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diff --git a/old/8wwlv12h.htm b/old/8wwlv12h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd1c0e4 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/8wwlv12h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,40501 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Way We Live Now, by Anthony Trollope</title> +<meta HTTP-EQUIV="content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#ffecdb; + color:black; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + font-size:14pt; + margin-top:100; + margin-left:10%; + margin-right:10%; + text-align:justify} + table {font-size:14pt} + p {text-indent: 4% } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size:10pt;} +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Way We Live Now, by Anthony Trollope</h1> + +<pre> +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Way We Live Now + +Author: Anthony Trollope + +Release Date: March, 2004 [EBook #5231] +[This e-book was first posted on June 10, 2002] +[This edition 12 was first posted on March 1, 2004] + +Edition: 12 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: iso-8859-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE WAY WE LIVE NOW *** + + + + +</pre> +<center> +<h3> +This e-text was prepared by Andrew Turek<br> +and extensively revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br> +<br> +HTML version prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.<br> +</h3> +</center> +<br> +<br> +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h1>THE WAY WE LIVE NOW</h1> + +<h2>by Anthony Trollope</h2> +<br> +<br> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +</center> + + +<table> + +<tr><td align="right">Chapter </td> <td></td> +<tr><td align="right">I. </td> <td><a href="#1" >Three Editors</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">II. </td> <td><a href="#2" >The Carbury Family</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">III. </td> <td><a href="#3" >The Beargarden</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">IV. </td> <td><a href="#4" >Madame Melmotte's Ball</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">V. </td> <td><a href="#5" >After the Ball</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">VI. </td> <td><a href="#6" >Roger Carbury and Paul Montague</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">VII. </td> <td><a href="#7" >Mentor</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">VIII. </td> <td><a href="#8" >Love-Sick</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">IX. </td> <td><a href="#9" >The Great Railway to Vera Cruz</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">X. </td> <td><a href="#10">Mr Fisker's Success</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XI. </td> <td><a href="#11">Lady Carbury at Home</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XII. </td> <td><a href="#12">Sir Felix in His Mother's House</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XIII. </td> <td><a href="#13">The Longestaffes</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XIV. </td> <td><a href="#14">Carbury Manor</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XV. </td> <td><a href="#15">"You should remember that I am his Mother"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XVI. </td> <td><a href="#16">The Bishop and the Priest</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XVII. </td> <td><a href="#17">Marie Melmotte Hears a Love Tale</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XVIII. </td> <td><a href="#18">Ruby Ruggles Hears a Love Tale</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XIX. </td> <td><a href="#19">Hetta Carbury Hears a Love Tale</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XX. </td> <td><a href="#20">Lady Pomona's Dinner Party</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXI. </td> <td><a href="#21">Everybody Goes to Them</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXII. </td> <td><a href="#22">Lord Nidderdale's Morality</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXIII. </td> <td><a href="#23">"Yes;—I'm a Baronet"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXIV. </td> <td><a href="#24">Miles Grendall's Triumph</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXV. </td> <td><a href="#25">In Grosvenor Square</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXVI. </td> <td><a href="#26">Mrs Hurtle</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXVII. </td> <td><a href="#27">Mrs Hurtle Goes to the Play</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#28">Dolly Longestaffe Goes into the City</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXIX. </td> <td><a href="#29">Miss Melmotte's Courage</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXX. </td> <td><a href="#30">Mr Melmotte's Promise</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXI. </td> <td><a href="#31">Mr Broune Has Made up His Mind</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXII. </td> <td><a href="#32">Lady Monogram</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#33">John Crumb</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#34">Ruby Ruggles Obeys Her Grandfather</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXV. </td> <td><a href="#35">Melmotte's Glory</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXVI. </td> <td><a href="#36">Mr Broune's Perils</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXVII. </td> <td><a href="#37">The Board-Room</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#38">Paul Montague's Troubles</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XXXIX. </td> <td><a href="#39">"I do love him"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XL. </td> <td><a href="#40">"Unanimity is the very soul of these things"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLI. </td> <td><a href="#41">All Prepared</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLII. </td> <td><a href="#42">"Can You Be Ready in Ten Minutes?"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLIII. </td> <td><a href="#43">The City Road</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLIV. </td> <td><a href="#44">The Coming Election</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLV. </td> <td><a href="#45">Mr Melmotte Is Pressed for Time</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLVI. </td> <td><a href="#46">Roger Carbury and His Two Friends</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLVII. </td> <td><a href="#47">Mrs Hurtle at Lowestoft</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLVIII. </td> <td><a href="#48">Ruby a Prisoner</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XLIX. </td> <td><a href="#49">Sir Felix Makes Himself Ready</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">L. </td> <td><a href="#50">The Journey to Liverpool</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LI. </td> <td><a href="#51">Which Shall It Be?</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LII. </td> <td><a href="#52">The Results of Love and Wine</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LIII. </td> <td><a href="#53">A Day in the City</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LIV. </td> <td><a href="#54">The India Office</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LV. </td> <td><a href="#55">Clerical Charities</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LVI. </td> <td><a href="#56">Father Barham Visits London</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LVII. </td> <td><a href="#57">Lord Nidderdale Tries His Hand Again</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LVIII. </td> <td><a href="#58">Mr Squercum Is Employed</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LIX. </td> <td><a href="#59">The Dinner</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LX. </td> <td><a href="#60">Miss Longestaffe's Lover</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXI. </td> <td><a href="#61">Lady Monogram Prepares for the Party</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXII. </td> <td><a href="#62">The Party</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXIII. </td> <td><a href="#63">Mr Melmotte on the Day of the Election</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXIV. </td> <td><a href="#64">The Election</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXV. </td> <td><a href="#65">Miss Longestaffe Writes Home</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXVI. </td> <td><a href="#66">"So Shall Be My Enmity"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXVII. </td> <td><a href="#67">Sir Felix Protects His Sister</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#68">Miss Melmotte Declares Her Purpose</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXIX. </td> <td><a href="#69">Melmotte in Parliament</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXX. </td> <td><a href="#70">Sir Felix Meddles with Many Matters</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXI. </td> <td><a href="#71">John Crumb Falls into Trouble</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXII. </td> <td><a href="#72">"Ask Himself"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#73">Marie's Fortune</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#74">Melmotte Makes a Friend</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXV. </td> <td><a href="#75">In Bruton Street</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXVI. </td> <td><a href="#76">Hetta and Her Lover</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXVII. </td> <td><a href="#77">Another Scene in Bruton Street</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXVIII. </td> <td><a href="#78">Miss Longestaffe Again at Caversham</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXIX. </td> <td><a href="#79">The Brehgert Correspondence</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXX. </td> <td><a href="#80">Ruby Prepares for Service</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXI. </td> <td><a href="#81">Mr Cohenlupe Leaves London</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXII. </td> <td><a href="#82">Marie's Perseverance</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXIII. </td> <td><a href="#83">Melmotte Again at the House</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXIV. </td> <td><a href="#84">Paul Montague's Vindication</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXV. </td> <td><a href="#85">Breakfast in Berkeley Square</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXVI. </td> <td><a href="#86">The Meeting in Bruton Street</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXVII. </td> <td><a href="#87">Down at Carbury</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXVIII. </td><td><a href="#88">The Inquest</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">LXXXIX. </td> <td><a href="#89">"The Wheel of Fortune"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XC. </td> <td><a href="#90">Hetta's Sorrow</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCI. </td> <td><a href="#91">The Rivals</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCII. </td> <td><a href="#92">Hamilton K. Fisker Again</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCIII. </td> <td><a href="#93">A True Lover</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCIV. </td> <td><a href="#94">John Crumb's Victory</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCV. </td> <td><a href="#95">The Longestaffe Marriages</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCVI. </td> <td><a href="#96">Where "The Wild Asses Quench Their Thirst"</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCVII. </td> <td><a href="#97">Mrs Hurtle's Fate</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCVIII. </td> <td><a href="#98">Marie Melmotte's Fate</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">XCIX. </td> <td><a href="#99">Lady Carbury and Mr Broune</a></td> +<tr><td align="right">C. </td> <td><a href="#100">Down in Suffolk</a></td> + +</table> + +<br> +<a name="1"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER I. Three Editors</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Let the reader be introduced to Lady Carbury, upon whose character +and doings much will depend of whatever interest these pages may have, +as she sits at her writing-table in her own room in her own house in +Welbeck Street. Lady Carbury spent many hours at her desk, and +wrote many letters,—wrote also very much beside letters. She +spoke of herself in these days as a woman devoted to Literature, always +spelling the word with a big L. Something of the nature of her +devotion may be learned by the perusal of three letters which on this +morning she had written with a quickly running hand. Lady Carbury +was rapid in everything, and in nothing more rapid than in the writing +of letters. Here is Letter No. 1;— +<br> + +<blockquote> +<i> +<br> +Thursday, Welbeck Street.<br> +<br> +DEAR FRIEND,<br> +<br> + I have taken care that you shall have +the early sheets of my two new volumes to-morrow, or Saturday at +latest, so that you may, if so minded, give a poor struggler like +myself a lift in your next week's paper. Do give a poor +struggler a lift. You and I have so much in common, and I have +ventured to flatter myself that we are really friends! I do not +flatter you when I say, that not only would aid from you help me more +than from any other quarter, but also that praise from you would +gratify my vanity more than any other praise. I almost think +you will like my "Criminal Queens." The sketch of Semiramis is +at any rate spirited, though I had to twist it about a little to +bring her in guilty. Cleopatra, of course, I have taken from +Shakespeare. What a wench she was! I could not quite make +Julia a queen; but it was impossible to pass over so piquant a +character. You will recognise in the two or three ladies of the +empire how faithfully I have studied my Gibbon. Poor dear old +Belisarius! I have done the best I could with Joanna, but I +could not bring myself to care for her. In our days she would +simply have gone to Broadmore. I hope you will not think that I +have been too strong in my delineations of Henry VIII and his sinful +but unfortunate Howard. I don't care a bit about Anne +Boleyne. I am afraid that I have been tempted into too great +length about the Italian Catherine; but in truth she has been my +favourite. What a woman! What a devil! Pity that a +second Dante could not have constructed for her a special hell. +How one traces the effect of her training in the life of our Scotch +Mary. I trust you will go with me in my view as to the Queen of +Scots. Guilty! guilty always! Adultery, murder, treason, +and all the rest of it. But recommended to mercy because she +was royal. A queen bred, born and married, and with such other +queens around her, how could she have escaped to be guilty? +Marie Antoinette I have not quite acquitted. It would be +uninteresting;—perhaps untrue. I have accused her lovingly, +and have kissed when I scourged. I trust the British public +will not be angry because I do not whitewash Caroline, especially as +I go along with them altogether in abusing her husband.<br> +<br> + But I must not take up your time by +sending you another book, though it gratifies me to think that I am +writing what none but yourself will read. Do it yourself, like +a dear man, and, as you are great, be merciful. Or rather, as +you are a friend, be loving.<br> +<br> + Yours gratefully and faithfully,<br> +<br> + MATILDA CARBURY. +<br> +<br> + After all how few women there are who +can raise themselves above the quagmire of what we call love, and +make themselves anything but playthings for men. Of almost all +these royal and luxurious sinners it was the chief sin that in some +phase of their lives they consented to be playthings without being +wives. I have striven so hard to be proper; but when girls read +everything, why should not an old woman write anything?<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> +<p>This letter was addressed to Nicholas Broune, Esq., the editor of +the "Morning Breakfast Table," a daily newspaper of high character; +and, as it was the longest, so was it considered to be the most +important of the three. Mr Broune was a man powerful in his +profession,—and he was fond of ladies. Lady Carbury in her +letter had called herself an old woman, but she was satisfied to do so +by a conviction that no one else regarded her in that light. Her +age shall be no secret to the reader, though to her most intimate +friends, even to Mr Broune, it had never been divulged. She was +forty-three, but carried her years so well, and had received such +gifts from nature, that it was impossible to deny that she was still a +beautiful woman. And she used her beauty not only to increase +her influence,—as is natural to women who are well-favoured,—but +also with a well-considered calculation that she could obtain material +assistance in the procuring of bread and cheese, which was very +necessary to Her, by a prudent adaptation to her purposes of the good +things with which providence had endowed her. She did not fall +in love, she did not wilfully flirt, she did not commit herself; but +she smiled and whispered, and made confidences, and looked out of her +own eyes into men's eyes as though there might be some mysterious bond +between her and them—if only mysterious circumstances would permit +it. But the end of all was to induce some one to do something +which would cause a publisher to give her good payment for indifferent +writing, or an editor to be lenient when, upon the merits of the case, +he should have been severe. Among all her literary friends, Mr +Broune was the one in whom she most trusted; and Mr Broune was fond of +handsome women. It may be as well to give a short record of a +scene which had taken place between Lady Carbury and her friend about +a month before the writing of this letter which has been +produced. She had wanted him to take a series of papers for the +"Morning Breakfast Table," and to have them paid for at rate No. 1, +whereas she suspected that he was rather doubtful as to their merit, +and knew that, without special favour, she could not hope for +remuneration above rate No. 2, or possibly even No. 3. So she +had looked into his eyes, and had left her soft, plump hand for a +moment in his. A man in such circumstances is so often awkward, +not knowing with any accuracy when to do one thing and when +another! Mr Broune, in a moment of enthusiasm, had put his arm +round Lady Carbury's waist and had kissed her. To say that Lady +Carbury was angry, as most women would be angry if so treated, would +be to give an unjust idea of her character. It was a little +accident which really carried with it no injury, unless it should be +the injury of leading to a rupture between herself and a valuable +ally. No feeling of delicacy was shocked. What did it +matter? No unpardonable insult had been offered; no harm had +been done, if only the dear susceptible old donkey could be made at +once to understand that that wasn't the way to go on! + +<p>Without a flutter, and without a blush, she escaped from his arm, +and then made him an excellent little speech. "Mr Broune, how +foolish, how wrong, how mistaken! Is it not so? Surely +you do not wish to put an end to the friendship between us!" + +<p>"Put an end to our friendship, Lady Carbury! Oh, certainly +not that." + +<p>"Then why risk it by such an act? Think of my son and of my +daughter,—both grown up. Think of the past troubles of my +life,—so much suffered and so little deserved. No one knows +them so well as you do. Think of my name, that has been so often +slandered but never disgraced! Say that you are sorry, and it +shall be forgotten." + +<p>When a man has kissed a woman it goes against the grain with him to +say the very next moment that he is sorry for what he has done. +It is as much as to declare that the kiss had not answered his +expectation. Mr Broune could not do this, and perhaps Lady +Carbury did not quite expect it. "You know that for world I +would not offend you," he said. This sufficed. Lady +Carbury again looked into his eyes, and a promise was given that the +articles should be printed—and with generous remuneration. + +<p>When the interview was over Lady Carbury regarded it as having been +quite successful. Of course when struggles have to be made and +hard work done, there will be little accidents. The lady who +uses a street cab must encounter mud and dust which her richer +neighbour, who has a private carriage, will escape. She would +have preferred not to have been kissed;—but what did it matter? +With Mr Broune the affair was more serious. "Confound them all," +he said to himself as he left the house; "no amount of experience +enables a man to know them." As he went away he almost thought +that Lady Carbury had intended him to kiss her again, and he was +almost angry with himself in that he had not done so. He had +seen her three or four times since, but had not repeated the offence. + +<p>We will now go on to the other letters, both of which were +addressed to the editors of other newspapers. The second was +written to Mr Booker, of the "Literary Chronicle." Mr Booker +was a hard-working professor of literature, by no means without +talent, by no means without influence, and by no means without a +conscience. But, from the nature of the struggles in which he +had been engaged, by compromises which had gradually been driven upon +him by the encroachment of brother authors on the one side and by the +demands on the other of employers who looked only to their profits, +he had fallen into a routine of work in which it was very difficult +to be scrupulous, and almost impossible to maintain the delicacies of +a literary conscience. He was now a bald-headed old man of +sixty, with a large family of daughters, one of whom was a widow +dependent on him with two little children. He had five hundred +a year for editing the "Literary Chronicle," which, through his +energy, had become a valuable property. He wrote for magazines, +and brought out some book of his own almost annually. He kept +his head above water, and was regarded by those who knew about him, +but did not know him, as a successful man. He always kept up +his spirits, and was able in literary circles to show that he could +hold his own. But he was driven by the stress of circumstances +to take such good things as came in his way, and could hardly afford +to be independent. It must be confessed that literary scruple +had long departed from his mind. Letter No. 2 was as follows;— +<br> +<blockquote> +<br> +<i> +Welbeck Street, 25th February, 187-.<br> +<br> +DEAR MR BOOKER,<br> +<br> + I have told Mr Leadham </i>[Mr Leadham +was senior partner in the enterprising firm of publishers known as +Messrs. Leadham and Loiter] <i> to send you an early copy of my +"Criminal Queens." I have already settled with my friend Mr +Broune that I am to do your "New Tale of a Tub" in the "Breakfast +Table." Indeed, I am about it now, and am taking great pains +with it. If there is anything you wish to have specially said +as to your view of the Protestantism of the time, let me know. +I should like you to say a word as to the accuracy of my historical +details, which I know you can safely do. Don't put it off, as +the sale does so much depend on early notices. I am only +getting a royalty, which does not commence till the first four +hundred are sold.<br> +<br> + Yours sincerely,<br> +<br> + MATILDA CARBURY.<br> +<br> +ALFRED BOOKER, ESQ.,<br> +<br> +"Literary Chronicle" Office, Strand.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> +<p>There was nothing in this which shocked Mr Booker. He +laughed inwardly, with a pleasantly reticent chuckle, as he thought +of Lady Carbury dealing with his views of Protestantism,—as he thought +also of the numerous historical errors into which that clever lady +must inevitably fall in writing about matters of which he believed +her to know nothing. But he was quite alive to the fact that a +favourable notice in the "Breakfast Table" of his very thoughtful +work, called the "New Tale of a Tub," would serve him, even though +written by the hand of a female literary charlatan, and he would have +no compunction as to repaying the service by fulsome praise in the +"Literary Chronicle." He would not probably say that the book +was accurate, but he would be able to declare that it was delightful +reading, that the feminine characteristics of the queens had been +touched with a masterly hand, and that the work was one which would +certainly make its way into all drawing-rooms. He was an adept +at this sort of work, and knew well how to review such a book as Lady +Carbury's "Criminal Queens," without bestowing much trouble on the +reading. He could almost do it without cutting the book, so +that its value for purposes of after sale might not be injured. +And yet Mr Booker was an honest man, and had set his face +persistently against many literary malpractices. Stretched-out +type, insufficient lines, and the French habit of meandering with a +few words over an entire page, had been rebuked by him with +conscientious strength. He was supposed to be rather an +Aristides among reviewers. But circumstanced as he was he could +not oppose himself altogether to the usages of the time. "Bad; +of course it is bad," he said to a young friend who was working with +him on his periodical. "Who doubts that? How many very +bad things are there that we do! But if we were to attempt to +reform all our bad ways at once, we should never do any good +thing. I am not strong enough to put the world straight, and I +doubt if you are." Such was Mr Booker. + +<p>Then there was letter No. 3, to Mr Ferdinand Alf. Mr Alf +managed, and, as it was supposed, chiefly owned, the "Evening +Pulpit," which during the last two years had become "quite a +property," as men connected with the press were in the habit of +saying. The "Evening Pulpit" was supposed to give daily to its +readers all that had been said and done up to two o'clock in the day +by all the leading people in the metropolis, and to prophesy with +wonderful accuracy what would be the sayings and doings of the twelve +following hours. This was effected with an air of wonderful +omniscience, and not unfrequently with an ignorance hardly surpassed +by its arrogance. But the writing was clever. The facts, +if not true, were well invented; the arguments, if not logical, were +seductive. The presiding spirit of the paper had the gift, at +any rate, of knowing what the people for whom he catered would like +to read, and how to get his subjects handled so that the reading +should be pleasant. Mr Booker's "Literary Chronicle" did not +presume to entertain any special political opinions. The +"Breakfast Table" was decidedly Liberal. The "Evening Pulpit" +was much given to politics, but held strictly to the motto which it +had assumed;— + +<blockquote> + "Nullius addictus jurare in verba magistri" +</blockquote> + +and consequently had at all times the invaluable privilege of abusing +what was being done, whether by one side or by the other. A +newspaper that wishes to make its fortune should never waste its +columns and weary its readers by praising anything. Eulogy is +invariably dull,—a fact that Mr Alf had discovered and had utilized. + +<p>Mr Alf had, moreover, discovered another fact. Abuse from +those who occasionally praise is considered to be personally +offensive, and they who give personal offence will sometimes make the +world too hot to hold them. But censure from those who are +always finding fault is regarded so much as a matter of course that +it ceases to be objectionable. The caricaturist, who draws only +caricatures, is held to be justifiable, let him take what liberties +he may with a man's face and person. It is his trade, and his +business calls upon him to vilify all that he touches. But were +an artist to publish a series of portraits, in which two out of a +dozen were made to be hideous, he would certainly make two enemies, +if not more. Mr Alf never made enemies, for he praised no one, +and, as far as the expression of his newspaper went, was satisfied +with nothing. + +<p>Personally, Mr Alf was a remarkable man. No one knew whence +he came or what he had been. He was supposed to have been born +a German Jew; and certain ladies said that they could distinguish in +his tongue the slightest possible foreign accent. Nevertheless +it was conceded to him that he knew England as only an Englishman can +know it. During the last year or two he had "come up" as the +phrase goes, and had come up very thoroughly. He had been +blackballed at three or four clubs, but had effected an entrance at +two or three others, and had learned a manner of speaking of those +which had rejected him calculated to leave on the minds of hearers a +conviction that the societies in question were antiquated, imbecile, +and moribund. He was never weary of implying that not to know +Mr Alf, not to be on good terms with Mr Alf, not to understand that +let Mr Alf have been born where he might and how he might he was +always to be recognized as a desirable acquaintance, was to be +altogether out in the dark. And that which he so constantly +asserted, or implied, men and women around him began at last to +believe,—and Mr Alf became an acknowledged something in the different +worlds of politics, letters, and fashion. + +<p>He was a good-looking man, about forty years old, but carrying +himself as though he was much younger, spare, below the middle +height, with dark brown hair which would have shown a tinge of grey +but for the dyer's art, with well-cut features, with a smile +constantly on his mouth the pleasantness of which was always belied +by the sharp severity of his eyes. He dressed with the utmost +simplicity, but also with the utmost care. He was unmarried, +had a small house of his own close to Berkeley Square at which he +gave remarkable dinner parties, kept four or five hunters in +Northamptonshire, and was reputed to earn £6,000 a year out of the +"Evening Pulpit" and to spend about half of that income. He +also was intimate after his fashion with Lady Carbury, whose +diligence in making and fostering useful friendships had been +unwearied. Her letter to Mr Alf was as follows: +<br> +<blockquote> +<br> +<i> +DEAR MR ALF,<br> +<br> + Do tell me who wrote the review on +Fitzgerald Barker's last poem. Only I know you won't. I +remember nothing done so well. I should think the poor wretch +will hardly hold his head up again before the autumn. But it +was fully deserved. I have no patience with the pretensions of +would-be poets who contrive by toadying and underground influences to +get their volumes placed on every drawing-room table. I know no +one to whom the world has been so good-natured in this way as to +Fitzgerald Barker, but I have heard of no one who has extended the +good nature to the length of reading his poetry.<br> +<br> + Is it not singular how some men +continue to obtain the reputation of popular authorship without +adding a word to the literature of their country worthy of +note? It is accomplished by unflagging assiduity in the system +of puffing. To puff and to get one's self puffed have become +different branches of a new profession. Alas, me! I wish +I might find a class open in which lessons could be taken by such a +poor tyro as myself. Much as I hate the thing from my very +soul, and much as I admire the consistency with which the "Pulpit" +has opposed it, I myself am so much in want of support for my own +little efforts, and am struggling so hard honestly to make for myself +a remunerative career, that I think, were the opportunity offered to +me, I should pocket my honour, lay aside the high feeling which tells +me that praise should be bought neither by money nor friendship, and +descend among the low things, in order that I might one day have the +pride of feeling that I had succeeded by my own work in providing for +the needs of my children.<br> +<br> + But I have not as yet commenced the +descent downwards; and therefore I am still bold enough to tell you +that I shall look, not with concern but with a deep interest, to +anything which may appear in the "Pulpit" respecting my "Criminal +Queens." I venture to think that the book,—though I wrote it +myself,—has an importance of its own which will secure for it some +notice. That my inaccuracy will be laid bare and presumption +scourged I do not in the least doubt, but I think your reviewer will +be able to certify that the sketches are lifelike and the portraits +well considered. You will not hear me told, at any rate, that I +had better sit at home and darn my stockings, as you said the other +day of that poor unfortunate Mrs Effington Stubbs.<br> +<br> + I have not seen you for the last three +weeks. I have a few friends every Tuesday evening;—pray come +next week or the week following. And pray believe that no +amount of editorial or critical severity shall make me receive you +otherwise than with a smile.<br> +<br> + Most sincerely yours,<br> +<br> + MATILDA CARBURY.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> +<p>Lady Carbury, having finished her third letter, threw herself back +in her chair, and for a moment or two closed her eyes, as though +about to rest. But she soon remembered that the activity of her +life did not admit of such rest. She therefore seized her pen +and began scribbling further notes. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="2"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER II. The Carbury Family</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Something of herself and condition Lady Carbury has told the +reader in the letters given in the former chapter, but more must be +added. She has declared she had been cruelly slandered; but she +has also shown that she was not a woman whose words about herself +could be taken with much confidence. If the reader does not +understand so much from her letters to the three editors they have +been written in vain. She has been made to say that her object +in work was to provide for the need of her children, and that with +that noble purpose before her she was struggling to make for herself +a career in literature. Detestably false as had been her +letters to the editors, absolutely and abominably foul as was the +entire system by which she was endeavouring to achieve success, far +away from honour and honesty as she had been carried by her ready +subserviency to the dirty things among which she had lately fallen, +nevertheless her statements about herself were substantially +true. She had been ill-treated. She had been +slandered. She was true to her children,—especially devoted to +one of them—and was ready to work her nails off if by doing so she +could advance their interests. + +<p>She was the widow of one Sir Patrick Carbury, who many years since +had done great things as a soldier in India, and had been thereupon +created a baronet. He had married a young wife late in life +and, having found out when too late that he had made a mistake, had +occasionally spoilt his darling and occasionally ill-used her. +In doing each he had done it abundantly. Among Lady Carbury's +faults had never been that of even incipient,—not even of +sentimental—infidelity to her husband. When as a lovely and +penniless girl of eighteen she had consented to marry a man of +forty-four who had the spending of a large income, she had made up +her mind to abandon all hope of that sort of love which poets +describe and which young people generally desire to experience. +Sir Patrick at the time of his marriage was red-faced, stout, bald, +very choleric, generous in money, suspicious in temper, and +intelligent. He knew how to govern men. He could read and +understand a book. There was nothing mean about him. He +had his attractive qualities. He was a man who might be +loved,—but he was hardly a man for love. The young Lady +Carbury had understood her position and had determined to do her +duty. She had resolved before she went to the altar that she +would never allow herself to flirt and she had never flirted. +For fifteen years things had gone tolerably well with her,—by which +it is intended that the reader should understand that they had so +gone that she had been able to tolerate them. They had been +home in England for three or four years, and then Sir Patrick had +returned with some new and higher appointment. For fifteen +years, though he had been passionate, imperious, and often cruel, he +had never been jealous. A boy and a girl had been born to them, +to whom both father and mother had been over indulgent,—but the +mother, according to her lights, had endeavoured to do her duty by +them. But from the commencement of her life she had been +educated in deceit, and her married life had seemed to make the +practice of deceit necessary to her. Her mother had run away +from her father, and she had been tossed to and fro between this and +that protector, sometimes being in danger of wanting any one to care +for her, till she had been made sharp, incredulous, and untrustworthy +by the difficulties of her position. But she was clever, and +had picked up an education and good manners amidst the difficulties +of her childhood,—and had been beautiful to look at. + +<p>To marry and have the command of money, to do her duty correctly, +to live in a big house and be respected, had been her ambition,—and +during the first fifteen years of her married life she was successful +amidst great difficulties. She would smile within five minutes +of violent ill-usage. Her husband would even strike her,—and +the first effort of her mind would be given to conceal the fact from +all the world. In latter years he drank too much, and she +struggled hard first to prevent the evil, and then to prevent and to +hide the ill effects of the evil. But in doing all this she +schemed, and lied, and lived a life of manoeuvres. Then, at +last, when she felt that she was no longer quite a young woman, she +allowed herself to attempt to form friendships for herself, and among +her friends was one of the other sex. If fidelity in a wife be +compatible with such friendship, if the married state does not exact +from a woman the necessity of debarring herself from all friendly +intercourse with any man except her lord, Lady Carbury was not +faithless. But Sir Carbury became jealous, spoke words which +even she could not endure, did things which drove even her beyond the +calculations of her prudence,—and she left him. But even this +she did in so guarded a way that, as to every step she took, she +could prove her innocence. Her life at that period is of little +moment to our story, except that it is essential that the reader +should know in what she had been slandered. For a month or two +all hard words had been said against her by her husband's friends, +and even by Sir Patrick himself. But gradually the truth was +known, and after a year's separation they came again together and she +remained the mistress of his house till he died. She brought +him home to England, but during the short period left to him of life +in his old country he had been a worn-out, dying invalid. But +the scandal of her great misfortune had followed her, and some people +were never tired of reminding others that in the course of her +married life Lady Carbury had run away from her husband, and had been +taken back again by the kind-hearted old gentleman. + +<p>Sir Patrick had left behind him a moderate fortune, though by no +means great wealth. To his son, who was now Sir Felix Carbury, +he had left £1,000 a year; and to his widow as much, with a provision +that after her death the latter sum should be divided between his son +and daughter. It therefore came to pass that the young man, who +had already entered the army when his father died, and upon whom +devolved no necessity of keeping a house, and who in fact not +unfrequently lived in his mother's house, had an income equal to that +with which his mother and sister were obliged to maintain a roof over +their head. Now Lady Carbury, when she was released from her +thraldom at the age of forty, had no idea at all of passing her +future life amidst the ordinary penances of widowhood. She had +hitherto endeavoured to do her duty, knowing that in accepting her +position she was bound to take the good and the bad together. +She had certainly encountered hitherto much that was bad. To be +scolded, watched, beaten, and sworn at by a choleric old man till she +was at last driven out of her house by the violence of his ill-usage; +to be taken back as a favour with the assurance that her name would +for the remainder of her life be unjustly tarnished; to have her +flight constantly thrown in her face; and then at last to become for +a year or two the nurse of a dying debauchee, was a high price to pay +for such good things as she had hitherto enjoyed. Now at length +had come to her a period of relaxation—her reward, her freedom, her +chance of happiness. She thought much about herself, and +resolved on one or two things. The time for love had gone by, +and she would have nothing to do with it. Nor would she marry +again for convenience. But she would have friends,—real friends; +friends who could help her,—and whom possibly she might help. +She would, too, make some career for herself, so that life might not +be without an interest to her. She would live in London, and +would become somebody at any rate in some circle. Accident at +first rather than choice had thrown her among literary people, but +that accident had, during the last two years, been supported and +corroborated by the desire which had fallen upon her of earning +money. She had known from the first that economy would be +necessary to her,—not chiefly or perhaps not at all from a feeling +that she and her daughter could not live comfortably together on a +thousand a year,—but on behalf of her son. She wanted no luxury +but a house so placed that people might conceive of her that she +lived in a proper part of the town. Of her daughter's prudence +she was as well convinced as of her own. She could trust +Henrietta in everything. But her son, Sir Felix, was not very +trustworthy. And yet Sir Felix was the darling of her heart. + +<p>At the time of the writing of the three letters, at which our +story is supposed to begin, she was driven very hard for money. +Sir Felix was then twenty-five, had been in a fashionable regiment +for four years, had already sold out, and, to own the truth at once, +had altogether wasted the property which his father had left +him. So much the mother knew,—and knew, therefore, that with +her limited income she must maintain not only herself and daughter, +but also the baronet. She did not know, however, the amount of +the baronet's obligations;—nor, indeed, did he, or any one +else. A baronet, holding a commission in the Guards, and known +to have had a fortune left him by his father, may go very far in +getting into debt; and Sir Felix had made full use of all his +privileges. His life had been in every way bad. He had +become a burden on his mother so heavy,—and on his sister +also,—that their life had become one of unavoidable +embarrassments. But not for a moment, had either of them ever +quarrelled with him. Henrietta had been taught by the conduct +of both father and mother that every vice might be forgiven in a man +and in a son, though every virtue was expected from a woman, and +especially from a daughter. The lesson had come to her so early +in life that she had learned it without the feeling of any +grievance. She lamented her brother's evil conduct as it +affected him, but she pardoned it altogether as it affected +herself. That all her interests in life should be made +subservient to him was natural to her; and when she found that her +little comforts were discontinued, and her moderate expenses +curtailed, because he, having eaten up all that was his own, was now +eating up also all that was his mother's, she never complained. +Henrietta had been taught to think that men in that rank of life in +which she had been born always did eat up everything. + +<p>The mother's feeling was less noble,—or perhaps, it might better +be said, more open to censure. The boy, who had been beautiful +as a star, had ever been the cynosure of her eyes, the one thing on +which her heart had riveted itself. Even during the career of +his folly she had hardly ventured to say a word to him with the +purport of stopping him on his road to ruin. In everything she +had spoilt him as a boy, and in everything she still spoilt him as a +man. She was almost proud of his vices, and had taken delight +in hearing of doings which if not vicious of themselves had been +ruinous from their extravagance. She had so indulged him that +even in her own presence he was never ashamed of his own selfishness +or apparently conscious of the injustice which he did to others. + +<p>From all this it had come to pass that that dabbling in literature +which had been commenced partly perhaps from a sense of pleasure in +the work, partly as a passport into society, had been converted into +hard work by which money if possible might be earned. So that +Lady Carbury when she wrote to her friends, the editors, of her +struggles was speaking the truth. Tidings had reached her of +this and the other man's success, and,—coming near to her still,—of +this and that other woman's earnings in literature. And it had +seemed to her that, within moderate limits, she might give a wide +field to her hopes. Why should she not add a thousand a year to +her income, so that Felix might again live like a gentleman and marry +that heiress who, in Lady Carbury's look-out into the future, was +destined to make all things straight! Who was so handsome as +her son? Who could make himself more agreeable? Who had +more of that audacity which is the chief thing necessary to the +winning of heiresses? + +<p>And then he could make his wife Lady Carbury. If only enough +money might be earned to tide over the present evil day, all might be +well. + +<p>The one most essential obstacle to the chance of success in all +this was probably Lady Carbury's conviction that her end was to be +obtained not by producing good books, but by inducing certain people +to say that her books were good. She did work hard at what she +wrote,—hard enough at any rate to cover her pages quickly; and was, +by nature, a clever woman. She could write after a glib, +commonplace, sprightly fashion, and had already acquired the knack of +spreading all she knew very thin, so that it might cover a vast +surface. She had no ambition to write a good book, but was +painfully anxious to write a book that the critics should say was +good. Had Mr Broune, in his closet, told her that her book was +absolutely trash, but had undertaken at the same time to have it +violently praised in the "Breakfast Table", it may be doubted whether +the critic's own opinion would have even wounded her vanity. +The woman was false from head to foot, but there was much of good in +her, false though she was. + +<p>Whether Sir Felix, her son, had become what he was solely by bad +training, or whether he had been born bad, who shall say? It is +hardly possible that he should not have been better had he been taken +away as an infant and subjected to moral training by moral +teachers. And yet again it is hardly possible that any training +or want of training should have produced a heart so utterly incapable +of feeling for others as was his. He could not even feel his +own misfortunes unless they touched the outward comforts of the +moment. It seemed that he lacked sufficient imagination to +realise future misery though the futurity to be considered was +divided from the present but by a single month, a single week,—but by +a single night. He liked to be kindly treated, to be praised +and petted, to be well fed and caressed; and they who so treated him +were his chosen friends. He had in this the instincts of a horse, not +approaching the higher sympathies of a dog. But it cannot be +said of him that he had ever loved any one to the extent of denying +himself a moment's gratification on that loved one's behalf. +His heart was a stone. But he was beautiful to lock at, +ready-witted, and intelligent. He was very dark, with that soft +olive complexion which so generally gives to young men an appearance +of aristocratic breeding. His hair, which was never allowed to +become long, was nearly black, and was soft and silky without that +taint of grease which is so common with silken-headed darlings. +His eyes were long, brown in colour, and were made beautiful by the +perfect arch of the perfect eyebrow. But perhaps the glory of +the face was due more to the finished moulding and fine symmetry of +the nose and mouth than to his other features. On his short +upper lip he had a moustache as well formed as his eyebrows, but he +wore no other beard. The form of his chin too was perfect, but +it lacked that sweetness and softness of expression, indicative of +softness of heart, which a dimple conveys. He was about five +feet nine in height, and was as excellent in figure as in face. +It was admitted by men and clamorously asserted by women that no man +had ever been more handsome than Felix Carbury, and it was admitted +also that he never showed consciousness of his beauty. He had +given himself airs on many scores;—on the score of his money, poor +fool, while it lasted; on the score of his title; on the score of his +army standing till he lost it; and especially on the score of +superiority in fashionable intellect. But he had been clever +enough to dress himself always with simplicity and to avoid the +appearance of thought about his outward man. As yet the little +world of his associates had hardly found out how callous were his +affections,—or rather how devoid he was of affection. His airs +and his appearance, joined with some cleverness, had carried him +through even the viciousness of his life. In one matter he had +marred his name, and by a moment's weakness had injured his character +among his friends more than he had done by the folly of three +years. There had been a quarrel between him and a brother +officer, in which he had been the aggressor; and, when the moment +came in which a man's heart should have produced manly conduct, he +had first threatened and had then shown the white feather. That +was now a year since, and he had partly outlived the evil;—but some +men still remembered that Felix Carbury had been cowed, and had +cowered. + +<p>It was now his business to marry an heiress. He was well +aware that it was so, and was quite prepared to face his +destiny. But he lacked something in the art of making +love. He was beautiful, had the manners of a gentleman, could +talk well, lacked nothing of audacity, and had no feeling of +repugnance at declaring a passion which he did not feel. But he +knew so little of the passion, that he could hardly make even a young +girl believe that he felt it. When he talked of love, he not +only thought that he was talking nonsense, but showed that he thought +so. From this fault he had already failed with one young lady +reputed to have £40,000, who had refused him because, as she naively +said, she knew "he did not really care." "How can I show that I +care more than by wishing to make you my wife?" he had asked. +"I don't know that you can, but all the same you don't care," she +said. And so that young lady escaped the pitfall. Now +there was another young lady, to whom the reader shall be introduced +in time, whom Sir Felix was instigated to pursue with unremitting +diligence. Her wealth was not defined, as had been the £40,000 +of her predecessor, but was known to be very much greater than +that. It was, indeed, generally supposed to be fathomless, +bottomless, endless. It was said that in regard to money for +ordinary expenditure, money for houses, servants, horses, jewels, and +the like, one sum was the same as another to the father of this young +lady. He had great concerns;—concerns so great that the payment +of ten or twenty thousand pounds upon any trifle was the same thing +to him,—as to men who are comfortable in their circumstances it +matters little whether they pay sixpence or ninepence for their +mutton chops. Such a man may be ruined at any time; but there +was no doubt that to anyone marrying his daughter during the present +season of his outrageous prosperity he could give a very large +fortune indeed. Lady Carbury, who had known the rock on which +her son had been once wrecked, was very anxious that Sir Felix should +at once make a proper use of the intimacy which he had effected in +the house of this topping Croesus of the day. + +<p>And now there must be a few words said about Henrietta +Carbury. Of course she was of infinitely less importance than +her brother, who was a baronet, the head of that branch of the +Carburys, and her mother's darling; and, therefore, a few words +should suffice. She also was very lovely, being like her +brother; but somewhat less dark and with features less absolutely +regular. But she had in her countenance a full measure of that +sweetness of expression which seems to imply that consideration of +self is subordinated to consideration for others. This +sweetness was altogether lacking to her brother. And her face +was a true index of her character. Again, who shall say why the +brother and sister had become so opposite to each other; whether they +would have been thus different had both been taken away as infants +from their father's and mother's training, or whether the girl's +virtues were owing altogether to the lower place which she had held +in her parent's heart? She, at any rate, had not been spoilt by +a title, by the command of money, and by the temptations of too early +acquaintance with the world. At the present time she was barely +twenty-one years old, and had not seen much of London society. +Her mother did not frequent balls, and during the last two years +there had grown upon them a necessity for economy which was inimical +to many gloves and costly dresses. Sir Felix went out of +course, but Hetta Carbury spent most of her time at home with her +mother in Welbeck Street. Occasionally the world saw her, and +when the world did see her the world declared that she was a charming +girl. The world was so far right. + +<p>But for Henrietta Carbury the romance of life had already +commenced in real earnest. There was another branch of the +Carburys, the head branch, which was now represented by one Roger +Carbury, of Carbury Hall. Roger Carbury was a gentleman of whom +much will have to be said, but here, at this moment, it need only be +told that he was passionately in love with his cousin +Henrietta. He was, however, nearly forty years old, and there +was one Paul Montague whom Henrietta had seen. