Then
there was no bitterness between them, in spite of the fatal division; but
now, it seemed as if there was anger on Thomas Newcome's part, because,
though come together again, they were not united, though with every
outward appliance of happiness Clive was not happy. What young man on
earth could look for more? a sweet young wife, a handsome home, of which
the only encumbrance was an old father, who would give his last drop of
blood in his son's behalf. And it was to bring about this end that Thomas
Newcome had toiled and had amassed a fortune. Could not Clive, with his
talents and education, go down once or twice a week to the City and take
a decent part in the business by which his wealth was secured? He
appeared at the various board-rooms and City conclaves, yawned at the
meetings, and drew figures on the blotting-paper of the Company; had no
interest in its transactions, no heart in its affairs; went away and
galloped his horse alone; or returned to his painting-room, put on his
old velvet jacket, and worked with his palettes and brushes.
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