The Lost Prince & Little Lord Fauntleroy. Frances Hodgson Burnett

Mr. Havisham presented himself at the Castle, he was taken at once to the Earl. He found him sitting by the fire in a luxurious easy-chair, his foot on a gout-stool. He looked at the lawyer sharply from under his shaggy eyebrows, but Mr. Havisham could see that, in spite of his pretense at calmness, he was nervous and secretly excited.

      “Well,” he said; “well, Havisham, come back, have you? What’s the news?”

      “Lord Fauntleroy and his mother are at Court Lodge,” replied Mr. Havisham. “They bore the voyage very well and are in excellent health.”

      The Earl made a half-impatient sound and moved his hand restlessly.

      “Glad to hear it,” he said brusquely. “So far, so good. Make yourself comfortable. Have a glass of wine and settle down. What else?”

      “His lordship remains with his mother tonight. Tomorrow I will bring him to the Castle.”

      The Earl’s elbow was resting on the arm of his chair; he put his hand up and shielded his eyes with it.

      “Well,” he said; “go on. You know I told you not to write to me about the matter, and I know nothing whatever about it. What kind of a lad is he? I don’t care about the mother; what sort of a lad is he?”

      Mr. Havisham drank a little of the glass of port he had poured out for himself, and sat holding it in his hand.

      “It is rather difficult to judge of the character of a child of seven,” he said cautiously.

      The Earl’s prejudices were very intense. He looked up quickly and uttered a rough word.

      “A fool, is he?” he exclaimed. “Or a clumsy cub? His American blood tells, does it?”

      “I do not think it has injured him, my lord,” replied the lawyer in his dry, deliberate fashion. “I don’t know much about children, but I thought him rather a fine lad.”

      His manner of speech was always deliberate and unenthusiastic, but he made it a trifle more so than usual. He had a shrewd fancy that it would be better that the Earl should judge for himself, and be quite unprepared for his first interview with his grandson.

      “Healthy and well-grown?” asked my lord.

      “Apparently very healthy, and quite well-grown,” replied the lawyer.

      “Straight-limbed and well enough to look at?” demanded the Earl.

      A very slight smile touched Mr. Havisham’s thin lips. There rose up before his mind’s eye the picture he had left at Court Lodge,—the beautiful, graceful child’s body lying upon the tiger-skin in careless comfort—the bright, tumbled hair spread on the rug—the bright, rosy boy’s face.

      “Rather a handsome boy, I think, my lord, as boys go,” he said, “though I am scarcely a judge, perhaps. But you will find him somewhat different from most English children, I dare say.”

      “I haven’t a doubt of that,” snarled the Earl, a twinge of gout seizing him. “A lot of impudent little beggars, those American children; I’ve heard that often enough.”

      “It is not exactly impudence in his case,” said Mr. Havisham. “I can scarcely describe what the difference is. He has lived more with older people than with children, and the difference seems to be a mixture of maturity and childishness.”

      “American impudence!” protested the Earl. “I’ve heard of it before. They call it precocity and freedom. Beastly, impudent bad manners; that’s what it is!”

      Mr. Havisham drank some more port. He seldom argued with his lordly patron,—never when his lordly patron’s noble leg was inflamed by gout. At such times it was always better to leave him alone. So there was a silence of a few moments. It was Mr. Havisham who broke it.

      “I have a message to deliver from Mrs. Errol,” he remarked.

      “I don’t want any of her messages!” growled his lordship; “the less I hear of her the better.”

      “This is a rather important one,” explained the lawyer. “She prefers not to accept the income you proposed to settle on her.”

      The Earl started visibly.

      “What’s that?” he cried out. “What’s that?”

      Mr. Havisham repeated his words.

      “She says it is not necessary, and that as the relations between you are not friendly——”

      “Not friendly!” ejaculated my lord savagely; “I should say they were not friendly! I hate to think of her! A mercenary, sharp-voiced American! I don’t wish to see her.”

      “My lord,” said Mr. Havisham, “you can scarcely call her mercenary. She has asked for nothing. She does not accept the money you offer her.”

      “All done for effect!” snapped his noble lordship. “She wants to wheedle me into seeing her. She thinks I shall admire her spirit. I don’t admire it! It’s only American independence! I won’t have her living like a beggar at my park gates. As she’s the boy’s mother, she has a position to keep up, and she shall keep it up. She shall have the money, whether she likes it or not!”

      “She won’t spend it,” said Mr. Havisham.

      “I don’t care whether she spends it or not!” blustered my lord. “She shall have it sent to her. She sha’n’t tell people that she has to live like a pauper because I have done nothing for her! She wants to give the boy a bad opinion of me! I suppose she has poisoned his mind against me already!”

      “No,” said Mr. Havisham. “I have another message, which will prove to you that she has not done that.”

      “I don’t want to hear it!” panted the Earl, out of breath with anger and excitement and gout.

      But Mr. Havisham delivered it.

      “She asks you not to let Lord Fauntleroy hear anything which would lead him to understand that you separate him from her because of your prejudice against her. He is very fond of her, and she is convinced that it would cause a barrier to exist between you. She says he would not comprehend it, and it might make him fear you in some measure, or at least cause him to feel less affection for you. She has told him that he is too young to understand the reason, but shall hear it when he is older. She wishes that there should be no shadow on your first meeting.”

      The Earl sank back into his chair. His deep-set fierce old eyes gleamed under his beetling brows.

      “Come, now!” he said, still breathlessly. “Come, now! You don’t mean the mother hasn’t told him?”

      “Not one word, my lord,” replied the lawyer coolly. “That I can assure you. The child is prepared to believe you the most amiable and affectionate of grandparents. Nothing—absolutely nothing has been said to him to give him the slightest doubt of your perfection. And as I carried out your commands in every detail, while in New York, he certainly regards you as a wonder of generosity.”

      “He does, eh?” said the Earl.

      “I give you my word of honor,” said Mr. Havisham, “that Lord Fauntleroy’s impressions of you will depend entirely upon yourself. And if you will pardon the liberty I take in making the suggestion, I think you will succeed better with him if you take the precaution not to speak slightingly of his mother.”

      “Pooh, pooh!” said the Earl. “The youngster is only seven years old!”

      “He has spent those seven years at his mother’s side,” returned Mr. Havisham; “and she has all his affection.”

      V

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      It was late in the afternoon when the carriage containing little Lord