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="3"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER III. The Beargarden</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lady Carbury's house in Welbeck Street was a modest house enough,— +with no pretensions to be a mansion, hardly assuming even to be a +residence; but, having some money in her hands when she first took +it, she had made it pretty and pleasant, and was still proud to feel +that in spite of the hardness of her position she had comfortable +belongings around her when her literary friends came to see her on +her Tuesday evenings. Here she was now living with her son and +daughter. The back drawing-room was divided from the front by +doors that were permanently closed, and in this she carried on her +great work. Here she wrote her books and contrived her system +for the inveigling of editors and critics. Here she was rarely +disturbed by her daughter, and admitted no visitors except editors +and critics. But her son was controlled by no household laws, +and would break in upon her privacy without remorse. She had +hardly finished two galloping notes after completing her letter to Mr +Ferdinand Alf, when Felix entered the room with a cigar in his mouth +and threw himself upon the sofa. + +<p>"My dear boy," she said, "pray leave your tobacco below when you +come in here." + +<p>"What affectation it is, mother," he said, throwing, however, the +half-smoked cigar into the fire-place. "Some women swear they +like smoke, others say they hate it like the devil. It depends +altogether on whether they wish to flatter or snub a fellow." + +<p>"You don't suppose that I wish to snub you?" + +<p>"Upon my word I don't know. I wonder whether you can let me +have twenty pounds?" + +<p>"My dear Felix!" + +<p>"Just so, mother;—but how about the twenty pounds?" + +<p>"What is it for, Felix?" + +<p>"Well;—to tell the truth, to carry on the game for the nonce till +something is settled. A fellow can't live without some money in +his pocket. I do with as little as most fellows. I pay +for nothing that I can help. I even get my hair cut on credit, +and as long as it was possible I had a brougham, to save cabs." + +<p>"What is to be the end of it, Felix?" + +<p>"I never could see the end of anything, mother. I never +could nurse a horse when the hounds were going well in order to be in +at the finish. I never could pass a dish that I liked in favour +of those that were to follow. What's the use?" The young +man did not say "carpe diem," but that was the philosophy which he +intended to preach. + +<p>"Have you been at the Melmottes' to-day?" It was now five +o'clock on a winter afternoon, the hour at which ladies are drinking +tea, and idle men playing whist at the clubs,—at which young idle +men are sometimes allowed to flirt, and at which, as Lady Carbury +thought, her son might have been paying his court to Marie Melmotte +the great heiress. + +<p>"I have just come away." + +<p>"And what do you think of her?" + +<p>"To tell the truth, mother, I have thought very little about +her. She is not pretty, she is not plain; she is not clever, +she is not stupid; she is neither saint nor sinner." + +<p>"The more likely to make a good wife." + +<p>"Perhaps so. I am at any rate quite willing to believe that +as wife she would be 'good enough for me.'" + +<p>"What does the mother say?" + +<p>"The mother is a caution. I cannot help speculating whether, +if I marry the daughter, I shall ever find out where the mother came +from. Dolly Longestaffe says that somebody says that she was a +Bohemian Jewess; but I think she's too fat for that." + +<p>"What does it matter, Felix?" + +<p>"Not in the least" + +<p>"Is she civil to you?" + +<p>"Yes, civil enough." + +<p>"And the father?" + +<p>"Well, he does not turn me out, or anything of that sort. Of +course there are half-a-dozen after her, and I think the old fellow +is bewildered among them all. He's thinking more of getting +dukes to dine with him than of his daughter's lovers. Any +fellow might pick her up who happened to hit her fancy." + +<p>"And why not you?" + +<p>"Why not, mother? I am doing my best, and it's no good +flogging a willing horse. Can you let me have the money?" + +<p>"Oh, Felix, I think you hardly know how poor we are. You +have still got your hunters down at the place!" + +<p>"I have got two horses, if you mean that; and I haven't paid a +shilling for their keep since the season began. Look here, +mother; this is a risky sort of game, I grant, but I am playing it by +your advice. If I can marry Miss Melmotte, I suppose all will +be right. But I don't think the way to get her would be to +throw up everything and let all the world know that I haven't got a +copper. To do that kind of thing a man must live a little up to +the mark. I've brought my hunting down to a minimum, but if I +gave it up altogether there would be lots of fellows to tell them in +Grosvenor Square why I had done so." + +<p>There was an apparent truth in this argument which the poor woman +was unable to answer. Before the interview was over the money +demanded was forthcoming, though at the time it could be but ill +afforded, and the youth went away apparently with a light heart, +hardly listening to his mother's entreaties that the affair with +Marie Melmotte might, if possible, be brought to a speedy conclusion. + +<p>Felix, when he left his mother, went down to the only club to +which he now belonged. Clubs are pleasant resorts in all +respects but one. They require ready money or even worse than +that in respect to annual payments,—money in advance; and the young +baronet had been absolutely forced to restrict himself. He, as +a matter of course, out of those to which he had possessed the right +of entrance, chose the worst. It was called the Beargarden, and +had been lately opened with the express view of combining parsimony +with profligacy. Clubs were ruined, so said certain young +parsimonious profligates, by providing comforts for old fogies who +paid little or nothing but their subscriptions, and took out by their +mere presence three times as much as they gave. This club was +not to be opened till three o'clock in the afternoon, before which +hour the promoters of the Beargarden thought it improbable that they +and their fellows would want a club. There were to be no +morning papers taken, no library, no morning-room. +Dining-rooms, billiard-rooms, and card-rooms would suffice for the +Beargarden. Everything was to be provided by a purveyor, so +that the club should be cheated only by one man. Everything was +to be luxurious, but the luxuries were to be achieved at first +cost. It had been a happy thought, and the club was said to +prosper. Herr Vossner, the purveyor, was a jewel, and so +carried on affairs that there was no trouble about anything. He +would assist even in smoothing little difficulties as to the settling +of card accounts, and had behaved with the greatest tenderness to the +drawers of cheques whose bankers had harshly declared them to have +"no effects." Herr Vossner was a jewel, and the Beargarden was +a success. Perhaps no young man about town enjoyed the +Beargarden more thoroughly than did Sir Felix Carbury. The club +was in the close vicinity of other clubs, in a small street turning +out of St. James's Street, and piqued itself on its outward quietness +and sobriety. Why pay for stone-work for other people to look +at;—why lay out money in marble pillars and cornices, seeing that you +can neither eat such things, nor drink them, nor gamble with +them? But the Beargarden had the best wines—or thought that it +had—and the easiest chairs, and two billiard-tables than which +nothing more perfect had ever been made to stand upon legs. +Hither Sir Felix wended on that January afternoon as soon as he had +his mother's cheque for £20 in his pocket. + +<p>He found his special friend, Dolly Longestaffe, standing on the +steps with a cigar in his mouth, and gazing vacantly at the dull +brick house opposite. "Going to dine here, Dolly?" said Sir +Felix. + +<p>"I suppose I shall, because it's such a lot of trouble to go +anywhere else. I'm engaged somewhere, I know; but I'm not up to +getting home and dressing. By George! I don't know how +fellows do that kind of thing. I can't." + +<p>"Going to hunt to-morrow?" + +<p>"Well, yes; but I don't suppose I shall. I was going to hunt +every day last week, but my fellow never would get me up in +time. I can't tell why it is that things are done in such a +beastly way. Why shouldn't fellows begin to hunt at two or +three, so that a fellow needn't get up in the middle of the night?" + +<p>"Because one can't ride by moonlight, Dolly." + +<p>"It isn't moonlight at three. At any rate I can't get myself +to Euston Square by nine. I don't think that fellow of mine +likes getting up himself. He says he comes in and wakes me, but +I never remember it." + +<p>"How many horses have you got at Leighton, Dolly?" + +<p>"How many? There were five, but I think that fellow down +there sold one; but then I think he bought another. I know he +did something." + +<p>"Who rides them?" + +<p>"He does, I suppose. That is, of course, I ride them myself, +only I so seldom get down. Somebody told me that Grasslough was +riding two of them last week. I don't think I ever told him he +might. I think he tipped that fellow of mine; and I call that a +low kind of thing to do. I'd ask him, only I know he'd say that +I had lent them. Perhaps I did when I was tight, you know." + +<p>"You and Grasslough were never pals." + +<p>"I don't like him a bit. He gives himself airs because he is +a lord, and is devilish ill-natured. I don't know why he should +want to ride my horses." + +<p>"To save his own." + +<p>"He isn't hard up. Why doesn't he have his own horses? +I'll tell you what, Carbury, I've made up my mind to one thing, and, +by Jove, I'll stick to it. I never will lend a horse again to +anybody. If fellows want horses let them buy them." + +<p>"But some fellows haven't got any money, Dolly." + +<p>"Then they ought to go tick. I don't think I've paid for any +of mine I've bought this season. There was somebody here +yesterday—" + +<p>"What! here at the club?" + +<p>"Yes; followed me here to say he wanted to be paid for +something! It was horses, I think because of the fellow's +trousers." + +<p>"What did you say?" + +<p>"Me! Oh, I didn't say anything." + +<p>"And how did it end?" + +<p>"When he'd done talking I offered him a cigar, and while he was +biting off the end went upstairs. I suppose he went away when +he was tired of waiting." + +<p>"I'll tell you what, Dolly; I wish you'd let me ride two of yours +for a couple of days,—that is, of course, if you don't want them +yourself. You ain't tight now, at any rate." + +<p>"No; I ain't tight," said Dolly, with melancholy acquiescence. + +<p>"I mean that I wouldn't like to borrow your horses without your +remembering all about it. Nobody knows as well as you do how +awfully done up I am. I shall pull through at last, but it's an +awful squeeze in the meantime. There's nobody I'd ask such a +favour of except you." + +<p>"Well, you may have them;—that is, for two days. I don't +know whether that fellow of mine will believe you. He wouldn't +believe Grasslough, and told him so. But Grasslough took them +out of the stables. That's what somebody told me." + +<p>"You could write a line to your groom." + +<p>"Oh my dear fellow, that is such a bore; I don't think I could do +that. My fellow will believe you, because you and I have been +pals. I think I'll have a little drop of curacoa before +dinner. Come along and try it. It'll give us an +appetite." + +<p>It was then nearly seven o'clock. Nine hours afterwards the +same two men, with two others—of whom young Lord Grasslough, Dolly +Longestaffe's peculiar aversion, was one—were just rising from a +card-table in one of the upstairs rooms of the club. For it was +understood that, though the Beargarden was not to be open before +three o'clock in the afternoon, the accommodation denied during the +day was to be given freely during the night. No man could get a +breakfast at the Beargarden, but suppers at three o'clock in the +morning were quite within the rule. Such a supper, or rather +succession of suppering, there had been to-night, various devils and +broils and hot toasts having been brought up from time to time first +for one and then for another. But there had been no cessation +of gambling since the cards had first been opened about ten +o'clock. At four in the morning Dolly Longestaffe was certainly +in a condition to lend his horses and to remember nothing about +it. He was quite affectionate with Lord Grasslough, as he was +also with his other companions,—affection being the normal state of +his mind when in that condition. He was by no means helplessly +drunk, and was, perhaps, hardly more silly than when he was sober; +but he was willing to play at any game whether he understood it or +not, and for any stakes. When Sir Felix got up and said he +would play no more, Dolly also got up, apparently quite +contented. When Lord Grasslough, with a dark scowl on his face, +expressed his opinion that it was not just the thing for men to break +up like that when so much money had been lost, Dolly as willingly sat +down again. But Dolly's sitting down was not sufficient. +"I'm going to hunt to-morrow," said Sir Felix—meaning that day,—"and +I shall play no more. A man must go to bed at some time." + +<p>"I don't see it at all," said Lord Grasslough. "It's an +understood thing that when a man has won as much as you have he +should stay." + +<p>"Stay how long?" said Sir Felix, with an angry look. "That's +nonsense; there must be an end of everything, and there's an end of +this for me to-night." + +<p>"Oh, if you choose," said his lordship. + +<p>"I do choose. Good night, Dolly; we'll settle this next time +we meet. I've got it all entered." + +<p>The night had been one very serious in its results to Sir +Felix. He had sat down to the card-table with the proceeds of +his mother's cheque, a poor £20, and now he had,—he didn't at all +know how much in his pockets. He also had drunk, but not so as +to obscure his mind. He knew that Longestaffe owed him over +£300, and he knew also that he had received more than that in ready +money and cheques from Lord Grasslough and the other player. +Dolly Longestaffe's money, too, would certainly be paid, though Dolly +did complain of the importunity of his tradesmen. As he walked +up St. James's Street, looking for a cab, he presumed himself to be +worth over £700. When begging for a small sum from Lady +Carbury, he had said that he could not carry on the game without some +ready money, and had considered himself fortunate in fleecing his +mother as he had done. Now he was in the possession of +wealth,—of wealth that might, at any rate, be sufficient to aid him +materially in the object he had in hand. He never for a moment +thought of paying his bills. Even the large sum of which he had +become so unexpectedly possessed would not have gone far with him in +such a quixotic object as that; but he could now look bright, and buy +presents, and be seen with money in his hands. It is hard even +to make love in these days without something in your purse. + +<p>He found no cab, but in his present frame of mind was indifferent +to the trouble of walking home. There was something so joyous +in the feeling of the possession of all this money that it made the +night air pleasant to him. Then, of a sudden, he remembered the +low wail with which his mother had spoken of her poverty when he +demanded assistance from her. Now he could give her back the +£20. But it occurred to him sharply, with an amount of +carefulness quite new to him, that it would be foolish to do +so. How soon might he want it again? And, moreover, he +could not repay the money without explaining to her how he had gotten +it. It would be preferable to say nothing about his +money. As he let himself into the house and went up to his room +he resolved that he would not say anything about it. + +<p>On that morning he was at the station at nine, and hunted down in +Buckinghamshire, riding two of Dolly Longestaffe's horses for the use +of which he paid Dolly Longestaffe's "fellow" thirty shilling. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="4"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER IV. Madame Melmotte's Ball</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>The next night but one after that of the gambling transaction at +the Beargarden, a great ball was given in Grosvenor Square. It +was a ball on a scale so magnificent that it had been talked about +ever since Parliament met, now about a fortnight since. Some +people had expressed an opinion that such a ball as this was intended +to be could not be given successfully in February. Others +declared that the money which was to be spent,—an amount which would +make this affair quite new in the annals of ball-giving,—would give +the thing such a character that it would certainly be +successful. And much more than money had been expended. +Almost incredible efforts had been made to obtain the cooperation of +great people, and these efforts had at last been grandly +successful. The Duchess of Stevenage had come up from Castle +Albury herself to be present at it and to bring her daughters, though +it has never been her Grace's wont to be in London at this inclement +season. No doubt the persuasion used with the Duchess had been +very strong. Her brother, Lord Alfred Grendall, was known to be +in great difficulties, which,—so people said,—had been considerably +modified by opportune pecuniary assistance. And then it was +certain that one of the young Grendalls, Lord Alfred's second son, +had been appointed to some mercantile position, for which he received +a salary which his most intimate friends thought that he was hardly +qualified to earn. It was certainly a fact that he went to +Abchurch Lane, in the City, four or five days a week, and that he did +not occupy his time in so unaccustomed a manner for nothing. +Where the Duchess of Stevenage went all the world would go. And +it became known at the last moment, that is to say only the day +before the party, that a prince of the blood royal was to be +there. How this had been achieved nobody quite understood; but +there were rumours that a certain lady's jewels had been rescued from +the pawnbroker's. Everything was done on the same scale. +The Prime Minister had indeed declined to allow his name to appear on +the list; but one Cabinet Minister and two or three under-secretaries +had agreed to come because it was felt that the giver of the ball +might before long be the master of considerable parliamentary +interest. It was believed that he had an eye to politics, and +it is always wise to have great wealth on one's own side. There +had at one time been much solicitude about the ball. Many +anxious thoughts had been given. When great attempts fail, the +failure is disastrous, and may be ruinous. But this ball had +now been put beyond the chance of failure. + +<p>The giver of the ball was Augustus Melmotte, Esq., the father of +the girl whom Sir Felix Carbury desired to marry, and the husband of +the lady who was said to have been a Bohemian Jewess. It was +thus that the gentleman chose to have himself designated, though +within the last two years he had arrived in London from Paris, and +had at first been known as M. Melmotte. But he had declared of +himself that he had been born in England, and that he was an +Englishman. He admitted that his wife was a foreigner,—an +admission that was necessary as she spoke very little English. +Melmotte himself spoke his "native" language fluently, but with an +accent which betrayed at least a long expatriation. Miss +Melmotte,—who a very short time since had been known as Mademoiselle +Marie,—spoke English well, but as a foreigner. In regard to her +it was acknowledged that she had been born out of England,—some said +in New York; but Madame Melmotte, who must have known, had declared +that the great event had taken place in Paris. + +<p>It was at any rate an established fact that Mr Melmotte had made +his wealth in France. He no doubt had had enormous dealings in +other countries, as to which stories were told which must surely have +been exaggerated. It was said that he had made a railway across +Russia, that he provisioned the Southern army in the American civil +war, that he had supplied Austria with arms, and had at one time +bought up all the iron in England. He could make or mar any +company by buying or selling stock, and could make money dear or cheap +as he pleased. All this was said of him in his praise,—but +it was also said that he was regarded in Paris as the most gigantic +swindler that had ever lived; that he had made that City too hot to +hold him; that he had endeavoured to establish himself in Vienna, but +had been warned away by the police; and that he had at length found +that British freedom would alone allow him to enjoy, without +persecution, the fruits of his industry. He was now established +privately in Grosvenor Square and officially in Abchurch Lane; and it +was known to all the world that a Royal Prince, a Cabinet Minister, +and the very cream of duchesses were going to his wife's ball. +All this had been done within twelve months. + +<p>There was but one child in the family, one heiress for all this +wealth. Melmotte himself was a large man, with bushy whiskers +and rough thick hair, with heavy eyebrows, and a wonderful look of +power about his mouth and chin. This was so strong as to redeem +his face from vulgarity; but the countenance and appearance of the +man were on the whole unpleasant, and, I may say, +untrustworthy. He looked as though he were purse-proud and a +bully. She was fat and fair,—unlike in colour to our traditional +Jewesses; but she had the Jewish nose and the Jewish contraction of +the eyes. There was certainly very little in Madame Melmotte to +recommend her, unless it was a readiness to spend money on any object +that might be suggested to her by her new acquaintances. It +sometimes seemed that she had a commission from her husband to give +away presents to any who would accept them. The world had +received the man as Augustus Melmotte, Esq. The world so addressed +him on the very numerous letters which reached him, and so inscribed +him among the directors of three dozen companies to which he +belonged. But his wife was still Madame Melmotte. The +daughter had been allowed to take her rank with an English +title. She was now Miss Melmotte on all occasions. + +<p>Marie Melmotte had been accurately described by Felix Carbury to +his mother. She was not beautiful, she was not clever, and she +was not a saint. But then neither was she plain, nor stupid, +nor, especially, a sinner. She was a little thing, hardly over +twenty years of age, very unlike her father or mother, having no +trace of the Jewess in her countenance, who seemed to be overwhelmed +by the sense of her own position. With such people as the +Melmottes things go fast, and it was very well known that Miss +Melmotte had already had one lover who had been nearly +accepted. The affair, however, had gone off. In this +"going off" no one imputed to the young lady blame or even +misfortune. It was not supposed that she had either jilted or +been jilted. As in royal espousals interests of State regulate +their expedience with an acknowledged absence, with even a proclaimed +impossibility, of personal predilections, so in this case was money +allowed to have the same weight. Such a marriage would or would +not be sanctioned in accordance with great pecuniary +arrangements. The young Lord Nidderdale, the eldest son of the +Marquis of Auld Reekie, had offered to take the girl and make her +Marchioness in the process of time for half a million down. +Melmotte had not objected to the sum,—so it was said,—but had +proposed to tie it up. Nidderdale had desired to have it free +in his own grasp, and would not move on any other terms. +Melmotte had been anxious to secure the Marquis,—very anxious to +secure the Marchioness; for at that time terms had not been made with +the Duchess; but at last he had lost his temper, and had asked his +lordship's lawyer whether it was likely that he would entrust such a +sum of money to such a man. "You are willing to trust your only +child to him," said the lawyer. Melmotte scowled at the man for +a few seconds from under his bushy eyebrows; then told him that his +answer had nothing in it, and marched out of the room. So that +affair was over. I doubt whether Lord Nidderdale had ever said +a word of love to Marie Melmotte,—or whether the poor girl had +expected it. Her destiny had no doubt been explained to her. + +<p>Others had tried and had broken down somewhat in the same +fashion. Each had treated the girl as an encumbrance he was to +undertake,—at a very great price. But as affairs prospered +with the Melmottes, as princes and duchesses were obtained by other +means,—costly no doubt, but not so ruinously costly,—the immediate +disposition of Marie became less necessary, and Melmotte reduced his +offers. The girl herself, too, began to have an opinion. +It was said that she had absolutely rejected Lord Grasslough, whose +father indeed was in a state of bankruptcy, who had no income of his +own, who was ugly, vicious, ill-tempered, and without any power of +recommending himself to a girl. She had had experience since +Lord Nidderdale, with a half laugh, had told her that he might just +as well take her for his wife, and was now tempted from time to time +to contemplate her own happiness and her own condition. People +around were beginning to say that if Sir Felix Carbury managed his +affairs well he might be the happy man. + +<p>There was a considerable doubt whether Marie was the daughter of +that Jewish-looking woman. Enquiries had been made, but not +successfully, as to the date of the Melmotte marriage. There +was an idea abroad that Melmotte had got his first money with his +wife, and had gotten it not very long ago. Then other people +said that Marie was not his daughter at all. Altogether the +mystery was rather pleasant as the money was certain. Of the +certainty of the money in daily use there could be no doubt. +There was the house. There was the furniture. There were +the carriages, the horses, the servants with the livery coats and +powdered heads, and the servants with the black coats and unpowdered +heads. There were the gems, and the presents, and all the nice +things that money can buy. There were two dinner parties every +day, one at two o'clock called lunch, and the other at eight. +The tradesmen had learned enough to be quite free of doubt, and in +the City Mr Melmotte's name was worth any money,—though his character +was perhaps worth but little. + +<p>The large house on the south side of Grosvenor Square was all +ablaze by ten o'clock. The broad verandah had been turned into +a conservatory, had been covered with boards contrived to look like +trellis-work, was heated with hot air and filled with exotics at some +fabulous price. A covered way had been made from the door, down +across the pathway, to the road, and the police had, I fear, been +bribed to frighten foot passengers into a belief that they were bound +to go round. The house had been so arranged that it was +impossible to know where you were, when once in it. The hall +was a paradise. The staircase was fairyland. The lobbies +were grottoes rich with ferns. Walls had been knocked away and +arches had been constructed. The leads behind had been +supported and walled in, and covered and carpeted. The ball had +possession of the ground floor and first floor, and the house seemed +to be endless. "It's to cost sixty thousand pounds," said the +Marchioness of Auld Reekie to her old friend the Countess of +Mid-Lothian. The Marchioness had come in spite of her son's +misfortune when she heard that the Duchess of Stevenage was to be +there. "And worse spent money never was wasted," said the +Countess. "By all accounts it was as badly come by," said the +Marchioness. Then the two old noblewomen, one after the other, +made graciously flattering speeches to the much-worn Bohemian Jewess, +who was standing in fairyland to receive her guests, almost fainting +under the greatness of the occasion. + +<p>The three saloons on the first or drawing-room floor had been +prepared for dancing, and here Marie was stationed. The Duchess +had however undertaken to see that somebody should set the dancing +going, and she had commissioned her nephew Miles Grendall, the young +gentleman who now frequented the City, to give directions to the band +and to make himself generally useful. Indeed, there had sprung +up a considerable intimacy between the Grendall family,—that is Lord +Alfred's branch of the Grendalls,—and the Melmottes; which was as it +should be, as each could give much and each receive much. It +was known that Lord Alfred had not a shilling; but his brother was a +duke and his sister was a duchess, and for the last thirty years +there had been one continual anxiety for poor dear Alfred, who had +tumbled into an unfortunate marriage without a shilling, had spent +his own moderate patrimony, had three sons and three daughters, and +had lived now for a very long time entirely on the unwilling +contributions of his noble relatives. Melmotte could support +the whole family in affluence without feeling the burden;—and why +should he not? There had once been an idea that Miles should +attempt to win the heiress, but it had soon been found expedient to +abandon it. Miles had no title, no position of his own, and was +hardly big enough for the place. It was in all respects better +that the waters of the fountain should be allowed to irrigate mildly +the whole Grendall family;—and so Miles went into the city. + +<p>The ball was opened by a quadrille in which Lord Buntingford, the +eldest son of the Duchess, stood up with Marie. Various +arrangements had been made, and this among them. We may say +that it had been a part of the bargain. Lord Buntingford had +objected mildly, being a young man devoted to business, fond of his +own order, rather shy, and not given to dancing. But he had +allowed his mother to prevail. "Of course they are vulgar," the +Duchess had said,—"so much so as to be no longer distasteful because +of the absurdity of the thing. I dare say he hasn't been very +honest. When men make so much money, I don't know how they can +have been honest. Of course it's done for a purpose. It's +all very well saying that it isn't right, but what are we to do about +Alfred's children? Miles is to have £500 a-year. And then +he is always about the house. And between you and me they have +got up those bills of Alfred's, and have said they can lie in their +safe till it suits your uncle to pay them." + +<p>"They will lie there a long time," said Lord Buntingford. + +<p>"Of course they expect something in return; do dance with the girl +once." Lord Buntingford disapproved mildly, and did as his +mother asked him. + +<p>The affair went off very well. There were three or four +card-tables in one of the lower rooms, and at one of them sat Lord +Alfred Grendall and Mr Melmotte, with two or three other players, +cutting in and out at the end of each rubber. Playing whist was +Lord Alfred's only accomplishment, and almost the only occupation of +his life. He began it daily at his club at three o'clock, and +continued playing till two in the morning with an interval of a +couple of hours for his dinner. This he did during ten months +of the year, and during the other two he frequented some +watering-place at which whist prevailed. He did not gamble, +never playing for more than the club stakes and bets. He gave +to the matter his whole mind, and must have excelled those who were +generally opposed to him. But so obdurate was fortune to Lord +Alfred that he could not make money even of whist. Melmotte was +very anxious to get into Lord Alfred's club,—The Peripatetics. +It was pleasant to see the grace with which he lost his money, and +the sweet intimacy with which he called his lordship Alfred. +Lord Alfred had a remnant of feeling left, and would have liked to +kick him. Though Melmotte was by far the bigger man, and was +also the younger, Lord Alfred would not have lacked the pluck to kick +him. Lord Alfred, in spite of his habitual idleness and vapid +uselessness, had still left about him a dash of vigour, and sometimes +thought that he would kick Melmotte and have done with it. But +there were his poor boys, and those bills in Melmotte's safe. +And then Melmotte lost his points so regularly, and paid his bets +with such absolute good humour! "Come and have a glass of +champagne, Alfred," Melmotte said, as the two cut out together. +Lord Alfred liked champagne, and followed his host; but as he went he +almost made up his mind that on some future day he would kick the +man. + +<p>Late in the evening Marie Melmotte was waltzing with Felix +Carbury, and Henrietta Carbury was then standing by talking to one Mr +Paul Montague. Lady Carbury was also there. She was not +well inclined either to balls or to such people as the Melmottes; nor +was Henrietta. But Felix had suggested that, bearing in mind +his prospects as to the heiress, they had better accept the +invitation which he would cause to have sent to them. They did +so; and then Paul Montague also got a card, not altogether to Lady +Carbury's satisfaction. Lady Carbury was very gracious to +Madame Melmotte for two minutes, and then slid into a chair expecting +nothing but misery for the evening. She, however, was a woman +who could do her duty and endure without complaint. + +<p>"It is the first great ball I ever was at in London," said Hetta +Carbury to Paul Montague. + +<p>"And how do you like it?" + +<p>"Not at all. How should I like it? I know nobody +here. I don't understand how it is that at these parties people +do know each other, or whether they all go dancing about without +knowing." + +<p>"Just that; I suppose when they are used to it they get introduced +backwards and forwards, and then they can know each other as fast as +they like. If you would wish to dance why don't you dance with +me?" + +<p>"I have danced with you,—twice already." + +<p>"Is there any law against dancing three times?" + +<p>"But I don't especially want to dance," said Henrietta. "I +think I'll go and console poor mamma, who has got nobody to speak to +her." Just at this moment, however, Lady Carbury was not in +that wretched condition, as an unexpected friend had come to her +relief. + +<p>Sir Felix and Marie Melmotte had been spinning round and round +throughout a long waltz, thoroughly enjoying the excitement of the +music and the movement. To give Felix Carbury what little +praise might be his due, it is necessary to say that he did not lack +physical activity. He would dance, and ride, and shoot eagerly, +with an animation that made him happy for the moment. It was an +affair not of thought or calculation, but of physical +organisation. And Marie Melmotte had been thoroughly +happy. She loved dancing with all her heart if she could only +dance in a manner pleasant to herself. + +<p>She had been warned especially as to some men,—that she should not +dance with them. She had been almost thrown into Lord +Nidderdale's arms, and had been prepared to take him at her father's +bidding. But she had never had the slightest pleasure in his +society, and had only not been wretched because she had not as yet +recognised that she had an identity of her own in the disposition of +which she herself should have a voice. She certainly had never +cared to dance with Lord Nidderdale. Lord Grasslough she had +absolutely hated, though at first she had hardly dared to say +so. One or two others had been obnoxious to her in different +ways, but they had passed on, or were passing on, out of her +way. There was no one at the present moment whom she had been +commanded by her father to accept should an offer be made. But +she did like dancing with Sir Felix Carbury. It was not only +that the man was handsome but that he had a power of changing the +expression of his countenance, a play of face, which belied +altogether his real disposition. He could seem to be hearty and +true till the moment came in which he had really to expose his +heart,—or to try to expose it. Then he failed, knowing nothing +about it. But in the approaches to intimacy with a girl he could +be very successful. He had already nearly got beyond this with +Marie Melmotte; but Marie was by no means quick in discovering his +deficiencies. To her he had seemed like a god. If she +might be allowed to be wooed by Sir Felix Carbury, and to give +herself to him, she thought that she would be contented. + +<p>"How well you dance," said Sir Felix, as soon as he had breath for +speaking. + +<p>"Do I?" She spoke with a slightly foreign accent, which gave +a little prettiness to her speech. "I was never told so. +But nobody ever told me anything about myself." + +<p>"I should like to tell you everything about yourself, from the +beginning to the end." + +<p>"Ah,—but you don't know." + +<p>"I would find out. I think I could make some good +guesses. I'll tell you what you would like best in all the +world." + +<p>"What is that?" + +<p>"Somebody that liked you best in all the world." + +<p>"Ah,—yes; if one knew who?" + +<p>"How can you know, Miss Melmotte, but by believing?" + +<p>"That is not the way to know. If a girl told me that she +liked me better than any other girl, I should not know it, just +because she said so. I should have to find it out." + +<p>"And if a gentleman told you so?" + +<p>"I shouldn't believe him a bit, and I should not care to find +out. But I should like to have some girl for a friend whom I +could love, oh, ten times better than myself." + +<p>"So should I." + +<p>"Have you no particular friend?" + +<p>"I mean a girl whom I could love,—oh, ten times better than +myself." + +<p>"Now you are laughing at me, Sir Felix," said Miss Melmotte. + +<p>"I wonder whether that will come to anything?" said Paul Montague +to Miss Carbury. They had come back into the drawing-room, and +had been watching the approaches to love-making which the baronet +was opening. + +<p>"You mean Felix and Miss Melmotte. I hate to think of such +things, Mr Montague." + +<p>"It would be a magnificent chance for him." + +<p>"To marry a girl, the daughter of vulgar people, just because she +will have a great deal of money? He can't care for her +really,—because she is rich." + +<p>"But he wants money so dreadfully! It seems to me that there +is no other condition of things under which Felix can face the world, +but by being the husband of an heiress." + +<p>"What a dreadful thing to say!" + +<p>"But isn't it true? He has beggared himself." + +<p>"Oh, Mr Montague." + +<p>"And he will beggar you and your mother." + +<p>"I don't care about myself." + +<p>"Others do though." As he said this he did not look at her, +but spoke through his teeth, as if he were angry both with himself +and her. + +<p>"I did not think you would have spoken so harshly of Felix." + +<p>"I don't speak harshly of him, Miss Carbury. I haven't said +that it was his own fault. He seems to be one of those who have +been born to spend money; and as this girl will have plenty of money +to spend, I think it would be a good thing if he were to marry +her. If Felix had £20,000 a year, everybody would think him the +finest fellow in the world." In saying this, however, Mr Paul +Montague showed himself unfit to gauge the opinion of the +world. Whether Sir Felix be rich or poor, the world, +evil-hearted as it is, will never think him a fine fellow. + +<p>Lady Carbury had been seated for nearly half an hour in +uncomplaining solitude under a bust, when she was delighted by the +appearance of Mr Ferdinand Alf. "You here?" she said. + +<p>"Why not? Melmotte and I are brother adventurers." + +<p>"I should have thought you would find so little here to amuse you." + +<p>"I have found you; and, in addition to that, duchesses and their +daughters without number. They expect Prince George!" + +<p>"Do they?" + +<p>"And Legge Wilson from the India Office is here already. I +spoke to him in some jewelled bower as I made my way here, not five +minutes since. It's quite a success. Don't you think it +very nice, Lady Carbury?" + +<p>"I don't know whether you are joking or in earnest." + +<p>"I never joke. I say it is very nice. These people are +spending thousands upon thousands to gratify you and me and others, +and all they want in return is a little countenance." + +<p>"Do you mean to give it then?" + +<p>"I am giving it them." + +<p>"Ah,—but the countenance of the 'Evening Pulpit.' Do you +mean to give them that?" + +<p>"Well; it is not in our line exactly to give a catalogue of names +and to record ladies' dresses. Perhaps it may be better for our +host himself that he should be kept out of the newspapers." + +<p>"Are you going to be very severe upon poor me, Mr Alf?" said the +lady after a pause. + +<p>"We are never severe upon anybody, Lady Carbury. Here's the +Prince. What will they do with him now they've caught +him! Oh, they're going to make him dance with the +heiress. Poor heiress!" + +<p>"Poor Prince!" said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Not at all. She's a nice little girl enough, and he'll have +nothing to trouble him. But how is she, poor thing, to talk to +royal blood?" + +<p>Poor thing indeed! The Prince was brought into the big room +where Marie was still being talked to by Felix Carbury, and was at +once made to understand that she was to stand up and dance with +royalty. The introduction was managed in a very business-like +manner. Miles Grendall first came in and found the female +victim; the Duchess followed with the male victim. Madame +Melmotte, who had been on her legs till she was ready to sink, +waddled behind, but was not allowed to take any part in the +affair. The band were playing a galop, but that was stopped at +once, to the great confusion of the dancers. In two minutes +Miles Grendall had made up a set. He stood up with his aunt, +the Duchess, as vis-à-vis to Marie and the Prince, till, about +the middle of the quadrille, Legge Wilson was found and made to take +his place. Lord Buntingford had gone away; but then there were +still present two daughters of the Duchess who were rapidly +caught. Sir Felix Carbury, being good-looking and having a +name, was made to dance with one of them, and Lord Grasslough with +the other. There were four other couples, all made up of titled +people, as it was intended that this special dance should be +chronicled, if not in the "Evening Pulpit," in some less serious +daily journal. A paid reporter was present in the house ready +to rush off with the list as soon as the dance should be a realized +fact. The Prince himself did not quite understand why he was +there, but they who marshalled his life for him had so marshalled it +for the present moment. He himself probably knew nothing about +the lady's diamonds which had been rescued, or the considerable +subscription to St. George's Hospital which had been extracted from +Mr Melmotte as a make-weight. Poor Marie felt as though the +burden of the hour would be greater than she could bear, and looked +as though she would have fled had flight been possible. But the +trouble passed quickly, and was not really severe. The Prince +said a word or two between each figure, and did not seem to expect a +reply. He made a few words go a long way, and was well trained +in the work of easing the burden of his own greatness for those who +were for the moment inflicted with it. When the dance was over +he was allowed to escape after the ceremony of a single glass of +champagne drunk in the presence of the hostess. Considerable +skill was shown in keeping the presence of his royal guest a secret +from the host himself till the Prince was gone. Melmotte would +have desired to pour out that glass of wine with his own hands, to +solace his tongue by Royal Highnesses, and would probably have been +troublesome and disagreeable. Miles Grendall had understood all +this and had managed the affair very well. "Bless my soul;—his +Royal Highness come and gone!" exclaimed Melmotte. "You and my +father were so fast at your whist that it was impossible to get you +away," said Miles. Melmotte was not a fool, and understood it +all;—understood not only that it had been thought better that he +should not speak to the Prince, but also that it might be better that +it should be so. He could not have everything at once. +Miles Grendall was very useful to him, and he would not quarrel with +Miles, at any rate as yet. + +<p>"Have another rubber, Alfred?" he said to Miles's father as the +carriages were taking away the guests. + +<p>Lord Alfred had taken sundry glasses of champagne, and for a +moment forgot the bills in the safe, and the good things which his +boys were receiving. "Damn that kind of nonsense," he +said. "Call people by their proper names." Then he left +the house without a further word to the master of it. That +night before they went to sleep Melmotte required from his weary wife +an account of the ball, and especially of Marie's conduct. +"Marie," Madame Melmotte said, "had behaved well, but had certainly +preferred 'Sir Carbury' to any other of the young men." +Hitherto Mr Melmotte had heard very little of Sir Carbury, except +that he was a baronet. Though his eyes and ears were always +open, though he attended to everything, and was a man of sharp +intelligence, he did not yet quite understand the bearing and +sequence of English titles. He knew that he must get for his +daughter either an eldest son, or one absolutely in possession +himself. Sir Felix, he had learned, was only a baronet; but +then he was in possession. He had discovered also that Sir +Felix's son would in course of time also become Sir Felix. He +was not therefore at the present moment disposed to give any positive +orders as to his daughter's conduct to the young baronet. He +did not, however, conceive that the young baronet had as yet +addressed his girl in such words as Felix had in truth used when they +parted. "You know who it is," he whispered, "likes you better +than any one else in the world." + +<p>"Nobody does;—don't, Sir Felix." + +<p>"I do," he said as he held her hand for a minute. He looked +into her face and she thought it very sweet. He had studied the +words as a lesson, and, repeating them as a lesson, he did it fairly +well. He did it well enough at any rate to send the poor girl +to bed with a sweet conviction that at last a man had spoken to her +whom she could love. