At Love's Cost Part 10

"This is a veritable Aladdin's Palace, Sir Stephen! Though I can imagine that fabulous erection cannot have been as comfortable as this."

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "But do you like it?" he put in, with a shrewd gleam in his eyes, which could be keen as well as brilliant and genial. "I fancy you think it _too_ fine--eh, Stafford?" He laid his hand on Stafford's knee with a somewhat appealing gesture and glance. "I've seen a doubt on your face once or twice--and, by George!

you haven't seen half the place yet. Yes, Mr. Howard, I'll admit that it is rather luxurious; that's the result of giving these new men _carte-blanche_. They take you at your word, sir. I'll own up I was a little surprised to-day; for I told them to build me a villa--but then I wanted thirty or forty bedrooms, so I suppose they had to make it rather large. It seemed to me that as it overlooks the lake it ought to be after the style of those places one sees in Italy, and I hinted that for the interior an Oriental style might be suitable; but I left them a free hand, and if they've overdone it they ought to have known better.

I employed the men who were recommended to me."

There was a pause for a moment. Stafford tried to find some phrase which would conceal his lack of appreciation; and his father, as if he saw what was pa.s.sing through Stafford's mind, went on quickly but smoothly:

"Yes, I see. It _is_ too fine and ornamental. But I don't think you'll find that the people who are coming here tomorrow will agree with you.

I may not know much about art and taste, but I know my world.

Stafford--Mr. Howard--I'll make a clean breast of it. I built this place with an object. My dear sir, you won't think me guilty of sticking it up to please Stafford here. I know his taste too well; something like mine, I expect--a cosy room with a clean cloth and a well-cooked chop and potato. I've cooked 'em myself before now--the former on a shovel, the latter in an empty meat-tin. Of course I know that Stafford and you, Mr. Howard, have lived very different lives to mine. Of course. You have been accustomed to every refinement and a great deal of luxury over since you left the cradle. Quite right! I'm delighted that it should be so. Nothing is too good for Stafford here--and his chum--nothing!"

Stafford's handsome face flushed.

"You've been very generous to me, sir," he said, in his brief way, but with a glance at his father which expressed more than the words.

Sir Stephen threw his head back and laughed.

"That's all right, Staff," he said. "It's been a pleasure to me. I just wanted to see you happy--'see you' is rather inappropriate, though, isn't it, considering how very little I have seen you? But there were reasons--We won't go into that. Where was I?"

"You were telling us your reasons for building this place, sir," Howard reminded him quietly.

Sir Stephen shot a glance at him, a cautious glance.

"Was I? By George! then I am more communicative than usual. My friends in the city and elsewhere would tell you that I never give any reasons.

But what I was saying was this: that I've learnt that the world likes tinsel and glitter--just as the Sioux Indians are caught by gla.s.s beads and lengths of Turkey red calico. And I give the world what it wants.

See?"

He laughed, a laugh which was as cynical as Howard's.

"The world is not so much an oyster which you've got to open with a sword, as the old proverb has it, but a wild beast. Yes, a wild beast: and you've got to fight him at first, fight him tooth and claw. When you've beaten him, ah! then you've got to feed him."

"You have beaten your wild beast, Sir Stephen," remarked Howard.

"Well--yes, more or less; anyhow, he seemed ready to come to my hand for the t.i.t-bits I can give him. The world likes to be _feted_, likes good dinners and high-cla.s.s b.a.l.l.s; but above all it likes to be amused.

I'm going to give it what it wants."

Stafford looked up. This declaration coming from his father jarred upon Stafford, whose heart he had won.

"Why should you trouble, sir?" he said, quietly. "I should have thought you would have been satisfied."

"Because I want something more from it; something in return," said Sir Stephen, with a smile. "Satisfied? No man is satisfied. I've an ambition yet ungratified, and I mean to gratify it. You think I'm vaunting, Mr. Howard?" "No, I think you are simply stating a fact,"

responded Howard, gravely.

"I thank you, sir," said Sir Stephen, as gravely. "I speak so confidently because I see my way clearly before me. I generally do.

When I don't, I back out and lie low."

