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Updated: May 24, 2025
Little indeed did Percival's imagination busy itself with the mysteries of Ardworth's correspondence. His mind scarcely took in the sense of the words over which his eye mechanically wandered. And the letter which narrated the visit of Madame Dalibard to the house thus solemnly interdicted to her step was on its way to his mother, nay, by this time would almost have reached her!
And every time he entered, he found Lucretia sitting with Walter Ardworth's open letter in her hand, and turning with a preternatural excitement that seemed almost like aberration of mind, from the grim and horrid topic which he invited, to thoughts of wealth and power and triumph and exulting prophecies of the fame her son should achieve.
He took a common degree, and made some debts, which were paid by Sir Miles without a murmur. A few letters then passed between the baronet and the clergyman as to Ardworth's future destiny; the latter owned that his pupil was not persevering enough for the Bar, nor steady enough for the Church. These were no great faults in Sir Miles's eyes.
But when this ample heritage passed to me, when I had no more my own fortunes to make, my own rank to build up, such dreams became less and less frequent. Is it not true that wealth makes us contented to be obscure? Yes; I understand, while I speak, why poverty itself befriends, not cripples, Ardworth's energies.
And as these last words were said, Madame Dalibard raised herself from her recumbent posture and gazed long upon Ardworth's face of power and front of thought. "You overfatigue yourself, my poor kinsman," she said, with a certain tenderness; "you look already too old for your young years." "That's no disadvantage at the Bar." "Is the Bar your means, or your end?"
The absence of all effeminate glitter, the iron grapple with the pith and substance of the argument opposed, seemed familiar to Percival. He thought he heard the deep bass of John Ardworth's earnest voice when some truth roused his advocacy, or some falsehood provoked his wrath. He put down the book, bewildered. He smiled at his own credulity.
"Only whim, I fear; and you?" as Percival linked his arm into Ardworth's. "Twenty years hence I will tell you what brought me hither!" answered Ardworth, moving slowly back towards Whitehall. "If we are alive then!" "We live till our destinies below are fulfilled; till our uses have passed from us in this sphere, and rise to benefit another.
You are really intimate with young Ardworth, eh?" "Intimate! poor fellow, he will not let any one be that; he works too hard to be social. But I love him sincerely, and I admire him beyond measure." "The dog has industry, then; that's good. And does he make debts, like that rascal, Ardworth senior?" "Really, sir, I must say this tone with respect to Mr. Ardworth's father " "What the devil, sir!
And rarely, till some great grief comes, does the man in whom the celestial fire is lodged know all the gift of which he is possessed. At last Ardworth's visits ceased abruptly. He shut himself up once more in his chambers; but the law books were laid aside.
Go up to town; your business is done. And, as for your outfit, read this little book at your leisure." And Sir Miles thrust a pocketbook into Ardworth's hand. "But pardon me," said the young man, much bewildered. "What claim have I, Sir Miles, to such generosity? I know that my uncle offended you." "Sir, that's the claim!" said Sir Miles, gravely.
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