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="5"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER V. After the Ball</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"It's weary work," said Sir Felix as he got into the brougham with +his mother and sister. + +<p>"What must it have been to me then, who had nothing to do?" said +his mother. + +<p>"It's the having something to do that makes me call it weary +work. By-the-bye, now I think of it, I'll run down to the club +before I go home." So saying he put his head out of the +brougham, and stopped the driver. + +<p>"It is two o'clock, Felix," said his mother. + +<p>"I'm afraid it is, but you see I'm hungry. You had supper, +perhaps; I had none." + +<p>"Are you going down to the club for supper at this time in the +morning?" + +<p>"I must go to bed hungry if I don't. Good night." Then +he jumped out of the brougham, called a cab, and had himself driven +to the Beargarden. He declared to himself that the men there +would think it mean of him if he did not give them their +revenge. He had renewed his play on the preceding night, and +had again won. Dolly Longestaffe owed him now a considerable +sum of money, and Lord Grasslough was also in his debt. He was +sure that Grasslough would go to the club after the ball, and he was +determined that they should not think that he had submitted to be +carried home by his mother and sister. So he argued with +himself; but in truth the devil of gambling was hot within his bosom; +and though he feared that in losing he might lose real money, and +that if he won it would be long before he was paid, yet he could not +keep himself from the card-table. + +<p>Neither mother or daughter said a word till they reached home and +had got upstairs. Then the elder spoke of the trouble that was +nearest to her heart at the moment. "Do you think he gambles?" + +<p>"He has got no money, mamma." + +<p>"I fear that might not hinder him. And he has money with +him, though, for him and such friends as he has, it is not +much. If he gambles everything is lost." + +<p>"I suppose they all do play more or less." + +<p>"I have not known that he played. I am wearied too, out of +all heart, by his want of consideration to me. It is not that +he will not obey me. A mother perhaps should not expect +obedience from a grown-up son. But my word is nothing to +him. He has no respect for me. He would as soon do what +is wrong before me as before the merest stranger." + +<p>"He has been so long his own master, mamma." + +<p>"Yes,—his own master! And yet I must provide for him as +though he were but a child. Hetta, you spent the whole evening +talking to Paul Montague." + +<p>"No, mamma that is unjust." + +<p>"He was always with you." + +<p>"I knew nobody else. I could not tell him not to speak to +me. I danced with him twice." Her mother was seated, with +both her hands up to her forehead, and shook her head. "If you +did not want me to speak to Paul you should not have taken me there." + +<p>"I don't wish to prevent your speaking to him. You know what +I want." Henrietta came up and kissed her, and bade her good +night. "I think I am the unhappiest woman in all London," she +said, sobbing hysterically. + +<p>"Is it my fault, mamma?" + +<p>"You could save me from much if you would. I work like a +horse, and I never spend a shilling that I can help. I want +nothing for myself,—nothing for myself. Nobody has suffered as +I have. But Felix never thinks of me for a moment." + +<p>"I think of you, mamma." + +<p>"If you did you would accept your cousin's offer. What right +have you to refuse him? I believe it is all because of that +young man." + +<p>"No, mamma; it is not because of that young man. I like my +cousin very much;—but that is all. Good night, mamma." +Lady Carbury just allowed herself to be kissed, and then was left +alone. + +<p>At eight o'clock the next morning daybreak found four young men +who had just risen from a card-table at the Beargarden. The +Beargarden was so pleasant a club that there was no rule whatsoever +as to its being closed,—the only law being that it should not be +opened before three in the afternoon. A sort of sanction had, +however, been given to the servants to demur to producing supper or +drinks after six in the morning, so that, about eight, unrelieved +tobacco began to be too heavy even for juvenile constitutions. +The party consisted of Dolly Longestaffe, Lord Grasslough, Miles +Grendall, and Felix Carbury, and the four had amused themselves +during the last six hours with various innocent games. They had +commenced with whist, and had culminated during the last half-hour +with blind hookey. But during the whole night Felix had +won. Miles Grendall hated him, and there had been an expressed +opinion between Miles and the young lord that it would be both +profitable and proper to relieve Sir Felix of the winnings of the +last two nights. The two men had played with the same object, +and being young had shown their intention,—so that a certain feeling +of hostility had been engendered. The reader is not to +understand that either of them had cheated, or that the baronet had +entertained any suspicion of foul play. But Felix had felt that +Grendall and Grasslough were his enemies, and had thrown himself on +Dolly for sympathy and friendship. Dolly, however, was very +tipsy. + +<p>At eight o'clock in the morning there came a sort of settling, +though no money then passed. The ready-money transactions had +not lasted long through the night. Grasslough was the chief +loser, and the figures and scraps of paper which had been passed over +to Carbury, when counted up, amounted to nearly £2,000. His +lordship contested the fact bitterly, but contested it in vain. +There were his own initials and his own figures, and even Miles +Grendall, who was supposed to be quite wide awake, could not reduce +the amount. Then Grendall had lost over £400 to Carbury,—an +amount, indeed, that mattered little, as Miles could, at present, as +easily have raised £40,000. However, he gave his I.O.U. to his +opponent with an easy air. Grasslough, also, was impecunious; +but he had a father,—also impecunious, indeed; but with them the +matter would not be hopeless. Dolly Longestaffe was so tipsy +that he could not even assist in making up his own account. +That was to be left between him and Carbury for some future occasion. + +<p>"I suppose you'll be here to-morrow,—that is to-night," said Miles. + +"Certainly,—only one thing," answered Felix. + +<p>"What one thing?" + +<p>"I think these things should be squared before we play any more!" + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" said Grasslough angrily. "Do you +mean to hint anything?" + +<p>"I never hint anything, my Grassy," said Felix. "I believe +when people play cards, it's intended to be ready-money, that's +all. But I'm not going to stand on P's and Q's with you. +I'll give you your revenge to-night." + +<p>"That's all right," said Miles. + +<p>"I was speaking to Lord Grasslough," said Felix. "He is an +old friend, and we know each other. You have been rather rough +to-night, Mr Grendall." + +<p>"Rough;—what the devil do you mean by that?" + +<p>"And I think it will be as well that our account should be settled +before we begin again." + +<p>"A settlement once a week is the kind of thing I'm used to," said +Grendall. + +<p>There was nothing more said; but the young men did not part on +good terms. Felix, as he got himself taken home, calculated +that if he could realize his spoil, he might begin the campaign again +with horses, servants, and all luxuries as before. If all were +paid, he would have over £3,000! +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="6"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VI. Roger Carbury and Paul Montague</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Roger Carbury, of Carbury Hall, the owner of a small property in +Suffolk, was the head of the Carbury family. The Carburys had +been in Suffolk a great many years,—certainly from the time of the +War of the Roses,—and had always held up their heads. But they +had never held them very high. It was not known that any had +risen ever to the honour of knighthood before Sir Patrick, going +higher than that, had been made a baronet. They had, however, +been true to their acres and their acres true to them through the +perils of civil wars, Reformation, Commonwealth, and Revolution, and +the head Carbury of the day had always owned, and had always lived +at, Carbury Hall. At the beginning of the present century the +squire of Carbury had been a considerable man, if not in his county, +at any rate in his part of the county. The income of the estate +had sufficed to enable him to live plenteously and hospitably, to +drink port wine, to ride a stout hunter, and to keep an old lumbering +coach for his wife's use when she went avisiting. He had an old +butler who had never lived anywhere else, and a boy from the village +who was in a way apprenticed to the butler. There was a cook, +not too proud to wash up her own dishes, and a couple of young +women;—while the house was kept by Mrs Carbury herself, who marked +and gave out her own linen, made her own preserves, and looked to the +curing of her own hams. In the year 1800 the Carbury property +was sufficient for the Carbury house. Since that time the +Carbury property has considerably increased in value, and the rents +have been raised. Even the acreage has been extended by the +enclosure of commons. But the income is no longer comfortably +adequate to the wants of an English gentleman's household. If a +moderate estate in land be left to a man now, there arises the +question whether he is not damaged unless an income also be left to +him wherewith to keep up the estate. Land is a luxury, and of +all luxuries is the most costly. Now the Carburys never had +anything but land. Suffolk has not been made rich and great +either by coal or iron. No great town had sprung up on the +confines of the Carbury property. No eldest son had gone into +trade or risen high in a profession so as to add to the Carbury +wealth. No great heiress had been married. There had been +no ruin,—no misfortune. But in the days of which we write the +Squire of Carbury Hall had become a poor man simply through the +wealth of others. His estate was supposed to bring him in +£2,000 a year. Had he been content to let the Manor House, to +live abroad, and to have an agent at home to deal with the tenants, +he would undoubtedly have had enough to live luxuriously. But +he lived on his own land among his own people, as all the Carburys +before him had done, and was poor because he was surrounded by rich +neighbours. The Longestaffes of Caversham,—of which family +Dolly Longestaffe was the eldest son and hope,—had the name of great +wealth, but the founder of the family had been a Lord Mayor of London +and a chandler as lately as in the reign of Queen Anne. The +Hepworths, who could boast good blood enough on their own side, had +married into new money. The Primeros,—though the goodnature of +the country folk had accorded to the head of them the title of Squire +Primero,—had been trading Spaniards fifty years ago, and had bought +the Bundlesham property from a great duke. The estates of those +three gentlemen, with the domain of the Bishop of Elmham, lay all +around the Carbury property, and in regard to wealth enabled their +owners altogether to overshadow our squire. The superior wealth +of a bishop was nothing to him. He desired that bishops should +be rich, and was among those who thought that the country had been +injured when the territorial possessions of our prelates had been +converted into stipends by Act of Parliament. But the grandeur +of the Longestaffes and the too apparent wealth of the Primeros did +oppress him, though he was a man who would never breathe a word of +such oppression into the ear even of his dearest friend. It was +his opinion,—which he did not care to declare loudly, but which was +fully understood to be his opinion by those with whom he lived +intimately,—that a man's standing in the world should not depend at +all upon his wealth. The Primeros were undoubtedly beneath him +in the social scale, although the young Primeros had three horses +apiece, and killed legions of pheasants annually at about 10s. a +head. Hepworth of Eardly was a very good fellow, who gave +himself no airs and understood his duties as a country gentleman; but +he could not be more than on a par with Carbury of Carbury, though he +was supposed to enjoy £7,000 a year. The Longestaffes were +altogether oppressive. Their footmen, even in the country, had +powdered hair. They had a house in town,—a house of their +own,—and lived altogether as magnates. The lady was Lady +Pomona Longestaffe. The daughters, who certainly were handsome, +had been destined to marry peers. The only son, Dolly, had, or +had had, a fortune of his own. They were an oppressive people +in a country neighbourhood. And to make the matter worse, rich +as they were, they never were able to pay anybody anything that they +owed. They continued to live with all the appurtenances of +wealth. The girls always had horses to ride, both in town and +country. The acquaintance of Dolly the reader has already +made. Dolly, who certainly was a poor creature though +good-natured, had energy in one direction. He would quarrel +perseveringly with his father, who only had a life interest in the +estate. The house at Caversham Park was during six or seven +months of the year full of servants, if not of guests, and all the +tradesmen in the little towns around, Bungay, Beccles, and +Harlestone, were aware that the Longestaffes were the great people of +that country. Though occasionally much distressed for money, +they would always execute the Longestaffe orders with submissive +punctuality, because there was an idea that the Longestaffe property +was sound at the bottom. And, then, the owner of a property so +managed cannot scrutinise bills very closely. + +<p>Carbury of Carbury had never owed a shilling that he could not +pay, or his father before him. His orders to the tradesmen at +Beccles were not extensive, and care was used to see that the goods +supplied were neither overcharged nor unnecessary. The +tradesmen, consequently, of Beccles did not care much for Carbury of +Carbury;—though perhaps one or two of the elders among them +entertained some ancient reverence for the family. Roger +Carbury, Esq., was Carbury of Carbury,—a distinction of itself which, +from its nature, could not belong to the Longestaffes and Primeros, +which did not even belong to the Hepworths of Eardly. The very +parish in which Carbury Hall stood,—or Carbury Manor House, as it was +more properly called,—was Carbury parish. And there was Carbury +Chase, partly in Carbury parish and partly in Bundlesham,—but +belonging, unfortunately, in its entirety to the Bundlesham estate. + +<p>Roger Carbury himself was all alone in the world. His +nearest relatives of the name were Sir Felix and Henrietta, but they +were no more than second cousins. He had sisters, but they had +long since been married and had gone away into the world with their +husbands, one to India, and another to the far west of the United +States. At present he was not much short of forty years of age, +and was still unmarried. He was a stout, good-looking man, with +a firmly set square face, with features finely cut, a small mouth, +good teeth, and well-formed chin. His hair was red, curling +round his head, which was now partly bald at the top. He wore +no other beard than small, almost unnoticeable whiskers. His +eyes were small, but bright, and very cheery when his humour was +good. He was about five feet nine in height, having the +appearance of great strength and perfect health. A more manly +man to the eye was never seen. And he was one with whom you +would instinctively wish at first sight to be on good terms,—partly +because in looking at him there would come on you an unconscious +conviction that he would be very stout in holding his own against his +opponents; partly also from a conviction equally strong, that he +would be very pleasant to his friends. + +<p>When Sir Patrick had come home from India as an invalid, Roger +Carbury had hurried up to see him in London, and had proffered him +all kindness. Would Sir Patrick and his wife and children like +to go down to the old place in the country? Sir Patrick did not +care a straw for the old place in the country, and so told his cousin +in almost those very words. There had not, therefore, been much +friendship during Sir Patrick's life. But when the violent +ill-conditioned old man was dead, Roger paid a second visit, and +again offered hospitality to the widow and her daughter,—and to the +young baronet. The young baronet had just joined his regiment +and did not care to visit his cousin in Suffolk; but Lady Carbury and +Henrietta had spent a month there, and everything had been done to +make them happy. The effort as regarded Henrietta had been +altogether successful. As regarded the widow, it must be +acknowledged that Carbury Hall had not quite suited her tastes. +She had already begun to sigh for the glories of a literary +career. A career of some kind,—sufficient to repay her for the +sufferings of her early life,—she certainly desired. "Dear +cousin Roger," as she called him, had not seemed to her to have much +power of assisting her in these views. She was a woman who did +not care much for country charms. She had endeavoured to get up +some mild excitement with the bishop, but the bishop had been too +plain spoken and sincere for her. The Primeros had been odious; +the Hepworths stupid; the Longestaffes,—she had endeavoured to make +up a little friendship with Lady Pomona,—insufferably +supercilious. She had declared to Henrietta "that Carbury Hall +was very dull." + +<p>But then there had come a circumstance which altogether changed +her opinions as to Carbury Hall, and its proprietor. The +proprietor after a few weeks followed them up to London, and made a +most matter-of-fact offer to the mother for the daughter's +hand. He was at that time thirty-six, and Henrietta was not yet +twenty. He was very cool;—some might have thought him +phlegmatic in his love-making. Henrietta declared to her mother +that she had not in the least expected it. But he was very +urgent, and very persistent. Lady Carbury was eager on his +side. Though the Carbury Manor House did not exactly suit her, +it would do admirably for Henrietta. And as for age, to her +thinking, she being then over forty, a man of thirty-six was young +enough for any girl. But Henrietta had an opinion of her +own. She liked her cousin, but did not love him. She was +amazed, and even annoyed by the offer. She had praised him and +praised the house so loudly to her mother,—having in her innocence +never dreamed of such a proposition as this,—so that now she found +it difficult to give an adequate reason for her refusal. +Yes;—she had undoubtedly said that her cousin was charming, but she +had not meant charming in that way. She did refuse the offer +very plainly, but still with some apparent lack of persistency. +When Roger suggested that she should take a few months to think of it, +and her mother supported Roger's suggestion, she could say nothing +stronger than that she was afraid that thinking about it would not do +any good. Their first visit to Carbury had been made in +September. In the following February she went there +again,—much against the grain as far as her own wishes were +concerned; and when there had been cold, constrained, almost dumb in +the presence of her cousin. Before they left the offer was +renewed, but Henrietta declared that she could not do as they would +have her. She could give no reason, only she did not love her +cousin in that way. But Roger declared that he by no means +intended to abandon his suit. In truth he verily loved the girl, +and love with him was a serious thing. All this happened a full +year before the beginning of our present story. + +<p>But something else happened also. While that second visit +was being made at Carbury there came to the hall a young man of whom +Roger Carbury had said much to his cousins,—one Paul Montague, of +whom some short account shall be given in this chapter. The +squire,—Roger Carbury was always called the squire about his own +place,—had anticipated no evil when he so timed this second visit of +his cousins to his house that they must of necessity meet Paul +Montague there. But great harm had come of it. Paul +Montague had fallen into love with his cousin's guest, and there had +sprung up much unhappiness. + +<p>Lady Carbury and Henrietta had been nearly a month at Carbury, and +Paul Montague had been there barely a week, when Roger Carbury thus +spoke to the guest who had last arrived. "I've got to tell you +something, Paul." + +<p>"Anything serious?" + +<p>"Very serious to me. I may say so serious that nothing in my +own life can approach it in importance." He had unconsciously +assumed that look, which his friend so thoroughly understood, +indicating his resolve to hold to what he believed to be his own, and +to fight if fighting be necessary. Montague knew him well, and +became half aware that he had done something, he knew not what, +militating against this serious resolve of his friend. He +looked up, but said nothing. "I have offered my hand in +marriage to my cousin Henrietta," said Roger, very gravely. + +<p>"Miss Carbury?" + +<p>"Yes; to Henrietta Carbury. She has not accepted it. +She has refused me twice. But I still have hopes of +success. Perhaps I have no right to hope, but I do. I +tell it you just as it is. Everything in life to me depends +upon it. I think I may count upon your sympathy." + +<p>"Why did you not tell me before?" said Paul Montague in a hoarse +voice. + +<p>Then there had come a sudden and rapid interchange of quick +speaking between the men, each of them speaking the truth exactly, +each of them declaring himself to be in the right and to be ill-used +by the other, each of them equally hot, equally generous, and equally +unreasonable. Montague at once asserted that he also loved +Henrietta Carbury. He blurted out his assurance in the baldest +and most incomplete manner, but still in such words as to leave no +doubt. No;—he had not said a word to her. He had +intended to consult Roger Carbury himself,—should have done so in a +day or two,—perhaps on that very day had not Roger spoken to +him. "You have neither of you a shilling in the world," said +Roger; "and now you know what my feelings are you must abandon +it." Then Montague declared that he had a right to speak to +Miss Carbury. He did not suppose that Miss Carbury cared a +straw about him. He had not the least reason to think that she +did. It was altogether impossible. But he had a right to +his chance. That chance was all the world to him. As to +money,—he would not admit that he was a pauper, and, moreover, he +might earn an income as well as other men. Had Carbury told him +that the young lady had shown the slightest intention to receive his, +Carbury's, addresses, he, Paul, would at once have disappeared from +the scene. But as it was not so, he would not say that he would +abandon his hope. + +<p>The scene lasted for above an hour. When it was ended, Paul +Montague packed up all his clothes and was driven away to the railway +station by Roger himself, without seeing either of the ladies. +There had been very hot words between the men, but the last words +which Roger spoke to the other on the railway platform were not +quarrelsome in their nature. "God bless you, old fellow," he +said, pressing Paul's hands. Paul's eyes were full of tears, +and he replied only by returning the pressure. + +<p>Paul Montague's father and mother had long been dead. The +father had been a barrister in London, having perhaps some small +fortune of his own. He had, at any rate, left to this son, who +was one among others, a sufficiency with which to begin the +world. Paul when he had come of age had found himself possessed +of about £6,000. He was then at Oxford, and was intended for +the bar. An uncle of his, a younger brother of his father, had +married a Carbury, the younger sister of two, though older than her +brother Roger. This uncle many years since had taken his wife +out to California, and had there become an American. He had a +large tract of land, growing wool, and wheat, and fruit; but whether +he prospered or whether he did not, had not always been plain to the +Montagues and Carburys at home. The intercourse between the two +families had, in the quite early days of Paul Montague's life, +created an affection between him and Roger, who, as will be +understood by those who have carefully followed the above family +history, were not in any degree related to each other. Roger, +when quite a young man, had had the charge of the boy's education, +and had sent him to Oxford. But the Oxford scheme, to be +followed by the bar, and to end on some one of the many judicial +benches of the country, had not succeeded. Paul had got into a +"row" at Balliol, and had been rusticated,—had then got into another +row, and was sent down. Indeed he had a talent for +rows,—though, as Roger Carbury always declared, there was nothing +really wrong about any of them. Paul was then twenty-one, and +he took himself and his money out to California, and joined his +uncle. He had perhaps an idea,—based on very insufficient +grounds,—that rows are popular in California. At the end of +three years he found that he did not like farming life in +California,—and he found also that he did not like his uncle. +So he returned to England, but on returning was altogether unable to +get his £6,000 out of the Californian farm. Indeed he had been +compelled to come away without any of it, with funds insufficient +even to take him home, accepting with much dissatisfaction an +assurance from his uncle that an income amounting to ten per cent, +upon his capital should be remitted to him with the regularity of +clockwork. The clock alluded to must have been one of Sam +Slick's. It had gone very badly. At the end of the first +quarter there came the proper remittance,—then half the +amount,—then there was a long interval without anything; then some +dropping payments now and again;—and then a twelvemonth without +anything. At the end of that twelvemonth he paid a second visit +to California, having borrowed money from Roger for his +journey. He had now again returned, with some little cash in +hand, and with the additional security of a deed executed in his +favour by one Hamilton K. Fisker, who had gone into partnership with +his uncle, and who had added a vast flour-mill to his uncle's +concerns. In accordance with this deed he was to get twelve per +cent, on his capital, and had enjoyed the gratification of seeing his +name put up as one of the firm, which now stood as Fisker, Montague, +and Montague. A business declared by the two elder partners to +be most promising had been opened at Fiskerville, about two hundred +and fifty miles from San Francisco, and the hearts of Fisker and the +elder Montague were very high. Paul hated Fisker horribly, did +not love his uncle much, and would willingly have got back his £6,000 +had he been able. But he was not able, and returned as one of +Fisker, Montague, and Montague, not altogether unhappy, as he had +succeeded in obtaining enough of his back income to pay what he owed +to Roger, and to live for a few months. He was intent on +considering how he should bestow himself, consulting daily with Roger +on the subject, when suddenly Roger had perceived that the young man +was becoming attached to the girl whom he himself loved. What +then occurred has been told. + +<p>Not a word was said to Lady Carbury or her daughter of the real +cause of Paul's sudden disappearance. It had been necessary +that he should go to London. Each of the ladies probably +guessed something of the truth, but neither spoke a word to the other +on the subject Before they left the Manor the squire again pleaded +his cause with Henrietta, but he pleaded it in vain. Henrietta +was colder than ever,—but she made use of one unfortunate phrase +which destroyed all the effect which her coldness might have +had. She said that she was too young to think of marrying +yet. She had meant to imply that the difference in their ages +was too great, but had not known how to say it. It was easy to +tell her that in a twelve-month she would be older;—but it was +impossible to convince her that any number of twelvemonths would +alter the disparity between her and her cousin. But even that +disparity was not now her strongest reason for feeling sure that she +could not marry Roger Carbury. + +<p>Within a week of the departure of Lady Carbury from the Manor +House, Paul Montague returned, and returned as a still dear +friend. He had promised before he went that he would not see +Henrietta again for three months, but he would promise nothing +further. "If she won't take you, there is no reason why I +shouldn't try." That had been his argument. Roger would +not accede to the justice even of this. It seemed to him that +Paul was bound to retire altogether, partly because he had got no +income, partly because of Roger's previous claim,—partly no doubt in +gratitude, but of this last reason Roger never said a word. If +Paul did not see this himself, Paul was not such a man as his friend +had taken him to be. + +<p>Paul did see it himself, and had many scruples. But why +should his friend be a dog in the manger? He would yield at +once to Roger Carbury's older claims if Roger could make anything of +them. Indeed he could have no chance if the girl were disposed +to take Roger for her husband. Roger had all the advantage of +Carbury Manor at his back, whereas he had nothing but his share in +the doubtful business of Fisker, Montague, and Montague, in a +wretched little town 250 miles further off than San Francisco! +But if with all this, Roger could not prevail, why should he not +try? What Roger said about want of money was mere +nonsense. Paul was sure that his friend would have created no +such difficulty had not he himself been interested. Paul +declared to himself that he had money, though doubtful money, and +that he certainly would not give up Henrietta on that score. + +<p>He came up to London at various times in search of certain +employment which had been half promised him, and, after the +expiration of the three months, constantly saw Lady Carbury and her +daughter. But from time to time he had given renewed promises +to Roger Carbury that he would not declare his passion,—now for two +months, then for six weeks, then for a month. In the meantime +the two men were fast friends,—so fast that Montague spent by far the +greater part of his time as his friend's guest,—and all this was done +with the understanding that Roger Carbury was to blaze up into +hostile wrath should Paul ever receive the privilege to call himself +Henrietta Carbury's favoured lover, but that everything was to be +smooth between them should Henrietta be persuaded to become the +mistress of Carbury Hall. So things went on up to the night at +which Montague met Henrietta at Madame Melmotte's ball. The +reader should also be informed that there had been already a former +love affair in the young life of Paul Montague. There had been, +and indeed there still was, a widow, one Mrs Hurtle, whom he had been +desperately anxious to marry before his second journey to California;— +but the marriage had been prevented by the interference of Roger +Carbury. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="7"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VII. Mentor</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lady Carbury's desire for a union between Roger and her daughter +was greatly increased by her solicitude in respect to her son. +Since Roger's offer had first been made, Felix had gone on from bad +to worse, till his condition had become one of hopeless +embarrassment. If her daughter could but be settled in the +world, Lady Carbury said to herself, she could then devote herself to +the interests of her son. She had no very clear idea of what +that devotion would be. But she did know that she had paid so +much money for him, and would have so much more extracted from her, +that it might well come to pass that she would be unable to keep a +home for her daughter. In all these troubles she constantly +appealed to Roger Carbury for advice,—which, however, she never +followed. He recommended her to give up her house in town, to +find a home for her daughter elsewhere, and also for Felix if he +would consent to follow her. Should he not so consent, then let +the young man bear the brunt of his own misdoings. Doubtless, +when he could no longer get bread in London he would find her +out. Roger was always severe when he spoke of the baronet,—or +seemed to Lady Carbury to be severe. + +<p>But, in truth, she did not ask for advice in order that she might +follow it. She had plans in her head with which she knew that +Roger would not sympathise. She still thought that Sir Felix +might bloom and burst out into grandeur, wealth, and fashion, as the +husband of a great heiress, and in spite of her son's vices, was +proud of him in that anticipation. When he succeeded in +obtaining from her money, as in the case of that £20,—when, with +brazen-faced indifference to her remonstrances, he started off to his +club at two in the morning, when with impudent drollery he almost +boasted of the hopelessness of his debts, a sickness of heart would +come upon her, and she would weep hysterically, and lie the whole +night without sleeping. But could he marry Miss Melmotte, and +thus conquer all his troubles by means of his own personal +beauty,—then she would be proud of all that had passed. With +such a condition of mind Roger Carbury could have no sympathy. +To him it seemed that a gentleman was disgraced who owed money to a +tradesman which he could not pay. And Lady Carbury's heart was +high with other hopes,—in spite of her hysterics and her +fears. The "Criminal Queens" might be a great literary +success. She almost thought that it would be a success. +Messrs. Leadham and Loiter, the publishers, were civil to her. +Mr Broune had promised. Mr Booker had said that he would see +what could be done. She had gathered from Mr Alf's caustic and +cautious words that the book would be noticed in the "Evening +Pulpit." No;—she would not take dear Roger's advice as to +leaving London. But she would continue to ask Roger's +advice. Men like to have their advice asked. And, if +possible, she would arrange the marriage. What country +retirement could be so suitable for a Lady Carbury when she wished to +retire for awhile,—as Carbury Manor, the seat of her own +daughter? And then her mind would fly away into regions of +bliss. If only by the end of this season Henrietta could be +engaged to her cousin, Felix be the husband of the richest bride in +Europe, and she be the acknowledged author of the cleverest book of +the year, what a Paradise of triumph might still be open to her after +all her troubles. Then the sanguine nature of the woman would +bear her up almost to exultation, and for an hour she would be happy +in spite of everything. + +<p>A few days after the ball Roger Carbury was up in town and was +closeted with her in her back drawing-room. The declared cause +of his coming was the condition of the baronet's affairs and the +indispensable necessity,—so Roger thought,—of taking some steps by +which at any rate the young man's present expenses might be brought +to an end. It was horrible to him that a man who had not a +shilling in the world or any prospect of a shilling, who had nothing +and never thought of earning anything should have hunters! He +was very much in earnest about it, and quite prepared to speak his +mind to the young man himself,—if he could get hold of him. +"Where is he now, Lady Carbury,—at this moment?" + +<p>"I think he's out with the Baron." Being "out with the +Baron." meant that the young man was hunting with the staghounds some +forty miles away from London. + +<p>"How does he manage it? Whose horses does he ride? Who +pays for them?" + +<p>"Don't be angry with me, Roger. What can I do to prevent it?" + +<p>"I think you should refuse to have anything to do with him while +he continues in such courses." + +<p>"My own son!" + +<p>"Yes;—exactly. But what is to be the end of it? Is he +to be allowed to ruin you and Hetta? It can't go on long." + +<p>"You wouldn't have me throw him over." + +<p>"I think he is throwing you over. And then it is so +thoroughly dishonest,—so ungentlemanlike! I don't understand +how it goes on from day to day. I suppose you don't supply him +with ready money?" + +<p>"He has had a little." + +<p>Roger frowned angrily. "I can understand that you should +provide him with bed and food, but not that you should pander to his +vices by giving him money." This was very plain speaking, and +Lady Carbury winced under it. "The kind of life that he is +leading requires a large income of itself. I understand the +thing, and know that with all I have in the world I could not do it +myself." + +<p>"You are so different." + +<p>"I am older of course,—very much older. But he is not so +young that he should not begin to comprehend. Has he any money +beyond what you give him?" + +<p>Then Lady Carbury revealed certain suspicions which she had begun +to entertain during the last day or two. "I think he has been +playing." + +<p>"That is the way to lose money,—not to get it." said Roger. + +<p>"I suppose somebody wins,—sometimes." + +<p>"They who win are the sharpers. They who lose are the +dupes. I would sooner that he were a fool than a knave." + +<p>"O Roger, you are so severe!" + +<p>"You say he plays. How would he pay, were he to lose?" + +<p>"I know nothing about it. I don't even know that he does +play; but I have reason to think that during the last week he has had +money at his command. Indeed I have seen it. He comes +home at all manner of hours and sleeps late. Yesterday I went +into his room about ten and did not wake him. There were notes +and gold lying on his table;—ever so much." + +<p>"Why did you not take them?" + +<p>"What; rob my own boy?" + +<p>"When you tell me that you are absolutely in want of money to pay +your own bills, and that he has not hesitated to take yours from +you! Why does he not repay you what he has borrowed?" + +<p>"Ah, indeed;—why not? He ought to if he has it. And +there were papers there;—I.O.U.'s signed by other men." + +<p>"You looked at them." + +<p>"I saw as much as that. It is not that I am curious but one +does feel about one's own son. I think he has bought another +horse. A groom came here and said something about it to the +servants." + +<p>"Oh dear oh dear!" + +<p>"If you could only induce him to stop the gambling! Of +course it is very bad whether he wins or loses,—though I am sure +that Felix would do nothing unfair. Nobody ever said that of +him. If he has won money, it would be a great comfort if he +would let me have some of it,—for to tell the truth. I hardly +know how to turn. I am sure nobody can say that I spend it on +myself." + +<p>Then Roger again repeated his advice. There could be no use +in attempting to keep up the present kind of life in Welbeck +Street. Welbeck Street might be very well without a penniless +spendthrift such as Sir Felix but must be ruinous under the present +conditions. If Lady Carbury felt, as no doubt she did feel, +bound to afford a home to her ruined son in spite of all his +wickedness and folly, that home should be found far away from +London. If he chose to remain in London, let him do so on his +own resources. The young man should make up his mind to do +something for himself. A career might possibly be opened for +him in India. "If he be a man he would sooner break stones than +live on you." said Roger. Yes, he would see his cousin to-morrow +and speak to him;—that is if he could possibly find him. "Young +men who gamble all night, and hunt all day are not easily +found." But he would come at twelve as Felix generally +breakfasted at that hour. Then he gave an assurance to Lady +Carbury which to her was not the least comfortable part of the +interview. In the event of her son not giving her the money +which she at one once required he, Roger, would lend her a hundred +pounds till her half year's income should be due. After that +his voice changed altogether, as he asked a question on another +subject. "Can I see Henrietta to-morrow?" + +<p>"Certainly;—why not? She is at, home now, I think." + +<p>"I will wait till to-morrow,—when I call to see Felix. I +should like her to know that I am coming. Paul Montague was in +town the other day. He was here, I suppose?" + +<p>"Yes;—he called." + +<p>"Was that all you saw of him?" + +<p>"He was at the Melmottes' ball. Felix got a card for +him;—and we were there. Has he gone down to Carbury?" + +<p>"No;—not to Carbury. I think he had some business about his +partners at Liverpool. There is another case of a young man +without anything to do. Not that Paul is at all like Sir +Felix." This he was induced to say by the spirit of honesty +which was always strong within him. + +<p>"Don't be too hard upon poor Felix." said Lady Carbury. +Roger, as he took his leave, thought that it would be impossible to +be too hard upon Sir Felix Carbury. + +<p>The next morning Lady Carbury was in her son's bedroom before he +was up, and with incredible weakness told him that his cousin Roger +was coming to lecture him. "What the devil's the use of it?" +said Felix from beneath the bedclothes. + +<p>"If you speak to me in that way, Felix, I must leave the room." + +<p>"But what is the use of his coming to me? I know what he has +got to say just as if it were said. It's all very well +preaching sermons to good people, but nothing ever was got by +preaching to people who ain't good." + +<p>"Why shouldn't you be good?" + +<p>"I shall do very well, mother, if that fellow will leave me +alone. I can play my hand better than he can play for me. +If you'll go now I'll get up." She had intended to ask him for +some of the money which she believed he still possessed; but her +courage failed her. If she asked for his money, and took it, +she would in some fashion recognise and tacitly approve his +gambling. It was not yet eleven, and it was early for him to +leave his bed; but he had resolved that he would get out of the house +before that horrible bore should be upon him with his sermon. +To do this he must be energetic. He was actually eating his +breakfast at half-past eleven, and had already contrived in his mind +how he would turn the wrong way as soon as he got into the +street,—towards Marylebone Road, by which route Roger would +certainly not come. He left the house at ten minutes before +twelve, cunningly turned away, dodging round by the first +corner,—and just as he had turned it encountered his cousin. +Roger, anxious in regard to his errand, with time at his command, had +come before the hour appointed and had strolled about, thinking not +of Felix but of Felix's sister. The baronet felt that he had +been caught,—caught unfairly, but by no means abandoned all hope of +escape. "I was going to your mother's house on purpose to see +you," said Roger. + +<p>"Were you indeed? I am so sorry. I have an engagement out here with a +fellow which I must keep. I could meet you at any other time, you +know." + +<p>"You can come back for ten minutes," said Roger, taking him by the +arm. + +<p>"Well;—not conveniently at this moment." + +<p>"You must manage it. I am here at your mother's request, and +can't afford to remain in town day after day looking for you. I +go down to Carbury this afternoon. Your friend can wait. +Come along." His firmness was too much for Felix, who lacked +the courage to shake his cousin off violently, and to go his +way. But as he returned he fortified himself with the +remembrance of all the money in his pocket,—for he still had his +winnings,—remembered too certain sweet words which had passed +between him and Marie Melmotte since the ball, and resolved that he +would not be sat upon by Roger Carbury. The time was +coming,—he might almost say that the time had come,—in which he +might defy Roger Carbury. Nevertheless, he dreaded the words +which were now to be spoken to him with a craven fear. + +<p>"Your mother tells me," said Roger, "that you still keep hunters." + +<p>"I don't know what she calls hunters. I have one that I +didn't part with when the others went." + +<p>"You have only one horse?" + +<p>"Well;—if you want to be exact, I have a hack as well as the +horse I ride." + +<p>"And another up here in town?" + +<p>"Who told you