Stafford found this too painful. He rose to get a light and sauntered into the billiard-room and tried the table.

Sir Stephen looked after him musingly, and seemed to forget Howard's presence; then suddenly his face flushed and his eyes shone with a curious mixture of pride and tenderness and the indomitable resolution which had helped him to fight his "wild beast." He leant forward and touched Howard's knee.

"Don't you understand!" he said, earnestly, and in a low voice which the click of the billiard b.a.l.l.s prevented Stafford from hearing. "It is for him! For my boy, Mr. Howard! It's for him that I have been working, am still working. For myself--I am satisfied--as he said; but not for him. I want to see him still higher up the ladder than I have climbed.

I have done fairly well--heaven and earth! if anyone had told me twenty years ago that I should be where and what I am to-day--well, I'd have sold my chances for a bottle of ale. You smile. Mr. Howard, it was anything but beer and skittles for me then. I want to leave my boy a--t.i.tle. Smile again, Mr. Howard; I don't mind."

"I haven't a smile about me, sir," said Howard.

"Ah, you understand. You see my mind. I don't know why I've told you, excepting that it is because you are Staff's friend. But I've told you now. And am I not right? Isn't it a laudable ambition? Can you say that he will not wear it well, however high the t.i.tle may be? Where is there such another young fellow? Proud--pride is too poor a word for what I feel for him!"

He paused and sank back, but leant forward again.

"Though I've kept apart from him, Mr. Howard, I have watched him--but in no unworthy sense. No, I haven't spied upon him."

"There was no need, sir," said Howard, very quietly.

"I know it. Stafford is as straight as a dart, as true as steel. Oh, I've heard of him. I know there isn't a more popular man in England--forgive me if I say I don't think there's a handsomer."

Howard nodded prompt a.s.sent.

"I read of him, in society, at Hurlingham. Everywhere he goes he holds his own. And I know why. Do you believe in birth, Mr. Howard?" he asked, abruptly.

"Of course," replied Howard.

"So do I, though I can't lay claim to any. But there's a good strain in Stafford and it shows itself. There's something in his face, a certain look in his eyes, in his voice, and the way he moves; that quiet yet frank manner--oh, I can't explain!" he broke off, impatiently.

"I think you have done it very well," said Howard. "I don't like the word--it is so often misapplied--but I can't think of any better: distinguished is the word that describes Stafford."

Sir Stephen nodded eagerly.

"You are right. Some men are made, born to wear the purple. My boy is one of them--and he shall! He shall take his place amongst the n.o.blest and the best in the land. He shall marry with the highest. Nature has cast him in a n.o.ble mould, and he shall step into his proper place."

He drew a long breath, and his brilliant eyes flashed as if he were looking into the future, looking into the hour of triumph.

"Yes; I agree with you," said Howard; "but I am afraid Stafford will scarcely share your ambition."

He was sorry he had spoken as he saw the change which his words had caused in Sir Stephen.

"What?" he said, almost fiercely. "Why do you say that? Why should he not be ambitious?" He stopped and laid his hand on Howard's shoulder, gripping it tightly, and his voice sank to a stern whisper. "You don't know of anything--there is no woman--no entanglement?"

"No, no!" said Howard. "Make your mind easy on that point. There is no one. Stafford is singularly free in that respect. In fact--well, he is rather cold. There is no one, I am sure. I should have known it, if there had been."

Sir Stephen's grip relaxed, and the stern, almost savage expression was smoothed out by a smile.

"Right," he said, still in a whisper. "Then there is no obstacle in my way. I shall win what I am fighting for. Though it will not be an easy fight. No, sir. But easy or difficult, I mean winning."

He rose and stood erect--a striking figure looking over Howard's head with an abstracted gaze; then suddenly his eyelids quivered, his face grew deathly pale, and his hand went to his heart.

Howard sprang to his feet with an exclamation of alarm; but Sir Stephen held up his hand warningly, moved slowly to one of the tables, poured out a gla.s.s of _liqueur_ and drank it. Then he turned to Howard, who stood watching him, uncertain what to do or say, and said, with an air of command:

"Not a word. It is nothing."