“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.
No, in spite of all your flattering predictions, I
shall never be anything in this life more distinguished
than what I am now. Lady Glenalvon allows me
to sign myself her grateful friend,
K. C.
DEAR COUSIN MIVERS,—I am going abroad.
I may want money; for, in order to rouse motive power
within me, I mean to want money if I can. When
I was a boy of sixteen you offered me money to write
attacks upon veteran authors for “The Londoner.”
Will you give me money now for a similar display of
that grand New Idea of our generation; namely, that
the less a man knows of a subject the better he understands
it? I am about to travel into countries which
I have never seen, and among races I have never known.
My arbitrary judgments on both will be invaluable
to “The Londoner” from a Special Correspondent
who shares your respect for the anonymous, and whose
name is never to be divulged. Direct your answer
by return to me, poste restante, Calais.
Yours truly,
K. C.
MY DEAR FATHER,—I found your letter here,
whence I depart to-morrow.
Excuse haste. I go abroad, and shall write to
you from Calais.