that? No; I haven't. At least there is +one staying at some stables which, has been sent for me to look at." + +<p>"Who pays for all these horses?" + +<p>"At any rate I shall not ask you to pay for them." + +<p>"No;—you would be afraid to do that. But you have no +scruple in asking your mother, though you should force her to come to +me or to other friends for assistance. You have squandered +every shilling of your own, and now you are ruining her." + +<p>"That isn't true. I have money of my own." + +<p>"Where did you get it?" + +<p>"This is all very well. Roger; but I don't know that you +have any right to ask me these questions. I have money. +If I buy a horse I can pay for it. If I keep one or two I can +pay for them. Of course I owe a lot of money, but other people +owe me money too. I'm all right, and you needn't frighten +yourself." + +<p>"Then why do you beg her last shilling from your mother, and when +you have money not pay it back to her?" + +<p>"She can have the twenty pounds, if you mean that." + +<p>"I mean that, and a good deal more than that. I suppose you +have been gambling." + +<p>"I don't know that I am bound to answer your questions, and I +won't do it. If you have nothing else to say, I'll go about my +own business." + +<p>"I have something else to say, and I mean to say it." Felix +had walked towards the door, but Roger was before him, and now leaned +his back against it. + +<p>"I'm not going to be kept here against my will," said Felix. + +<p>"You have to listen to me, so you may as well sit still. Do +you wish to be looked upon as a blackguard by all the world?" + +<p>"Oh;—go on!" + +<p>"That is what it will be. You have spent every shilling of +your own,—and because your mother is affectionate and weak you are +now spending all that she has, and are bringing her and your sister +to beggary." + +<p>"I don't ask her to pay anything for me." + +<p>"Not when you borrow her money?" + +<p>"There is the £20. Take it and give it her." said Felix, +counting the notes out of the pocket-book. "When I asked, her +for it, I did not think she would make such a row about such a +trifle." Roger took up the notes and thrust them into his +pocket. "Now, have you done?" said Felix. + +<p>"Not quite. Do you purpose that your mother should keep you +and clothe you for the rest of your life?" + +<p>"I hope to be able to keep her before long, and to do it much +better than it has ever been done before. The truth is, Roger, +you know nothing about it. If you'll leave me to myself you'll +find that I shall do very well." + +<p>"I don't know any young man who ever did worse or one who had less +moral conception of what is right and wrong." + +<p>"Very well. That's your idea. I differ from you. +People can't all think alike, you know. Now, if you please, +I'll go." + +<p>Roger felt that he hadn't half said what he had to say, but he +hardly knew how to get it said. And of what use could it be to +talk to a young man who was altogether callous and without +feeling? The remedy for the evil ought to be found in the +mother's conduct rather than the son's. She, were she not +foolishly weak, would make up her mind to divide herself utterly from +her son, at any rate for a while, and to leave him to suffer utter +penury. That would bring him round. And then when the +agony of want had tamed him, he would be content to take bread and +meat from her hand and would be humble. At present he had money +in his pocket, and would eat and drink of the best, and be free from +inconvenience for the moment. While this prosperity remained it +would be impossible to touch him. "You will ruin your sister, +and break your mother's heart." said Roger, firing a last harmless +shot after the young reprobate. + +<p>When Lady Carbury came into the room, which she did as soon as the +front door was closed behind her son, she seemed to think that a +great success had been achieved because the £20 had been +recovered. "I knew he would give it me back, if he had it." she +said. + +<p>"Why did he not bring it to you of his own accord?" + +<p>"I suppose he did not like to talk about it. Has he said +that he got it by—playing?" + +<p>"No,—he did not speak a word of truth while he was here. +You may take it for granted that he did get it by gambling. How +else should he have it? And you may take it for granted also +that he will lose all that he has got. He talked in the wildest +way,—saying that he would soon have a home for you and Hetta." + +<p>"Did he,—dear boy!" + +<p>"Had he any meaning?" + +<p>"Oh; yes. And it is quite on the cards that it should be +so. You have heard of Miss Melmotte." + +<p>"I have heard of the great French swindler who has come over here, +and who is buying his way into society." + +<p>"Everybody visits them now, Roger." + +<p>"More shame for everybody. Who knows anything about +him,—except that he left Paris with the reputation of a specially +prosperous rogue? But what of him?" + +<p>"Some people think that Felix will marry his only child. +Felix is handsome; isn't he? What young man is there nearly so +handsome? They say she'll have half a million of money." + +<p>"That's his game;—is it?" + +<p>"Don't you think he is right?" + +<p>"No; I think he's wrong. But we shall hardly agree with each +other about that. Can I see Henrietta for a few minutes?" +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="8"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII. Love-Sick</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Roger Carbury said well that it was very improbable that he and +his cousin, the widow, should agree in their opinions as to the +expedience of fortune-hunting by marriage. It was impossible +that they should ever understand each other. To Lady Carbury +the prospect of a union between her son and Miss Melmotte was one of +unmixed joy and triumph. Could it have been possible that Marie +Melmotte should be rich and her father be a man doomed to a deserved +sentence in a penal settlement, there might perhaps be a doubt about +it. The wealth even in that case would certainly carry the day, +against the disgrace, and Lady Carbury would find reasons why poor +Marie should not be punished for her father's sins even while +enjoying the money which those sins had produced. But how +different were the existing facts? Mr Melmotte was not at the +galleys, but was entertaining duchesses in Grosvenor Square. +People said that Mr Melmotte had a reputation throughout Europe as a +gigantic swindler,—as one who in the dishonest and successful +pursuit of wealth had stopped at nothing. People said of him +that he had framed and carried out long premeditated and deeply-laid +schemes for the ruin of those who had trusted him, that he had +swallowed up the property of all who had come in contact with him, +that he was fed with the blood of widows and children;—but what was +all this to Lady Carbury? If the duchesses condoned it all, did +it become her to be prudish? People also said that Melmotte +would yet get a fall,—that a man who had risen after such a fashion +never could long keep his head up. But he might keep his head +up long enough to give Marie her fortune. And then Felix wanted +a fortune so badly;—was so exactly the young man who ought to marry +a fortune! To Lady Carbury there was no second way of looking +at the matter. + +<p>And to Roger Carbury also there was no second way of looking at +it. That condonation of antecedents which, in the hurry of the +world, is often vouchsafed to success, that growing feeling which +induces people to assert to themselves that they are not bound to go +outside the general verdict, and that they may shake hands with +whomsoever the world shakes hands with, had never reached him. +The old-fashioned idea that the touching of pitch will defile still +prevailed with him. He was a gentleman;—and would have felt +himself disgraced to enter the house of such a one as Augustus +Melmotte. Not all the duchesses in the peerage, or all the +money in the city, could alter his notions or induce him to modify +his conduct. But he knew that it would be useless for him to +explain this to Lady Carbury. He trusted, however, that one of +the family might be taught to appreciate the difference between +honour and dishonour. Henrietta Carbury had, he thought, a +higher turn of mind than her mother, and had as yet been kept free +from soil. As for Felix,—he had so grovelled in the gutters as +to be dirt all over. Nothing short of the prolonged sufferings +of half a life could cleanse him. + +<p>He found Henrietta alone in the drawing-room. "Have you seen +Felix?" she said, as soon as they had greeted each other. + +<p>"Yes. I caught him in the street." + +<p>"We are so unhappy about him." + +<p>"I cannot say but that you have reason. I think, you know, +that your mother indulges him foolishly." + +<p>"Poor mamma! She worships the very ground he treads on." + +<p>"Even a mother should not throw her worship away like that. +The fact is that your brother will ruin you both if this goes on." + +<p>"What can mamma do?" + +<p>"Leave London, and then refuse to pay a shilling on his behalf." + +<p>"What would Felix do in the country?" + +<p>"If he did nothing, how much better would that be than what he +does in town? You would not like him to become a professional +gambler." + +<p>"Oh, Mr Carbury; you do not mean that he does that!" + +<p>"It seems cruel to say such things to you,—but in a matter of +such importance one is bound to speak the truth. I have no +influence over your mother; but you may have some. She asks my +advice, but has not the slightest idea of listening to it. I +don't blame her for that; but I am anxious, for the sake of—for the +sake of the family." + +<p>"I am sure you are." + +<p>"Especially for your sake. You will never throw him over." + +<p>"You would not ask me to throw him over." + +<p>"But he may drag you into the mud. For his sake you have +already been taken into the house of that man Melmotte." + +<p>"I do not think that I shall be injured by anything of that kind," +said Henrietta drawing herself up. + +<p>"Pardon me if I seem to interfere." + +<p>"Oh, no;—it is no interference from you." + +<p>"Pardon me then if I am rough. To me it seems that an injury +is done to you if you are made to go to the house of such a one as +this man. Why does your mother seek his society? Not +because she likes him; not because she has any sympathy with him or +his family;—but simply because there is a rich daughter." + +<p>"Everybody goes there, Mr Carbury." + +<p>"Yes,—that is the excuse which everybody makes. Is that +sufficient reason for you to go to a man's house? Is there not +another place, to which we are told that a great many are going, +simply because the road has become thronged and fashionable? +Have you no feeling that you ought to choose your friends for certain +reasons of your own? I admit there is one reason here. +They have a great deal of money, and it is thought possible that he +may get some of it by falsely swearing to a girl that he loves +her. After what you have heard, are the Melmottes people with +whom you would wish to be connected?" + +<p>"I don't know." + +<p>"I do. I know very well. They are absolutely +disgraceful. A social connection with the first +crossing-sweeper would be less objectionable." He spoke with a +degree of energy of which he was himself altogether unaware. He +knit his brows, and his eyes flashed, and his nostrils were +extended. Of course she thought of his own offer to +herself. Of course, her mind at once conceived,—not that the +Melmotte connection could ever really affect him, for she felt sure +that she would never accept his offer,—but that he might think that +he would be so affected. Of course he resented the feeling +which she thus attributed to him. But, in truth, he was much +too simple-minded for any such complex idea. "Felix," he +continued, "has already descended so far that I cannot pretend to be +anxious as to what houses he may frequent. But I should be +sorry to think that you should often be seen at Mr Melmotte's." + +<p>"I think, Mr Carbury, that mamma will take care that I am not +taken where I ought not to be taken." + +<p>"I wish you to have some opinion of your own as to what is proper +for you." + +<p>"I hope I have. I am sorry you should think that I have +not." + +<p>"I am old-fashioned, Hetta." + +<p>"And we belong to a newer and worse sort of world. I dare +say it is so. You have been always very kind, but I almost +doubt whether you can change us, now. I have sometimes thought +that you and mamma were hardly fit for each other." + +<p>"I have thought that you and I were,—or possibly might be fit for +each other." + +<p>"Oh,—as for me. I shall always take mamma's side. If +mamma chooses to go to the Melmottes I shall certainly go with +her. If that is contamination, I suppose I must be +contaminated. I don't see why I'm to consider myself better +than any one else." + +<p>"I have always thought that you were better than any one else." + +<p>"That was before I went to the Melmottes. I am sure you have +altered your opinion now. Indeed you have told me so. I +am afraid, Mr Carbury, you must go your way, and we must go ours." + +<p>He looked into her face as she spoke, and gradually began to +perceive the working of her mind. He was so true to himself +that he did not understand that there should be with her even that +violet-coloured tinge of prevarication which women assume as an +additional charm. Could she really have thought that he was +attending to his own possible future interests when he warned her as +to the making of new acquaintances? + +<p>"For myself." he said, putting out his hand and making a slight +vain effort to get hold of hers, "I have only one wish in the world; +and that is, to travel the same road with you. I do not say +that you ought to wish it too; but you ought to know that I am +sincere. When I spoke of the Melmottes did you believe that I +was thinking of myself?" + +<p>"Oh no;—how should I?" + +<p>"I was speaking to you then as to a cousin who might regard me as +an elder brother. No contact with legions of Melmottes could +make you other to me than the woman on whom my heart has +settled. Even were you in truth disgraced,—could disgrace +touch one so pure as you,—it would be the same. I love you so +well that I have already taken you for better or for worse. I +cannot change. My nature is too stubborn for such +changes. Have you a word to say to comfort me?" She +turned away her head, but did not answer him at once. "Do you +understand how much I am in need of comfort?" + +<p>"You can do very well without comfort from me." + +<p>"No, indeed. I shall live, no doubt; but I shall not do very +well. As it is, I am not doing at all well. I am becoming +sour and moody, and ill at ease with my friends. I would have +you believe me, at any rate, when I say I love you." + +<p>"I suppose you mean something." + +<p>"I mean a great deal, dear. I mean all that a man can +mean. That is it. You hardly understand that I am serious +to the extent of ecstatic joy on the one side, and utter indifference +to the world on the other. I shall never give it up till I +learn that you are to be married to some one else." + +<p>"What can I say, Mr Carbury?" + +<p>"That you will love me." + +<p>"But if I don't?" + +<p>"Say that you will try." + +<p>"No; I will not say that. Love should come without a +struggle. I don't know how one person is to try to love another +in that way. I like you very much; but being married is such a +terrible thing." + +<p>"It would not be terrible to me, dear." + +<p>"Yes;—when you found that I was too young for your tastes." + +<p>"I shall persevere, you know. Will you assure me of +this,—that if you promise your hand to another man you will let me +know at once?" + +<p>"I suppose I may promise that," she said, after pausing for a +moment. + +<p>"There is no one as yet?" + +<p>"There is no one. But, Mr Carbury, you have no right to +question me. I don't think it generous. I allow you to +say things that nobody else could say because you are a cousin and +because mamma trusts you so much. No one but mamma has a right +to ask me whether I care for any one." + +<p>"Are you angry with me?" + +<p>"No." + +<p>"If I have offended you it is because I love you so dearly." + +<p>"I am not offended, but I don't like to be questioned by a +gentleman. I don't think any girl would like it. I am not +to tell everybody all that happens." + +<p>"Perhaps when you reflect how much of my happiness depends upon it +you will forgive me. Good-bye now." She put out her hand +to him and allowed it to remain in his for a moment. "When I +walk about the old shrubberies at Carbury where we used to be +together, I am always asking myself what chance there is of your +walking there as the mistress." + +<p>"There is no chance." + +<p>"I am, of course, prepared to hear you say so. Well; +good-bye, and may God bless you." + +<p>The man had no poetry about him. He did not even care for +romance. All the outside belongings of love which are so +pleasant to many men and which to many women afford the one sweetness +in life which they really relish, were nothing to him. There +are both men and women to whom even the delays and disappointments of +love are charming, even when they exist to the detriment of +hope. It is sweet to such persons to be melancholy, sweet to +pine, sweet to feel that they are now wretched after a romantic +fashion as have been those heroes and heroines of whose sufferings +they have read in poetry. But there was nothing of this with +Roger Carbury. He had, as he believed, found the woman that he +really wanted, who was worthy of his love, and now, having fixed his +heart upon her, he longed for her with an amazing longing. He +had spoken the simple truth when he declared that life had become +indifferent to him without her. No man in England could be less +likely to throw himself off the Monument or to blow out his +brains. But he felt numbed in all the joints of his mind by +this sorrow. He could not make one thing bear upon another, so +as to console himself after any fashion. There was but one +thing for him;—to persevere till he got her, or till he had finally +lost her. And should the latter be his fate, as he began to +fear that it would be, then, he would live, but live only, like a +crippled man. + +<p>He felt almost sure in his heart of hearts that the girl loved +that other younger man. That she had never owned to such love +he was quite sure. The man himself and Henrietta also had both +assured him on this point, and he was a man easily satisfied by words +and prone to believe. But he knew that Paul Montague was +attached to her, and that it was Paul's intention to cling to his +love. Sorrowfully looking forward through the vista of future +years, he thought he saw that Henrietta would become Paul's +wife. Were it so, what should he do? Annihilate himself +as far as all personal happiness in the world was concerned, and look +solely to their happiness, their prosperity, and their joys? Be +as it were a beneficent old fairy to them, though the agony of his +own disappointment should never depart from him? Should he do +this and be blessed by them,—or should he let Paul Montague know +what deep resentment such ingratitude could produce? When had a +father been kinder to a son, or a brother to a brother, than he had +been to Paul? His home had been the young man's home, and his +purse the young man's purse. What right could the young man +have to come upon him just as he was perfecting his bliss and rob him +of all that he had in the world? He was conscious all the while +that there was a something wrong in his argument,—that Paul when he +commenced to love the girl knew nothing of his friend's love,—that +the girl, though Paul had never come in the way, might probably have +been as obdurate as she was now to his entreaties. He knew all +this because his mind was clear. But yet the injustice,—at any +rate, the misery was so great, that to forgive it and to reward it +would be weak, womanly, and foolish. Roger Carbury did not +quite believe in the forgiveness of injuries. If you pardon all +the evil done to you, you encourage others to do you evil! If +you give your cloak to him who steals your coat, how long will it be, +before your shirt and trousers will go also? Roger Carbury, +returned that afternoon to Suffolk, and as he thought of it all +throughout the journey, he resolved that he would never forgive Paul +Montague if Paul Montague should become his cousin's husband. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="9"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER IX. The Great Railway to Vera Cruz</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"You have been a guest in his house. Then, I guess, the +thing's about as good as done." These words were spoken with a +fine, sharp, nasal twang by a brilliantly-dressed American gentleman +in one of the smartest private rooms of the great railway hotel at +Liverpool, and they were addressed to a young Englishman who was +sitting opposite to him. Between them there was a table covered +with maps, schedules, and printed programmes. The American was +smoking a very large cigar, which he kept constantly turning in his +mouth, and half of which was inside his teeth. The Englishman +had a short pipe. Mr Hamilton K. Fisker, of the firm of Fisker, +Montague, and Montague, was the American, and the Englishman was our +friend Paul, the junior member of that firm. + +<p>"But I didn't even speak to him," said Paul. + +<p>"In commercial affairs that matters nothing. It quite +justifies you in introducing me. We are not going to ask your +friend to do us a favour. We don't want to borrow money." + +<p>"I thought you did." + +<p>"If he'll go in for the thing he'd be one of us, and there would +be no borrowing then. He'll join us if he's as clever as they +say, because he'll see his way to making a couple of million of +dollars out of it. If he'd take the trouble to run over and +show himself in San Francisco, he'd make double that. The +moneyed men would go in with him at once, because they know that he +understands the game and has got the pluck. A man who has done +what he has by financing in Europe,—by George! there's no limit to +what he might do with us. We're a bigger people than any of you +and have more room. We go after bigger things, and don't stand +shilly-shally on the brink as you do. But Melmotte pretty nigh +beats the best among us. Anyway he should come and try his +luck, and he couldn't have a bigger thing or a safer thing than +this. He'd see it immediately if I could talk to him for half +an hour." + +<p>"Mr Fisker," said Paul mysteriously, "as we are partners, I think +I ought to let you know that many people speak very badly of Mr +Melmotte's honesty." + +<p>Mr Fisker smiled gently, turned his cigar twice round in his +mouth, and then closed one eye. "There is always a want of +charity," he said, "when a man is successful." + +<p>The scheme in question was the grand proposal for a South Central +Pacific and Mexican railway, which was to run from the Salt Lake +City, thus branching off from the San Francisco and Chicago +line,—and pass down through the fertile lands of New Mexico and +Arizona into the territory of the Mexican Republic, run by the city +of Mexico, and come out on the gulf at the port of Vera Cruz. +Mr Fisker admitted at once that it was a great undertaking, +acknowledged that the distance might be perhaps something over 2000 +miles, acknowledged that no computation had or perhaps could be made +as to the probable cost of the railway; but seemed to think that +questions such as these were beside the mark and childish. +Melmotte, if he would go into the matter at all, would ask no such +questions. + +<p>But we must go back a little. Paul Montague had received a +telegram from his partner, Hamilton K. Fisker, sent on shore at +Queenstown from one of the New York liners, requesting him to meet +Fisker at Liverpool immediately. With this request he had felt +himself bound to comply. Personally he had disliked +Fisker,—and perhaps not the less so because when in California he +had never found himself able to resist the man's good humour, +audacity, and cleverness combined. He had found himself talked +into agreeing with any project which Mr Fisker might have in +hand. It was altogether against the grain with him, and yet by +his own consent, that the flour-mill had been opened at +Fiskerville. He trembled for his money and never wished to see +Fisker again; but still, when Fisker came to England, he was proud to +remember that Fisker was his partner, and he obeyed the order and +went down to Liverpool. + +<p>If the flour-mill had frightened him, what must the present +project have done! Fisker explained that he had come with two +objects,—first to ask the consent of the English partner to the +proposed change in their business, and secondly to obtain the +cooperation of English capitalists. The proposed change in the +business meant simply the entire sale of the establishment at +Fiskerville, and the absorption of the whole capital in the work of +getting up the railway. "If you could realise all the money it +wouldn't make a mile of the railway," said Paul. Mr Fisker +laughed at him. The object of Fisker, Montague, and Montague +was not to make a railway to Vera Cruz, but to float a company. +Paul thought that Mr Fisker seemed to be indifferent whether the +railway should ever be constructed or not. It was clearly his +idea that fortunes were to be made out of the concern before a +spadeful of earth had been moved. If brilliantly printed +programmes might avail anything, with gorgeous maps, and beautiful +little pictures of trains running into tunnels beneath snowy +mountains and coming out of them on the margin of sunlit lakes, Mr +Fisker had certainly done much. But Paul, when he saw all these +pretty things, could not keep his mind from thinking whence had come +the money to pay for them. Mr Fisker had declared that he had +come over to obtain his partner's consent, but it seemed to that +partner that a great deal had been done without any consent. +And Paul's fears on this hand were not allayed by finding that on all +these beautiful papers he himself was described as one of the agents +and general managers of the company. Each document was signed +Fisker, Montague, and Montague. References on all matters were +to be made to Fisker, Montague, and Montague,—and in one of the +documents it was stated that a member of the firm had proceeded to +London with the view of attending to British interests in the +matter. Fisker had seemed to think that his young partner would +express unbounded satisfaction at the greatness which was thus +falling upon him. A certain feeling of importance, not +altogether unpleasant, was produced, but at the same time there was +another conviction forced upon Montague's mind, not altogether +pleasant, that his, money was being made to disappear without any +consent given by him, and that it behoved him to be cautious lest +such consent should be extracted from him unawares. + +<p>"What has become of the mill?" he asked + +<p>"We have put an agent into it." + +<p>"Is not that dangerous? What check have you on him?" + +<p>"He pays us a fixed sum sir. But, my word! when there is +such a thing as this on hand a trumpery mill like that is not worth +speaking of." + +<p>"You haven't sold it?" + +<p>"Well;—no. But we've arranged a price for a sale." + +<p>"You haven't taken the money for it?" + +<p>"Well;—yes; we have. We've raised money on it, you +know. You see you weren't there, and so the two resident +partners acted for the firm. But Mr Montague, you'd better go +with us. You had indeed." + +<p>"And about my own income?" + +<p>"That's a flea-bite. When we've got a little ahead with this +it won't matter, sir, whether you spend twenty thousand or forty +thousand dollars a year. We've got the concession from the +United States Government through the territories, and we're in +correspondence with the President of the Mexican Republic. I've +no doubt we've an office open already in Mexico and another at Vera +Cruz." + +<p>"Where's the money to come from?" + +<p>"Money to come from, sir? Where do you suppose the money +comes from in all these undertakings? If we can float the +shares, the money'll come in quick enough. We hold three +million dollars of the stock ourselves." + +<p>"Six hundred thousand pounds!" said Montague. + +<p>"We take them at par, of course,—and as we sell we shall pay for +them. But of course we shall only sell at a premium. If +we can run them up even to 110, there would be three hundred thousand +dollars. But we'll do better than that. I must try and +see Melmotte at once. You had better write a letter now." + +<p>"I don't know the man." + +<p>"Never mind. Look here I'll write it, and you can sign +it." Whereupon Mr Fisker did write the following letter:— + +<blockquote> +<i> +<br> +Langham Hotel, London. March 4, 18—.<br> +<br> +DEAR SIR<br> +<br> + I have the pleasure of informing you that my partner Mr Fisker,—of +Fisker, Montague, and Montague, of San Francisco,—is now in London +with the view of allowing British capitalists to assist in carrying +out perhaps the greatest work of the age,—namely, the South Central +Pacific and Mexican Railway, which is to give direct communication +between San Francisco and the Gulf of Mexico. He is very +anxious to see you upon his arrival, as he is aware that your +co-operation would be desirable. We feel assured that with your +matured judgment in such matters, you would see, at once, the +magnificence of the enterprise. If you will name a day and an +hour, Mr Fisker will call upon you.<br> +<br> + I have to thank you and Madame Melmotte for a very pleasant evening +spent at your house last week.<br> +<br> + Mr Fisker proposes returning to New York. I shall remain here, +superintending the British interests which may be involved.<br> +<br> + I have the honour to be,<br> +<br> + Dear Sir,<br> +<br> + Most faithfully yours.<br> +<br> +<br> +</i> +</blockquote> + +<p>"But I have never said that I would superintend the interests," +said Montague. + +<p>"You can say so now. It binds you to nothing. You +regular John Bull Englishmen are so full of scruples that you lose as +much of life as should serve to make an additional fortune." + +<p>After some further conversation Paul Montague recopied the letter +and signed it. He did it with doubt,—almost with dismay. +But he told himself that he could do no good by refusing. If +this wretched American, with his hat on one side and rings on his +fingers, had so far got the upper hand of Paul's uncle as to have +been allowed to do what he liked with the funds of the partnership, +Paul could not stop it. On the following morning they went up +to London together, and in the course of the afternoon Mr Fisker +presented himself in Abchurch Lane. The letter written at +Liverpool, but dated from the Langham Hotel, had been posted at the +Euston Square Railway Station at the moment of Fisker's +arrival. Fisker sent in his card, and was asked to wait. +In the course of twenty minutes he was ushered into the great man's +presence by no less a person than Miles Grendall. + +<p>It has been already said that Mr Melmotte was a big man with large +whiskers, rough hair, and with an expression of mental power on a +harsh vulgar face. He was certainly a man to repel you by his +presence unless attracted to him by some internal +consideration. He was magnificent in his expenditure, powerful +in his doings, successful in his business, and the world around him +therefore was not repelled. Fisker, on the other hand, was a +shining little man,—perhaps about forty years of age, with a +well-twisted moustache, greasy brown hair, which was becoming bald at +the top, good-looking if his features were analysed, but +insignificant in appearance. He was gorgeously dressed, with a +silk waistcoat, and chains, and he carried a little stick. One +would at first be inclined to say that Fisker was not much of a man; +but after a little conversation most men would own that there was +something in Fisker. He was troubled by no shyness, by no +scruples, and by no fears. His mind was not capacious, but such +as it was it was his own, and he knew how to use it. + +<p>Abchurch Lane is not a grand site for the offices of a merchant +prince. Here, at a small corner house, there was a small brass +plate on a swing door, bearing the words "Melmotte & Co." Of +whom the Co was composed no one knew. In one sense Mr Melmotte +might be said to be in company with all the commercial world, for +there was no business to which he would refuse his co-operation on +certain terms. But he had never burdened himself with a partner +in the usual sense of the term. Here Fisker found three or four +clerks seated at desks, and was desired to walk upstairs. The +steps were narrow and crooked, and the rooms were small and +irregular. Here he stayed for a while in a small dark apartment +in which "The Daily Telegraph" was left for the amusement of its +occupant till Miles Grendall announced to him that Mr Melmotte would +see him. The millionaire looked at him for a moment or two, +just condescending to touch with his fingers the hand which Fisker +had projected. + +<p>"I don't seem to remember," he said, "the gentleman who has done +me the honour of writing to me about you." + +<p>"I dare say not, Mr Melmotte. When I'm at home in San +Francisco, I make acquaintance with a great many gents whom I don't +remember afterwards. My partner I think told me that he went to +your house with his friend, Sir Felix Carbury." + +<p>"I know a young man called Sir Felix Carbury." + +<p>"That's it. I could have got any amount of introductions to +you if I had thought this would not have sufficed." Mr Melmotte +bowed. "Our account here in London is kept with the City and +West End Joint Stock. But I have only just arrived, and as my +chief object in coming to London is to see you, and as I met my +partner, Mr Montague, in Liverpool, I took a note from him and came +on straight." + +<p>"And what can I do for you, Mr Fisker?" + +<p>Then Mr Fisker began his account of the Great South Central +Pacific and Mexican Railway, and exhibited considerable skill by +telling it all in comparatively few words. And yet he was +gorgeous and florid. In two minutes he had displayed his +programme, his maps, and his pictures before Mr Melmotte's eyes, +taking care that Mr Melmotte should see how often the names of +Fisker, Montague, and Montague, reappeared upon them. As Mr +Melmotte read the documents, Fisker from time to time put in a +word. But the words had no reference at all to the future +profits of the railway, or to the benefit which such means of +communication would confer upon the world at large; but applied +solely to the appetite for such stock as theirs, which might +certainly be produced in the speculating world by a proper +manipulation of the affairs. + +<p>"You seem to think you couldn't get it taken up in your own +country," said Melmotte. + +<p>"There's not a doubt about getting it all taken up there. +Our folk, sir, are quick enough at the game; but you don't want them +to teach you, Mr Melmotte, that nothing encourages this kind of thing +like competition. When they hear at St. Louis and Chicago that +the thing is alive in London, they'll be alive there. And it's +the same here, sir. When they know that the stock is running +like wildfire in America, they'll make it run here too." + +<p>"How far have you got?" + +<p>"What we've gone to work upon is a concession for making the line +from the United States Congress. We're to have the land for +nothing, of course, and a grant of one thousand acres round every +station, the stations to be twenty-five miles apart." + +<p>"And the land is to be made over to you,—when?" + +<p>"When we have made the line up to the station." Fisker +understood perfectly that Mr Melmotte did not ask the question in +reference to any value that he might attach to the possession of such +lands, but to the attractiveness of such a prospectus in the eyes of +the outside world of speculators. + +<p>"And what do you want me to do, Mr Fisker?" + +<p>"I want to have your name there," he said. And he placed his +finger down on a spot on which it was indicated that there was, or +was to be, a chairman of an English Board of Directors, but with a +space for the name hitherto blank. + +<p>"Who are to be your directors here, Mr Fisker?" + +<p>"We should ask you to choose them, sir. Mr Paul Montague +should be one, and perhaps his friend Sir Felix Carbury might be +another. We could get probably one of the Directors of the City +and West End. But we would leave it all to you,—as also the +amount of stock you would like to take yourself. If you gave +yourself to it, heart and soul, Mr Melmotte, it would be the finest +thing that there has been out for a long time. There would be +such a mass of stock!" + +<p>"You have to back that with a certain amount of paid-up capital?" + +<p>"We take care, sir, in the West not to cripple commerce too +closely by old-fashioned bandages. Look at what we've done +already, sir, by having our limbs pretty free. Look at our +line, sir, right across the continent, from San Francisco to New +York. Look at—" + +<p>"Never mind that, Mr Fisker. People wanted to go from New +York to San Francisco, and I don't know that they do want to go to +Vera Cruz. But I will look at it, and you shall hear from +me." The interview was over, and Mr Fisker was contented with +it. Had Mr Melmotte not intended at least to think of it, he +would not have given ten minutes to the subject. After all, +what was wanted from Mr Melmotte was little more than his name, for +the use of which Mr Fisker proposed that he should receive from the +speculative public two or three hundred thousand pounds. + +<p>At the end of a fortnight from the date of Mr Fisker's arrival in +London, the company was fully launched in England, with a body of +London directors, of whom Mr Melmotte was the chairman. Among +the directors were Lord Alfred Grendall, Sir Felix Carbury, Samuel +Cohenlupe, Esq., Member of Parliament for Staines, a gentleman of the +Jewish persuasion, Lord Nidderdale, who was also in Parliament, and +Mr Paul Montague. It may be thought that the directory was not +strong, and that but little help could be given to any commercial +enterprise by the assistance of Lord Alfred or Sir Felix,—but it was +felt that Mr Melmotte was himself so great a tower of strength that +the fortune of the Company,—as a company,—was made. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="10"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER X. Mr Fisker's Success</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Mr Fisker was fully satisfied with the progress he had made, but +he never quite succeeded in reconciling Paul Montague to the whole +transaction. Mr Melmotte was indeed so great a reality, such a +fact in the commercial world of London, that it was no longer +possible for such a one as Montague to refuse to believe in the +scheme. Melmotte had the telegraph at his command, and had been +able to make as close inquiries as though San Francisco and Salt Lake +City had been suburbs of London. He was chairman of the British +branch of the Company, and had had shares allocated to him,—or, as +he said, to the house,—to the extent of two millions of +dollars. But still there was a feeling of doubt, and a +consciousness that Melmotte, though a tower of strength, was thought +by many to have been built upon the sands. + +<p>Paul had now of course given his full authority to the work, much +in opposition to the advice of his old friend Roger Carbury,—and had +come up to live in town, that he might personally attend to the +affairs of the great railway. There was an office just behind +the Exchange, with two or three clerks and a secretary, the latter +position being held by Miles Grendall, Esq. Paul, who had a +conscience in the matter and was keenly alive to the fact that he was +not only a director but was also one of the firm of Fisker, Montague, +and Montague which was responsible for the whole affair, was +grievously anxious to be really at work, and would attend most +inopportunely at the Company's offices. Fisker, who still +lingered in London, did his best to put a stop to this folly, and on +more than one occasion somewhat snubbed his partner. "My dear +fellow, what's the use of your flurrying yourself? In a thing +of this kind, when it has once been set agoing, there is nothing else +to do. You may have to work your fingers off before you can +make it move, and then fail. But all that has been done for +you. If you go there on the Thursdays that's quite as much as +you need do. You don't suppose that such a man as Melmotte +would put up with any real interference." Paul endeavoured to +assert himself, declaring that as one of the managers he meant to +take a part in the management;—that his fortune, such as it was, had +been embarked in the matter, and was as important to him as was Mr +Melmotte's fortune to Mr Melmotte. But Fisker got the better of +him and put him down. "Fortune! what fortune had either of us? +a few beggarly thousands of dollars not worth talking of, and barely +sufficient to enable a man to look at an enterprise. And now +where are you? Look here, sir;—there's more to be got out of +the smashing-up of such an affair as this, if it should smash up, +than could, be made by years of hard work out of such fortunes as +yours and mine in the regular way of trade." + +<p>Paul Montague certainly did not love Mr Fisker personally, nor did +he relish his commercial doctrines; but he allowed himself to be +carried away by them. "When and how was I to have helped +myself?" he wrote to Roger Carbury. "The money had been raised +and spent before this man came here at all. It's all very well +to say that he had no right to do it; but he had done it. I +couldn't even have gone to law with him without going over to +California, and then I should have got no redress." Through it +all he disliked Fisker, and yet Fisker had one great merit which +certainly recommended itself warmly to Montague's appreciation. +Though he denied the propriety of Paul's interference in the +business, he quite acknowledged Paul's right to a share in the +existing dash of prosperity. As to the real facts of the money +affairs of the firm he would tell Paul nothing. But he was well +provided with money himself, and took care that his partner should he +in the same position. He paid him all the arrears of his +stipulated income up to the present moment, and put him nominally +into possession of a large number of shares in the railway,—with, +however, an understanding that he was not to sell them till they had +reached ten per cent. above par, and that in any sale transacted he +was to touch no other money than the amount of profit which would +thus accrue. What Melmotte was to be allowed to do with his +shares, he never heard. As far as Montague could understand, +Melmotte was in truth to be powerful over everything. All this +made the young man unhappy, restless, and extravagant. He was +living in London and had money at command, but he never could rid +himself of the fear that the whole affair might tumble to pieces +beneath his feet and that he might be stigmatised as one among a gang +of swindlers. + +<p>We all know how, in such circumstances, by far the greater +proportion of a man's life will be given up to the enjoyments that +are offered to him and the lesser proportion to the cares, +sacrifices, and sorrows. Had this young director been +describing to his intimate friend the condition in which he found +himself, he would have declared himself to be distracted by doubts, +suspicions, and fears till his life was a burden to him. And +yet they who were living with him at this time found him to be a very +pleasant fellow, fond of amusement, and disposed to make the most of +all the good things which came in his way. Under the auspices +of Sir Felix Carbury he had become a member of the Beargarden, at +which best of all possible clubs the mode of entrance was as +irregular as its other proceedings. When any young man desired +to come in who was thought to be unfit for its style of living, it +was shown to him that it would take three years before his name could +be brought up at the usual rate of vacancies; but in regard to +desirable companions the committee had a power of putting them at the +top of the list of candidates and bringing them in at once. +Paul Montague had suddenly become credited with considerable +commercial wealth and greater commercial influence. He sat at +the same Board with Melmotte and Melmotte's men; and was on this +account elected at the Beargarden without any of that harassing delay +to which other less fortunate candidates are subjected. + +<p>And,—let it be said with regret, for Paul Montague was at heart +honest and well-conditioned,—he took to living a good deal at the +Beargarden. A man must dine somewhere, and everybody knows that +a man dines cheaper at his club than elsewhere. It was thus he +reasoned with himself. But Paul's dinners at the Beargarden +were not cheap. He saw a good deal of his brother directors, +Sir Felix Carbury and Lord Nidderdale, entertained Lord Alfred more +than once at the club, and had twice dined with his great chairman +amidst all the magnificence of merchant-princely hospitality in +Grosvenor Square. It had indeed been suggested to him by Mr +Fisker that he also ought to enter himself for the great Marie +Melmotte plate. Lord Nidderdale had again declared his +intention of running, owing to considerable pressure put upon him by +certain interested tradesmen, and with this intention had become one +of the directors of the Mexican Railway Company. At the time, +however, of which we are now writing, Sir Felix was the favourite for +the race among fashionable circles generally. + +<p>The middle of April had come, and Fisker was still in +London. When millions of dollars are at stake,—belonging +perhaps to widows and orphans, as Fisker remarked,—a man was forced +to set his own convenience on one side. But this devotion was +not left without reward, for Mr Fisker had "a good time" in +London. He also was made free of the Beargarden, as an honorary +member, and he also spent a good deal of money. But there is +this comfort in great affairs, that whatever you spend on yourself +can be no more than a trifle. Champagne and ginger-beer are all +the same when you stand to win or lose thousands,—with this only +difference, that champagne may have deteriorating results which the +more innocent beverage will not produce. The feeling that the +greatness of these operations relieved them from the necessity of +looking to small expenses operated in the champagne direction, both +on Fisker and Montague, and the result was deleterious. The +Beargarden, no doubt, was a more lively place than Carbury Manor, but +Montague found that he could not wake up on these London mornings +with thoughts as satisfactory as those which attended his pillow at +the old Manor House. + +<p>On Saturday, the 19th of April, Fisker was to leave London on his +return to New York, and on the 18th a farewell dinner was to be given +to him at the club. Mr Melmotte was asked to meet him, and on +such an occasion all the resources of the club were to be brought +forth. Lord Alfred Grendall was also to be a guest, and Mr +Cohenlupe, who went about a good deal with Melmotte. +Nidderdale, Carbury, Montague, and Miles Grendall were members of the +club, and gave the dinner. No expense was spared. Herr +Vossner purveyed the viands and wines,—and paid for them. Lord +Nidderdale took the chair, with Fisker on his right hand, and +Melmotte on his left, and, for a fast-going young lord, was supposed +to have done the thing well. There were only two toasts drunk, +to the healths of Mr Melmotte and Mr Fisker, and two speeches were of +course made by them. Mr Melmotte may have been held to have +clearly proved the genuineness of that English birth which he claimed +by the awkwardness and incapacity which he showed on the +occasion. He stood with his hands on the table and with his +face turned to his plate blurted out his assurance that the floating +of this railway company would be one of the greatest and most +successful commercial operations ever conducted on either side of the +Atlantic. It was a great thing,—a very great thing;—he had no +hesitation in saying that it was one of the greatest things +out. He didn't believe a greater thing had ever come out. +He was happy to give his humble assistance to the furtherance of so +great a thing,—and so on. These assertions, not varying much +one from the other, he jerked out like so many separate +interjections, endeavouring