The Prime Minister | Page 9

purpose. He was never in
the House himself.'
'And therefore despises it.'
'A little of that, perhaps. No man ever worked harder than he did, or, in
his way, more successfully; and having seen one after another of his
juniors become members of Parliament, while he stuck to the attorneys,
there is perhaps a little jealousy about it.'
'From what I see of the way you live at home, I should think your father
would do anything for you,--with proper management. There is no
doubt, I suppose, that he could afford it?'

'My father never in his life said anything to me about his own money
affairs though he says a great deal about mine. No man ever was closer
than my father. But I believe he could afford almost anything.'
'I wish I had such a father,' said Ferdinand Lopez. 'I think that I should
succeed in ascertaining the extent of his capabilities, and in making
some use of them too.'
Wharton nearly asked his friend,--almost summoned courage to ask
him,--whether his father had done much for him. They were very
intimate; and on one subject, in which Lopez was much interested, their
confidence had been very close. But the younger and weaker man of
the two could not quite bring himself to the point of making an inquiry
which he thought would be disagreeable. Lopez had never before, in all
their intercourse, hinted at the possibility of his having or having had
filial aspirations. He had been as though he had been created
self-sufficient, independent of mother's milk or father's money. Now
the question might have been asked almost naturally. But it was not
asked.
Everett Wharton was a trouble to his father,--but not an agonizing
trouble, as are some sons. His faults were not of a nature to rob his
father's cup of all its sweetness and to bring grey hairs with sorrow to
the grave. Old Wharton had never had to ask himself whether he should
now, at length, let his son fall into the lowest abysses, or whether he
should yet again struggle to put him on his legs, again forgive him,
again pay his debts, again endeavour to forget dishonour, and place it
all to the score of thoughtless youth. Had it been so, I think that, if not
on the first or second fall, certainly on the third, the young man would
have gone into the abyss, for Mr Wharton was a stern man, and capable
of coming to a clear conclusion on things that were nearest and even
dearest to himself. But Everett Wharton had simply shown himself to
be inefficient to earn his own bread. He had never declined even to do
this,--but had simply been inefficient. He had not declared, either by
words or by actions, that as his father was a rich man, and as he was an
only son, he would therefore do nothing. But he had tried his hand
thrice, and in each case, after but short trial, had assured his father and

his friends that the thing had not suited him. Leaving Oxford without a
degree,--for reading of the schools did not suit him,--he had gone into a
banking-house, by no means as a mere clerk, but with an expressed
proposition from his father, backed by the assent of a partner, that he
should work his way up to wealth and a great commercial position. But
six months taught him that banking was an 'abomination', and he at
once went into a course of reading with a barrister. He remained at this
till he was called,--for a man may be called with very little continuous
work. But after he was called the solitude of his chambers was too
much for him, and at twenty-five he found that the Stock Exchange was
the mart in the world for such talents and energies as he possessed.
What was the nature of his failure during the year that he went into the
city, was know only to himself and his father,--unless Ferdinand Lopez
knew something of it also. But at six-and-twenty the Stock Exchange
was also abandoned; and now, at eight-and-twenty, Everett Wharton
had discovered that a parliamentary career was that for which nature
and his special genius had intended him. He had probably suggested
this to his father, and had met with some cold rebuff.
Everett Wharton was a good-looking, manly fellow, six feet high, with
broad shoulders with light hair, wearing a large silky bushy beard,
which made him look older than his years, who neither by his speech
nor by his appearance would ever be taken for a fool, but who showed
by the very actions of his body as well as by the play of his face, that he
lacked firmness of purpose. He certainly was no