTER I.
A NEGOTIATION
It is vastly amusing to contemplate the activity and perseverance which are exhibited in the regard shown by every man for his individual interests. Be our faults what they may—and our neighbours are not slow to discover them—it is very seldom indeed that we are charged with remissness in this respect. So far from this being the case, a moralist of the present day, in a work of no mean ability, has undertaken to prove that selfishness is the great and crying evil of the age. Without venturing to affirm so wholesale a proposition, which necessarily includes in its censure professors and professions par excellence unsecular and liberal, we may be permitted in charity to express our regret, that the rewards apportioned to good men in heaven are not bestowed upon those in whom the selfish principle is most rampant, instead of being strictly reserved for others in whom it is least influential; since it is more pleasing to consider celestial joys in connexion with humanity at large, than with an infinitesimal minority of mortals.
Whilst Michael Allcraft coolly and designedly looked around him, in the hope of fixing on the prey he had resolved to find—whilst, cautious as the midnight housebreaker, who dreads lest every step may wake his sleeping victim, he almost feared to do what most he had at heart, and strove by ceaseless effort to bring into his face the show of indifference and repose;—whilst he was thus engaged, there were many, on the other hand, eager and impatient to crave from him, as for a boon, all that he himself was but too willing to bestow. Little did Michael guess, on his eventful wedding-day, as his noble equipage rattled along the public roads, what thoughts were passing in the minds of some who marked him as he went, and followed him with longing eyes. His absorbing passion, his exhilaration and delight, did not suffer him to see one thin and anxious-looking gentleman, who, spyglass in hand, sat at his cottage window, and brought as near as art allowed—not near enough to satisfy him—the entranced and happy pair. That old man, with nine times ten thousand pounds safe and snug in the stocks, was miserable to look at, and as miserable in effect. He was a widower, and had a son at Oxford, a wild, scapegrace youth, who had never been a joy to him, but a trial and a sorrow even from his cradle. Such punishments there are reserved for men—such visitations for the sins our fathers wrought, too thoughtless of their progeny. How the old man envied the prosperous bridegroom, and how vainly he wished that his boy might have done as well; and how through his small grey eye, the labouring tear-drops oozed, as he called fresh to mind again all that he had promised himself at the birth of his unhappy prodigal! What would he not give to recover and reform the wayward boy? The thought occurred to him, and he dallied with it for his pleasure. "If I could but settle him with this young Allcraft! Why should it not be done? I will give him all I have at once, if necessary, and live in a garret, if it will save my poor Augustus. I will speak to him on his return. What a companion and example for my boy! Open and straightforward—steady as a rock—as rich as Crœsus. Most certainly I'll see him. I knew his father. I'll not grudge a few thousands to establish him. Stick him to business, and he shall do yet." The equipage rolled on as unconscious of the old man's dreams as were its animated inmates; and in due time it passed a massive lodge, which led through green and winding paths to the finest park and mansion in the parish. Close to the lodge's porch there stood a tall and gloomy-looking man, neatly dressed—alone. His arms were folded, and he eyed the carriage thoughtfully and seriously, as though he had an interest there,
known to himself, and to no one else. He was a very proud man that—the owner of this vast estate, master of unnumbered acres, and feared rather than loved by the surrounding people. Wealth is the most royal of despots—the autocrat of all the world. Men whose sense of liberty forbids them to place their worst passions under wise control, will crawl in fetters to lick the basest hand well smeared with gold. There was not an individual who could say a good word for the squire behind his back. You would hardly believe it, if you saw individual and squire face to face. And there he stood, with as ill-omened a visage as ever brought blight upon a party of pleasure. He watched the panting horses out of sight—opened his gate, and walked the other way. He, like the old man, had his plans, and an itching for a share in Michael Allcraft's fortune. How he, so wealthy and respected, could need a part of it, remains a mystery at present. The squire knew his business. He went straightway to the banking-house, and made enquiry respecting Allcraft's destination. He gained intelligence, and followed him at once. They met abroad—they returned home in company. They became great friends, and within three months—partners. And the old man had been, as he threatened to be, very busy likewise. He had fought his son's battle very hardly and very successfully, as he believed, and with twenty thousand pounds had purchased for him a junior partner's interest in the estate. The hopeful boy was admitted into the concern during his residence in Oxford. He had never been seen, but his father was a man of substance, well known and esteemed. The character which he gave with his son was undeniable. Its truth could not be questioned, backed as it was by so liberal an advance.
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