to look his friends in the face at each, +and then turning his countenance back to his plate as though seeking +for inspiration for the next attempt. He was not eloquent; but +the gentlemen who heard him remembered that he was the great Augustus +Melmotte, that he might probably make them all rich men, and they +cheered him to the echo. Lord Alfred had reconciled himself to +be called by his Christian name, since he had been put in the way of +raising two or three hundred pounds on the security of shares which +were to be allotted to him, but of which in the flesh he had as yet +seen nothing. Wonderful are the ways of trade! If one can +only get the tip of one's little finger into the right pie, what +noble morsels, what rich esculents, will stick to it as it is +extracted! + +<p>When Melmotte sat down Fisker made his speech, and it was fluent, +fast, and florid. Without giving it word for word, which would +be tedious, I could not adequately set before the reader's eye the +speaker's pleasing picture of world-wide commercial love and harmony +which was to be produced by a railway from Salt Lake City to Vera +Cruz, nor explain the extent of gratitude from the world at large +which might be claimed by, and would finally be accorded to, the +great firms of Melmotte & Co, of London, and Fisker, Montague, and +Montague of San Francisco. Mr Fisker's arms were waved +gracefully about. His head was turned now this way and now +that, but never towards his plate. It was very well done. +But there was more faith in one ponderous word from Mr Melmotte's +mouth than in all the American's oratory. + +<p>There was not one of them then present who had not after some +fashion been given to understand that his fortune was to be made, not +by the construction of the railway, but by the floating of the +railway shares. They had all whispered to each other their +convictions on this head. Even Montague did not beguile himself +into an idea that he was really a director in a company to be +employed in the making and working of a railway. People out of +doors were to be advertised into buying shares, and they who were so +to say indoors were to have the privilege of manufacturing the shares +thus to be sold. That was to be their work, and they all knew +it. But now, as there were eight of them collected together, +they talked of humanity at large and of the coming harmony of +nations. + +<p>After the first cigar, Melmotte withdrew, and Lord Alfred went +with him. Lord Alfred would have liked to remain, being a man +who enjoyed tobacco and soda-and-brandy,—but momentous days had come +upon him, and he thought well to cling to his Melmotte. Mr +Samuel Cohenlupe also went, not having taken a very distinguished +part in the entertainment. Then the young men were left alone, +and it was soon proposed that they should adjourn to the +cardroom. It had been rather hoped that Fisker would go with +the elders. Nidderdale, who did not understand much about the +races of mankind, had his doubts whether the American gentleman might +not be a "Heathen Chinee," such as he had read of in poetry. +But Mr Fisker liked to have his amusement as well as did the others, +and went up resolutely into the cardroom. Here they were joined +by Lord Grasslough, and were very quickly at work, having chosen loo +as their game. Mr Fisker made an allusion to poker as a +desirable pastime, but Lord Nidderdale, remembering his poetry, shook +his head. "Oh! bother," he said, "let's have some game that +Christians play." Mr Fisker declared himself ready for any +game,—irrespective of religious prejudices. + +<p>It must be explained that the gambling at the Beargarden had gone +on with very little interruption, and that on the whole Sir Felix +Carbury kept his luck. There had of course been vicissitudes, +but his star had been in the ascendant. For some nights +together this had been so continual that Mr Miles Grendall had +suggested to his friend Lord Grasslough that there must be foul +play. Lord Grasslough, who had not many good gifts, was, at +least, not suspicious, and repudiated the idea. "We'll keep an +eye on him," Miles Grendall had said. "You may do as you like, +but I'm not going to watch any one," Grasslough had replied. +Miles "had watched," and had watched in vain, and it may as well be +said at once that Sir Felix, with all his faults, was not as yet a +blackleg. Both of them now owed Sir Felix a considerable sum of +money, as did also Dolly Longestaffe, who was not present on this +occasion. Latterly very little ready money had passed +hands,—very little in proportion to the sums which had been written +down on paper,—though Sir Felix was still so well in funds as to +feel himself justified in repudiating any caution that his mother +might give him. + +<p>When I.O.U.'s have for some time passed freely in such a company +as that now assembled the sudden introduction of a stranger is very +disagreeable, particularly when that stranger intends to start for +San Francisco on the following morning. If it could be arranged +that the stranger should certainly lose, no doubt then he would be +regarded as a godsend. Such strangers have ready money in their +pockets, a portion of which would be felt to descend like a soft +shower in a time of drought. When these dealings in unsecured +paper have been going on for a considerable time real bank notes come +to have a loveliness which they never possessed before. But +should the stranger win, then there may arise complications incapable +of any comfortable solution. In such a state of things some +Herr Vossner must be called in, whose terms are apt to be +ruinous. On this occasion things did not arrange themselves +comfortably. From the very commencement Fisker won, and quite a +budget of little papers fell into his possession, many of which were +passed to him from the hands of Sir Felix,—bearing, however, a "G" +intended to stand for Grasslough, or an "N" for Nidderdale, or a +wonderful hieroglyphic which was known at the Beargarden to mean D. +L.,—or Dolly Longestaffe, the fabricator of which was not present on +the occasion. + +<p>Then there was the M.G. of Miles Grendall, which was a species of +paper peculiarly plentiful and very unattractive on these commercial +occasions. Paul Montague hitherto had never given an I.O.U. at +the Beargarden,—nor of late had our friend Sir Felix. On the +present occasion Montague won, though not heavily. Sir Felix +lost continually, and was almost the only loser. But Mr Fisker +won nearly all that was lost. He was to start for Liverpool by +train at 8.30 a.m., and at 6 a.m., he counted up his bits of paper +and found himself the winner of about £600. "I think that most +of them came from you, Sir Felix," he said,—handing the bundle +across the table. + +<p>"I dare say they did, but they are all good against these other +fellows." Then Fisker, with most perfect good humour, extracted +one from the mass which indicated Dolly Longestaffe's indebtedness to +the amount of £50. "That's Longestaffe," said Felix, "and I'll +change that of course." Then out of his pocket-book he +extracted other minute documents bearing that M.G. which was so +little esteemed among them,—and so made up the sum. "You seem +to have £150 from Grasslough, £145 from Nidderdale, and £322 10s from +Grendall," said the baronet. Then Sir Felix got up as though he +had paid his score. Fisker, with smiling good humour, arranged +the little bits of paper before him and looked round upon the +company. + +<p>"This won't do, you know," said Nidderdale. "Mr Fisker must +have his money before he leaves. You've got it, Carbury." + +<p>"Of course he has," said Grasslough. + +<p>"As it happens, I have not," said Sir Felix,—"but what if I had?" + +<p>"Mr Fisker starts for New York immediately," said Lord +Nidderdale. "I suppose we can muster £600 among us. Ring +the bell for Vossner. I think Carbury ought to pay the money as +he lost it, and we didn't expect to have our I.O.U.'s brought up in +this way." + +<p>"Lord Nidderdale," said Sir Felix, "I have already said that I +have not got the money about me. Why should I have it more than +you, especially as I knew I had I.O.U.'s more than sufficient to meet +anything I could lose when I sat down?" + +<p>"Mr Fisker must have his money at any rate," said Lord Nidderdale, +ringing the bell again. + +<p>"It doesn't matter one straw, my lord," said the American. +"Let it be sent to me to Frisco, in a bill, my lord." And so he +got up to take his hat, greatly to the delight of Miles Grendall. + +<p>But the two young lords would not agree to this. "If you +must go this very minute I'll meet you at the train with the money," +said Nidderdale. Fisker begged that no such trouble should be +taken. Of course he would wait ten minutes if they +wished. But the affair was one of no consequence. Wasn't +the post running every day? Then Herr Vossner came from his +bed, suddenly arrayed in a dressing-gown, and there was a conference +in a corner between him, the two lords, and Mr Grendall. In a +very few minutes Herr Vossner wrote a cheque for the amount due by +the lords, but he was afraid that he had not money at his banker's +sufficient for the greater claim. It was well understood that +Herr Vossner would not advance money to Mr Grendall unless others +would pledge themselves for the amount. + +<p>"I suppose I'd better send you a bill over to America," said Miles +Grendall, who had taken no part in the matter as long as he was in +the same boat with the lords. + +<p>"Just so. My partner, Montague, will tell you the +address." Then bustling off, taking an affectionate adieu of +Paul, shaking hands with them all round, and looking as though he +cared nothing for the money, he took his leave. "One cheer for +the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway," he, said as he went +out of the room. Not one there had liked Fisker. His +manners were not as their manners; his waistcoat not as their +waistcoats. He smoked his cigar after a fashion different from +theirs, and spat upon the carpet. He said "my lord" too often, +and grated their prejudices equally whether he treated them with +familiarity or deference. But he had behaved well about the +money, and they felt that they were behaving badly. Sir Felix +was the immediate offender, as he should have understood that he was +not entitled to pay a stranger with documents which, by tacit +contract, were held to be good among themselves. But there was +no use now in going back to that. Something must be done. + +<p>"Vossner must get the money," said Nidderdale. "Let's have +him up again." + +<p>"I don't think it's my fault," said Miles. "Of course no one +thought he was to be called upon in this sort of way." + +<p>"Why shouldn't you be called upon?" said Carbury. "You +acknowledge that you owe the money." + +<p>"I think Carbury ought to have paid it," said Grasslough. + +<p>"Grassy, my boy," said the baronet, "your attempts at thinking are +never worth much. Why was I to suppose that a stranger would be +playing among us? Had you a lot of ready money with you to pay +if you had lost it? I don't always walk about with six hundred +pounds in my pocket;—nor do you!" + +<p>"It's no good jawing," said Nidderdale. "let's get the +money." Then Montague offered to undertake the debt himself, +saying that there were money transactions between him and his +partner. But this could not be allowed. He had only +lately come among them, had as yet had no dealing in I.O.U.'s, and +was the last man in the company who ought to be made responsible for +the impecuniosity of Miles Grendall. He, the impecunious +one,—the one whose impecuniosity extended to the absolute want of +credit,—sat silent, stroking his heavy moustache. + +<p>There was a second conference between Herr Vossner and the two +lords, in another room, which ended in the preparation of a document +by which Miles Grendall undertook to pay to Herr Vossner £450 at the +end of three months, and this was endorsed by the two lords, by Sir +Felix, and by Paul Montague; and in return for this the German +produced £322 10s. in notes and gold. This had taken some +considerable time. Then a cup of tea was prepared and +swallowed; after which Nidderdale, with Montague, started off to meet +Fisker at the railway station. "It'll only be a trifle over +£100 each," said Nidderdale, in the cab. + +<p>"Won't Mr Grendall pay it?" + +<p>"Oh, dear no. How the devil should he?" + +<p>"Then he shouldn't play." + +<p>"That'd be hard, on him, poor fellow. If you went to his +uncle the duke, I suppose you could get it. Or Buntingford +might put it right for you. Perhaps he might win, you know, +some day, and then he'd make it square. He'd be fair enough if +he had it. Poor Miles!" + +<p>They found Fisker wonderfully brilliant with bright rugs, and +greatcoats with silk linings. "We've brought you the tin," said +Nidderdale, accosting him on the platform. + +<p>"Upon my word, my lord, I'm sorry you have taken so much trouble +about such a trifle." + +<p>"A man should always have his money when he wins." + +<p>"We don't think anything about such little matters at Frisco, my +lord." + +<p>"You're fine fellows at Frisco, I dare say. Here we pay up +when we can. Sometimes we can't, and then it is not +pleasant." Fresh adieus were made between the two partners, and +between the American and the lord,—and then Fisker was taken off on +his way towards Frisco. + +<p>"He's not half a bad fellow, but he's not a bit like an +Englishman," said Lord Nidderdale, as he walked out of the station. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="11"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XI. Lady Carbury at Home</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>During the last six weeks Lady Carbury had lived a life of very +mixed depression and elevation. Her great work had come +out,—the "Criminal Queens,"—and had been very widely +reviewed. In this matter it had been by no means all pleasure, +inasmuch as many very hard words had been said of her. In spite +of the dear friendship between herself and Mr Alf, one of Mr Alf's +most sharp-nailed subordinates had been set upon her book, and had +pulled it to pieces with almost rabid malignity. One would have +thought that so slight a thing could hardly have been worthy of such +protracted attention. Error after error was laid bare with +merciless prolixity. No doubt the writer of the article must +have had all history at his finger-ends, as in pointing out the +various mistakes made he always spoke of the historical facts which +had been misquoted, misdated, or misrepresented, as being familiar in +all their bearings to every schoolboy of twelve years old. The +writer of the criticism never suggested the idea that he himself, +having been fully provided with books of reference, and having +learned the art of finding in them what he wanted at a moment's +notice, had, as he went on with his work, checked off the blunders +without any more permanent knowledge of his own than a housekeeper +has of coals when she counts so many sacks into the +coal-cellar. He spoke of the parentage of one wicked ancient +lady, and the dates of the frailties of another, with an assurance +intended to show that an exact knowledge of all these details abided +with him always. He must have been a man of vast and varied +erudition, and his name was Jones. The world knew him not, but +his erudition was always there at the command of Mr Alf,—and his +cruelty. The greatness of Mr Alf consisted in this, that he +always had a Mr Jones or two ready to do his work for him. It +was a great business, this of Mr Alf's, for he had his Jones also for +philology, for science, for poetry, for politics, as well as for +history, and one special Jones, extraordinarily accurate and very +well posted up in his references, entirely devoted to the Elizabethan +drama. + +<p>There is the review intended to sell a book,—which comes out +immediately after the appearance of the book, or sometimes before it; +the review which gives reputation, but does not affect the sale, and +which comes a little later; the review which snuffs a book out +quietly; the review which is to raise or lower the author a single +peg, or two pegs, as the case may be; the review which is suddenly to +make an author, and the review which is to crush him. An +exuberant Jones has been known before now to declare aloud that he +would crush a man, and a self-confident Jones has been known to +declare that he has accomplished the deed. Of all reviews, the +crushing review is the most popular, as being the most +readable. When the rumour goes abroad that some notable man has +been actually crushed,—been positively driven over by an entire +Juggernaut's car of criticism till his literary body be a mere +amorphous mass,—then a real success has been achieved, and the Alf +of the day has done a great thing; but even the crushing of a poor +Lady Carbury, if it be absolute, is effective. Such a review +will not make all the world call for the "Evening Pulpit", but it +will cause those who do take the paper to be satisfied with their +bargain. Whenever the circulation of such a paper begins to +slacken, the proprietors should, as a matter of course, admonish +their Alf to add a little power to the crushing department. + +<p>Lady Carbury had been crushed by the "Evening Pulpit." We +may fancy that it was easy work, and that Mr Alf's historical Mr +Jones was not forced to fatigue himself by the handling of many books +of reference. The errors did lie a little near the surface; and +the whole scheme of the work, with its pandering to bad tastes by +pretended revelations of frequently fabulous crime, was reprobated in +Mr Jones's very best manner. But the poor authoress, though +utterly crushed, and reduced to little more than literary pulp for an +hour or two, was not destroyed. On the following morning she +went to her publishers, and was closeted for half an hour with the +senior partner, Mr Leadham. "I've got it all in black and +white," she said, full of the wrong which had been done her, "and can +prove him to be wrong. It was in 1522 that the man first came +to Paris, and he couldn't have been her lover before that. I +got it all out of the 'Biographie Universelle.' I'll write to +Mr Alf myself,—a letter to be published, you know." + +<p>"Pray don't do anything of the kind, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"I can prove that I'm right." + +<p>"And they can prove that you're wrong." + +<p>"I've got all the facts—and the figures." + +<p>Mr Leadham did not care a straw for facts or figures,—had no +opinion of his own whether the lady or the reviewer were right; but +he knew very well that the "Evening Pulpit" would surely get the +better of any mere author in such a contention. "Never fight +the newspapers, Lady Carbury. Who ever yet got any satisfaction +by that kind of thing? It's their business, and you are not +used to it." + +<p>"And Mr Alf my particular friend! It does seem so hard," +said Lady Carbury, wiping hot tears from her cheeks. + +<p>"It won't do us the least harm, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"It'll stop the sale?" + +<p>"Not much. A book of that sort couldn't hope to go on very +long, you know. The 'Breakfast Table' gave it an excellent +lift, and came just at the right time. I rather like the notice +in the 'Pulpit,' myself." + +<p>"Like it!" said Lady Carbury, still suffering in every fibre of +her self-love from the soreness produced by those Juggernaut's +car-wheels. + +<p>"Anything is better than indifference, Lady Carbury. A great +many people remember simply that the book has been noticed, but carry +away nothing as to the purport of the review. It's a very good +advertisement." + +<p>"But to be told that I have got to learn the A B C of history +after working as I have worked!" + +<p>"That's a mere form of speech, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"You think the book has done pretty well?" + +<p>"Pretty well;—just about what we hoped, you know." + +<p>"There'll be something coming to me, Mr Leadham?" + +<p>Mr Leadham sent for a ledger, and turned over a few pages and ran +up a few figures, and then scratched his head. There would be +something, but Lady Carbury was not to imagine that it could be very +much. It did not often happen that a great deal could be made +by a first book. Nevertheless, Lady Carbury, when she left the +publisher's shop, did carry a cheque with her. She was smartly +dressed and looked very well, and had smiled on Mr Leadham. Mr +Leadham, too, was no more than man, and had written—a small cheque. + +<p>Mr Alf certainly had behaved badly to her; but both Mr Broune, of +the "Breakfast Table" and Mr Booker of the "Literary Chronicle" had +been true to her interests. Lady Carbury had, as she promised, +"done" Mr Booker's "New Tale of a Tub" in the "Breakfast +Table." That is, she had been allowed, as a reward for looking +into Mr Broune's eyes, and laying her soft hand on Mr Broune's +sleeve, and suggesting to Mr Broune that no one understood her so +well as he did, to bedaub Mr Booker's very thoughtful book in a very +thoughtless fashion,—and to be paid for her work. What had +been said about his work in the "Breakfast Table" had been very +distasteful to poor Mr Booker. It grieved his inner +contemplative intelligence that such rubbish should be thrown upon +him; but in his outside experience of life he knew that even the +rubbish was valuable, and that he must pay for it in the manner to +which he had unfortunately become accustomed. So Mr Booker +himself wrote the article on the "Criminal Queens" in the "Literary +Chronicle," knowing that what he wrote would also be rubbish. +"Remarkable vivacity." "Power of delineating character." +"Excellent choice of subject." "Considerable intimacy with the +historical details of various periods." "The literary world +would be sure to hear of Lady Carbury again." The composition +of the review, together with the reading of the book, consumed +altogether perhaps an hour of Mr Booker's time. He made no +attempt to cut the pages, but here and there read those that were +open. He had done this kind of thing so often, that he knew +well what he was about. He could have reviewed such a book when +he was three parts asleep. When the work was done he threw down +his pen and uttered a deep sigh. He felt it to be hard upon him +that he should be compelled, by the exigencies of his position, to +descend so low in literature; but it did not occur to him to reflect +that in fact he was not compelled, and that he was quite at liberty +to break stones, or to starve honestly, if no other honest mode of +carrying on his career was open to him. "If I didn't, somebody +else would," he said to himself. + +<p>But the review in the "Morning Breakfast Table" was the making of +Lady Carbury's book, as far as it ever was made. Mr Broune saw +the lady after the receipt of the letter given in the first chapter +of this Tale, and was induced to make valuable promises which had +been fully performed. Two whole columns had been devoted to the +work, and the world had been assured that no more delightful mixture +of amusement and instruction had ever been concocted than Lady +Carbury's "Criminal Queens." It was the very book that had been +wanted for years. It was a work of infinite research and +brilliant imagination combined. There had been no hesitation in +the laying on of the paint. At that last meeting Lady Carbury +had been very soft, very handsome, and very winning; Mr Broune had +given the order with good will, and it had been obeyed in the same +feeling. + +<p>Therefore, though the crushing had been very real, there had also +been some elation; and as a net result, Lady Carbury was disposed to +think that her literary career might yet be a success. Mr +Leadham's cheque had been for a small amount, but it might probably +lead the way to something better. People at any rate were +talking about her, and her Tuesday evenings at home were generally +full. But her literary life, and her literary successes, her +flirtations with Mr Broune, her business with Mr Booker, and her +crushing by Mr Alf's Mr Jones, were after all but adjuncts to that +real inner life of hers of which the absorbing interest was her +son. And with regard to him too she was partly depressed, and +partly elated, allowing her hopes however to dominate her +fears. There was very much to frighten her. Even the +moderate reform in the young man's expenses which had been effected +under dire necessity had been of late abandoned. Though he +never told her anything, she became aware that during the last month +of the hunting season he had hunted nearly every day. She knew, +too, that he had a horse up in town. She never saw him but once +in the day, when she visited him in his bed about noon, and was aware +that he was always at his club throughout the night. She knew +that he was gambling, and she hated gambling as being of all pastimes +the most dangerous. But she knew that he had ready money for +his immediate purposes, and that two or three tradesmen who were +gifted with a peculiar power of annoying their debtors, had ceased to +trouble her in Welbeck Street. For the present, therefore, she +consoled herself by reflecting that his gambling was +successful. But her elation sprang from a higher source than +this. From all that she could hear, she thought it likely that +Felix would carry off the great prize; and then,—should he do +that,—what a blessed son would he have been to her! How +constantly in her triumph would she be able to forget all his vices, +his debts, his gambling, his late hours, and his cruel treatment of +herself! As she thought of it the bliss seemed to be too great +for the possibility of realisation. She was taught to +understand that £10,000 a year, to begin with, would be the least of +it; and that the ultimate wealth might probably be such as to make +Sir Felix Carbury the richest commoner in England. In her very +heart of hearts she worshipped wealth, but desired it for him rather +than for herself. Then her mind ran away to baronies and +earldoms, and she was lost in the coming glories of the boy whose +faults had already nearly engulfed her in his own ruin. + +<p>And she had another ground for elation, which comforted her much, +though elation from such a cause was altogether absurd. She had +discovered that her son had become a Director of the South Central +Pacific and Mexican Railway Company. She must have known,—she +certainly did know,—that Felix, such as he was, could not lend +assistance by his work to any company or commercial enterprise in the +world. She was aware that there was some reason for such a +choice hidden from the world, and which comprised and conveyed a +falsehood. A ruined baronet of five-and-twenty, every hour of +whose life since he had been left to go alone had been loaded with +vice and folly,—whose egregious misconduct warranted his friends in +regarding him as one incapable of knowing what principle is,—of what +service could he be, that he should be made a Director? But +Lady Carbury, though she knew that he could be of no service, was not +at all shocked. She was now able to speak up a little for her +boy, and did not forget to send the news by post to Roger +Carbury. And her son sat at the same Board with Mr +Melmotte! What an indication was this of coming triumphs! + +<p>Fisker had started, as the reader will perhaps remember, on the +morning of Saturday 19th April, leaving Sir Felix at the Club at +about seven in the morning. All that day his mother was unable +to see him. She found him asleep in his room at noon and again +at two; and when she sought him again he had flown. But on the +Sunday she caught him. "I hope," she said, "you'll stay at home +on Tuesday evening." Hitherto she had never succeeded in +inducing him to grace her evening parties by his presence. + +<p>"All your people are coming! You know, mother, it is such an +awful bore." + +<p>"Madame Melmotte and her daughter will be here." + +<p>"One looks such a fool carrying on that kind of thing in one's own +house. Everybody sees that it has been contrived. And it +is such a pokey, stuffy little place!" + +<p>Then Lady Carbury spoke out her mind. "Felix, I think you +must be a fool. I have given over ever expecting that you would +do anything to please me. I sacrifice everything for you and I +do not even hope for a return. But when I am doing everything +to advance your own interests, when I am working night and day to +rescue you from ruin, I think you might at any rate help a +little,—not for me of course, but for yourself." + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by working day and night. I +don't want you to work day and night." + +<p>"There is hardly a young man in London that is not thinking of +this girl, and you have chances that none of them have. I am +told they are going out of town at Whitsuntide, and that she's to +meet Lord Nidderdale down in the country." + +<p>"She can't endure Nidderdale. She says so herself." + +<p>"She will do as she is told,—unless she can be made to be +downright in love with some one like yourself. Why not ask her +at once on Tuesday?" + +<p>"If I'm to do it at all I must do it after my own fashion. +I'm not going to be driven." + +<p>"Of course if you will not take the trouble to be here to see her +when she comes to your own house, you cannot expect her to think that +you really love her." + +<p>"Love her! what a bother there is about loving! Well;—I'll +look in. What time do the animals come to feed?" + +<p>"There will be no feeding. Felix, you are so heartless and +so cruel that I sometimes think I will make up my mind to let you go +your own way and never to speak to you again. My friends will +be here about ten;—I should say from ten till twelve. I think +you should be here to receive her, not later than ten." + +<p>"If I can get my dinner out of my throat by that time, I will +come." + +<p>When the Tuesday came, the over-driven young man did contrive to +get his dinner eaten, and his glass of brandy sipped, and his cigar +smoked, and perhaps his game of billiards played, so as to present +himself in his mother's drawing-room not long after half-past +ten. Madame Melmotte and her daughter were already there,—and +many others, of whom the majority were devoted to literature. +Among them Mr Alf was in the room, and was at this very moment +discussing Lady Carbury's book with Mr Booker. He had been +quite graciously received, as though he had not authorised the +crushing. Lady Carbury had given him her hand with that energy +of affection with which she was wont to welcome her literary friends, +and had simply thrown one glance of appeal into his eyes as she +looked into his face,—as though asking him how he had found it in +his heart to be so cruel to one so tender, so unprotected, so +innocent as herself. "I cannot stand this kind of thing," said +Mr Alf, to Mr Booker. "There's a regular system of touting got +abroad, and I mean to trample it down." + +<p>"If you're strong enough," said Mr Booker. + +<p>"Well, I think I am. I'm strong enough, at any rate, to show +that I'm not afraid to lead the way. I've the greatest possible +regard for our friend here,—but her book is a bad book, a thoroughly +rotten book, an unblushing compilation from half-a-dozen works of +established reputation, in pilfering from which she has almost always +managed to misapprehend her facts, and to muddle her dates. +Then she writes to me and asks me to do the best I can for her. +I have done the best I could." + +<p>Mr Alf knew very well what Mr Booker had done, and Mr Booker was +aware of the extent of Mr Alf's knowledge. "What you say is all +very right," said Mr Booker; "only you want a different kind of world +to live in." + +<p>"Just so;—and therefore we must make it different. I wonder +how our friend Broune felt when he saw that his critic had declared +that the 'Criminal Queens' was the greatest historical work of modern +days." + +<p>"I didn't see the notice. There isn't much in the book, +certainly, as far as I have looked at it. I should have said +that violent censure or violent praise would be equally thrown away +upon it. One doesn't want to break a butterfly on the +wheel;—especially a friendly butterfly." + +<p>"As to the friendship, it should be kept separate. That's my +idea," said Mr Alf, moving away. + +<p>"I'll never forget what you've done for me,—never!" said Lady +Carbury, holding Mr Broune's hand for a moment, as she whispered to +him. + +<p>"Nothing more than my duty," said he, smiling. + +<p>"I hope you'll learn to know that a woman can really be grateful," +she replied. Then she let go his hand and moved away to some +other guest. There was a dash of true sincerity in what she had +said. Of enduring gratitude it may be doubtful whether she was +capable: but at this moment she did feel that Mr Broune had done much +for her, and that she would willingly make him some return of +friendship. Of any feeling of another sort, of any turn at the +moment towards flirtation, of any idea of encouragement to a +gentleman who had once acted as though he were her lover, she was +absolutely innocent. She had forgotten that little absurd +episode in their joint lives. She was at any rate too much in +earnest at the present moment to think about it. But it was +otherwise with Mr Broune. He could not quite make up his mind +whether the lady was or was not in love with him,—or whether, if she +were, it was incumbent on him to indulge her;—and if so, in what +manner. Then as he looked after her, he told himself that she +was certainly very beautiful, that her figure was distinguished, that +her income was certain, and her rank considerable. +Nevertheless, Mr Broune knew of himself that he was not a marrying +man. He had made up his mind that marriage would not suit his +business, and he smiled to himself as he reflected how impossible it +was that such a one as Lady Carbury should turn him from his +resolution. + +<p>"I am so glad that you have come to-night, Mr Alf," Lady Carbury +said to the high-minded editor of the "Evening Pulpit." + +<p>"Am I not always glad to come, Lady Carbury?" + +<p>"You are very good. But I feared—" + +<p>"Feared what, Lady Carbury?" + +<p>"That you might perhaps have felt that I should be unwilling to +welcome you after,—well, after the compliments of last Thursday." + +<p>"I never allow the two things to join themselves together. +You see, Lady Carbury, I don't write all these things myself." + +<p>"No indeed. What a bitter creature you would be if you did." + +<p>"To tell the truth, I never write any of them. Of course we +endeavour to get people whose judgments we can trust, and if, as in +this case, it should unfortunately happen that the judgment of our +critic should be hostile to the literary pretensions of a personal +friend of my own, I can only lament the accident, and trust that my +friend may have spirit enough to divide me as an individual from that +Mr Alf who has the misfortune to edit a newspaper." + +<p>"It is because you have so trusted me that I am obliged to you," +said Lady Carbury with her sweetest smile. She did not believe +a word that Mr Alf had said to her. She thought, and thought +rightly, that Mr Alf's Mr Jones had taken direct orders from his +editor, as to his treatment of the "Criminal Queens." But she +remembered that she intended to write another book, and that she +might perhaps conquer even Mr Alf by spirit and courage under her +present infliction. + +<p>It was Lady Carbury's duty on the occasion to say pretty things to +everybody. And she did her duty. But in the midst of it +all she was ever thinking of her son and Marie Melmotte, and she did +at last venture to separate the girl from her mother. Marie +herself was not unwilling to be talked to by Sir Felix. He had +never bullied her, had never seemed to scorn her; and then he was so +beautiful! She, poor girl, bewildered among various suitors, +utterly confused by the life to which she was introduced, troubled by +fitful attacks of admonition from her father, who would again, +fitfully, leave her unnoticed for a week at a time; with no trust in +her pseudo-mother—for poor Marie, had in truth been born before her +father had been a married man, and had never known what was her own +mother's fate,—with no enjoyment in her present life, had come +solely to this conclusion, that it would be well for her to be taken +away somewhere by somebody. Many a varied phase of life had +already come in her way. She could just remember the dirty +street in the German portion of New York in which she had been born +and had lived for the first four years of her life, and could +remember too the poor, hardly-treated woman who had been her +mother. She could remember being at sea, and her sickness,—but +could not quite remember whether that woman had been with her. +Then she had run about the streets of Hamburg, and had sometimes been +very hungry, sometimes in rags,—and she had a dim memory of some +trouble into which her father had fallen, and that he was away from +her for a time. She had up to the present splendid moment her +own convictions about that absence, but she had never mentioned them +to a human being. Then her father had married her present +mother in Frankfort. That she could remember distinctly, as +also the rooms in which she was then taken to live, and the fact that +she was told that from henceforth she was to be a Jewess. But +there had soon come another change. They went from Frankfort to +Paris, and there they were all Christians. From that time they +had lived in various apartments in the French capital, but had always +lived well. Sometimes there had been a carriage, sometimes +there had been none. And then there came a time in which she +was grown woman enough to understand that her father was being much +talked about. Her father to her had always been alternately +capricious and indifferent rather than cross or cruel, but, just at +this period he was cruel both to her and to his wife. And +Madame Melmotte would weep at times and declare that they were all +ruined. Then, at a moment, they burst out into sudden splendour +at Paris. There was an hotel, with carriages and horses almost +unnumbered;—and then there came to their rooms a crowd of dark, +swarthy, greasy men, who were entertained sumptuously; but there were +few women. At this time Marie was hardly nineteen, and young +enough in manner and appearance to be taken for seventeen. +Suddenly again she was told that she was to be taken to London, and +the migration had been effected with magnificence. She was +first taken to Brighton, where the half of an hotel had been hired, +and had then been brought to Grosvenor Square, and at once thrown +into the matrimonial market. No part of her life had been more +disagreeable to her, more frightful, than the first months in which +she had been trafficked for by the Nidderdales and Grassloughs. +She had been too frightened, too much of a coward to object to +anything proposed to her, but still had been conscious of a desire to +have some hand in her own future destiny. Luckily for her, the +first attempts at trafficking with the Nidderdales and Grassloughs +had come to nothing; and at length she was picking up a little +courage, and was beginning to feel that it might be possible to +prevent a disposition of herself which did not suit her own +tastes. She was also beginning to think that there might be a +disposition of herself which would suit her own tastes. + +<p>Felix Carbury was standing leaning against a wall, and she was +seated on a chair close to him. "I love you better than anyone +in the world," he said, speaking plainly enough for her to hear, +perhaps indifferent as to the hearing of others. + +<p>"Oh, Sir Felix, pray do not talk like that." + +<p>"You knew that before. Now I want you to say whether you +will be my wife." + +<p>"How can I answer that myself? Papa settles everything." + +<p>"May I go to papa?" + +<p>"You may if you like," she replied in a very low whisper. It +was thus that the greatest heiress of the day, the greatest heiress +of any day if people spoke truly, gave herself away to a man without +a penny. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="12"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XII. Sir Felix in His Mother's House</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When all her friends were gone Lady Carbury looked about for her +son,—not expecting to find him, for she knew how punctual was his +nightly attendance at the Beargarden, but still with some faint hope +that he might have remained on this special occasion to tell her of +his fortune. She had watched the whispering, had noticed the +cool effrontery with which Felix had spoken,—for without hearing the +words she had almost known the very moment in which he was +asking,—and had seen the girl's timid face, and eyes turned to the +ground, and the nervous twitching of her hands as she replied. +As a woman, understanding such things, who had herself been wooed, +who had at least dreamed of love, she had greatly disapproved her +son's manner. But yet, if it might be successful, if the girl +would put up with love-making so slight as that, and if the great +Melmotte would accept in return for his money a title so modest as +that of her son, how glorious should her son be to her in spite of +his indifference! + +<p>"I heard him leave the house before the Melmottes went," said +Henrietta, when the mother spoke of going up to her son's bedroom. + +<p>"He might have stayed to-night. Do you think he asked her?" + +<p>"How can I say, mamma?" + +<p>"I should have thought you would have been anxious about your +brother. I feel sure he did,—and that she accepted him." + +<p>"If so I hope he will be good to her. I hope he loves her." + +<p>"Why shouldn't he love her as well as any one else? A girl +need not be odious because she has money. There is nothing +disagreeable about her." + +<p>"No,—nothing disagreeable. I do not know that she is +especially attractive." + +<p>"Who is? I don't see anybody specially attractive. It +seems to me you are quite indifferent about Felix." + +<p>"Do not say that, mamma." + +<p>"Yes you are. You don't understand all that he might be with +this girl's fortune, and what he must be unless he gets money by +marriage. He is eating us both up." + +<p>"I wouldn't let him do that, mamma." + +<p>"It's all very well to say that, but I have some heart. I +love him. I could not see him starve. Think what he might +be with £20,000 a-year!" + +<p>"If he is to marry for that only, I cannot think that they will be +happy." + +<p>"You had better go to bed, Henrietta. You never say a word +to comfort me in all my troubles." + +<p>Then Henrietta went to bed, and Lady Carbury absolutely sat up the +whole night waiting for her son, in order that she might hear his +tidings. She went up to her room, disembarrassed herself of her +finery, and wrapped herself in a white dressing-gown. As she +sat opposite to her glass, relieving her head from its garniture of +false hair, she acknowledged to herself that age was coming on +her. She could hide the unwelcome approach by art,—hide it +more completely than can most women of her age; but, there it was, +stealing on her with short grey hairs over her ears and around her +temples, with little wrinkles round her eyes easily concealed by +objectionable cosmetics, and a look of weariness round the mouth +which could only be removed by that self-assertion of herself which +practice had made always possible to her in company, though it now so +frequently deserted her when she was alone. + +<p>But she was not a woman to be unhappy because she was growing +old. Her happiness, like that of most of us, was ever in the +future,—never reached but always coming. She, however, had not +looked for happiness to love and loveliness, and need not therefore +be disappointed on that score. She had never really determined +what it was that might make her happy,—having some hazy aspiration +after social distinction and literary fame, in which was ever +commingled solicitude respecting money. But at the present +moment her great fears and her great hopes were centred on her +son. She would not care how grey might be her hair, or how +savage might be Mr Alf, if her Felix were to marry this +heiress. On the other hand, nothing that pearl-powder or the +"Morning Breakfast Table" could do would avail anything, unless he +could be extricated from the ruin that now surrounded him. So +she went down into the dining-room, that she might be sure to hear +the key in the door, even should she sleep, and waited for him with a +volume of French memoirs in her hand. + +<p>Unfortunate woman! she might have gone to bed and have been duly +called about her usual time, for it was past eight and the full +staring daylight shone into her room when Felix's cab brought him to +the door. The night had been very wretched to her. She +had slept, and the fire had sunk nearly to nothing and had refused to +become again comfortable. She could not keep her mind to her +book, and while she was awake the time seemed to be +everlasting. And then it was so terrible to her that he should +be gambling at such hours as these! Why should he desire to +gamble if this girl's fortune was ready to fall into his hands? +Fool, to risk his health, his character, his beauty, the little money +which at this moment of time might be so indispensable to his great +project, for the chance of winning something which in comparison with +Marie Melmotte's money must be despicable! But at last he +came! She waited patiently till he had thrown aside his hat and +coat, and then she appeared at the dining-room door. She had +studied her part for the occasion. She would not say a harsh +word, and now she endeavoured to meet him with a smile. +"Mother," he said, "you up at this hour!" His face was flushed, +and she thought that there was some unsteadiness in his gait. +She had never seen him tipsy, and it would be doubly terrible to her +if such should be his condition. + +<p>"I could not go to bed till I had seen you." + +<p>"Why not? why should you want to see me? I'll go to bed +now. There'll be plenty of time by-and-by." + +<p>"Is anything the matter, Felix?" + +<p>"Matter,—what should be the matter? There's been a gentle +row among the fellows at the club;—that's all. I had to tell +Grasslough a bit of my mind, and he didn't like it. I didn't +mean that he should." + +<p>"There is not going to be any fighting, Felix?" + +<p>"What, duelling; oh no,—nothing so exciting as that. +Whether somebody may not have to kick somebody is more than I can say +at present. You must let me go to bed now, for I am about used +up." + +<p>"What did Marie Melmotte say to you?" + +<p>"Nothing particular." And he stood with his hand on the door +as he answered her. + +<p>"And what did you say to her?" + +<p>"Nothing particular. Good heavens, mother, do you think that +a man is in a condition to talk about such stuff as that at eight +o'clock in the morning, when he has been up all night?" + +<p>"If you knew all that I suffer on your behalf you would speak a +word to me," she said, imploring him, holding him by the arm, and +looking into his purple face and bloodshot eyes. She was sure +that he had been drinking. She could smell it in his breath. + +<p>"I must go to the old fellow, of course." + +<p>"She told you to go to her father?" + +<p>"As far as I remember, that was about it. Of course, he +means to settle it as he likes. I should say that it's ten to +one against me." Pulling himself away with some little +roughness from his mother's hold, he made his way up to his own +bedroom, occasionally stumbling against the stairs. + +<p>Then the heiress herself had accepted her son! If so, surely +the thing might be done. Lady Carbury recalled to mind her old +conviction that a daughter may always succeed in beating a +hard-hearted parent in a contention about marriage, if she be well in +earnest. But then the girl must be really in earnest, and her +earnestness will depend on that of her lover. In this case, +however, there was as yet no reason for supposing that the great man +would object. As far as outward signs went, the great man had +shown some partiality for her son. No doubt it was Mr Melmotte +who had made Sir Felix a director of the great American +Company. Felix had also been kindly received in Grosvenor +Square. And then Sir Felix was Sir Felix,—a real +baronet. Mr Melmotte had no doubt endeavoured to catch this and +that lord; but, failing a lord, why should he not content himself +with a baronet? Lady Carbury thought that her son wanted +nothing but money to make him an acceptable suitor to such a +father-in-law as Mr Melmotte;—not money in the funds, not a real +fortune, not so many thousands a-year that could be settled;—the +man's own enormous wealth rendered this unnecessary but such a one +as Mr Melmotte would not like outward palpable signs of immediate +poverty. There should be means enough for present sleekness and +present luxury. He must have a horse to ride, and rings and +coats to wear, and bright little canes to carry, and above all the +means of making presents. He must not be seen to be poor. +Fortunately, most fortunately, Chance had befriended him lately and +had given him some ready money. But if he went on gambling +Chance would certainly take it all away again. For aught that +the poor mother knew, Chance might have done so already. And +then again, it was indispensable that he should abandon the habit of +play—at any rate for the present, while his prospects depended on +the good opinions of Mr Melmotte. Of course such a one as Mr +Melmotte could not like gambling at a club, however much he might +approve of it in the City. Why, with such a preceptor to help +him, should not Felix learn to do his gambling on the Exchange, or +among the brokers, or in the purlieus of the Bank? Lady Carbury +would at any rate instigate him to be diligent in his position as +director of the Great Mexican Railway,—which position ought to be +the beginning to him of a fortune to be made on his own +account. But what hope could there be for him if he should take +to drink? Would not all hopes be over with Mr Melmotte should +he ever learn that his daughter's lover reached home and tumbled +upstairs to bed between eight and nine o'clock in the morning? + +<p>She watched for his appearance on the following day, and began at +once on the subject. + +<p>"Do you know, Felix, I think I shall go down to your cousin Roger +for Whitsuntide." + +<p>"To Carbury Manor!" said he, as he eat some devilled kidneys which +the cook had been specially ordered to get for his breakfast. +"I thought you found it so dull that you didn't mean to go there any +more." + +<p>"I never said so, Felix. And now I have a great object." + +<p>"What will Hetta do?" + +<p>"Go too—why shouldn't she?" + +<p>"Oh; I didn't know. I thought that perhaps she mightn't like +it." + +<p>"I don't see why she shouldn't like it. Besides, everything +can't give way to her." + +<p>"Has Roger asked you?" + +<p>"No; but I'm sure he'd be pleased to have us if I proposed that we +should all go." + +<p>"Not me, mother!" + +<p>"Yes; you especially." + +<p>"Not if I know it, mother. What on earth should I do at +Carbury Manor?" + +<p>"Madame Melmotte told me last night that they were all going down +to Caversham to stay three or four days with the Longestaffes. +She spoke of Lady Pomona as quite her particular friend." + +<p>"Oh—h! that explains it all." + +<p>"Explains what, Felix?" said Lady Carbury, who had heard of Dolly +Longestaffe, and was not without some fear that this projected visit +to Caversham might have some matrimonial purpose in reference to that +delightful young heir. + +<p>"They say at the club that Melmotte has taken up old Longestaffe's +affairs, and means to put them straight. There's an old +property in Sussex as well as Caversham, and they say that Melmotte +is to have that himself. There's some bother because Dolly, who +would do anything for anybody else, won't join his father in +selling. So the Melmottes are going to Caversham!" + +<p>"Madame Melmotte told me so." + +<p>"And the Longestaffes are the proudest people in England." + +<p>"Of course we ought to be at Carbury Manor while they are +there. What can be more natural? Everybody goes out of +town at Whitsuntide; and why shouldn't we run down to the family +place?" + +<p>"All very natural if you can manage it, mother." + +<p>"And you'll come?" + +<p>"If Marie Melmotte goes, I'll be there at any rate for one day and +night," said Felix. + +<p>His mother thought that, for him, the promise had been graciously +made. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="13"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII. The Longestaffes</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Mr Adolphus Longestaffe, the squire of Caversham in Suffolk, and +of Pickering Park in Sussex, was closeted on a certain morning for +the best part of an hour with Mr Melmotte in Abchurch Lane, had there +discussed all his private affairs, and was about to leave the room +with a very dissatisfied air. There are men,—and old men too, +who ought to know the world,—who think that if they can only find +the proper Medea to boil the cauldron for them, they can have their +ruined fortunes so cooked that they shall come out of the pot fresh +and new and unembarrassed. These great conjurors are generally +sought for in the City; and in truth the cauldrons are kept boiling +though the result of the process is seldom absolute +rejuvenescence. No greater Medea than Mr Melmotte had ever been +potent in money matters, and Mr Longestaffe had been taught to +believe that if he could get the necromancer even to look at his +affairs everything would be made right for him. But the +necromancer had explained to the squire that property could not be +created by the waving of any wand or the boiling of any +cauldron. He, Mr Melmotte, could put Mr Longestaffe in the way +of realising property without delay, of changing it from one shape +into another, or could find out the real market value of the property +in question; but he could create nothing. "You have only a life +interest, Mr Longestaffe." + +<p>"No; only a life interest. That is customary with family +estates in this country, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"Just so. And therefore you can dispose of nothing +else. Your son, of course, could join you, and then you could +sell either one estate or the other." + +<p>"There is no question of selling Caversham, sir. Lady Pomona +and I reside there." + +<p>"Your son will not join you in selling the other place?" + +<p>"I have not directly asked him; but he never does do anything that +I wish. I suppose you would not take Pickering Park on a lease +for my life." + +<p>"I think not, Mr Longestaffe. My wife would not like the +uncertainty." + +<p>Then Mr Longestaffe took his leave with a feeling of outraged +aristocratic pride. His own lawyer would almost have done as +much for him, and he need not have invited his own lawyer as a guest +to Caversham,—and certainly not his own lawyer's wife and +daughter. He had indeed succeeded in borrowing a few thousand +pounds from the great man at a rate of interest which the great man's +head clerk was to arrange, and this had been effected simply on the +security of the lease of a house in town. There had been an +ease in this, an absence of that delay which generally took place +between the expression of his desire for money and the acquisition of +it,—and this had gratified him. But he was already beginning +to think that he might pay too dearly for that gratification. +At the present moment, too, Mr Melmotte was odious to him for another +reason. He had condescended to ask Mr Melmotte to make him a +director of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway, and +he,—Adolphus Longestaffe of Caversham,—had had his request +refused! Mr Longestaffe had condescended very low. "You +have made Lord Alfred Grendall one!" he had said in a complaining +tone. Then Mr Melmotte explained that Lord Alfred possessed +peculiar aptitudes for the position. "I'm sure I could do +anything that he does," said Mr Longestaffe. Upon this Mr +Melmotte, knitting his brows and speaking with some roughness, +replied that the number of directors required was completed. +Since he had had two duchesses at his house Mr Melmotte was beginning +to feel that he was entitled to bully any mere commoner, especially a +commoner who could ask him for a seat at his board. + +<p>Mr Longestaffe was a tall, heavy man, about fifty, with hair and +whiskers carefully dyed, whose clothes were made with great care, +though they always seemed to fit him too tightly, and who thought +very much of his personal appearance. It was not that he +considered himself handsome, but that he was specially proud of his +aristocratic bearing. He entertained an idea that all who +understood the matter would perceive at a single glance that he was a +gentleman of the first water, and a man of fashion. He was +intensely proud of his position in life, thinking himself to be +immensely superior to all those who earned their bread. There +were no doubt gentlemen of different degrees, but the English +gentleman of gentlemen was he who had land, and family title-deeds, +and an old family place, and family portraits, and family +embarrassments, and a family absence of any usual employment. +He was beginning even to look down upon peers, since so many men of +much less consequence than himself had been made lords; and, having +stood and been beaten three or four times for his county, he was of +opinion that a seat in the House was rather a mark of bad +breeding. He was a silly man, who had no fixed idea that it +behoved him to be of use to any one; but, yet, he had compassed a +certain nobility of feeling. There was very little that his +position called upon him to do, but there was much that it forbad him +to do. It was not allowed to him to be close in money +matters. He could leave his tradesmen's bills unpaid till the +men were clamorous, but he could not question the items in their +accounts. He could be tyrannical to his servants, but he could +not make inquiry as to the consumption of his wines in the servants' +hall. He had no pity for his tenants in regard to game, but he +hesitated much as to raising their rent. He had his theory of +life and endeavoured to live up to it; but the attempt had hardly +brought satisfaction to himself or to his family. + +<p>At the present moment, it was the great desire of his heart to +sell the smaller of his two properties and disembarrass the +other. The debt had not been altogether of his own making, and +the arrangement would, he believed, serve his whole family as well as +himself. It would also serve his son, who was blessed with a +third property of his own which he had already managed to burden with +debt. The father could not bear to be refused; and he feared +that his son would decline. "But Adolphus wants money as much +as any one," Lady Pomona had said. He had shaken his head, and +pished and pshawed. Women never could understand anything about +money. Now he walked down sadly from Mr Melmotte's office and +was taken in his brougham to his lawyer's chambers in Lincoln's +Inn. Even for the accommodation of those few thousand pounds he +was forced to condescend to tell his lawyers that the title-deeds of +his house in town must be given up. Mr Longestaffe felt that +the world in general was very hard on him. + +<p>"What on earth are we to do with them?" said Sophia, the eldest +Miss Longestaffe, to her mother. + +<p>"I do think it's a shame of papa," said Georgiana, the second +daughter. "I certainly shan't trouble myself to entertain +them." + +<p>"Of course you will leave them all on my hands," said Lady Pomona +wearily. + +<p>"But what's the use of having them?" urged Sophia. "I can +understand going to a crush at their house in town when everybody +else goes. One doesn't speak to them, and need not know them +afterwards. As to the girl, I'm sure I shouldn't remember her +if I were to see her." + +<p>"It would be a fine thing if Adolphus would marry her," said Lady +Pomona. + +<p>"Dolly will never marry anybody," said Georgiana. "The idea +of his taking the trouble of asking a girl to have him! +Besides, he won't come down to Caversham; cart-ropes wouldn't bring +him. If that is to be the game, mamma, it is quite hopeless." + +<p>"Why should Dolly marry such a creature as that?" asked Sophia. + +<p>"Because everybody wants money," said Lady Pomona. "I'm sure +I don't know what your papa is to do, or how it is that there never +is any money for anything, I don't spend it." + +<p>"I don't think that we do anything out of the way," said +Sophia. "I haven't the slightest idea what papa's income is; +but if we're to live at all, I don't know how we are to make a +change." + +<p>"It's always been like this ever since I can remember," said +Georgiana, "and I don't mean to worry about it any more. I +suppose it's just the same with other people, only one doesn't know +it." + +<p>"But, my dears—when we are obliged to have such people as these +Melmottes!" + +<p>"As for that, if we didn't have them somebody else would. I +shan't trouble myself about them, I suppose it will only be for two +days." + +<p>"My dear, they're coming for a week!" + +<p>"Then papa must take them about the country, that's all. I +never did hear of anything so absurd. What good can they do +papa by being down there?" + +<p>"He is wonderfully rich," said Lady Pomona. + +<p>"But I don't suppose he'll give papa his money," continued +Georgiana. "Of course I don't pretend to understand, but I +think there is more fuss about these things than they deserve. +If papa hasn't got money to live at home, why doesn't he go abroad +for a year? The Sidney Beauchamps did that, and the girls had +quite a nice time of it in Florence. It was there that Clara +Beauchamp met young Lord Liffey. I shouldn't at all mind that +kind of thing, but I think it quite horrible to have these sort of +people brought down upon us at Caversham. No one knows who they +are, or where they came from, or what they'll turn to." So +spoke Georgiana, who among the Longestaffes was supposed to have the +strongest head, and certainly the sharpest tongue. + +<p>This conversation took place in the drawing-room of the +Longestaffes' family town-house in Bruton Street. It was not by +any means a charming house, having but few of those luxuries and +elegancies which have been added of late years to newly-built London +residences. It was gloomy and inconvenient, with large +drawing-rooms, bad bedrooms, and very little accommodation for +servants. But it was the old family town-house, having been +inhabited by three or four generations of Longestaffes, and did not +savour of that radical newness which prevails, and which was +peculiarly distasteful to Mr Longestaffe. Queen's Gate and the +quarters around were, according to Mr Longestaffe, devoted to opulent +tradesmen. Even Belgrave Square, though its aristocratic +properties must be admitted, still smelt of the mortar. Many of +those living there and thereabouts had never possessed in their +families real family town-houses. The old streets lying between +Piccadilly and Oxford Street, one or two well-known localities to the +south and north of these boundaries, were the proper sites for these +habitations. When Lady Pomona, instigated by some friend of +high rank but questionable taste, had once suggested a change to +Eaton Square, Mr Longestaffe had at once snubbed his wife. If +Bruton Street wasn't good enough for her and the girls then they +might remain at Caversham. The threat of remaining at Caversham +had been often made, for Mr Longestaffe, proud as he was of his +town-house, was, from year to year, very anxious to save the expense +of the annual migration. The girls' dresses and the girls' +horses, his wife's carriage and his own brougham, his dull London +dinner-parties, and the one ball which it was always necessary that +Lady Pomona should give, made him look forward to the end of July, +with more dread than to any other period. It was then that he +began to know what that year's season would cost him. But he +had never yet been able to keep his family in the country during the +entire year. The girls, who as yet knew nothing of the +Continent beyond Paris, had signified their willingness to be taken +about Germany and Italy for twelve months, but had shown by every +means in their power that they would mutiny against any intention on +their father's part to keep them at Caversham during the London +season. + +<p>Georgiana had just finished her strong-minded protest against the +Melmottes, when her brother strolled into the room. Dolly did +not often show himself in Bruton Street. He had rooms of his +own, and could seldom even be induced to dine with his family. +His mother wrote to him notes without end,—notes every day, pressing +invitations of all sorts upon him; would he come and dine; would he +take them to the theatre; would he go to this ball; would he go to +that evening-party? These Dolly barely read, and never +answered. He would open them, thrust them into some pocket, and +then forget them. Consequently his mother worshipped him; and +even his sisters, who were at any rate superior to him in intellect, +treated him with a certain deference. He could do as he liked, +and they felt themselves to be slaves, bound down by the dulness of +the Longestaffe regime. His freedom was grand to their eyes, +and very enviable, although they were aware that he had already so +used it as to impoverish himself in the midst of his wealth. + +<p>"My dear Adolphus," said the mother, "this is so nice of you." + +<p>"I think it is rather nice," said Dolly, submitting himself to be +kissed. + +<p>"Oh Dolly, whoever would have thought of seeing you?" said Sophia. + +<p>"Give him some tea," said his mother. Lady Pomona was always +having tea from four o'clock till she was taken away to dress for +dinner. + +<p>"I'd sooner have soda and brandy," said Dolly. + +<p>"My darling boy!" + +<p>"I didn't ask for it, and I don't expect to get it; indeed I don't +want it. I only said I'd sooner have it than tea. Where's +the governor?" They all looked at him with wondering +eyes. There must be something going on more than they had +dreamed of, when Dolly asked to see his father. + +<p>"Papa went out in the brougham immediately after lunch," said +Sophia gravely. + +<p>"I'll wait a little for him," said Dolly, taking out his watch. + +<p>"Do stay and dine with us," said Lady Pomona. + +<p>"I could not do that, because I've got to go and dine with some +fellow." + +<p>"Some fellow! I believe you don't know where you're going," +said Georgiana. + +<p>"My fellow knows. At least he's a fool if he don't." + +<p>"Adolphus," began Lady Pomona very seriously, "I've got a plan and +I want you to help me." + +<p>"I hope there isn't very much to do in it, mother." + +<p>"We're all going to Caversham, just for Whitsuntide, and we +particularly want you to come." + +<p>"By George! no; I couldn't do that." + +<p>"You haven't heard half. Madame Melmotte and her daughter +are coming." + +<p>"The d–––– they are!" ejaculated Dolly. + +<p>"Dolly!" said Sophia, "do remember where you are." + +<p>"Yes I will;—and I'll remember too where I won't be. +I won't go to Caversham to meet old mother Melmotte." + +<p>"My dear boy," continued the mother, "do you know that Miss +Melmotte will have twenty thousand a year the day she marries; and +that in all probability her husband will some day be the richest man +in Europe?" + +<p>"Half the fellows in London are after her," said Dolly. + +<p>"Why shouldn't you be one of them? She isn't going to stay +in the same house with half the fellows in London," suggested +Georgiana. "If you've a mind to try it you'll have a chance +which nobody else can have just at present." + +<p>"But I haven't any mind to try it. Good gracious me;—oh +dear! it isn't at all in my way, mother." + +<p>"I knew he wouldn't," said Georgiana. + +<p>"It would put everything so straight," said Lady Pomona. + +<p>"They'll have to remain crooked if nothing else will put them +straight. There's the governor. I heard his voice. +Now for a row." Then Mr Longestaffe entered the room. + +<p>"My dear," said Lady Pomona, "here's Adolphus come to see +us." The father nodded his head at his son but said +nothing. "We want him to stay and dine, but he's engaged." + +<p>"Though he doesn't know where," said Sophia. + +<p>"My fellow knows;—he keeps a book. I've got a letter, sir, +ever so long, from those fellows in Lincoln's Inn. They want me +to come and see you about selling something; so I've come. It's +an awful bore, because I don't understand anything about it. +Perhaps there isn't anything to be sold. If so I can go away +again, you know." + +<p>"You'd better come with me into the study," said the father. +"We needn't disturb your mother and sisters about business." +Then the squire led the way out of the room, and Dolly followed, +making a woeful grimace at his sisters. The three ladies sat +over their tea for about half-an-hour, waiting,—not the result of +the conference, for with that they did not suppose that they would be +made acquainted,—but whatever signs of good or evil might be +collected from the manner and appearance of the squire when he should +return to them. Dolly they did not expect to see +again,—probably for a month. He and the squire never did come +together without quarrelling, and careless as was the young man in +every other respect, he had hitherto been obdurate as to his own +rights in any dealings which he had with his father. At the end +of the half-hour Mr Longestaffe returned to the drawing-room, and at +once pronounced the doom of the family. "My dear," he said, "we +shall not return from Caversham to London this year." He +struggled hard to maintain a grand dignified tranquillity as he +spoke, but his voice quivered with emotion. + +<p>"Papa!" screamed Sophia. + +<p>"My dear, you don't mean it," said Lady Pomona. + +<p>"Of course papa doesn't mean it," said Georgiana, rising to her +feet. + +<p>"I mean it accurately and certainly," said Mr Longestaffe. +"We go to Caversham in about ten days, and we shall not return from +Caversham to London this year." + +<p>"Our ball is fixed," said Lady Pomona. + +<p>"Then it must be unfixed." So saying, the master of the +house left the drawing-room and descended to his study. + +<p>The three ladies, when left to deplore their fate, expressed their +opinions as to the sentence which had been pronounced very +strongly. But the daughters were louder in their anger than was +their mother. + +<p>"He can't really mean it," said Sophia. + +<p>"He does," said Lady Pomona, with tears in her eyes. + +<p>"He must unmean it again;—that's all," said Georgiana. +"Dolly has said something to him very rough, and he resents it upon +us. Why did he bring us up at all if he means to take us down +before the season has begun?" + +<p>"I wonder what Adolphus has said to him. Your papa is always +hard upon Adolphus." + +<p>"Dolly can take care of himself," said Georgiana, "and always does +do so. Dolly does not care for us." + +<p>"Not a bit," said Sophia. + +<p>"I'll tell you what you must do, mamma. You mustn't stir +from this at all. You must give up going to Caversham +altogether, unless he promises to bring us back. I won't +stir;—unless he has me carried out of the house." + +<p>"My dear, I couldn't say that to him." + +<p>"Then I will. To go and be buried down in that place for a +whole year with no one near us but the rusty old bishop and Mr +Carbury, who is rustier still. I won't stand it. There +are some sort of things that one ought not to stand. If you go +down I shall stay up with the Primeros. Mrs Primero would have +me I know. It wouldn't be nice of course. I don't like +the Primeros. I hate the Primeros. Oh yes;—it's quite +true; I know that as well as you, Sophia; they are vulgar; but not +half so vulgar, mamma, as your friend Madame Melmotte." + +<p>"That's ill-natured, Georgiana. She is not a friend of +mine." + +<p>"But you're going to have her down at Caversham. I can't +think what made you dream of going to Caversham just now, knowing as +you do how hard papa is to manage." + +<p>"Everybody has taken to going out of town at Whitsuntide, my +dear." + +<p>"No, mamma; everybody has not. People understand too well +the trouble of getting up and down for that. The Primeros +aren't going down. I never heard of such a thing in all my +life. What does he expect is to become of us? If he wants +to save money why doesn't he shut Caversham up altogether and go +abroad? Caversham costs a great deal more than is spent in +London, and it's the dullest house, I think, in all England." + +<p>The family party in Bruton Street that evening was not very +gay. Nothing was being done, and they sat gloomily in each +other's company. Whatever mutinous resolutions might be formed +and carried out by the ladies of the family, they were not brought +forward on that occasion. The two girls were quite silent, and +would not speak to their father, and when he addressed them they +answered simply by monosyllables. Lady Pomona was ill, and sat +in a corner of a sofa, wiping her eyes. To her had been +imparted upstairs the purport of the conversation between Dolly and +his father. Dolly had refused to consent to the sale of +Pickering unless half the produce of the sale were to be given to him +at once. When it had been explained to him that the sale would +be desirable in order that the Caversham property might be freed from +debt, which Caversham property would eventually be his, he replied +that he also had an estate of his own which was a little mortgaged +and would be the better for money. The result seemed to be that +Pickering could not be sold;—and, as a consequence of that, Mr +Longestaffe had determined that there should be no more London +expenses that year. + +<p>The girls, when they got up to go to bed, bent over him and kissed +his head, as was their custom. There was very little show of +affection in the kiss. "You had better remember that what you +have to do in town must be done this week," he said. They heard +the words, but marched in stately silence out of the room without +deigning to notice them. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="14"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV. Carbury Manor</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"I don't think it quite nice, mamma; that's all. Of course +if you have made up your mind to go, I must go with you." + +<p>"What on earth can be more natural than that you should go to your +own cousin's house?" + +<p>"You know what I mean, mamma." + +<p>"It's done now, my dear, and I don't think there is anything at +all in what you say." This little conversation arose from Lady +Carbury's announcement to her daughter of her intention of soliciting +the hospitality of Carbury Manor for the Whitsun week. It was +very grievous to Henrietta that she should be taken to the house of a +man who was in love with her, even though he was her cousin. +But she had no escape. She could not remain in town by herself, +nor could she even allude to her grievance to any one but her +mother. Lady Carbury, in order that she might be quite safe +from opposition, had posted the following letter to her cousin before +she spoke to her daughter:— +<br> + +<blockquote> +<i> +<br> +Welbeck Street, 24th April, 18—.<br> +<br> +My dear Roger,<br> +<br> + We know how kind you are and how sincere, and that if what I am going +to propose doesn't suit you'll say so at once. I have been +working very hard,—too hard indeed, and I feel that nothing will do +me so much real good as getting into the country for a day or +two. Would you take us for a part of Whitsun week? We +would come down on the 20th May and stay over the Sunday if you would +keep us. Felix says he would run down though he would not +trouble you for so long a time as we talk of staying.<br> +<br> + I'm sure you must have been glad to hear of his being put upon that +Great American Railway Board as a Director. It opens a new +sphere of life to him, and will enable him to prove that he can make +himself useful. I think it was a great confidence to place in +one so young.<br> +<br> + Of course you will say so at once if my little proposal interferes +with any of your plans, but you have been so very very kind to us +that I have no scruple in making it.<br> +<br> + Henrietta joins with me in kind love.<br> +<br> + Your affectionate cousin,<br> +<br> + MATILDA CARBURY.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>There was much in this letter that disturbed and even annoyed +Roger Carbury. In the first place he felt that Henrietta should +not be brought to his house. Much as he loved her, dear as her +presence to him always was, he hardly wished to have her at Carbury +unless she would come with a resolution to be its future +mistress. In one respect he did Lady Carbury an +injustice. He knew that she was anxious to forward his suit, +and he thought that Henrietta was being brought to his house with +that object. He had not heard that the great heiress was coming +into his neighbourhood, and therefore knew nothing of Lady Carbury's +scheme in that direction. He was, too, disgusted by the +ill-founded pride which the mother expressed at her son's position as +a director. Roger Carbury did not believe in the Railway. +He did not believe in Fisker, nor in Melmotte, and certainly not in +the Board generally. Paul Montague had acted in opposition to +his advice in yielding to the seductions of Fisker. The whole +thing was to his mind false, fraudulent, and ruinous. Of what +nature could be a Company which should have itself directed by such +men as Lord Alfred Grendall and Sir Felix Carbury? And then as +to their great Chairman, did not everybody know, in spite of all the +duchesses, that Mr Melmotte was a gigantic swindler? Although +there was more than one immediate cause for bitterness between them, +Roger loved Paul Montague well and could not bear with patience the +appearance of his friend's name on such a list. And now he was +asked for warm congratulations because Sir Felix Carbury was one of +the Board! He did not know which to despise most, Sir Felix for +belonging to such a Board, or the Board for having such a +director. "New sphere of life!" he said to himself. "The +only proper sphere for them all would be Newgate!" + +<p>And there was another trouble. He had asked Paul Montague to +come to Carbury for this special week, and Paul had accepted the +invitation. With the constancy, which was perhaps his strongest +characteristic, he clung to his old affection for the man. He +could not bear the idea of a permanent quarrel, though he knew that +there must be a quarrel if the man interfered with his dearest +hopes. He had asked him down to Carbury intending that the name +of Henrietta Carbury should not be mentioned between them;—and now +it was proposed to him that Henrietta Carbury should be at the Manor +House at the very time of Paul's visit! He made up his mind at +once that he must tell Paul not to come. + +<p>He wrote his two letters at once. That to Lady Carbury was +very short. He would be delighted to see her and Henrietta at +the time named,—and would be very glad should it suit Felix to come +also. He did not say a word about the Board, or the young man's +probable usefulness in his new sphere of life. To Montague his +letter was longer. "It is always best to be open and true," he +said. "Since you were kind enough to say that you would +come to me, Lady Carbury has proposed to visit me just at the same +time and to bring her daughter. After what has passed between +us I need hardly say that I could not make you both welcome here +together. It is not pleasant to me to have to ask you to +postpone your visit, but I think you will not accuse me of a want of +hospitality towards you." Paul wrote back to say that he was +sure that there was no want of hospitality, and that he would remain +in town. + +<p>Suffolk is not especially a picturesque county, nor can it be said +that the scenery round Carbury was either grand or beautiful; but +there were little prettinesses attached to the house itself and the +grounds around it which gave it a charm of its own. The Carbury +River,—so called, though at no place is it so wide but that an +active schoolboy might jump across it,—runs, or rather creeps into +the Waveney, and in its course is robbed by a moat which surrounds +Carbury Manor House. The moat has been rather a trouble to the +proprietors, and especially so to Roger, as in these days of sanitary +considerations it has been felt necessary either to keep it clean +with at any rate moving water in it, or else to fill it up and +abolish it altogether. That plan of abolishing it had to be +thought of and was seriously discussed about ten years since; but +then it was decided that such a proceeding would altogether alter the +character of the house, would destroy the gardens, and would create a +waste of mud all round the place which it would take years to +beautify, or even to make endurable. And then an important +question had been asked by an intelligent farmer who had long been a +tenant on the property; "Fill un oop;—eh, eh; sooner said than +doone, squoire. Where be the stoof to come from?" The +squire, therefore, had given up that idea, and instead of abolishing +his moat had made it prettier than ever. The high road from +Bungay to Beccles ran close to the house,—so close that the gable +ends of the building were separated from it only by the breadth of +the moat. A short, private road, not above a hundred yards in +length, led to the bridge which faced the front door. The +bridge was old, and high, with sundry architectural pretensions, and +guarded by iron gates in the centre, which, however, were very rarely +closed. Between the bridge and the front door there was a sweep +of ground just sufficient for the turning of a carriage, and on +either side of this the house was brought close to the water, so that +the entrance was in a recess, or irregular quadrangle, of which the +bridge and moat formed one side. At the back of the house there +were large gardens screened from the road by a wall ten feet high, in +which there were yew trees and cypresses said to be of wonderful +antiquity. The gardens were partly inside the moat, but chiefly +beyond them, and were joined by two bridges a foot bridge and one +with a carriage way,—and there was another bridge at the end of the +house furthest from the road, leading from the back door to the +stables and farmyard. + +<p>The house itself had been built in the time of Charles II., when +that which we call Tudor architecture was giving way to a cheaper, +less picturesque, though perhaps more useful form. But Carbury +Manor House, through the whole county, had the reputation of being a +Tudor building. The windows were long, and for the most part +low, made with strong mullions, and still contained small, +old-fashioned panes; for the squire had not as yet gone to the +expense of plate glass. There was one high bow window, which +belonged to the library, and which looked out on to the gravel sweep, +at the left of the front door as you entered it. All the other +chief rooms faced upon the garden. The house itself was built +of a stone that had become buff, or almost yellow, with years, and +was very pretty. It was still covered with tiles, as were all +the attached buildings. It was only two stories high, except at +the end, where the kitchens were placed and the offices, which thus +rose above the other part of the edifice. The rooms throughout +were low, and for the most part long and narrow, with large wide +fireplaces and deep wainscotings. Taking it altogether, one +would be inclined to say, that it was picturesque rather than +comfortable. Such as it was its owner was very proud of +it,—with a pride of which he never spoke to any one, which he +endeavoured studiously to conceal, but which had made itself known to +all who knew him well. The houses of the gentry around him were +superior to his in material comfort and general accommodation, but to +none of them belonged that thoroughly established look of old county +position which belonged to Carbury. Bundlesham, where the +Primeros lived, was the finest house in that part of the county, but +it looked as if it had been built within the last twenty years. +It was surrounded by new shrubs and new lawns, by new walls and new +out-houses, and savoured of trade;—so at least thought Roger Carbury, +though he never said the words. Caversham was a very large +mansion, built in the early part of George III's reign, when men did +care that things about them should be comfortable, but did not care +that they should be picturesque. There was nothing at all to +recommend Caversham but its size. Eardly Park, the seat of the +Hepworths, had, as a park, some pretensions. Carbury possessed +nothing that could be called a park, the enclosures beyond the +gardens being merely so many home paddocks. But the house of +Eardly was ugly and bad. The Bishop's palace was an excellent +gentleman's residence, but then that too was comparatively modern, +and had no peculiar features of its own. Now Carbury Manor +House was peculiar, and in the eyes of its owner was pre-eminently +beautiful. + +<p>It often troubled him to think what would come of the place when +he was gone. He was at present forty years old, and was perhaps +as healthy a man as you could find in the whole county. Those +around who had known him as he grew into manhood among them, +especially the farmers of the neighbourhood, still regarded him as a +young man. They spoke of him at the county fairs as the young +squire. When in his happiest moods he could be almost a boy, +and he still had something of old-fashioned boyish reverence for his +elders. But of late there had grown up a great care within his +breast,—a care which does not often, perhaps in these days bear so +heavily on men's hearts as it used to do. He had asked his +cousin to marry him,—having assured himself with certainty that he +did love her better than any other woman,—and she had +declined. She had refused him more than once, and he believed +her implicitly when she told him that she could not love him. +He had a way of believing people, especially when such belief was +opposed to his own interests, and had none of that self-confidence +which makes a man think that if opportunity be allowed him he can win +a woman even in spite of herself. But if it were fated that he +should not succeed with Henrietta, then,—so he felt assured,—no +marriage would now be possible to him. In that case he must +look out for an heir, and could regard himself simply as a stop-gap +among the Carburys. In that case he could never enjoy the +luxury of doing the best he could with the property in order that a +son of his own might enjoy it. + +<p>Now Sir Felix was the next heir. Roger was hampered by no +entail, and could leave every acre of the property as he +pleased. In one respect the natural succession to it by Sir +Felix would generally be considered fortunate. It had happened +that a title had been won in a lower branch of the family, and were +this succession to take place the family title and the family +property would go together. No doubt to Sir Felix himself such +an arrangement would seem to be the most proper thing in the +world,—as it would also to Lady Carbury were it not that she looked +to Carbury Manor as the future home of another child. But to +all this the present owner of the property had very strong +objections. It was not only that he thought ill of the baronet +himself,—so ill as to feel thoroughly convinced that no good could +come from that quarter,—but he thought ill also of the baronetcy +itself. Sir Patrick, to his thinking, had been altogether +unjustifiable in accepting an enduring title, knowing that he would +leave behind him no property adequate for its support. A +baronet, so thought Roger Carbury, should be a rich man, rich enough +to grace the rank which he assumed to wear. A title, according +to Roger's doctrine on such subjects, could make no man a gentleman, +but, if improperly worn, might degrade a man who would otherwise be a +gentleman. He thought that a gentleman, born and bred, +acknowledged as such without doubt, could not be made more than a +gentleman by all the titles which the Queen could give. With +these old-fashioned notions Roger hated the title which had fallen +upon a branch of his family. He certainly would not leave his +property to support the title which Sir Felix unfortunately +possessed. But Sir Felix was the natural heir, and this man +felt himself constrained, almost as by some divine law, to see that +his land went by natural descent. Though he was in no degree +fettered as to its disposition, he did not presume himself to have +more than a life interest in the estate. It was his duty to see +that it went from Carbury to Carbury as long as there was a Carbury +to hold it, and especially his duty to see that it should go from his +hands, at his death, unimpaired in extent or value. There was +no reason why he should himself die for the next twenty or thirty +years,—but were he to die Sir Felix would undoubtedly dissipate the +acres, and then there would be an end of Carbury. But in such +case he, Roger Carbury, would at any rate have done his duty. +He knew that no human arrangements can be fixed, let the care in +making them be ever so great. To his thinking it would be +better that the estate should be dissipated by a Carbury than held +together by a stranger. He would stick to the old name while +there was one to bear it, and to the old family while a member of it +was left. So thinking, he had already made his will, leaving +the entire property to the man whom of all others he most despised, +should he himself die without child. + +<p>In the afternoon of the day on which Lady Carbury was expected, he +wandered about the place thinking of all this. How infinitely +better it would be that he should have an heir of his own! How +wonderfully beautiful would the world be to him if at last his cousin +would consent to be his wife! How wearily insipid must it be if +no such consent could be obtained from her! And then he thought +much of her welfare too. In very truth he did not like Lady +Carbury. He saw through her character, judging her with almost +absolute accuracy. The woman was affectionate, seeking good +things for others rather than for herself; but she was essentially +worldly, believing that good could come out of evil, that falsehood +might in certain conditions be better than truth, that shams and +pretences might do the work of true service, that a strong house +might be built upon the sand! It was lamentable to him that the +girl he loved should be subjected to this teaching, and live in an +atmosphere so burdened with falsehood. Would not the touch of +pitch at last defile her? In his heart of hearts he believed +that she loved Paul Montague; and of Paul himself he was beginning to +fear evil. What but a sham could be a man who consented to +pretend to sit as one of a Board of Directors to manage an enormous +enterprise with such colleagues as Lord Alfred Grendall and Sir Felix +Carbury, under the absolute control of such a one as Mr Augustus +Melmotte? Was not this building a house upon the sand with a +vengeance? What a life it would be for Henrietta Carbury were +she to marry a man striving to become rich without labour and without +capital, and who might one day be wealthy and the next a beggar,—a +city adventurer, who of all men was to him the vilest and most +dishonest? He strove to think well of Paul Montague, but such +was the life which he feared the young man was preparing for himself. + +<p>Then he went into the house and wandered up through the rooms +which the two ladies were to occupy. As their host, a host +without a wife or mother or sister, it was his duty to see that +things were comfortable, but it may be doubted whether he would have +been so careful had the mother been coming alone. In the +smaller room of the two the hangings were all white, and the room was +sweet with May flowers; and he brought a white rose from the +hot-house, and placed it in a glass on the dressing table. +Surely she would know who put it there. Then he stood at the +open window, looking down upon the lawn, gazing vacantly for half an +hour, till he heard the wheels of the carriage before the front +door. During that half-hour he resolved that he would try again +as though there had as yet been no repulse. