"His sordid, selfish, counterpart--his _worthy_ son?"
George shook his head.
I looked inquiringly.
"A certain impetuous, wilful, wrong-headed boy, yclept Geoffrey Moncton."
"Pish!" I exclaimed, shrugging my shoulders: "is this your friendship?"
"The best proof I can give you of it."
I walked hastily to and fro, the narrow limits of the chamber, raising, at every step, a cloud of dust from folds of old, yellow parchment and musty rolls of paper, which had acc.u.mulated there for the last half century, and lay in a pile upon the floor. I was in no humour to listen to a lecture, particularly when my own faulty temper was to be the princ.i.p.al subject, and form the text. Harrison watched my movements for some time in silence, with a provokingly-amused air; not in the least discouraged by my wayward mood; but evidently ready for another attack.
"Prithee, Geoffrey, leave off raising that cloud of dust, disturbing the evil spirits which have long slumbered in yon forgotten pile of professional rubbish, and sit down quietly and listen to reason."
I felt annoyed, and would not resume my place beside him, but, a.s.suming a very stately air, seated myself opposite to my tormentor on a huge iron chest, which was the only seat, save the bed, in the room; and then, fixing my eyes reproachfully upon him, I sat as stiff as a poker, without relaxing a muscle of my face.
He laughed outright.
"You are displeased with my bluntness, Geoffrey, and I am amused with your dignity. That solemn, proud face would become the Lord Chancellor of England."
"Hold your tongue, you tormentor; I won"t be laughed at in this absurd manner. What have I done to deserve such a sermon?"
""Vanity, vanity, all is vanity, saith the preacher," and surely, Geoffrey, your vanity exceeds all other vanity. I hint at a fault, and point it out for correction. You imagine yourself perfection, and are up in arms in a moment. Answer me, seriously: do you ever expect to settle in life?"
"I have dared to cherish the forlorn hope."
"Forlorn as it is, you are taking the best method to destroy it."
"What would you have me do?"
"Yield to circ.u.mstances."
"Become a villain?" This was said with a very tragic air.
"May Heaven forbid! I should be sorry to see you so nearly resemble your uncle. But I would have you avoid uselessly offending him; for, by constantly inflaming his mind to anger, you may ruin your own prospects, and be driven in desperation to adopt measures for obtaining a living, scarcely less dishonourable than his own."
"Go on," I cried: "it is all very well for you to talk in this philosophical strain. You have not been educated in the same bitter school with me; you have not known what it is to writhe beneath the oppressive authority of this cold, unfeeling man; you cannot understand the nature of my sufferings, or the painful humiliation I must daily endure."
He took my hand affectionately.
"Geoffrey," said he, "how do you know all this? Yours is not a profession which allows men to jump at conclusions. What can you tell of my past or present trials. What if I should say, they had been far greater and worse to bear than your own?"
"Impossible!"
"All things that have reference to sorrow and trouble, in this world, are only too possible. But I will have patience with you, my poor friend; your heart is very sore. The deadly wounds in mine are partially healed; yet, my experience of life has been bought with bitter tears;--the loss of hope, health and self-respect. I am willing that you should profit by this; and, having made this confession, will you condescend to hear my lecture to an end?"
"Oh, tell me something more about yourself. I would rather listen to your sorrows, than have my faults paraded before me."
A melancholy smile pa.s.sed over his face.
"Geoffrey, what a child you are! Listen to me. You have suffered this personal dislike to your uncle and his son to overtop, like some rank weed, every better growth of your mind; to destroy your moral integrity and mental advantages; to interfere with your studies, and prevent any beneficial result which might arise from your situation as clerk in this office. Is this wise?"
I remained obstinately silent.
"You are lengthening the term of your bondage, and riveting the fetters you are so anxious to break. Does not your uncle know this? Does he not laugh at your impotent efforts to break his yoke from off your neck? In one short year your articles will expire, and you will become a free agent. But, with the little knowledge you have gained of your profession, what would liberty do for you? Would it procure for you a better situation; establish your claims as a gentleman, or fill an empty purse?"
