<h2> <SPAN name="L"> </SPAN> CHAPTER L. <br/><br/> <span class="small"> FEMININE ERROR. </span> </h2>
<p>Meanwhile, at Cross Duck House, ever since that interview of the
morning, things were becoming, from hour to hour, more critical and
threatening. If Mr. Sharp could only have believed that his son was
now a man, or at least should be treated as though he were; and if
after that the too active lawyer could only have conceived it possible
that some things might go on all the better without him; it is likely
enough that his righteous and gallant devices would have sped more
easily.</p>
<p>But Luke Sharp had governed his own little world so long that he
scarcely could imagine serious rebellion. And he cared not to hide his
large contempt for the intellect of Christopher, or the grievance
which he had always felt—at being the father of a donkey. And so,
without further probation or pledge, he went forth to make his own
arrangements, leaving young Kit to his mother's charge, like a dummy,
to be stroked down and dressed.</p>
<p>If he had left Kit but an hour before for his mother to tell him
everything, and round the corners, and smooth the levels, and wrap it
all up in delicious romance, as women do so easily, with their power
of believing whatever they wish, the boy might have jumped at the soft
sweet bait; for he verily loved his sylvan maid. But now all his
virtue and courage, and even temper, were on the outlook; and only one
thing more was needed to drive him to a desperate resolve.</p>
<p>And that one thing was supplied, in the purest innocence, by Mrs.
Sharp; though the question would never have arisen if her son had been
left to her sole handling.</p>
<p>"Then, mother, I suppose," said Kit as simply as if he smelled no rat
whatever, thoroughly as he understood that race, "if I should be
fortunate enough to marry beautiful Miss Oglander, we shall have to
live on bread and cheese, until it shall please the senior people to
be reconciled, and help us?"</p>
<p>"No, Kit! What are you talking of, child? The lady has £20,000 of her
own! And £150,000 to follow, which nobody can take from her!"</p>
<p>With a very heavy heart he turned away. Nothing more was required to
settle him. He saw the whole business of the plotting now; and the
young romance was out of it. He went to the bow-window looking on the
lane, and felt himself akin to a little ragamuffin, who was cheating
all the other boys at marbles. Hard bitterness and keen misery were
battling in his mind which should be the first to have its way and
speak.</p>
<p>"This comes of being a lawyer's son!" he cried, turning round for one
bad glance at his mother. "She said that she disliked the law. I don't
dislike, I abhor it."</p>
<p>"So you may, my dear boy, and welcome now. This will lift you
altogether beyond it. Your dear father may consider it his duty to
continue the office, and so on; but you will be a country gentleman,
Kit, with horses, and dogs, and Manton guns, and a pack of hounds, and
a long barouche, and hot-house grapes. And I will come and live with
you, my darling; or at least make our country house of it, and show
you how to manage things. For the whole world will be trying to cheat
you, Kit; you are too good-natured, and grand in your ways! You must
try to be a little sharper, darling, with that mint of money."</p>
<p>"Must I? But suppose that I won't have it."</p>
<p>"Sometimes I believe that you think it manly to provoke your mother.
The money ought to have been ours, Kit; mine by heritage and justice;
at least a year and a half ago. A moderate provision should have been
made for a woman, who may have her good points—though everybody has
failed to discover them—and who married with a view to jointure. Ten
thousand pounds would have been very handsome—far handsomer than she
ever was, poor thing!—and then by every law, human and divine, all
the rest must have come to you and me, my dear. Now, I hope that you
see things in their proper light."</p>
<p>"Well, I dare say I do," he answered, with a little turn of sulkiness,
such as he often got when people could not understand him. "Mother,
you will allow me to have my own opinion; as you have yours."</p>
<p>"Certainly, Kit! Of course, my dear. You know that you always have
been allowed extraordinary liberty in that way. No boy in any school
could have more; even where all the noblemen's sons are allowed to
make apple-pie beds for the masters. Every night, my dear boy, when
your father was away, it has rested with you, and you cannot deny it,
to settle to a nicety what there must be for supper."</p>
<p>"Such trumpery stuff is not worth a thought. I am now like a fellow
divided in two. You might guess what I am about, a little. It is high
time for me to come forward. You cannot see things, perhaps, as I do.
