one. He had neither increased nor diminished
his ancestral fortune. A fourth, in the costume
of William III.’s reign, had somewhat added to
the patrimony by becoming a lawyer. He must have
been a successful one. He is inscribed “Sergeant-at-law.”
A fifth, a lieutenant in the army, was killed at
Blenheim; his portrait was that of a very young and
handsome man, taken the year before his death.
His wife’s portrait is placed in the drawing-room
because it was painted by Kneller. She was handsome
too, and married again a nobleman, whose portrait,
of course, was not in the family collection.
Here there was a gap in chronological arrangement,
the lieutenant’s heir being an infant; but in
the time of George II. another Travers appeared as
the governor of a West India colony. His son
took part in a very different movement of the age.
He is represented old, venerable, with white hair,
and underneath his effigy is inscribed, “Follower
of Wesley.” His successor completes the
collection. He is in naval uniform; he is in
full length, and one of his legs is a wooden one.
He is Captain, R.N., and inscribed, “Fought under
Nelson at Trafalgar.” That portrait would
have found more dignified place in the reception-rooms
if the face had not been forbiddingly ugly, and the
picture itself a villanous daub.
“I see,” said Kenelm, stopping short,
“why Cecilia Travers has been reared to talk
of duty as a practical interest in life. These
men of a former time seem to have lived to discharge
a duty, and not to follow the progress of the age
in the chase of a money-bag,—except perhaps
one, but then to be sure he was a lawyer. Kenelm,
rouse up and listen to me; whatever we are, whether
active or indolent, is not my favourite maxim a just
and a true one; namely, ’A good man does good
by living’? But, for that, he must be a
harmony and not a discord. Kenelm, you lazy
dog, we must pack up.”
Kenelm then refilled his portmanteau, and labelled
and directed it to Exmundham, after which he wrote
these three notes:—
TO THE MARCHIONESS OF GLENALVON.
MY DEAR FRIEND AND MONITRESS,—I have left
your last letter a month unanswered. I could
not reply to your congratulations on the event of
my attaining the age of twenty-one. That event
is a conventional sham, and you know how I abhor shams
and conventions. The truth is that I am either
much younger than twenty-one or much older. As
to all designs on my peace in standing for our county
at the next election, I wished to defeat them, and
I have done so; and now I have commenced a course
of travel. I had intended on starting to confine
it to my native country. Intentions are mutable.
I am going abroad. You shall hear of my whereabout.
I write this from the house of Leopold Travers, who,
I understand from his fair daughter, is a connection
of yours; a man to be highly esteemed and cordially
liked.
