sentiments, like that, never penetrated her
mind: they glided off like water from a duck's
back. "We will begin with this mercantile
Brutus, then," said she, with such a curl of the
lip. Brutus had rejected her daughter.

"Richard Hardie was born and bred in a bank:
one where no wild thyme blows, love; nor
cowslips nor the nodding violet grows; but gold
and silver chink, and things are discounted, and
men grow rich slowly, but surely, by lawful use
of other people's money. Breathed upon by
these 'gentle influences,' he was, from his
youth, a remarkable man; measured by Trade's
standard. At five-and-twenty divine what he
did! HE SAVED THE BANK. You have read of
bubbles; the Mississippi Bubble and the South
Sea Bubble. Well, in the year 1825, it was not
one bubble but a thousand; mines by the score,
and in distant lands; companies by the hundred;
loans to every nation or tribe, down to Guatemala,
Patagonia, and Greece: two hundred new ships
were laid on the stocks in one year, for your dear
papa told me; in short, a fever of speculation,
and the whole nation raging with it: my dear,
Princes, Dukes, Duchesses, Bishops, Poets,
Lawyers, Physicians, were seen struggling with
their own footmen for a place in the Exchange:
and, at last, good, steady, old Mr. Hardie,
Alfred's grandfather, was drawn into the vortex.
Now, to excuse him and appreciate the precocious
Richard, you must try and realise that
these bubbles, when they rise, are as alluring
and reasonable, as they are ridiculous and incredible
when one looks back on them; even soap
bubbles, you know, have rainbow hues till they
burst; and, indeed, the blind avarice of men does
but resemble the blind vanity of women: look
at our grandmothers' hoops, and our mothers'
short waists and monstrous heads! Yet in their
day what woman did not glory in these insanities?
Well then, Mr. Richard Hardie, at
twenty-five, was the one to foresee the end of
all these bubbles; he came down from London
and brought his people to their senses by sober
reason, and 'sound commercial principles': that
means, I believe, 'get other people's money, but
do not risk your own.' His superiority was so
clear, that his father resigned the helm to him,
and, thanks to his ability, the bank weathered
the storm, while all the other ones in the town
broke, or suspended their trade. Now, you
know, youth is naturally ardent and speculative:
but Richard Hardie's was colder and wiser than
other people's old age: and that is one trait.
Some years later, in the height of his prosperity
—I reveal this only for your comfort, and on
your sacred promise as a person of delicacy,
never to repeat it to a soul— Richard Hardie
was a suitor for my hand."

"Mamma!"

"Do not ejaculate, sweetest! It rather discomposes
me. 'Nothing is extraordinary,' as
that good creature says. He must have thought
it would answer, in one way or another, to have
a gentlewoman at the head of his table. And
I was not penniless, bien entendu. Failing in
this, he found a plain little Thing, with a gloomy
temper, and no accomplishments nor graces; but
her father could settle twenty thousand pounds.
He married her directly: and that is a trait.
He sold his father's and grandfather's house and
place of business, in spite of all their associations,
and obtained a lease of his present place
from my uncle Fountain: it seemed a more
money-making situation. A trait. He gives
me no reason for rejecting my daughter. Why?
because he is not proud of his reasons: this
walking Avarice has intelligence: a trait. Now
put all this together, and who more transparent
than the profound Mr. Hardie? He has declined
our alliance because he takes for granted we are
poor. When I undeceive him on that head he
will reopen negotiations, in a letter; No. 2 of the
correspondence; copied by one of his clerks:
it will be calm, plausible, flattering: in short, it
will be done like a gentleman: though he is
nothing of the kind. And this brings me to
what I ought to have begun with; your dear
father and I have always lived within our income
for our children's sake; he is bringing home
the bulk of our savings this very voyage, and it
amounts to fourteen thousand pounds."

"Oh, what an enormous sum!"

"No, dearest, it is not a fortune in itself. But
it is a considerable sum to possess, independent
of one's settlement and one's income. It is loose
cash, to speak à la Hardie; that means I can
do what I choose with it; and of course I choose
—to make you happy. How I shall work on
what you call Iron and I call Clay must be
guided by circumstances. I think of depositing
three or four thousand pounds every month with
Mr. Hardie; he is our banker, you know. He
will most likely open his eyes, and make some
move before the whole sum is in his hands. If
he does not, I shall perhaps call at his bank and
draw a cheque for fourteen thousand pounds.
The wealthiest provincial banker does not keep
such a sum floating in his shop-tills. His commercial
honour, the one semi-chivalrous sentiment
in his soul, would be in peril. He would
yield, and with grace: none the less readily that
his house and his bank, which have been long
heavily mortgaged to our trustees, were made
virtually theirs by agreement yesterday (I set
this on foot within twelve hours of Mr. Iron's
impertinent letter), and he will say to himself,
'She can—post me, I think they call it—this
afternoon for not cashing her cheque, and she
can turn me and my bank into the street tomorrow:'
and then, of course, he shall see by
my manner the velvet paw is offered as well as
the claw. He is pretty sure to ask himself
which will suit the ledger best—this cat's friendship
and her fourteen thousand pounds, or—an
insulted mother's enmity?" And Mrs. Placid's
teeth made a little click just audible in the silent
night.

"Oh, mamma! my heart is sick. Am I to be
bought and sold like this?"