John Caldigate | Page 4

upon himself to forbid it, but was worked
up by it to perilous jealousy. He did not scruple to declare aloud that
old Humphrey Babington was a thick-headed fool; nor did Humphrey
Babington, who, with his ten or twelve thousand a-year, was
considerably involved, scruple to say that he hated such cheese-paring
ways. John Caldigate felt more distaste to the cheese-paring ways than
he did to his uncle's want of literature.
Such was the beginning of the rupture which took place before the time
had come for John to take his degree. When that time came he had a
couple of hunters at Cambridge, played in the Cambridge eleven, and
rowed in one of the Trinity boats. He also owed something over L800
to the regular tradesmen of the University, and a good deal more to
other creditors who were not 'regular.' During the whole of this time his
visits to Folking had been short and few. The old squire had become
more and more angry, and not the less so because he was sensible of a
non-performance of duty on his own part. Though he was close to
Cambridge he never went to see his son; nor would he even press the
lad to come out to Folking. Nor when, on rare occasions, a visit was
made, did he endeavour to make the house pleasant. He was jealous,
jealous to hot anger, at being neglected, but could not bring himself to
make advances to his own son. Then when he heard from his son's tutor
that his son could not pass his degree without the payment of L800 for
recognised debts,--then his anger boiled over, and he told John
Caldigate that he was expelled from his father's heart and his father's
house.
The money was paid and the degree was taken: and there arose the
question as to what was to be done. John, of course, took himself to
Babington House, and was condoled with by his uncle and cousins. His
troubles at this time were numerous enough. That L800 by no means
summed up his whole indebtedness;--covered indeed but a small part of
it. He had been at Newmarket; and there was a pleasant gentleman,
named Davis, who frequented that place and Cambridge, who had been
very civil to him when he lost a little money, and who now held his
acceptances for, alas! much more than L800. Even uncle Babington

knew nothing of this when the degree was taken. And then there came a
terrible blow to him. Aunt Babington,--aunt Polly as she was
called,--got him into her own closet upstairs, where she kept her linen
and her jams and favourite liqueurs, and told him that his cousin Julia
was dying in love for him. After all that had passed, of course it was
expected he would engage himself to his cousin Julia. Now Julia was
the eldest, the thickest-ankled, and the cherry-cheekedest of the lot. To
him up to that time the Babington folk had always been a unit. No one
else had been so good-natured to him, had so petted him, and so freely
administered to all his wants. He would kiss them all round whenever
he went to Babington; but he had not kissed Julia more than her sisters.
There were three sons, whom he never specially liked, and who
certainly were fools. One was the heir, and, of course, did nothing; the
second was struggling for a degree at Oxford with an eye to the family
living; the third was in a fair way to become the family gamekeeper. He
certainly did not wish to marry into the family;--and yet they had all
been so kind to him!
'I should have nothing to marry on, aunt Polly,' he said.
Then he was reminded that he was his father's heir, and that his father's
house was sadly in want of a mistress. They could live at Babington till
Folking should be ready. The prospect was awful!
What is a young man to say in such a position? 'I do not love the young
lady after that fashion, and therefore I must decline.' It requires a hero,
and a cold-blooded hero, to do that. And aunt Polly was very much in
earnest, for she brought Julia into the room, and absolutely delivered
her up into the young man's arms.
'I am so much in debt,' he said, 'that I don't care to think of it.'
Aunt Polly declared that such debts did not signify in the least. Folking
was not embarrassed. Folking did not owe a shilling. Every one knew
that. And there was Julia in his arms! He never said that he would
marry her; but when he left the linen-closet the two ladies understood
that the thing was arranged.
Luckily for him aunt Polly