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="15"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XV. "You should remember that I am his Mother"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"This is so kind of you," said Lady Carbury, grasping her cousin's +hand as she got out of the carriage. + +<p>"The kindness is on your part," said Roger. + +<p>"I felt so much before I dared to ask you to take us. But I +did so long to get into the country, and I do so love Carbury. +And—and—" + +<p>"Where should a Carbury go to escape from London smoke, but to +the old house? I am afraid Henrietta will find it dull." + +<p>"Oh no," said Hetta smiling. "You ought to remember that I +am never dull in the country." + +<p>"The bishop and Mrs Yeld are coming here to dine to-morrow,—and +the Hepworths." + +<p>"I shall be so glad to meet the bishop once more," said Lady +Carbury. + +<p>"I think everybody must be glad to meet him, he is such a dear, +good fellow, and his wife is just as good. And there is another +gentleman coming whom you have never seen." + +<p>"A new neighbour?" + +<p>"Yes,—a new neighbour;—Father John Barham, who has come to +Beccles as priest. He has got a little cottage about a mile +from here, in this parish, and does duty both at Beccles and +Bungay. I used to know something of his family." + +<p>"He is a gentleman then?" + +<p>"Certainly he is a gentleman. He took his degree at Oxford, +and then became what we call a pervert, and what I suppose they call +a convert. He has not got a shilling in the world beyond what +they pay him as a priest, which I take it amounts to about as much as +the wages of a day labourer. He told me the other day that he +was absolutely forced to buy second-hand clothes." + +<p>"How shocking!" said Lady Carbury, holding up her hands. + +<p>"He didn't seem to be at all shocked at telling it. We have +got to be quite friends." + +<p>"Will the bishop like to meet him?" + +<p>"Why should not the bishop like to meet him? I've told the +bishop all about him, and the bishop particularly wishes to know +him. He won't hurt the bishop. But you and Hetta will +find it very dull." + +<p>"I shan't find it dull, Mr Carbury," said Henrietta. + +<p>"It was to escape from the eternal parties that we came down +here," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>She had nevertheless been anxious to hear what guests were +expected at the Manor House. Sir Felix had promised to come +down on Saturday, with the intention of returning on Monday, and Lady +Carbury had hoped that some visiting might be arranged between +Caversham and the Manor House, so that her son might have the full +advantage of his closeness to Marie Melmotte. + +<p>"I have asked the Longestaffes for Monday," said Roger. + +"They are down here then?" + +<p>"I think they arrived yesterday. There is always a +flustering breeze in the air and a perturbation generally through the +county when they come or go, and I think I perceived the effects +about four in the afternoon. They won't come, I dare say." + +<p>"Why not?" + +<p>"They never do. They have probably a house full of guests, +and they know that my accommodation is limited. I've no doubt +they'll ask us on Tuesday or Wednesday, and if you like we will go." + +<p>"I know they are to have guests," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"What guests?" + +<p>"The Melmottes are coming to them." Lady Carbury, as she +made the announcement, felt that her voice and countenance and +self-possession were failing her, and that she could not mention the +thing as she would any matter that was indifferent to her. + +<p>"The Melmottes coming to Caversham!" said Roger, looking at +Henrietta, who blushed with shame as she remembered that she had been +brought into her lover's house solely in order that her brother might +have an opportunity of seeing Marie Melmotte in the country. + +<p>"Oh yes,—Madame Melmotte told me. I take it they are very +intimate." + +<p>"Mr Longestaffe ask the Melmottes to visit him at Caversham!" + +<p>"Why not?" + +<p>"I should almost as soon have believed that I myself might have +been induced to ask them here." + +<p>"I fancy, Roger, that Mr Longestaffe does want a little pecuniary +assistance." + +<p>"And he condescends to get it in this way! I suppose it will +make no difference soon whom one knows, and whom one doesn't. +Things aren't as they were, of course, and never will be again. +Perhaps it's all for the better;—I won't say it isn't. But I +should have thought that such a man as Mr Longestaffe might have kept +such another man as Mr Melmotte out of his wife's +drawing-room." Henrietta became redder than ever. Even +Lady Carbury flushed up, as she remembered that Roger Carbury knew +that she had taken her daughter to Madame Melmotte's ball. He +thought of this himself as soon as the words were spoken, and then +tried to make some half apology. "I don't approve of them in +London, you know; but I think they are very much worse in the +country." + +<p>Then there was a movement. The ladies were shown into their +rooms, and Roger again went out into the garden. He began to +feel that he understood it all. Lady Carbury had come down to +his house in order that she might be near the Melmottes! There +was something in this which he felt it difficult not to resent. +It was for no love of him that she was there. He had felt that +Henrietta ought not to have been brought to his house; but he could +have forgiven that, because her presence there was a charm to +him. He could have forgiven that, even while he was thinking +that her mother had brought her there with the object of disposing of +her. If it were so, the mother's object would be the same as +his own, and such a manoeuvre he could pardon, though he could not +approve. His self-love had to some extent been gratified. +But now he saw that he and his house had been simply used in order +that a vile project of marrying two vile people to each other might +be furthered! + +<p>As he was thinking of all this, Lady Carbury came out to him in +the garden. She had changed her travelling dress, and made +herself pretty, as she well knew how to do. And now she dressed +her face in her sweetest smiles. Her mind, also, was full of +the Melmottes, and she wished to explain to her stern, unbending +cousin all the good that might come to her and hers by an alliance +with the heiress. "I can understand, Roger," she said, taking +his arm, "that you should not like those people." + +<p>"What people?" + +<p>"The Melmottes." + +<p>"I don't dislike them. How should I dislike people that I +never saw? I dislike those who seek their society simply +because they have the reputation of being rich." + +<p>"Meaning me." + +<p>"No; not meaning you. I don't dislike you, as you know very +well, though I do dislike the fact that you should run after these +people. I was thinking of the Longestaffes then." + +<p>"Do you suppose, my friend, that I run after them for my own +gratification? Do you think that I go to their house because I +find pleasure in their magnificence; or that I follow them down here +for any good that they will do me?" + +<p>"I would not follow them at all." + +<p>"I will go back if you bid me, but I must first explain what I +mean. You know my son's condition,—better, I fear, than he +does himself." Roger nodded assent to this, but said +nothing. "What is he to do? The only chance for a young +man in his position is that he should marry a girl with money. +He is good-looking; you can't deny that." + +<p>"Nature has done enough for him." + +<p>"We must take him as he is. He was put into the army very +young, and was very young when he came into possession of his own +small fortune. He might have done better; but how many young +men placed in such temptations do well? As it is, he has +nothing left." + +<p>"I fear not." + +<p>"And therefore is it not imperative that he should marry a girl +with money?" + +<p>"I call that stealing a girl's money, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"Oh, Roger, how hard you are!" + +<p>"A man must be hard or soft,—which is best?" + +<p>"With women I think that a little softness has the most +effect. I want to make you understand this about the +Melmottes. It stands to reason that the girl will not marry +Felix unless she loves him." + +<p>"But does he love her?" + +<p>"Why should he not? Is a girl to be debarred from being +loved because she has money? Of course she looks to be married, +and why should she not have Felix if she likes him best? Cannot +you sympathise with my anxiety so to place him that he shall not be a +disgrace to the name and to the family?" + +<p>"We had better not talk about the family, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"But I think so much about it." + +<p>"You will never get me to say that I think the family will be +benefited by a marriage with the daughter of Mr Melmotte. I +look upon him as dirt in the gutter. To me, in my old-fashioned +way, all his money, if he has it, can make no difference. When +there is a question of marriage, people at any rate should know +something of each other. Who knows anything of this man? +Who can be sure that she is his daughter?" + +<p>"He would give her her fortune when she married." + +<p>"Yes; it all comes to that. Men say openly that he is an +adventurer and a swindler. No one pretends to think that he is +a gentleman. There is a consciousness among all who speak of +him that he amasses his money not by honest trade, but by unknown +tricks as does a card-sharper. He is one whom we would not +admit into our kitchens, much less to our tables, on the score of his +own merits. But because he has learned the art of making money, +we not only put up with him, but settle upon his carcase as so many +birds of prey." + +<p>"Do you mean that Felix should not marry the girl, even if they +love each other?" + +<p>He shook his head in disgust, feeling sure that any idea of love +on the part of the young man was a sham and a pretence, not only as +regarded him, but also his mother. He could not quite declare +this, and yet he desired that she should understand that he thought +so. "I have nothing more to say about it," he continued. +"Had it gone on in London I should have said nothing. It is no +affair of mine. When I am told that the girl is in the +neighbourhood, at such a house as Caversham, and that Felix is coming +here in order that he may be near to his prey, and when I am asked +to be a party to the thing, I can only say what I think. Your +son would be welcome to my house, because he is your son and my +cousin, little as I approve his mode of life; but I could have wished +that he had chosen some other place for the work that he has on +hand." + +<p>"If you wish it, Roger, we will return to London. I shall +find it hard to explain to Hetta;—but we will go." + +<p>"No; I certainly do not wish that." + +<p>"But you have said such hard things! How are we to +stay? You speak of Felix as though he were all bad." She +looked at him hoping to get from him some contradiction of this, some +retractation, some kindly word; but it was what he did think, and he +had nothing to say. She could bear much. She was not +delicate as to censure implied, or even expressed. She had +endured rough usage before, and was prepared to endure more. +Had he found fault with herself, or with Henrietta, she would have +put up with it, for the sake of benefits to come,—would have +forgiven it the more easily because perhaps it might not have been +deserved. But for her son she was prepared to fight. If +she did not defend him, who would? "I am grieved, Roger, that +we should have troubled you with our visit, but I think that we had +better go. You are very harsh, and it crushes me." + +<p>"I have not meant to be harsh." + +<p>"You say that Felix is seeking for his—prey, and that he is to be +brought here to be near—his prey. What can be more harsh than +that? At any rate, you should remember that I am his mother." + +<p>She expressed her sense of injury very well. Roger began to +be ashamed of himself, and to think that he had spoken unkind +words. And yet he did not know how to recall them. "If I +have hurt you, I regret it much." + +<p>"Of course you have hurt me. I think I will go in now. +How very hard the world is! I came here thinking to find peace +and sunshine, and there has come a storm at once." + +<p>"You asked me about the Melmottes, and I was obliged to +speak. You cannot think that I meant to offend you." They +walked on in silence till they had reached the door leading from the +garden into the house, and here he stopped her. "If I have been +over hot with you, let me beg your pardon," She smiled and bowed; but +her smile was not one of forgiveness; and then she essayed to pass on +into the house. "Pray do not speak of going, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"I think I will go to my room now. My head aches so that I +can hardly stand." + +<p>It was late in the afternoon,—about six,—and according to his +daily custom he should have gone round to the offices to see his men +as they came from their work, but he stood still for a few moments on +the spot where Lady Carbury had left him and went slowly across the +lawn to the bridge and there seated himself on the parapet. +Could it really be that she meant to leave his house in anger and to +take her daughter with her? Was it thus that he was to part +with the one human being in the world that he loved? He was a +man who thought much of the duties of hospitality, feeling that a man +in his own house was bound to exercise a courtesy towards his guests +sweeter, softer, more gracious than the world required +elsewhere. And of all guests those of his own name were the +best entitled to such courtesy at Carbury. He held the place in +trust for the use of others. But if there were one among all +others to whom the house should be a house of refuge from care, not +an abode of trouble, on whose behalf, were it possible, he would make +the very air softer, and the flowers sweeter than their wont, to whom +he would declare, were such words possible to his tongue, that of him +and of his house, and of all things there, she was the mistress, +whether she would condescend to love him or no,—that one was his +cousin Hetta. And now he had been told by his guest that he had +been so rough to her that she and her daughter must return to London! + +<p>And he could not acquit himself. He knew that he had been +rough. He had said very hard words. It was true that he +could not have expressed his meaning without hard words, nor have +repressed his meaning without self-reproach. But in his present +mood he could not comfort himself by justifying himself. She +had told him that he ought to have remembered that Felix was her son; +and as she spoke she had acted well the part of an outraged +mother. His heart was so soft that though he knew the woman to +be false and the son to be worthless, he utterly condemned +himself. Look where he would there was no comfort. When +he had sat half an hour upon the bridge he turned towards the house +to dress for dinner,—and to prepare himself for an apology, if any +apology might be accepted. At the door, standing in the doorway +as though waiting for him, he met his cousin Hetta. She had on +her bosom the rose he had placed in her room, and as he approached +her he thought that there was more in her eyes of graciousness +towards him than he had ever seen there before. + +<p>"Mr Carbury," she said, "mamma is so unhappy!" + +<p>"I fear that I have offended her." + +<p>"It is not that, but that you should be so—so angry about Felix." + +<p>"I am vexed with myself that I have vexed her,—more vexed than I +can tell you." + +<p>"She knows how good you are." + +<p>"No, I'm not. I was very bad just now. She was so +offended with me that she talked of going back to London." He +paused for her to speak, but Hetta had no words ready for the +moment. "I should be wretched indeed if you and she were to +leave my house in anger." + +<p>"I do not think she will do that." + +<p>"And you?" + +<p>"I am not angry. I should never dare to be angry with +you. I only wish that Felix would be better. They say +that young men have to be bad, and that they do get to be better as +they grow older. He is something in the city now, a director +they call him, and mamma thinks that the work will be of service to +him." Roger could express no hope in this direction or even +look as though he approved of the directorship. "I don't see +why he should not try at any rate." + +<p>"Dear Hetta, I only wish he were like you." + +<p>"Girls are so different, you know." + +<p>It was not till late in the evening, long after dinner, that he +made his apology in form to Lady Carbury; but he did make it, and at +last it was accepted. "I think I was rough to you, talking +about Felix," he said,—"and I beg your pardon." + +<p>"You were energetic, that was all." + +<p>"A gentleman should never be rough to a lady, and a man should +never be rough to his own guests. I hope you will forgive +me." She answered him by putting out her hand and smiling on +him; and so the quarrel was over. + +<p>Lady Carbury understood the full extent of her triumph, and was +enabled by her disposition to use it thoroughly. Felix might +now come down to Carbury, and go over from thence to Caversham, and +prosecute his wooing, and the master of Carbury could make no further +objection. And Felix, if he would come, would not now be +snubbed. Roger would understand that he was constrained to +courtesy by the former severity of his language. Such points as +these Lady Carbury never missed. He understood it too, and +though he was soft and gracious in his bearing, endeavouring to make +his house as pleasant as he could to his two guests, he felt that he +had been cheated out of his undoubted right to disapprove of all +connection with the Melmottes. In the course of the evening +there came a note,—or rather a bundle of notes,—from +Caversham. That addressed to Roger was in the form of a +letter. Lady Pomona was sorry to say that the Longestaffe party +were prevented from having the pleasure of dining at Carbury Hall by +the fact that they had a house full of guests. Lady Pomona +hoped that Mr Carbury and his relatives, who, Lady Pomona heard, were +with him at the Hall, would do the Longestaffes the pleasure of +dining at Caversham either on the Monday or Tuesday following, as +might best suit the Carbury plans. That was the purport of Lady +Pomona's letter to Roger Carbury. Then there were cards of +invitation for Lady Carbury and her daughter, and also for Sir Felix. + +<p>Roger, as he read his own note, handed the others over to Lady +Carbury, and then asked her what she would wish to have done. +The tone of his, voice, as he spoke, grated on her ear, as there was +something in it of his former harshness. But she knew how to +use her triumph. "I should like to go," she said. + +<p>"I certainly shall not go," he replied; "but there will be no +difficulty whatever in sending you over. You must answer at +once, because their servant is waiting." + +<p>"Monday will be best," she said; "—that is, if nobody is coming +here." + +<p>"There will be nobody here." + +<p>"I suppose I had better say that I, and Hetta,—and Felix will +accept their invitation." + +<p>"I can make no suggestion," said Roger, thinking how delightful it +would be if Henrietta could remain with him; how objectionable it was +that Henrietta should be taken to Caversham to meet the +Melmottes. Poor Hetta herself could say nothing. She +certainly did not wish to meet the Melmottes, nor did she wish to +dine, alone, with her cousin Roger. + +<p>"That will be best," said Lady Carbury after a moment's +thought. "It is very good of you to let us go, and to send us." + +<p>"Of course you will do here just as you please," he replied. +But there was still that tone in his voice which Lady Carbury +feared. A quarter of an hour later the Caversham servant was on +his way home with two letters,—the one from Roger expressing his +regret that he could not accept Lady Pomona's invitation, and the +other from Lady Carbury declaring that she and her son and daughter +would have great pleasure in dining at Caversham on the Monday. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="16"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI. The Bishop and the Priest</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>The afternoon on which Lady Carbury arrived at her cousin's house +had been very stormy. Roger Carbury had been severe, and Lady +Carbury had suffered under his severity,—or had at least so well +pretended to suffer as to leave on Roger's mind a strong impression +that he had been cruel to her. She had then talked of going +back at once to London, and when consenting to remain, had remained +with a very bad feminine headache. She had altogether carried +her point, but had done so in a storm. The next morning was +very calm. That question of meeting the Melmottes had been +settled, and there was no need for speaking of them again. +Roger went out by himself about the farm, immediately after +breakfast, having told the ladies that they could have the waggonette +when they pleased. "I'm afraid you'll find it tiresome driving +about our lanes," he said. Lady Carbury assured him that she +was never dull when left alone with books. Just as he was +starting he went into the garden and plucked a rose which he brought +to Henrietta. He only smiled as he gave it her, and then went +his way. He had resolved that he would say nothing to her of +his suit till Monday. If he could prevail with her then he +would ask her to remain with him when her mother and brother would be +going out to dine at Caversham. She looked up into his face as +she took the rose and thanked him in a whisper. She fully +appreciated the truth, and honour, and honesty of his character, and +could have loved him so dearly as her cousin if he would have +contented himself with such cousinly love! She was beginning, +within her heart, to take his side against her mother and brother, +and to feel that he was the safest guide that she could have. +But how could she be guided by a lover whom she did not love? + +<p>"I am afraid, my dear, we shall have a bad time of it here," +said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Why so, mamma?" + +<p>"It will be so dull. Your cousin is the best friend in all +the world, and would make as good a husband as could be picked out of +all the gentlemen of England; but in his present mood with me he is +not a comfortable host. What nonsense he did talk about the +Melmottes!" + +<p>"I don't suppose, mamma, that Mr and Mrs Melmotte can be nice +people." + +<p>"Why shouldn't they be as nice as anybody else? Pray, +Henrietta, don't let us have any of that nonsense from you. +When it comes from the superhuman virtue of poor dear Roger it has to +be borne, but I beg that you will not copy him." + +<p>"Mamma, I think that is unkind." + +<p>"And I shall think it very unkind if you take upon yourself to +abuse people who are able and willing to set poor Felix on his +legs. A word from you might undo all that we are doing." + +<p>"What word?" + +<p>"What word? Any word! If you have any influence with +your brother you should use it in inducing him to hurry this +on. I am sure the girl is willing enough. She did refer +him to her father." + +<p>"Then why does he not go to Mr Melmotte?" + +<p>"I suppose he is delicate about it on the score of money. If +Roger could only let it be understood that Felix is the heir to this +place, and that some day he will be Sir Felix Carbury of Carbury, I +don't think there would be any difficulty even with old Melmotte." + +<p>"How could he do that, mamma?" + +<p>"If your cousin were to die as he is now, it would be so. +Your brother would be his heir." + +<p>"You should not think of such a thing, mamma." + +<p>"Why do you dare to tell me what I am to think? Am I not to +think of my own son? Is he not to be dearer to me than any +one? And what I say, is so. If Roger were to die to-morrow +he would be Sir Felix Carbury of Carbury." + +<p>"But, mamma, he will live and have a family. Why should he +not?" + +<p>"You say he is so old that you will not look at him." + +<p>"I never said so. When we were joking, I said he was +old. You know I did not mean that he was too old to get +married. Men a great deal older get married every day." + +<p>"If you don't accept him he will never marry. He is a man of +that kind,—so stiff and stubborn and old-fashioned that nothing +will change him. He will go on boodying over it, till he will +become an old misanthrope. If you would take him I would be +quite contented. You are my child as well as Felix. But +if you mean to be obstinate I do wish that the Melmottes should be +made to understand that the property and title and name of the place +will all go together. It will be so, and why should not Felix +have the advantage?" + +<p>"Who is to say it?" + +<p>"Ah,—that's where it is. Roger is so violent and prejudiced +that one cannot get him to speak rationally." + +<p>"Oh, mamma,—you wouldn't suggest it to him;—that this place is +to go to—Felix, when he—is dead!" + +<p>"It would not kill him a day sooner." + +<p>"You would not dare to do it, mamma." + +<p>"I would dare to do anything for my children. But you need +not look like that, Henrietta. I am not going to say anything +to him of the kind. He is not quick enough to understand of +what infinite service he might be to us without in any way hurting +himself." Henrietta would fain have answered that their cousin +was quick enough for anything, but was by far too honest to take part +in such a scheme as that proposed. She refrained, however, and +was silent. There was no sympathy on the matter between her and +her mother. She was beginning to understand the tortuous mazes +of manoeuvres in which her mother's mind had learned to work, and to +dislike and almost to despise them. But she felt it to be her +duty to abstain from rebukes. + +<p>In the afternoon Lady Carbury, alone, had herself driven into +Beccles that she might telegraph to her son. "You are to dine +at Caversham on Monday. Come on Saturday if you can. She +is there." Lady Carbury had many doubts as to the wording of +this message. The female in the office might too probably +understand who was the "she" who was spoken of as being at Caversham, +and might understand also the project, and speak of it +publicly. But then it was essential that Felix should know how +great and certain was the opportunity afforded to him. He had +promised to come on Saturday and return on Monday,—and, unless +warned, would too probably stick to his plan and throw over the +Longestaffes and their dinner-party. Again if he were told to +come simply for the Monday, he would throw over the chance of wooing +her on the Sunday. It was Lady Carbury's desire to get him down +for as long a period as was possible, and nothing surely would so +tend to bring him and to keep him, as a knowledge that the heiress +was already in the neighbourhood. Then she returned, and shut +herself up in her bedroom, and worked for an hour or two at a paper +which she was writing for the "Breakfast Table." Nobody should +ever accuse her justly of idleness. And afterwards, as she +walked by herself round and round the garden, she revolved in her +mind the scheme of a new book. Whatever might happen she would +persevere. If the Carburys were unfortunate their misfortunes +should come from no fault of hers. Henrietta passed the whole +day alone. She did not see her cousin from breakfast till he +appeared in the drawing-room before dinner. But she was +thinking of him during every minute of the day,—how good he was, how +honest, how thoroughly entitled to demand at any rate kindness at her +hand! Her mother had spoken of him as of one who might be +regarded as all but dead and buried, simply because of his love for +her. Could it be true that his constancy was such that he would +never marry unless she would take his hand? She came to think +of him with more tenderness than she had ever felt before, but, yet, +she would not tell herself she loved him. It might, perhaps, be +her duty to give herself to him without loving him,—because he was +so good; but she was sure that she did not love him. + +<p>In the evening the bishop came, and his wife, Mrs Yeld, and the +Hepworths of Eardly, and Father John Barham, the Beccles +priest. The party consisted of eight, which is, perhaps, the +best number for a mixed gathering of men and women at a +dinner-table,—especially if there be no mistress whose prerogative +and duty it is to sit opposite to the master. In this case Mr +Hepworth faced the giver of the feast, the bishop and the priest were +opposite to each other, and the ladies graced the four corners. +Roger, though he spoke of such things to no one, turned them over +much in his mind, believing it to be the duty of a host to administer +in all things to the comfort of his guests. In the drawing-room +he had been especially courteous to the young priest, introducing him +first to the bishop and his wife, and then to his cousins. +Henrietta watched him through the whole evening, and told herself +that he was a very mirror of courtesy in his own house. She had +seen it all before, no doubt; but she had never watched him as she +now watched him since her mother had told her that he would die +wifeless and childless because she would not be his wife and the +mother of his children. + +<p>The bishop was a man sixty years of age, very healthy and +handsome, with hair just becoming grey, clear eyes, a kindly mouth, +and something of a double chin. He was all but six feet high, +with a broad chest, large hands, and legs which seemed to have been +made for clerical breeches and clerical stockings. He was a man +of fortune outside his bishopric; and, as he never went up to London, +and had no children on whom to spend his money, he was able to live +as a nobleman in the country. He did live as a nobleman, and +was very popular. Among the poor around him he was idolized, +and by such clergy of his diocese as were not enthusiastic in their +theology either on the one side or on the other, he was regarded as a +model bishop. By the very high and the very low,—by those +rather who regarded ritualism as being either heavenly or +devilish,—he was looked upon as a timeserver, because he would not +put to sea in either of those boats. He was an unselfish man, +who loved his neighbour as himself, and forgave all trespasses, and +thanked God for his daily bread from his heart, and prayed heartily +to be delivered from temptation. But I doubt whether he was +competent to teach a creed,—or even to hold one, if it be necessary +that a man should understand and define his creed before he can hold +it. Whether he was free from, or whether he was scared by, any +inward misgivings, who shall say? If there were such he never +whispered a word of them even to the wife of his bosom. From +the tone of his voice and the look of his eye, you would say that he +was unscathed by that agony which doubt on such a matter would surely +bring to a man so placed. And yet it was observed of him that +he never spoke of his faith, or entered into arguments with men as to +the reasons on which he had based it. He was diligent in +preaching,—moral sermons that were short, pithy, and useful. +He was never weary in furthering the welfare of his clergymen. +His house was open to them and to their wives. The edifice of +every church in his diocese was a care to him. He laboured at +schools, and was zealous in improving the social comforts of the +poor; but he was never known to declare to man or woman that the +human soul must live or die for ever according to its faith. +Perhaps there was no bishop in England more loved or more useful in +his diocese than the Bishop of Elmham. + +<p>A man more antagonistic to the bishop than Father John Barham, the +lately appointed Roman Catholic priest at Beccles, it would be +impossible to conceive;—and yet they were both eminently good +men. Father John was not above five feet nine in height, but so +thin, so meagre, so wasted in appearance, that, unless when he +stooped, he was taken to be tall. He had thick dark brown hair, +which was cut short in accordance with the usage of his Church; but +which he so constantly ruffled by the action of his hands, that, +though short, it seemed to be wild and uncombed. In his younger +days, when long locks straggled over his forehead, he had acquired a +habit, while talking energetically, of rubbing them back with his +finger, which he had not since dropped. In discussions he would +constantly push back his hair, and then sit with his hand fixed on +the top of his head. He had a high, broad forehead, enormous +blue eyes, a thin, long nose, cheeks very thin and hollow, a handsome +large mouth, and a strong square chin. He was utterly without +worldly means, except those which came to him from the ministry of +his church, and which did not suffice to find him food and raiment; +but no man ever lived more indifferent to such matters than Father +John Barham. He had been the younger son of an English country +gentleman of small fortune, had been sent to Oxford that he might +hold a family living, and on the eve of his ordination had declared +himself a Roman Catholic. His family had resented this +bitterly, but had not quarrelled with him till he had drawn a sister +with him. When banished from the house he had still striven to +achieve the conversion of other sisters by his letters, and was now +absolutely an alien from his father's heart and care. But of +this he never complained. It was a part of the plan of his life +that he should suffer for his faith. Had he been able to change +his creed without incurring persecution, worldly degradation, and +poverty, his own conversion would not have been to him comfortable +and satisfactory as it was. He considered that his father, as a +Protestant,—and in his mind Protestant and heathen were all the +same,—had been right to quarrel with him. But he loved his +father, and was endless in prayer, wearying his saints with +supplications, that his father might see the truth and be as he was. + +<p>To him it was everything that a man should believe and obey,—that +he should abandon his own reason to the care of another or of others, +and allow himself to be guided in all things by authority. +Faith being sufficient and of itself all in all, moral conduct could +be nothing to a man, except as a testimony of faith; for to him, +whose belief was true enough to produce obedience, moral conduct +would certainly be added. The dogmas of his Church were to +Father Barham a real religion, and he would teach them in season and +out of season, always ready to commit himself to the task of proving +their truth, afraid of no enemy, not even fearing the hostility which +his perseverance would create. He had but one duty before +him—to do his part towards bringing over the world to his +faith. It might be that with the toil of his whole life he +should convert but one; that he should but half convert one; that he +should do no more than disturb the thoughts of one so that future +conversion might be possible. But even that would be work +done. He would sow the seed if it might be so; but if it were +not given to him to do that, he would at any rate plough the ground. + +<p>He had come to Beccles lately, and Roger Carbury had found out +that he was a gentleman by birth and education. Roger had found +out also that he was very poor, and had consequently taken him by the +hand. The young priest had not hesitated to accept his +neighbour's hospitality, having on one occasion laughingly protested +that he should be delighted to dine at Carbury, as he was much in +want of a dinner. He had accepted presents from the garden and +the poultry yard, declaring that he was too poor to refuse +anything. The apparent frankness of the man about himself had +charmed Roger, and the charm had not been seriously disturbed when +Father Barham, on one winter evening in the parlour at Carbury, had +tried his hand at converting his host. "I have the most +thorough respect for your religion," Roger had said; "but it would +not suit me." The priest had gone on with his logic; if he +could not sow the seed he might plough the ground. This had +been repeated two or three times, and Roger had begun to feel it to +be disagreeable. But the man was in earnest, and such +earnestness commanded respect. And Roger was quite sure that +though he might be bored, he could not be injured by such +teaching. Then it occurred to him one day that he had known the +Bishop of Elmham intimately for a dozen years, and had never heard +from the bishop's mouth,—except when in the pulpit,—a single word +of religious teaching; whereas this man, who was a stranger to him, +divided from him by the very fact of his creed, was always talking to +him about his faith. Roger Carbury was not a man given to much +deep thinking, but he felt that the bishop's manner was the +pleasanter of the two. + +<p>Lady Carbury at dinner was all smiles and pleasantness. No +one looking at her, or listening to her, could think that her heart +was sore with many troubles. She sat between the bishop and her +cousin, and was skilful enough to talk to each without neglecting the +other. She had known the bishop before, and had on one occasion +spoken to him of her soul. The first tone of the good man's +reply had convinced her of her error, and she never repeated +it. To Mr Alf she commonly talked of her mind; to Mr Broune, of +her heart; to Mr Booker of her body—and its wants. She was +quite ready to talk of her soul on a proper occasion, but she was +much too wise to thrust the subject even on a bishop. Now she +was full of the charms of Carbury and its neighbourhood. "Yes, +indeed," said the bishop, "I think Suffolk is a very nice county; and +as we are only a mile or two from Norfolk, I'll say as much for +Norfolk too. 'It's an ill bird that fouls its own, nest.'". + +<p>"I like a county in which there is something left of county +feeling," said Lady Carbury. "Staffordshire and Warwickshire, +Cheshire and Lancashire have become great towns, and have lost all +local distinctions." + +<p>"We still keep our name and reputation," said the bishop; "silly +Suffolk!" + +<p>"But that was never deserved." + +<p>"As much, perhaps, as other general epithets. I think we are +a sleepy people. We've got no coal, you see, and no iron. +We have no beautiful scenery, like the lake country,—no rivers great +for fishing, like Scotland,—no hunting grounds, like the shires." + +<p>"Partridges!" pleaded Lady Carbury, with pretty energy. + +<p>"Yes; we have partridges, fine churches, and the herring +fishery. We shall do very well if too much is not expected of +us. We can't increase and multiply as they do in the great +cities." + +<p>"I like this part of England so much the best for that very +reason. What is the use of a crowded population?" + +<p>"The earth has to be peopled, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"Oh, yes," said her ladyship, with some little reverence added to +her voice, feeling that the bishop was probably adverting to a divine +arrangement. "The world must be peopled; but for myself I like +the country better than the town." + +<p>"So do I," said Roger; "and I like Suffolk. The people are +hearty, and radicalism is not quite so rampant as it is +elsewhere. The poor people touch their hats, and the rich +people think of the poor. There is something left among us of +old English habits." + +<p>"That is so nice," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Something left of old English ignorance," said the bishop. +"All the same I dare say we're improving, like the rest of the +world. What beautiful flowers you have here, Mr Carbury! +At any rate, we can grow flowers in Suffolk." + +<p>Mrs Yeld, the bishop's wife, was sitting next to the priest, and +was in truth somewhat afraid of her neighbour. She was, +perhaps, a little stauncher than her husband in Protestantism; and +though she was willing to admit that Mr Barham might not have ceased +to be a gentleman when he became a Roman Catholic priest, she was not +quite sure that it was expedient for her or her husband to have much +to do with him. Mr Carbury had not taken them unawares. +Notice had been given that the priest was to be there, and the bishop +had declared that he would be very happy to meet the priest. +But Mrs Yeld had had her misgivings. She never ventured to +insist on her opinion after the bishop had expressed his; but she had +an idea that right was right, and wrong wrong,—and that Roman +Catholics were wrong, and therefore ought to be put down. And +she thought also that if there were no priests there would be no +Roman Catholics. Mr Barham was, no doubt, a man of good family, +which did make a difference. + +<p>Mr Barham always made his approaches very gradually. The +taciturn humility with which he commenced his operations was in exact +proportion to the enthusiastic volubility of his advanced +intimacy. Mrs Yeld thought that it became her to address to him +a few civil words, and he replied to her with a shame-faced modesty +that almost overcame her dislike to his profession. She spoke +of the poor of Beccles, being very careful to allude only to their +material position. There was too much beer drunk, no doubt, and +the young women would have finery. Where did they get the money +to buy those wonderful bonnets which appeared every Sunday? Mr +Barham was very meek, and agreed to everything that was said. +No doubt he had a plan ready formed for inducing Mrs Yeld to have +mass said regularly within her husband's palace, but he did not even +begin to bring it about on this occasion. It was not till he +made some apparently chance allusion to the superior church-attending +qualities of "our people," that Mrs Yeld drew herself up and changed +the conversation by observing that there had been a great deal of +rain lately. + +<p>When the ladies were gone the bishop at once put himself in the +way of conversation with the priest, and asked questions as to the +morality of Beccles. It was evidently Mr Barham's opinion that +"his people" were more moral than other people, though very much +poorer. "But the Irish always drink," said Mr Hepworth. + +<p>"Not so much as the English, I think," said the priest. "And +you are not to suppose that we are all Irish. Of my flock the +greater proportion are English." + +<p>"It is astonishing how little we know of our neighbours," said the +bishop. "Of course I am aware that there are a certain number +of persons of your persuasion round about us. Indeed, I could +give the exact number in this diocese. But in my own immediate +neighbourhood I could not put my hand upon any families which I know +to be Roman Catholic." + +<p>"It is not, my lord, because there are none." + +<p>"Of course not. It is because, as I say, I do not know my +neighbours." + +<p>"I think, here in Suffolk, they must be chiefly the poor," said Mr +Hepworth. + +<p>"They were chiefly the poor who at first put their faith in our +Saviour," said the priest. + +<p>"I think the analogy is hardly correctly drawn," said the bishop, +with a curious smile. "We were speaking of those who are still +attached to an old creed. Our Saviour was the teacher of a new +religion. That the poor in the simplicity of their hearts +should be the first to acknowledge the truth of a new religion is in +accordance with our idea of human nature. But that an old faith +should remain with the poor after it has been abandoned by the rich +is not so easily intelligible." + +<p>"The Roman population still believed," said Carbury, "when the +patricians had learned to regard their gods as simply useful +bugbears." + +<p>"The patricians had not ostensibly abandoned their religion. +The people clung to it thinking that their masters and rulers clung +to it also." + +<p>"The poor have ever been the salt of the earth, my lord," said the +priest. + +<p>"That begs the whole question," said the bishop, turning to his +host, and, beginning to talk about a breed of pigs which had lately +been imported into the palace sties. Father Barham turned to Mr +Hepworth and went on with his argument, or rather began +another. It was a mistake to suppose that the Catholics in the +county were all poor. There were the A's and the B's, and the +C's and the D's. He knew all their names and was proud of their +fidelity. To him these faithful ones were really the salt of +the earth, who would some day be enabled by their fidelity to restore +England to her pristine condition. The bishop had truly said +that of many of his neighbours he did not know to what Church they +belonged; but Father Barham, though he had not as yet been twelve +months in the county, knew the name of nearly every Roman Catholic +within its borders. + +<p>"Your priest is a very zealous man," said the bishop afterwards to +Roger Carbury, "and I do not doubt but that he is an excellent +gentleman; but he is perhaps a little indiscreet." + +<p>"I like him because he is doing the best he can according to his +lights; without any reference to his own worldly welfare." + +<p>"That is all very grand, and I am perfectly willing to respect +him. But I do not know that I should care to talk very freely +in his company." + +<p>"I am sure he would repeat nothing." + +<p>"Perhaps not; but he would always be thinking that he was going +to get the best of me." + +<p>"I don't think it answers," said Mrs Yeld to her husband as they +went home. "Of course I don't want to be prejudiced; but +Protestants are Protestants, and Roman Catholics are Roman +Catholics." + +<p>"You may say the same of Liberals and Conservatives, but you +wouldn't have them decline to meet each other." + +<p>"It isn't quite the same, my dear. After all religion is +religion." + +<p>"It ought to be," said the bishop. + +<p>"Of course I don't mean to put myself up against you, my dear; but +I don't know that I want to meet Mr Barham again." + +<p>"I don't know that I do, either," said the bishop; "but if he +comes in my way I hope I shall treat him civilly." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="17"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII. Marie Melmotte Hears a Love Tale</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>On the following morning there came a telegram from Felix. +He was to be expected at Beccles on that afternoon by a certain +train; and Roger, at Lady Carbury's request, undertook to send a +carriage to the station for him. This was done, but Felix did +not arrive. There was still another train by which he might +come so as to be just in time for dinner if dinner were postponed for +half an hour. Lady Carbury with a tender look, almost without +speaking a word, appealed to her cousin on behalf of her son. +He knit his brows, as he always did, involuntarily, when displeased; +but he assented. Then the carriage had to be sent again. +Now carriages and carriage-horses were not numerous at Carbury. +The squire kept a waggonette and a pair of horses which, when not +wanted for house use, were employed about the farm. He himself +would walk home from the train, leaving the luggage to be brought by +some cheap conveyance. He had already sent the carriage once on +this day,—and now sent it again, Lady Carbury having said a word +which showed that she hoped that this would be done. But he did +it with deep displeasure. To the mother her son was Sir Felix, +the baronet, entitled to special consideration because of his +position and rank,—because also of his intention to marry the great +heiress of the day. To Roger Carbury, Felix was a vicious young +man, peculiarly antipathetic to himself, to whom no respect whatever +was due. Nevertheless the dinner was put off, and the +waggonette was sent. But the waggonette again came back +empty. That evening was spent by Roger, Lady Carbury, and +Henrietta, in very much gloom. + +<p>About four in the morning the house was roused by the coming of +the baronet. Failing to leave town by either of the afternoon +trains, he had contrived to catch the evening mail, and had found +himself deposited at some distant town from which he had posted to +Carbury. Roger came down in his dressing-gown to admit him, and +Lady Carbury also left her room. Sir Felix evidently thought +that he had been a very fine fellow in going through so much +trouble. Roger held a very different opinion, and spoke little +or nothing. "Oh, Felix," said the mother, "you have so +terrified us!" + +<p>"I can tell you I was terrified myself when I found that I had to +come fifteen miles across the country with a pair of old jades who +could hardly get up a trot." + +<p>"But why didn't you come by the train you named?" + +<p>"I couldn't get out of the city," said the baronet with a ready +lie. + +<p>"I suppose you were at the Board?" To this Felix made no +direct answer. Roger knew that there had been no Board. +Mr Melmotte was in the country and there could be no Board, nor could +Sir Felix have had business in the city. It was sheer +impudence,—sheer indifference, and, into the bargain, a downright +lie. The young man, who was of himself so unwelcome, who had +come there on a project which he, Roger, utterly disapproved,—who +had now knocked him and his household up at four o'clock in the +morning,—had uttered no word of apology. "Miserable cub!" +Roger muttered between his teeth. Then he spoke aloud, "You had +better not keep your mother standing here. I will show you your +room." + +<p>"All right, old fellow," said Sir Felix. "I'm awfully sorry +to disturb you all in this way. I think I'll just take a drop +of brandy and soda before I go to bed, though." This was +another blow to Roger. + +<p>"I doubt whether we have soda-water in the house, and if we have, +I don't know where to get it. I can give you some brandy if you +will come with me." He pronounced the word "brandy" in a tone +which implied that it was a wicked, dissipated beverage. It was +a wretched work to Roger. He was forced to go upstairs and +fetch a key in order that he might wait upon this cub,—this +cur! He did it, however, and the cub drank his +brandy-and-water, not in the least disturbed by his host's +ill-humour. As he went to bed he suggested the probability of +his not showing himself till lunch on the following day, and +expressed a wish that he might have breakfast sent to him in +bed. "He is born to be hung," said Roger to himself as he went +to his room,—"and he'll deserve it." + +<p>On the following morning, being Sunday, they all went to +church,—except Felix. Lady Carbury always went to church when +she was in the country, never when she was at home in London. +It was one of those moral habits, like early dinners and long walks, +which suited country life. And she fancied that were she not to +do so, the bishop would be sure to know it and would be +displeased. She liked the bishop. She liked bishops +generally; and was aware that it was a woman's duty to sacrifice +herself for society. As to the purpose for which people go to +church, it had probably never in her life occurred to Lady Carbury to +think of it. On their return they found Sir Felix smoking a +cigar on the gravel path, close in front of the open drawing-room +window. + +<p>"Felix," said his cousin, "take your cigar a little farther. +You are filling the house with tobacco." + +<p>"Oh heavens,—what a prejudice!" said the baronet. + +<p>"Let it be so, but still do as I ask you." Sir Felix chucked +the cigar out of his mouth on to the gravel walk, whereupon Roger +walked up to the spot and kicked the offending weed away. This +was the first greeting of the day between the two men. + +<p>After lunch Lady Carbury strolled about with her son, instigating +him to go over at once to Caversham. "How the deuce am I to get +there?" + +<p>"Your cousin will lend you a horse." + +<p>"He's as cross as a bear with a sore head. He's a deal older +than I am, and a cousin and all that, but I'm not going to put up +with insolence. If it were anywhere else I should just go into +the yard and ask if I could have a horse and saddle as a matter of +course." + +<p>"Roger has not a great establishment." + +<p>"I suppose he has a horse and saddle, and a man to get it +ready. I don't want anything grand." + +<p>"He is vexed because he sent twice to the station for you +yesterday." + +<p>"I hate the kind of fellow who is always thinking of little +grievances. Such a man expects you to go like clockwork, and +because you are not wound up just as he is, he insults you. I +shall ask him for a horse as I would any one else, and if he does not +like it, he may lump it." About half an hour after this he +found his cousin. "Can I have a horse to ride over to Caversham +this afternoon?" he said. + +<p>"Our horses never go out on Sunday," said Roger. Then he +added, after a pause, "You can have it. I'll give the +order." Sir Felix would be gone on Tuesday, and it should be +his own fault if that odious cousin ever found his way into Carbury +House again! So he declared to himself as Felix rode out of the +yard; but he soon remembered how probable it was that Felix himself +would be the owner of Carbury. And should it ever come to +pass,—as still was possible,—that Henrietta should be the mistress +of Carbury, he could hardly forbid her to receive her brother. +He stood for a while on the bridge watching his cousin as he cantered +away upon the road, listening to the horse's feet. The young +man was offensive in every possible way. Who does not know that +ladies only are allowed to canter their friends' horses upon +roads? A gentleman