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"I have known some most estimable people who had married a second time," said the minister, and then he had the applause with him. Lapham wanted to make some open recognition of his good sense, but could not. "I suppose the passion itself has been a good deal changed," said Bromfield Corey, "since the poets began to idealise it in the days of chivalry."
Irene came closer up to him and took his arm. He laid his heavy paw on her gloved fingers. After a while she said, "I want you should let me go up to Lapham to-morrow." "To Lapham? Why, to-morrow's Sunday, Irene! You can't go to-morrow." "Well, Monday, then. I can live through one day here." "Well," said the father passively.
"Why," he would say, "I know fifty boys just like him down there in La Salle Street." Lapham he loved as a brother. Never a point in the development of his character that he missed or failed to chuckle over. Bromfield Cory was poohed and boshed quite out of consideration as a "loafer," a "dilletanty," but Lapham had all his sympathy.
"If there is anything I can do telegraph Colonel Lapham, or anything?" "Oh no, thank you; mother's better now. She merely wanted to be sure where he was." He did not offer to go, upon this conclusion of his business, but hoped he was not keeping her from her mother.
And he seems to have gone into your business for the love of it." "He went to work in the right way, sir! He told me about it. He looked into it. And that paint is a thing that will bear looking into." "Oh yes. You might think he had invented it, if you heard him celebrating it." "Is that so?" demanded Lapham, pleased through and through. "Well, there ain't any other way.
The commonplace is just that light, impalpable, aerial essence which they've never got into their confounded books yet. The novelist who could interpret the common feelings of commonplace people would have the answer to 'the riddle of the painful earth' on his tongue." "Oh, not so bad as that, I hope," said the host; and Lapham looked from one to the other, trying to make out what they were at.
"It don't seem as if he COULD be such a villain. What would be the use of his pretending? If he brought the parties to you." "Well," said Lapham scornfully, "I'd let them have the mills at the price Rogers turned 'em in on me at. I don't want to make anything on 'em. But guess I shall hear from the G. L. & P. first. And when they make their offer, I guess I'll have to accept it, whatever it is.
He had not much to complain of in Bartley's treatment, unless it was the strain of extravagant compliment which it involved. But the flattery was mainly for the paint, whose virtues Lapham did not believe could be overstated, and himself and his history had been treated with as much respect as Bartley was capable of showing any one.
In 1871 he succeeded Fields in the editorship, but it was not until after his resignation in 1881 that he could put his full strength into those realistic novels of contemporary New England which established his fame as a writer. "A Modern Instance" and "The Rise of Silas Lapham" are perhaps the finest stories of this group; and the latter novel may prove to be Mr.
"Well, if you have the fancy, sir," said the young man. "But there's no sort of obligation. Colonel Lapham would be the last man in the world to want to give our relation any sort of social character. The meeting will come about in the natural course of things." "Ah, I didn't intend to propose anything immediate," said the father.
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