Henrietta Temple: A Love Story

calculates unconsciously that it is better to live than to die. Well, then, he has something in his favour. Existence is a pleasure, and the greatest. The world cannot rob us of that; and if it is better to live than to die, it is better to live in a good humour than a bad one. If a man be convinced that existence is the greatest pleasure, his happiness may be increased by good fortune, but it will be essentially independent of it. He who feels that the greatest source of pleasure always remains to him ought never to be miserable. The sun shines on all: every man can go to sleep: if you cannot ride a fine horse, it is something to look upon one; if you have not a fine dinner, there is some amusement in a crust of bread and Gruyère. Feel slightly, think little, never plan, never brood. Everything depends upon the circulation; take care of it. Take the world as you find it; enjoy everything. _Vive la bagatelle!_’ Here the gentlemen rose, took their coffee, and ordered their carriages. ‘Come with us,’ said Count Mirabel to Ferdinand. Our hero accepted the offer of his agreeable acquaintance. There was a great prancing and rushing of cabs and _vis-à-vis_ at Mr. Bond Sharpe’s door, and in a few minutes the whole party were dashing up St. James’-street, where they stopped before a splendid building, resplendent with lights and illuminated curtains. ‘Come, we will make you an honorary member, _mon cher_ Captain Armine,’ said the Count; ‘and do not say _Lasciate ogni speranza_ when you enter here.’ They ascended a magnificent staircase, and entered a sumptuous and crowded saloon, in which the entrance of Count Mirabel and his friends made no little sensation. Mr. Bond Sharpe glided along, dropping oracular sentences, without condescending to stop to speak to those whom he addressed. Charley Doricourt and Mr. Blandford walked away together, towards a further apartment. Lord Castlefyshe and Lord Catchimwhocan were soon busied with écarté. ‘Well, Faneville, good general, how do you do?’ said Count Mirabel. ‘Where have you dined to-day? at the Balcombes’? You are a very brave man, mon general! Ah! Stock, good Stock, excellent Stock!’ he continued, addressing Mr. Million de Stockville, ‘that Burgundy you sent me is capital. How are you, my dear fellow? Quite well? Fitzwarrene, I did that for you: your business is all right. Ah! my good Massey, _mon cher, mon brave_, Anderson will let you have that horse. And what is doing here? Is there any fun? Fitzwarrene, let me introduce you to my friend Captain Armine:’ (in a lower tone) ‘excellent _garçon!_ You will like him very much. We have been all dining at Bond’s.’ ‘A good dinner?’ ‘Of course a good dinner. I should like to see a man who would give me a bad dinner: that would be a _bêtise_,--to ask me to dine, and then give me a bad dinner.’ ‘I say, Mirabel,’ exclaimed a young man, ‘have you seen Horace Poppington about the match?’ ‘It is arranged; ‘tis the day after to-morrow, at nine o’clock.’ ‘Well, I bet on you, you know.’ ‘Of course you bet on me. Would you think of betting on that good Pop, with that gun? Pah! _Eh! bien!_ I shall go in the next room.’ And the Count walked away, followed by Mr. Bevil. Ferdinand remained talking for some time with Lord Fitzwarrene. By degrees the great saloon had become somewhat thinner: some had stolen away to the House, where a division was expected; quiet men, who just looked in after dinner, had retired; and the play-men were engaged in the contiguous apartments. Mr. Bond Sharpe approached Ferdinand, and Lord Fitzwarrene took this opportunity of withdrawing. ‘I believe you never play, Captain Armine,’ said Mr. Bond Sharpe. ‘Never,’ said Ferdinand. ‘You are quite right.’ ‘I am rather surprised at your being of that opinion,’ said Ferdinand, with a smile. Mr. Bond Sharpe shrugged his shoulders. ‘There will always be votaries enough,’ said Mr. Bond Sharpe, ‘whatever may be my opinion.’ ‘This is a magnificent establishment of yours,’ said Ferdinand. ‘Yes; it is a very magnificent establishment. I have spared no expense to produce the most perfect thing of the kind in Europe; and it is the most perfect thing of the kind. I am confident that no noble in any country has an establishment better appointed. I despatched an agent to the Continent to procure this furniture: his commission had no limit, and he was absent two years. My cook was with Charles X.; the cellar is the most choice and considerable that was ever collected. I take a pride in the thing, but I lose money by it.’ ‘Indeed!’ ‘I have made a fortune; there is no doubt of that; but I did not make it here.’ ‘It is a great thing to make a fortune,’ said Ferdinand. ‘Very great,’ said Mr. Bond Sharpe. ‘There is only one thing greater, and that is, to keep it when made.’ Ferdinand smiled. ‘Many men make fortunes; few can keep them,’ said Mr. Bond Sharpe. ‘Money is power, and rare are the heads that can withstand the possession of great power.’ ‘At any rate, it is to be hoped that you have discovered this more important secret,’ said Ferdinand; ‘though I confess to judge from my own experience, I should fear that you are too generous.’ ‘I had forgotten that to which you allude,’ said his companion, quietly. ‘But with regard to myself, whatever may be my end, I have not yet reached my acme.’ ‘You have at least my good wishes,’ said Ferdinand. ‘I may some day claim them,’ said Mr. Bond Sharpe. ‘My position,’ he continued, ‘is difficult. I have risen by pursuits which the world does not consider reputable, yet if I had not had recourse to them, I should be less than nothing. My mind, I think, is equal to my fortune; I am still young, and I would now avail myself of my power and establish myself in the land, a recognised member of society. But this cannot be. Society shrinks from an obscure foundling, a prizefighter, a leg, a hell-keeper, and an usurer. Debarred therefore from a fair theatre for my energy and capital, I am forced to occupy, perhaps exhaust, myself in multiplied speculations. Hitherto they have flourished, and perhaps my theatre, or my newspaper, may be as profitable as my stud. But I would gladly emancipate myself. These efforts seem to me, as it were, unnecessary and unnatural. The great object has been gained. It is a tempting of fate. I have sometimes thought myself the Napoleon of the sporting world; I may yet find my St. Helena.’ ‘Forewarned, forearmed, Mr. Sharpe.’ ‘I move in a magic circle: it is difficult to extricate myself from it. Now, for instance, there is not a man in the room who is not my slave. You see how they treat me. They place me upon an equality with them. They know my weakness; they fool me to the top of my bent. And yet there is not a man in that room who, if I were to break to-morrow, would walk down St. James’-street to serve me. Yes! there is one; there is the Count. He has a great and generous soul. I believe Count Mirabel sympathises with my situation. I believe he does not think, because a man has risen from an origin the most ignoble and obscure to a powerful position, by great courage and dexterity, and let me add also, by some profound thought, by struggling too, be it remembered, with a class of society as little scrupulous, though not so skilful as himself, that he is necessarily an infamous character. What if, at eighteen years of age, without a friend in the world, trusting to the powerful frame and intrepid spirit with which Nature had endowed me, I flung myself into the ring? Who should be a gladiator if I were not? Is that a crime? What if, at a later period, with a brain for calculation which none can rival, I invariably succeeded in that in which the greatest men in the country fail! Am I to be branded because I have made half a million by a good book? What if I have kept a gambling-house? From the back parlour of an oyster-shop my hazard table has been removed to this palace. Had the play been foul, this metamorphosis would never have occurred. It is true I am an usurer. My dear sir, if all the usurers in this great metropolis could only pass in procession before you at this moment, how you would start! You might find some Right Honourables among them; many a great functionary, many a grave magistrate; fathers of families, the very models of respectable characters, patrons and presidents of charitable institutions, and subscribers for the suppression of those very gaming-houses whose victims, in nine cases out of ten, are their principal customers. I speak not in bitterness. On the whole, I must not complain of the world, but I have seen a great deal of mankind, and more than most, of what is considered its worst portion. The world, Captain Armine, believe me, is neither so bad nor so good as some are apt to suppose. And after all,’ said Mr. Bond Sharpe, shrugging up his shoulders, ‘perhaps we ought to say with our friend the Count, _Vive la bagatelle!_ Will you take some supper?’ CHAPTER XIV. _Miss Grandison Piques the Curiosity of Lord Montfort, and Count Mirabel Drives Ferdinand Down to Richmond, Which Drive Ends in an Agreeable Adventure and an Unexpected Confidence_. THE discovery that Henrietta Temple was the secret object of Ferdinand’s unhappy passion, was a secret which Miss Grandison prized like a true woman. Not only had she made this discovery, but from her previous knowledge and her observation during her late interview with Miss Temple, Katherine was persuaded that Henrietta must still love her cousin as before. Miss Grandison was attached to Henrietta; she was interested in her cousin’s welfare, and devoted to the Armine family. All her thoughts and all her energies were engaged in counteracting, if possible, the consequences of those unhappy misconceptions which had placed them all in this painful position. It was on the next day that she had promised to accompany the duchess and Henrietta on a water excursion. Lord Montfort was to be their cavalier. In the morning she found herself alone with his lordship in St. James’-square. ‘What a charming day!’ said Miss Grandison. ‘I anticipate so much pleasure! Who is our party?’ ‘Ourselves alone,’ said Lord Montfort. ‘Lady Armine cannot come, and Captain Armine is engaged. I fear you will find it very dull, Miss Grandison.’ ‘Oh! not at all. By-the-bye, do you know I was surprised yesterday at finding that Ferdinand and Henrietta were such old acquaintances.’ ‘Were you?’ said Lord Montfort, in a peculiar tone. ‘It is odd that Ferdinand never will go with us anywhere. I think it is very bad taste.’ ‘I think so too,’ said Lord Montfort. ‘I should have thought that Henrietta was the very person he would have admired; that he would have been quite glad to be with us. I can easily understand his being wearied to death with a cousin,’ said Miss Grandison; ‘but Henrietta,--it is so strange that he should not avail himself of the delight of being with her.’ ‘Do you really think that such a cousin as Miss Grandison can drive him away?’ ‘Why, to tell you the truth, dear Lord Montfort, Ferdinand is placed in a very awkward position with me. You are our friend, and so I speak to you in confidence. Sir Ratcliffe and Lady Armine both expect that Ferdinand and myself are going to be married. Now, neither of us has the slightest intention of anything of the sort.’ ‘Very strange, indeed,’ said Lord Montfort. ‘The world will be much astonished, more so than myself, for I confess to a latent suspicion on the subject.’ ‘Yes, I was aware of that,’ said Miss Grandison, ‘or I should not have spoken with so much frankness. For my own part, I think we are very wise to insist upon having our own way, for an ill-assorted marriage must be