How often must I tell you? I give you my word as a gentleman—all this
is exceedingly trying."</p>
<p>"Of course it is, Kit; of course it is. What else could be expected of
it? But still, we must all of us go through trials; and then we come
out purified."</p>
<p>"Not if we made them for ourselves, mother; and made them particularly
dirty ones. But I cannot talk of it; what do I know? A lot of things
come tempting me. Everybody laughs at me for wondering what my mind
is. And everybody cheats me, as you said. Let the governor carry on
his own devices. I have made up my mind to consider a good deal, and
behave then according to circumstances."</p>
<p>"You will behave, I trust, exactly as your parents wish. They have
seen so much more of the world than you have; they are far better
judges of right and wrong; and their only desire is your highest
interest. You will break your poor mother's heart, dear Kit, if you do
anything foolish now."</p>
<p>The latter argument had much more weight with young Sharp than the
former; but pledging himself as yet to nothing, he ran away to his own
room to think; while his mother, with serious misgivings, went down to
see about the soup, and hurry on the dinner. She knew that in vaunting
Miss Oglander's wealth she had done the very thing she was ordered not
to do, and she was frightened at the way in which her son had taken
it.</p>
<p>Mr. Sharp did not come home to their early dinner at half-past one
o'clock; indeed, his wife did not expect him much; and his son was
delighted not to see him. Kit sat heavily, but took his food as usual.
The condition of his mind might be very sad indeed, but his body was
not to be driven thereby to neglect the duties of its own department.
He helped his dear mother to some loin of mutton; and when she only
played with it, and her knife and fork were trembling, he was angered,
and his eyes sought hers; and she tried to look at him and smile, but
made a wretched job of it. Christopher reserved his opinion about
this; but it did not help in any way to impair his resolution.</p>
<p>For dessert they had a little dish of strawberries from pot-plants in
the greenhouse; and as they were the first of the season, the young
fellow took to them rather greedily. His mother was charmed with this
condescension, and urged him so well that in about three minutes the
shining red globes ticked with gold were represented by a small,
ignoble pile of frilled stalks blurred with pink. At this moment in
walked the master of the house.</p>
<p>He had been as fully occupied as a certain unobtrusive, but never
inactive, gentleman, proverbially must be in a gale of wind. The day
was unusually warm for the May month, and the streets of Oxford dusty.
Mr. Sharp had been working a roundabout course, and working it very
rapidly; he had managed to snatch at a sandwich or two—for he could
not go long without nourishment—but throughout all his haste he had
given himself, with the brightest vision of refreshing joy, just time
to catch these strawberries. At least he was sure of it. But now,
where were they?</p>
<p>"Ah, I see you know how to snap up a good thing!" cried the lawyer,
with a glance of contempt and wrath; "show the same promptitude in
what has been arranged for your benefit this afternoon, my boy; and
then you will be, in earnest, what you put on your dogs' collars."</p>
<p>This was not the way to treat Kit Sharp; but the lawyer never could
resist a sneer, even when his temper was at its best, which it
certainly was not just now.</p>
<p>Kit looked a little ashamed for a moment, but made no excuse for his
greediness; he was sure that his mother would do that best. By this
time he had resolved to avoid, for the present, all further dispute
with his father. Whatever was arranged for him he would do his best to
accept, with one condition—that he should be allowed to see the young
lady first, and test her good-will towards him, before her "removal"
(as Mr. Sharp mildly called it) was attempted. His sanguine young
heart had long been doing its utmost to convince him that this
sweet-tempered and simple maid could never bring herself to the
terrible cruelty of rejecting him. He felt how unworthy he was; but
still so was everybody else—especially the villain with the four bay
horses: from that scoundrel he would save her, even if he had to
dissemble more than he ever had done before.</p>
<p>Luke Sharp, with his eyes fixed on his son in lofty contemplation,
beheld (as through a grand microscope) these despicable little
reasonings. To argue with Kit was more foolish than filing a
declaration against a man of straw. To suppose that Kit would ever
really rebel was more absurd than to imagine that a case would be
decided upon its merits. "So be it," he said; "but of course, even you
would never be quite such a fool as to tell her what your father and
mother have done for her good."</p>
<p>There still was a little to be done, and some nicety of combination to
see to; and after a short consultation with his wife, and particular
instructions as to management of Kit, Mr. Sharp rode off on his own
stout horse, with a heavily loaded whip and a brace of pistols,
because there were some rogues about.</p>
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