THE WIZARD'S SON
A Novel
BY MRS. OLIPHANT
AUTHOR OF "THE CURATE IN CHARGE," "YOUNG MUSGRAVE," ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. I.
London
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1884
[The Right of Translation and Reproduction is Reserved]
LONDON:
R. CLAY, SONS, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,
BREAD STREET HILL.
THE WIZARD'S SON.
CHAPTER I.
The Methvens occupied a little house in the outskirts of a little townwhere there was not very much going on of any description, and stillless which they could take any share in, being, as they were, poor andunable to make any effective response to the civilities shown to them.The family consisted of three persons—the mother, who was a widow withone son; the son himself, who was a young man of three or four andtwenty; and a distant cousin of Mrs. Methven's, who lived with her,having no other home. It was not a very happy household. The mother hada limited income and an anxious temper; the son a somewhat volatile andindolent disposition, and no ambition at all as to his future, noranxiety as to what was going to happen to him in life. This, as may besupposed, was enough to introduce many uneasy elements into their jointexistence; and the third of the party, Miss Merivale, was not of theclass of the peacemakers to whom Scripture allots a special blessing.She had no amiable glamour in her eyes, but saw her friends'imperfections with a clearness of sight which is little conducive tothat happy progress of affairs which is called "getting on." TheMethvens were sufficiently proud to keep their difficulties out of thepublic eye, but on very many occasions, unfortunately, it had becomevery plain to themselves that they did not "get on." It was not any wantof love. Mrs. Methven was herself aware, and her friends were in theconstant habit of saying, that she had sacrificed everything for Walter.Injudicious friends are fond of making such statements, by way, it is tobe supposed, of increasing the devotion and gratitude of the child tothe parent: but the result is, unfortunately, very often the exactcontrary of what is desired—for no one likes to have his duty in thisrespect pointed out to him, and whatever good people may think, it isnot in itself an agreeable thought that "sacrifices" have been made forone, and an obligation placed upon one's shoulders from the beginning oftime, independent of any wish or claim upon the part of the personserved. The makers of sacrifices have seldom the reward whichsurrounding spectators, and in many cases themselves, think their due.Mrs. Methven herself would probably have been at a loss to name whatwere the special sacrifices she had made for Walter. She had remained awidow, but that she would have been eager to add was no sacrifice. Shehad pinched herself more or less to find the means for his education,which had been of what is supposed in England to be the best kind: andshe had, while he was a boy, subordinated her own tastes and pleasuresto his, and eagerly sought out everything that was likely to beagreeable to him. When they took their yearly journey—as it is considerednecessary for him—places that Walter liked, or where he could findamusement, or had friends, were eagerly sought for. "Women," Mrs.Methven said, "can make themselves comfortable anywhere; but a boy, youknow, is quite different." "Quite," Miss Merivale would say: "Oh, if youonly knew them as well as we do; they are creatures entirely withoutresources. You must put their toys into their very han