"Let the worst come to the worst, I could work for my bread."
"Not such an easy thing as you imagine."
"With health, strength and youth on my side, what should hinder me?"
"Your uncle"s influence, which is very great. The world does not know him, as we know him. He is considered an upright, honourable man. One word from him would blast your character, and keep you out of every office in London."
I felt my cheeks grow pale. I had never seen matters in this light before. Still, I would not yield to the arguments of my friend. The obstinate spirit of the Monctons was in active operation just then, and would not submit to reason.
"There are more ways of earning a living than by following the profession of the law," said I doggedly.
"To all of which you have an apprenticeship to serve. Think, Geoffrey, of the thousands of respectable young men who are looking for employment in this vast metropolis, and how few are successful; and then ask yourself, how you, without money, without friends, and with a powerful enemy to crush all your honest endeavours, and render them abortive, are likely to earn your own living."
I was struck speechless, and for the first time in my life became aware of my utter inability to extricate myself out of the net of difficulties which surrounded me.
"You are convinced at last. Look me steadily in the face, Geoffrey, and own that you are beaten. Nay, smooth that frowning brow: it makes you look like Robert Moncton. Your profession is a fortune in itself, if you persevere in acquiring it. Be not discouraged by difficulties that beset the path. A poor man"s road to independence is always up-hill work. Duty fences the path on either side, and success waves her flag from the summit; but every step must be trod, often in ragged garments, and with bare feet, if we would reach the top."
I pressed George Harrison"s hand, silently within my own. He had won a great victory over obstinacy and self-conceit.
From that hour my prospects brightened. I became a new creature, full of hope, activity and trust. My legal studies engaged all my leisure moments. I had no time left to brood over my wrongs. My mind had formed an estimate of its own powers; the energetic spirit which had been wasted in endless cavils and contradictions (for my temper was faulty and headstrong, and my uncle not always the aggressor) now a.s.serted its own dignity, and furnished me with the weapon most needed in such petty warfare--self-respect. Harrison had given me a motive for exertion, and I was ashamed of having suffered my mental powers to remain so long inactive. As my mind recovered a healthy tone, my spirits rose in proportion. The thirst for improvement daily acquired new strength, while my industry not only surprised, but drew forth the commendations of my uncle.
"What has become of your churlish, morose temper, Geoffrey?" said he to me one day, at dinner; "why, boy, you are greatly changed of late. From a sulky, impertinent, vindictive lad, you have become an industrious, agreeable, pleasant fellow."
"It is never too late to mend, uncle," said I, laughing, though I did not much relish his portrait of what I had been. "My temper I found a greater punishment to myself than to others, so I thought it high time to change it for a better."
"You were perfectly right. I have a better hope for your future than I once had. I shall be able to make something out of you yet."
This unlooked-for condescension on the part of Mr. Moncton, softened the hard feelings I had long cherished against him into a more Christian-like endurance of his peculiarities; and the conscientious discharge of my own duty taught me to consider his interests as my own.
CHAPTER VIII.
UNGRATIFIED CURIOSITY.
There is a period in every young man"s first outset in life, which gives a colouring to his future destiny. It is the time for action, for mental and moral improvement, and the manner in which it is applied or neglected, will decide his character, or leave him weak and vacillating all the days of his life.
If this precious portion of existence be wasted in frivolous amus.e.m.e.nts, time gets the start of us, and no after-exertion will enable us to overtake him in his flight. This important era was mine; and I lost no opportunity of turning it to the best advantage. I worked early and late in the office, and made myself master of the nature of the work which employed my hands. I learned the philosophy of those law forms, which hitherto I had only copied mechanically, and looked upon as a weary task, and I soon reaped the benefit of my increased stock of knowledge. Grave men, in the absence of my uncle, often applied to me for information and advice, which I felt proud and happy in being able to supply.