trots his horse, and his friend's +horse. Roger Carbury had but one saddle horse,—a favourite old +hunter that he loved as a friend. And now this dear old friend, +whose legs probably were not quite so good as they once were, was +being galloped along the hard road by that odious cub! "Soda +and brandy!" Roger exclaimed to himself almost aloud, thinking of the +discomfiture of that early morning. "He'll die some day of +delirium tremens in a hospital!" + +<p>Before the Longestaffes left London to receive their new friends +the Melmottes at Caversham, a treaty had been made between Mr +Longestaffe, the father, and Georgiana, the strong-minded +daughter. The daughter on her side undertook that the guests +should be treated with feminine courtesy. This might be called +the most-favoured-nation clause. The Melmottes were to be +treated exactly as though old Melmotte had been a gentleman and +Madame Melmotte a lady. In return for this the Longestaffe +family were to be allowed to return to town. But here again the +father had carried another clause. The prolonged sojourn in +town was to be only for six weeks. On the 10th of July the +Longestaffes were to be removed into the country for the remainder of +the year. When the question of a foreign tour was proposed, the +father became absolutely violent in his refusal. "In God's name +where do you expect the money is to come from?" When Georgiana +urged that other people had money to go abroad, her father told her +that a time was coming in which she might think it lucky if she had a +house over her head. This, however, she took as having been +said with poetical licence, the same threat having been made more +than once before. The treaty was very clear, and the parties to +it were prepared to carry it out with fair honesty. The +Melmottes were being treated with decent courtesy, and the house in +town was not dismantled. + +<p>The idea, hardly ever in truth entertained but which had been +barely suggested from one to another among the ladies of the family, +that Dolly should marry Marie Melmotte, had been abandoned. +Dolly, with all his vapid folly, had a will of his own, which, among +his own family, was invincible. He was never persuaded to any +course either by his father or mother. Dolly certainly would +not marry Marie Melmotte. Therefore when the Longestaffes heard +that Sir Felix was coming to the country, they had no special +objection to entertaining him at Caversham. He had been lately +talked of in London as the favourite in regard to Marie +Melmotte. Georgiana Longestaffe had a grudge of her own against +Lord Nidderdale, and was on that account somewhat well inclined +towards Sir Felix's prospects. Soon after the Melmottes' +arrival she contrived to say a word to Marie respecting Sir +Felix. "There is a friend of yours going to dine here on +Monday, Miss Melmotte." Marie, who was at the moment still +abashed by the grandeur and size and general fashionable haughtiness +of her new acquaintances, made hardly any answer. "I think you +know Sir Felix Carbury," continued Georgiana. + +<p>"Oh yes, we know Sir Felix Carbury." + +<p>"He is coming down to his cousin's. I suppose it is for your +bright eyes, as Carbury Manor would hardly be just what he would +like." + +<p>"I don't think he is coming because of me," said Marie +blushing. She had once told him that he might go to her father, +which according to her idea had been tantamount to accepting his +offer as far as her power of acceptance went. Since that she +had seen him, indeed, but he had not said a word to press his suit, +nor, as far as she knew, had he said a word to Mr Melmotte. But +she had been very rigorous in declining the attentions of other +suitors. She had made up her mind that she was in love with +Felix Carbury, and she had resolved on constancy. But she had +begun to tremble, fearing his faithlessness. + +<p>"We had heard," said Georgiana, "that he was a particular friend +of yours." And she laughed aloud, with a vulgarity which Madame +Melmotte certainly could not have surpassed. + +<p>Sir Felix, on the Sunday afternoon, found all the ladies out on +the lawn, and he also found Mr Melmotte there. At the last +moment Lord Alfred Grendall had been asked,—not because he was at +all in favour with any of the Longestaffes, but in order that he +might be useful in disposing of the great Director. Lord Alfred +was used to him and could talk to him, and might probably know what +he liked to eat and drink. Therefore Lord Alfred had been asked +to Caversham, and Lord Alfred had come, having all his expenses paid +by the great Director. When Sir Felix arrived, Lord Alfred was +earning his entertainment by talking to Mr Melmotte in a +summerhouse. He had cool drink before him and a box of cigars, +but was probably thinking at the time how hard the world had been to +him. Lady Pomona was languid, but not uncivil in her +reception. She was doing her best to perform her part of the +treaty in reference to Madame Melmotte. Sophia was walking +apart with a certain Mr Whitstable, a young squire in the +neighbourhood, who had been asked to Caversham because as Sophia was +now reputed to be twenty-eight,—they who decided the question might +have said thirty-one without falsehood,—it was considered that Mr +Whitstable was good enough, or at least as good as could be +expected. Sophia was handsome, but with a big, cold, unalluring +handsomeness, and had not quite succeeded in London. Georgiana +had been more admired, and boasted among her friends of the offers +which she had rejected. Her friends on the other hand were apt +to tell of her many failures. Nevertheless she held her head +up, and had not as yet come down among the rural Whitstables. +At the present moment her hands were empty, and she was devoting +herself to such a performance of the treaty as should make it +impossible for her father to leave his part of it unfulfilled. + +<p>For a few minutes Sir Felix sat on a garden chair making +conversation to Lady Pomona and Madame Melmotte. "Beautiful +garden," he said; "for myself I don't much care for gardens; but if +one is to live in the country, this is the sort of thing that one +would like." + +<p>"Delicious," said Madame Melmotte, repressing a yawn, and drawing +her shawl higher round her throat. It was the end of May, and +the weather was very warm for the time of the year; but, in her heart +of hearts, Madame Melmotte did not like sitting out in the garden. + +<p>"It isn't a pretty place; but the house is comfortable, and we +make the best of it," said Lady Pomona. + +<p>"Plenty of glass, I see," said Sir Felix. "If one is to live +in the country, I like that kind of thing. Carbury is a very +poor place." + +<p>There was offence in this;—as though the Carbury property and the +Carbury position could be compared to the Longestaffe property and +the Longestaffe position. Though dreadfully hampered for money, +the Longestaffes were great people. "For a small place," said +Lady Pomona, "I think Carbury is one of the nicest in the +county. Of course it is not extensive." + +<p>"No, by Jove," said Sir Felix, "you may say that, Lady +Pomona. It's like a prison to me with that moat round +it." Then he jumped up and joined Marie Melmotte and +Georgiana. Georgiana, glad to be released for a time from +performance of the treaty, was not long before she left them +together. She had understood that the two horses now in the +running were Lord Nidderdale and Sir Felix; and though she would not +probably have done much to aid Sir Felix, she was quite willing to +destroy Lord Nidderdale. + +<p>Sir Felix had his work to do, and was willing to do it,—as far as +such willingness could go with him. The prize was so great, and +the comfort of wealth was so sure, that even he was tempted to exert +himself. It was this feeling which had brought him into +Suffolk, and induced him to travel all night, across dirty roads, in +an old cab. For the girl herself he cared not the least. +It was not in his power really to care for anybody. He did not +dislike her much. He was not given to disliking people +strongly, except at the moments in which they offended him. He +regarded her simply as the means by which a portion of Mr Melmotte's +wealth might be conveyed to his uses. In regard to feminine +beauty he had his own ideas, and his own inclinations. He was +by no means indifferent to such attraction. But Marie Melmotte, +from that point of view, was nothing to him. Such prettiness as +belonged to her came from the brightness of her youth, and from a +modest shy demeanour joined to an incipient aspiration for the +enjoyment of something in the world which should be her own. +There was, too, arising within her bosom a struggle to be something +in the world, an idea that she, too, could say something, and have +thoughts of her own, if only she had some friend near her whom she +need not fear. Though still shy, she was always resolving that +she would abandon her shyness, and already had thoughts of her own as +to the perfectly open confidence which should exist between two +lovers. When alone—and she was much alone—she would build +castles in the air, which were bright with art and love, rather than +with gems and gold. The books she read, poor though they +generally were, left something bright on her imagination. She +fancied to herself brilliant conversations in which she bore a bright +part, though in real life she had hitherto hardly talked to any one +since she was a child. Sir Felix Carbury, she knew, had made +her an offer. She knew also, or thought that she knew, that she +loved the man. And now she was with him alone! Now surely +had come the time in which some one of her castles in the air might +be found to be built of real materials. + +<p>"You know why I have come down here?" he said. + +<p>"To see your cousin." + +<p>"No, indeed. I'm not particularly fond of my cousin, who is +a methodical stiff-necked old bachelor,—as cross as the mischief." + +<p>"How disagreeable!" + +<p>"Yes; he is disagreeable. I didn't come down to see him, I +can tell you. But when I heard that you were going to be here +with the Longestaffes, I determined to come at once. I wonder +whether you are glad to see me?" + +<p>"I don't know," said Marie, who could not at once find that +brilliancy of words with which her imagination supplied her readily +enough in her solitude. + +<p>"Do you remember what you said to me that evening at my mother's?" + +<p>"Did I say anything? I don't remember anything particular." + +<p>"Do you not? Then I fear you can't think very much of +me." He paused as though he supposed that she would drop into +his mouth like a cherry. "I thought you told me that you would +love me." + +<p>"Did I?" + +<p>"Did you not?" + +<p>"I don't know what I said. Perhaps if I said that, I didn't +mean it." + +<p>"Am I to believe that?" + +<p>"Perhaps you didn't mean it yourself." + +<p>"By George, I did. I was quite in earnest. There never +was a fellow more in earnest than I was. I've come down here on +purpose to say it again." + +<p>"To say what?" + +<p>"Whether you'll accept me?" + +<p>"I don't know whether you love me well enough." She longed +to be told by him that he loved her. He had no objection to +tell her so, but, without thinking much about it, felt it to be a +bore. All that kind of thing was trash and twaddle. He +desired her to accept him; and he would have wished, were it +possible, that she should have gone to her father for his +consent. There was something in the big eyes and heavy jaws of +Mr Melmotte which he almost feared. "Do you really love me well +enough?" she whispered. + +<p>"Of course I do. I'm bad at making pretty speeches, and all +that, but you know I love you." + +<p>"Do you?" + +<p>"By George, yes. I always liked you from the first moment I +saw you. I did indeed." + +<p>It was a poor declaration of love, but it sufficed. "Then I +will love you," she said. "I will with all my heart." + +<p>"There's a darling!" + +<p>"Shall I be your darling? Indeed I will. I may call +you Felix now mayn't I?" + +<p>"Rather." + +<p>"Oh, Felix, I hope you will love me. I will so dote upon +you. You know a great many men have asked me to love them." + +<p>"I suppose so." + +<p>"But I have never, never cared for one of them in the least,—not +in the least." + +<p>"You do care for me?" + +<p>"Oh yes." She looked up into his beautiful face as she +spoke, and he saw that her eyes were swimming with tears. He +thought at the moment that she was very common to look at. As +regarded appearance only he would have preferred even Sophia +Longestaffe. There was indeed a certain brightness of truth +which another man might have read in Marie's mingled smiles and +tears, but it was thrown away altogether upon him. They were +walking in some shrubbery quite apart from the house, where they were +unseen; so, as in duty bound, he put his arm round her waist and +kissed her. "Oh, Felix," she said, giving her face up to him; +"no one ever did it before." He did not in the least believe +her, nor was the matter one of the slightest importance to him. +"Say that you will be good to me, Felix. I will be so good to +you." + +<p>"Of course I will be good to you." + +<p>"Men are not always good to their wives. Papa is often very +cross to mamma." + +<p>"I suppose he can be cross?" + +<p>"Yes, he can. He does not often scold me. I don't know +what he'll say when we tell him about this." + +<p>"But I suppose he intends that you shall be married?" + +<p>"He wanted me to marry Lord Nidderdale and Lord Grasslough, but I +hated them both. I think he wants me to marry Lord Nidderdale +again now. He hasn't said so, but mamma tells me. But I +never will,—never!" + +<p>"I hope not, Marie." + +<p>"You needn't be a bit afraid. I would not do it if they were +to kill me. I hate him,—and I do so love you." Then she +leaned with all her weight upon his arm and looked up again into his +beautiful face. "You will speak to papa; won't you?" + +<p>"Will that be the best way?" + +<p>"I suppose so. How else?" + +<p>"I don't know whether Madame Melmotte ought not—" + +<p>"Oh dear no. Nothing would induce her. She is more +afraid of him than anybody;—more afraid of him than I am. I +thought the gentleman always did that." + +<p>"Of course I'll do it," said Sir Felix. "I'm not afraid of +him. Why should I? He and I are very good friends, you +know." + +<p>"I'm glad of that." + +<p>"He made me a Director of one of his companies the other day." + +<p>"Did he? Perhaps he'll like you for a son-in-law." + +<p>"There's no knowing;—is there?" + +<p>"I hope he will. I shall like you for papa's +son-in-law. I hope it isn't wrong to say that. Oh, Felix, +say that you love me." Then she put her face up towards his +again. + +<p>"Of course I love you," he said, not thinking it worth his while +to kiss her. "It's no good speaking to him here. I +suppose I had better go and see him in the city." + +<p>"He is in a good humour now," said Marie. + +<p>"But I couldn't get him alone. It wouldn't be the thing to +do down here." + +<p>"Wouldn't it?" + +<p>"Not in the country,—in another person's house. Shall you +tell Madame Melmotte?" + +<p>"Yes, I shall tell mamma; but she won't say anything to him. +Mamma does not care much about me. But I'll tell you all that +another time. Of course I shall tell you everything now. +I never yet had anybody to tell anything to, but I shall never be +tired of telling you." Then he left her as soon as he could, +and escaped to the other ladies. Mr Melmotte was still sitting +in the summerhouse, and Lord Alfred was still with him, smoking and +drinking brandy and seltzer. As Sir Felix passed in front of +the great man he told himself that it was much better that the +interview should be postponed till they were all in London. Mr +Melmotte did not look as though he were in a good humour. Sir +Felix said a few words to Lady Pomona and Madame Melmotte. Yes; +he hoped to have the pleasure of seeing them with his mother and +sister on the following day. He was aware that his cousin was +not coming. He believed that his cousin Roger never did go +anywhere like any one else. No; he had not seen Mr +Longestaffe. He hoped to have the pleasure of seeing him +to-morrow. Then he escaped, and got on his horse, and rode away. + +<p>"That's going to be the lucky man," said Georgiana to her mother, +that evening. + +<p>"In what way lucky?" + +<p>"He is going to get the heiress and all the money. What a +fool Dolly has been!" + +<p>"I don't think it would have suited Dolly," said Lady +Pomona. "After all, why should not Dolly marry a lady?" +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="18"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII. Ruby Ruggles Hears a Love Tale</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Ruby Ruggles, the granddaughter of old Daniel Ruggles, of Sheep's +Acre, in the parish of Sheepstone, close to Bungay, received the +following letter from the hands of the rural post letter-carrier on +that Sunday morning;—"A friend will be somewhere near Sheepstone +Birches between four and five o'clock on Sunday afternoon." +There was not another word in the letter, but Miss Ruby Ruggles knew +well from whom it came. + +<p>Daniel Ruggles was a farmer, who had the reputation of +considerable wealth, but who was not very well looked on in the +neighbourhood as being somewhat of a curmudgeon and a miser. +His wife was dead;—he had quarrelled with his only son, whose wife +was also dead, and had banished him from his home;—his daughters +were married and away; and the only member of his family who lived +with him was his granddaughter Ruby. And this granddaughter was +a great trouble to the old man. She was twenty-three years old, +and had been engaged to a prosperous young man at Bungay in the meal +and pollard line, to whom old Ruggles had promised to give £500 on +their marriage. But Ruby had taken it into her foolish young +head that she did not like meal and pollard, and now she had received +the above very dangerous letter. Though the writer had not +dared to sign his name she knew well that it came from Sir Felix +Carbury,—the most beautiful gentleman she had ever set her eyes +upon. Poor Ruby Ruggles! Living down at Sheep's Acre, on +the Waveney, she had heard both too much and too little of the great +world beyond her ken. There were, she thought, many glorious +things to be seen which she would never see were she in these her +early years to become the wife of John Crumb, the dealer in meal and +pollard at Bungay. Therefore she was full of a wild joy, half +joy half fear, when she got her letter; and, therefore, punctually at +four o'clock on that Sunday she was ensconced among the Sheepstone +Birches, so that she might see without much danger of being +seen. Poor Ruby Ruggles, who was left to be so much mistress of +herself at the time of her life in which she most required the +kindness of a controlling hand! + +<p>Mr Ruggles held his land, or the greater part of it, on what is +called a bishop's lease, Sheep's Acre Farm being a part of the +property which did belong to the bishopric of Elmham, and which was +still set apart for its sustentation;—but he also held a small +extent of outlying meadow which belonged to the Carbury estate, so +that he was one of the tenants of Roger Carbury. Those +Sheepstone Birches, at which Felix made his appointment, belonged to +Roger. On a former occasion, when the feeling between the two +cousins was kinder than that which now existed, Felix had ridden over +with the landlord to call on the old man, and had then first seen +Ruby;—and had heard from Roger something of Ruby's history up to +that date. It had then been just made known that she was to +marry John Crumb. Since that time not a word had been spoken +between the men respecting the girl. Mr Carbury had heard, with +sorrow, that the marriage was either postponed or abandoned,—but his +growing dislike to the baronet had made it very improbable that there +should be any conversation between them on the subject. Sir +Felix, however, had probably heard more of Ruby Ruggles than her +grandfather's landlord. + +<p>There is, perhaps, no condition of mind more difficult for the +ordinarily well-instructed inhabitant of a city to realise than that +of such a girl as Ruby Ruggles. The rural day labourer and his +wife live on a level surface which is comparatively open to the +eye. Their aspirations, whether for good or evil,—whether for +food and drink to be honestly earned for themselves and children, or +for drink first, to be come by either honestly or dishonestly,—are, +if looked at at all, fairly visible. And with the men of the +Ruggles class one can generally find out what they would be at, and +in what direction their minds are at work. But the Ruggles +woman,—especially the Ruggles young woman,—is better educated, has +higher aspirations and a brighter imagination, and is infinitely more +cunning than the man. If she be good-looking and relieved from +the pressure of want, her thoughts soar into a world which is as +unknown to her as heaven is to us, and in regard to which her +longings are apt to be infinitely stronger than are ours for +heaven. Her education has been much better than that of the +man. She can read, whereas he can only spell words from a +book. She can write a letter after her fashion, whereas he can +barely spell words out on a paper. Her tongue is more glib, and +her intellect sharper. But her ignorance as to the reality of +things is much more gross than his. By such contact as he has +with men in markets, in the streets of the towns he frequents, and +even in the fields, he learns something unconsciously of the relative +condition of his countrymen,—and, as to that which he does not +learn, his imagination is obtuse. But the woman builds castles +in the air, and wonders, and longs. To the young farmer the +squire's daughter is a superior being very much out of his way. +To the farmer's daughter the young squire is an Apollo, whom to look +at is a pleasure,—by whom to be looked at is a delight. The +danger for the most part is soon over. The girl marries after +her kind, and then husband and children put the matter at rest for +ever. + +<p>A mind more absolutely uninstructed than that of Ruby Ruggles as +to the world beyond Suffolk and Norfolk it would be impossible to +find. But her thoughts were as wide as they were vague, and as +active as they were erroneous. Why should she with all her +prettiness, and all her cleverness,—with all her fortune to +boot,—marry that dustiest of all men, John Crumb, before she had +seen something of the beauties of the things of which she had read in +the books which came in her way? John Crumb was not bad- +looking. He was a sturdy, honest fellow, too,—slow of speech +but sure of his points when be had got them within his grip,—fond of +his beer but not often drunk, and the very soul of industry at his +work. But though she had known him all her life she had never +known him otherwise than dusty. The meal had so gotten within +his hair, and skin, and raiment, that it never came out altogether +even on Sundays. His normal complexion was a healthy pallor, +through which indeed some records of hidden ruddiness would make +themselves visible, but which was so judiciously assimilated to his +hat and coat and waistcoat, that he was more like a stout ghost than +a healthy young man. Nevertheless it was said of him that he +could thrash any man in Bungay, and carry two hundredweight of flour +upon his back. And Ruby also knew this of him,—that he +worshipped the very ground on which she trod. + +<p>But, alas, she thought there might be something better than such +worship; and, therefore, when Felix Carbury came in her way, with his +beautiful oval face, and his rich brown colour, and his bright hair +and lovely moustache, she was lost in a feeling which she mistook for +love; and when he sneaked over to her a second and a third time, she +thought more of his listless praise than ever she had thought of John +Crumb's honest promises. But, though she was an utter fool, she +was not a fool without a principle. She was miserably ignorant; +but she did understand that there was a degradation which it behoved +her to avoid. She thought, as the moths seem to think, that she +might fly into the flame and not burn her wings. After her +fashion she was pretty, with long glossy ringlets, which those about +the farm on week days would see confined in curl-papers, and large +round dark eyes, and a clear dark complexion, in which the blood +showed itself plainly beneath the soft brown skin. She was +strong, and healthy, and tall,—and had a will of her own which gave +infinite trouble to old Daniel Ruggles, her grandfather. + +<p>Felix Carbury took himself two miles out of his way in order that +he might return by Sheepstone Birches, which was a little copse +distant not above half a mile from Sheep's Acre farmhouse. A +narrow angle of the little wood came up to the road, by which there +was a gate leading into a grass meadow, which Sir Felix had +remembered when he made his appointment. The road was no more +than a country lane, unfrequented at all times, and almost sure to be +deserted on Sundays. He approached the gate in a walk, and then +stood awhile looking into the wood. He had not stood long +before he saw the girl's bonnet beneath a tree standing just outside +the wood, in the meadow, but on the bank of the ditch. Thinking +for a moment what he would do about his horse, he rode him into the +field, and then, dismounting, fastened him to a rail which ran down +the side of the copse. Then he sauntered on till he stood +looking down upon Ruby Ruggles as she sat beneath the tree. "I +like your impudence," she said, "in calling yourself a friend." + +<p>"Ain't I a friend, Ruby?" + +<p>"A pretty sort of friend, you! When you was going away, you +was to be back at Carbury in a fortnight; and that is,—oh, ever so +long ago now." + +<p>"But I wrote to you, Ruby." + +<p>"What's letters? And the postman to know all as in 'em for +anything anybody knows, and grandfather to be almost sure to see +'em. I don't call letters no good at all, and I beg you won't +write 'em any more." + +<p>"Did he see them?" + +<p>"No thanks to you if he didn't. I don't know why you are +come here, Sir Felix,—nor yet I don't know why I should come and +meet you. It's all just folly like." + +<p>"Because I love you;—that's why I come; eh, Ruby? And you +have come because you love me; eh, Ruby? Is not that about +it?" Then he threw himself on the ground beside her, and got +his arm round her waist. + +<p>It would boot little to tell here all that they said to each +other. The happiness of Ruby Ruggles for that half-hour was no +doubt complete. She had her London lover beside her; and though +in every word he spoke there was a tone of contempt, still he talked +of love, and made her promises, and told her that she was +pretty. He probably did not enjoy it much; he cared very little +about her, and carried on the liaison simply because it was the +proper sort of thing for a young man to do. He had begun to +think that the odour of patchouli was unpleasant, and that the flies +were troublesome, and the ground hard, before the half-hour was +over. She felt that she could be content to sit there for ever +and to listen to him. This was a realisation of those delights +of life of which she had read in the thrice-thumbed old novels which +she had gotten from the little circulating library at Bungay. + +<p>But what was to come next? She had not dared to ask him to +marry her,—had not dared to say those very words; and he had not +dared to ask her to be his mistress. There was an animal +courage about her, and an amount of strength also, and a fire in her +eye, of which he had learned to be aware. Before the half-hour +was over I think that he wished himself away;—but when he did go, he +made a promise to see her again on the Tuesday morning. Her +grandfather would be at Harlestone market, and she would meet him at +about noon at the bottom of the kitchen garden belonging to the +farm. As he made the promise he resolved that he would not keep +it. He would write to her again, and bid her come to him in +London, and would send her money for the journey. + +<p>"I suppose I am to be his wedded wife," said Ruby to herself, as +she crept away down from the road, away also from her own home;—so +that on her return her presence should not be associated with that of +the young man, should any one chance to see the young man on the +road. "I'll never be nothing unless I'm that," she said to +herself. Then she allowed her mind to lose itself in +expatiating on the difference between John Crumb and Sir Felix +Carbury. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="19"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX. Hetta Carbury Hears a Love Tale</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"I half a mind to go back to-morrow morning," Felix said to his +mother that Sunday evening after dinner. At that moment Roger +was walking round the garden by himself, and Henrietta was in her own +room. + +<p>"to-morrow morning, Felix! You are engaged to dine with the +Longestaffes!" + +<p>"You could make any excuse you like about that." + +<p>"It would be the most uncourteous thing in the world. The +Longestaffes you know are the leading people in this part of the +country. No one knows what may happen. If you should ever +be living at Carbury, how sad it would be that you should have +quarrelled with them." + +<p>"You forget, mother, that Dolly Longestaffe is about the most +intimate friend I have in the world." + +<p>"That does not justify you in being uncivil to the father and +mother. And you should remember what you came here for." + +<p>"What did I come for?" + +<p>"That you might see Marie Melmotte more at your ease than you can +in their London house." + +<p>"That's all settled," said Sir Felix, in the most indifferent tone +that he could assume. + +"Settled!" + +<p>"As far as the girl is concerned. I can't very well go to +the old fellow for his consent down here." + +<p>"Do you mean to say, Felix, that Marie Melmotte has accepted you?" + +<p>"I told you that before." + +<p>"My dear Felix. Oh, my boy!" In her joy the mother +took her unwilling son in her arms and caressed him. Here was +the first step taken not only to success, but to such magnificent +splendour as should make her son to be envied by all young men, and +herself to be envied by all mothers in England! "No, you didn't +tell me before. But I am so happy. Is she really fond of +you? I don't wonder that any girl should be fond of you." + +<p>"I can't say anything about that, but I think she means to stick +to it." + +<p>"If she is firm, of course her father will give way at last. +Fathers always do give way when the girl is firm. Why should he +oppose it?" + +<p>"I don't know that he will." + +<p>"You are a man of rank, with a title of your own. I suppose +what he wants is a gentleman for his girl. I don't see why he +should not be perfectly satisfied. With all his enormous wealth +a thousand a year or so can't make any difference. And then he +made you one of the Directors at his Board. Oh Felix;—it is +almost too good to be true." + +<p>"I ain't quite sure that I care very much about being married, you +know." + +<p>"Oh, Felix, pray don't say that. Why shouldn't you like +being married? She is a very nice girl, and we shall all be so +fond of her! Don't let any feeling of that kind come over you; +pray don't. You will be able to do just what you please when +once the question of her money is settled. Of course you can +hunt as often as you like, and you can have a house in any part of +London you please. You must understand by this time how very +disagreeable it is to have to get on without an established income." + +<p>"I quite understand that." + +<p>"If this were once done you would never have any more trouble of +that kind. There would be plenty of money for everything as +long as you live. It would be complete success. I don't +know how to say enough to you, or to tell you how dearly I love you, +or to make you understand how well I think you have done it +all." Then she caressed him again, and was almost beside +herself in an agony of mingled anxiety and joy. If, after all, +her beautiful boy, who had lately been her disgrace and her great +trouble because of his poverty, should shine forth to the world as a +baronet with £20,000 a year, how glorious would it be! She must +have known,—she did know,—how poor, how selfish a creature he +was. But her gratification at the prospect of his splendour +obliterated the sorrow with which the vileness of his character +sometimes oppressed her. Were he to win this girl with all her +father's money, neither she nor his sister would be the better for +it, except in this, that the burden of maintaining him would be taken +from her shoulders. But his magnificence would be +established. He was her son, and the prospect of his fortune +and splendour was sufficient to elate her into a very heaven of +beautiful dreams. "But, Felix," she continued, "you really must +stay and go to the Longestaffes' to-morrow. It will only be one +day. And now were you to run away—" + +<p>"Run away! What nonsense you talk." + +<p>"If you were to start back to London at once I mean, it would be +an affront to her, and the very thing to set Melmotte against +you. You should lay yourself out to please him;—indeed you +should." + +<p>"Oh, bother!" said Sir Felix. But nevertheless he allowed +himself to be persuaded to remain. The matter was important +even to him, and he consented to endure the almost unendurable +nuisance of spending another day at the Manor House. Lady +Carbury, almost lost in delight, did not know where to turn for +sympathy. If her cousin were not so stiff, so pig-headed, so +wonderfully ignorant of the affairs of the world, he would have at +any rate consented to rejoice with her. Though he might not +like Felix,—who, as his mother admitted to herself, had been rude to +her cousin,—he would have rejoiced for the sake of the family. +But, as it was, she did not dare to tell him. He would have +received her tidings with silent scorn. And even Henrietta +would not be enthusiastic. She felt that though she would have +delighted to expatiate on this great triumph, she must be silent at +present. It should now be her great effort to ingratiate +herself with Mr Melmotte at the dinner party at Caversham. + +<p>During the whole of that evening Roger Carbury hardly spoke to his +cousin Hetta. There was not much conversation between them till +quite late, when Father Barham came in for supper. He had been +over at Bungay among his people there, and had walked back, taking +Carbury on the way. "What did you think of our bishop?" Roger +asked him, rather imprudently. + +<p>"Not much of him as a bishop. I don't doubt that he makes a +very nice lord, and that he does more good among his neighbours than +an average lord. But you don't put power or responsibility into +the hands of any one sufficient to make him a bishop." + +<p>"Nine-tenths of the clergy in the diocese would be guided by him +in any matter of clerical conduct which might come before him." + +<p>"Because they know that he has no strong opinion of his own, and +would not therefore desire to dominate theirs. Take any of your +bishops that has an opinion,—if there be one left,—and see how far +your clergy consent to his teaching!" Roger turned round and +took up his book. He was already becoming tired of his pet +priest. He himself always abstained from saying a word +derogatory to his new friend's religion in the man's hearing; but his +new friend did not by any means return the compliment. Perhaps +also Roger felt that were he to take up the cudgels for an argument +he might be worsted in the combat, as in such combats success is won +by practised skill rather than by truth. Henrietta was also +reading, and Felix was smoking elsewhere,—wondering whether the +hours would ever wear themselves away in that castle of dulness, in +which no cards were to be seen, and where, except at meal-times, +there was nothing to drink. But Lady Carbury was quite willing +to allow the priest to teach her that all appliances for the +dissemination of religion outside his own Church must be naught. + +<p>"I suppose our bishops are sincere in their beliefs," she said +with her sweetest smile. + +<p>"I'm sure I hope so. I have no possible reason to doubt it +as to the two or three whom I have seen,—nor indeed as to all the +rest whom I have not seen." + +<p>"They are so much respected everywhere as good and pious men!" + +<p>"I do not doubt it. Nothing tends so much to respect as a +good income. But they may be excellent men without being +excellent bishops. I find no fault with them, but much with the +system by which they are controlled. Is it probable that a man +should be fitted to select guides for other men's souls because he +has succeeded by infinite labour in his vocation in becoming the +leader of a majority in the House of Commons?" + +<p>"Indeed, no," said Lady Carbury, who did not in the least +understand the nature of the question put to her. + +<p>"And when you've got your bishop, is it likely that a man should +be able to do his duty in that capacity who has no power of his own +to decide whether a clergyman under him is or is not fit for his +duty?" + +<p>"Hardly, indeed." + +<p>"The English people, or some of them,—that some being the +richest, and, at present, the most powerful,—like to play at having +a Church, though there is not sufficient faith in them to submit to +the control of a Church." + +<p>"Do you think men should be controlled by clergymen, Mr Barham?" + +<p>"In matters of faith I do; and so, I suppose, do you; at least you +make that profession. You declare it to be your duty to submit +yourself to your spiritual pastors and masters." + +<p>"That, I thought, was for children," said Lady Carbury. "The +clergyman, in the catechism, says, "My good child."" + +<p>"It is what you were taught as a child before you had made +profession of your faith to a bishop, in order that you might know +your duty when you had ceased to be a child. I quite agree, +however, that the matter, as viewed by your Church, is childish +altogether, and intended only for children. As a rule, adults +with you want no religion." + +<p>"I am afraid that is true of a great many." + +<p>"It is marvellous to me that, when a man thinks of it, he should +not be driven by very fear to the comforts of a safer faith,—unless, +indeed, he enjoy the security of absolute infidelity." + +<p>"That is worse than anything," said Lady Carbury with a sigh and a +shudder. + +<p>"I don't know that it is worse than a belief which is no belief," +said the priest with energy;—"than a creed which sits so easily on a +man that he does not even know what it contains, and never asks +himself as he repeats it, whether it be to him credible or +incredible." + +<p>"That is very bad," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"We're getting too deep, I think," said Roger, putting down the +book which he had in vain been trying to read. + +<p>"I think it is so pleasant to have a little serious conversation +on Sunday evening," said Lady Carbury. The priest drew himself +back into his chair and smiled. He was quite clever enough to +understand that Lady Carbury had been talking nonsense, and clever +enough also to be aware of the cause of Roger's uneasiness. But +Lady Carbury might be all the easier converted because she understood +nothing and was fond of ambitious talking; and Roger Carbury might +possibly be forced into conviction by the very feeling which at +present made him unwilling to hear arguments. + +<p>"I don't like hearing my Church ill-spoken of," said Roger. + +<p>"You wouldn't like me if I thought ill of it and spoke well of +it," said the priest. + +<p>"And, therefore, the less said the sooner mended," said Roger, +rising from his chair. Upon this Father Barham look his +departure and walked away to Beccles. It might be that he had +sowed some seed. It might be that he had, at any rate, ploughed +some ground. Even the attempt to plough the ground was a good +work which would not be forgotten. + +<p>The following morning was the time on which Roger had fixed for +repeating his suit to Henrietta. He had determined that it +should be so, and though the words had been almost on his tongue +during that Sunday afternoon, he had repressed them because he would +do as he had determined. He was conscious, almost painfully +conscious, of a certain increase of tenderness in his cousin's manner +towards him. All that pride of independence, which had amounted +almost to roughness, when she was in London, seemed to have left +her. When he greeted her morning and night, she looked softly +into his face. She cherished the flowers which he gave +her. He could perceive that if he expressed the slightest wish +in any matter about the house she would attend to it. There had +been a word said about punctuality, and she had become punctual as +the hand of the clock. There was not a glance of her eye, nor a +turn of her hand, that he did not watch, and calculate its effect as +regarded himself. But because she was tender to him and +observant, he did not by any means allow himself to believe that her +heart was growing into love for him. He thought that he +understood the working of her mind. She could see how great was +his disgust at her brother's doings; how fretted he was by her +mother's conduct. Her grace, and sweetness, and sense, took +part with him against those who were nearer to herself, and +therefore,—in pity,—she was kind to him. It was thus he read +it, and he read it almost with exact accuracy. + +<p>"Hetta," he said after breakfast, "come out into the garden +awhile." + +<p>"Are not you going to the men?" + +<p>"Not yet, at any rate. I do not always go to the men as you +call it." She put on her hat and tripped out with him, knowing +well that she had been summoned to hear the old story. She had +been sure, as soon as she found the white rose in her room, that the +old story would be repeated again before she left Carbury;—and, up +to this time, she had hardly made up her mind what answer she would +give to it. That she could not take his offer, she thought she +did know. She knew well that she loved the other man. +That other man had never asked her for her love, but she thought that +she knew that he desired it. But in spite of all this there had +in truth grown up in her bosom a feeling of tenderness towards her +cousin so strong that it almost tempted her to declare to herself +that he ought to have what he wanted, simply because he wanted +it. He was so good, so noble, so generous, so devoted, that it +almost seemed to her that she could not be justified in refusing +him. And she had gone entirely over to his side in regard to +the Melmottes. Her mother had talked to her of the charm of Mr +Melmotte's money, till her very heart had been sickened. There +was nothing noble there; but, as contrasted with that, Roger's +conduct and bearing were those of a fine gentleman who knew neither +fear nor shame. Should such a one be doomed to pine for ever +because a girl could not love him,—a man born to be loved, if +nobility and tenderness and truth were lovely! + +<p>"Hetta," he said, "put your arm here." She gave him her +arm. "I was a little annoyed last night by that priest. I +want to be civil to him, and now he is always turning against me." + +<p>"He doesn't do any harm, I suppose?" + +<p>"He does do harm if he teaches you and me to think lightly of +those things which we have been brought up to revere." So, +thought Henrietta, it isn't about love this time; it's only about the +Church. "He ought not to say things before my guests as to our +way of believing, which I wouldn't under any circumstances say as to +his. I didn't quite like your hearing it." + +<p>"I don't think he'll do me any harm. I'm not at all that way +given. I suppose they all do it. It's their business." + +<p>"Poor fellow! I brought him here just because I thought it +was a pity that a man born and bred like a gentleman should never see +the inside of a comfortable house." + +<p>"I liked him;—only I didn't like his saying stupid things about +the bishop." + +<p>"And I like him." Then there was a pause. "I suppose +your brother does not talk to you much about his own affairs." + +<p>"His own affairs, Roger? Do you mean money? He never +says a word to me about money." + +<p>"I meant about the Melmottes." + +<p>"No; not to me. Felix hardly ever speaks to me about +anything." + +<p>"I wonder whether she has accepted him." + +<p>"I think she very nearly did accept him in London." + +<p>"I can't quite sympathise with your mother in all her feelings +about this marriage, because I do not think that I recognise as she +does the necessity of money." + +<p>"Felix is so disposed to be extravagant." + +<p>"Well; yes. But I was going to say that though I cannot +bring myself to say anything to encourage her about this heiress, I +quite recognise her unselfish devotion to his interests." + +<p>"Mamma thinks more of him than of anything," said Hetta, not in +the least intending to accuse her mother of indifference to herself. + +<p>"I know it; and though I happen to think myself that her other +child would better repay her devotion,"—this he said, looking up to +Hetta and smiling,—"I quite feel how good a mother she is to +Felix. You know, when she first came the other day we almost +had a quarrel." + +<p>"I felt that there was something unpleasant." + +<p>"And then Felix coming after his time put me out. I am +getting old and cross, or I should not mind such things." + +<p>"I think you are so good and so kind." As she said this she +leaned upon his arm almost as though she meant to tell him that she +loved him. + +<p>"I have been angry with myself," he said, "and so I am making you +my father confessor. Open confession is good for the soul +sometimes, and I think that you would understand me better than your +mother." + +<p>"I do understand you; but don't think there is any fault to +confess." + +<p>"You will not exact any penance?" She only looked at him and +smiled. "I am going to put a penance on myself all the +same. I can't congratulate your brother on his wooing over at +Caversham, as I know nothing about it, but I will express some civil +wish to him about things in general." + +<p>"Will that be a penance?" + +<p>"If you could look into my mind you'd find that it would. +I'm full of fretful anger against him for half-a-dozen little +frivolous things. Didn't he throw his cigar on the path? +Didn't he lie in bed on Sunday instead of going to church?" + +<p>"But then he was travelling all the Saturday night." + +<p>"Whose fault was that? But don't you see it is the +triviality of the offence which makes the penance necessary. +Had he knocked me over the head with a pickaxe, or burned the house +down, I should have had a right to be angry. But I was angry +because he wanted a horse on Sunday;—and therefore I must do +penance." + +<p>There was nothing of love in all this. Hetta, however, did +not wish him to talk of love. He was certainly now treating her +as a friend,—as a most intimate friend. If he would only do +that without making love to her, how happy could she be! But +his determination still held good. "And now," said he, altering +his tone altogether, "I must speak about myself." Immediately +the weight of her hand upon his arm was lessened. Thereupon he +put his left hand round and pressed her arm to his. "No," he +said; "do not make any change towards me while I speak to you. +Whatever comes of it we shall at any rate be cousins and friends." + +<p>"Always friends!" she said. + +<p>"Yes,—always friends. And now listen to me for I have much +to say. I will not tell you again that I love you. You +know it, or else you must think me the vainest and falsest of +men. It is not only that I love you, but I am so accustomed to +concern myself with one thing only, so constrained by the habits and +nature of my life to confine myself to single interests, that I +cannot as it were escape from my love. I am thinking of it +always, often despising myself because I think of it so much. +For, after all, let a woman be ever so good,—and you to me are all +that is good,—a man should not allow his love to dominate his +intellect." + +<p>"Oh, no!" + +<p>"I do. I calculate my chances within my own bosom almost as +a man might calculate his chances of heaven. I should like you +to know me just as I am, the weak and the strong together. I +would not win you by a lie if I could. I think of you more than +I ought to do. I am sure,—quite sure that you are the only +possible mistress of this house during my tenure of it. If I am +ever to live as other men do, and to care about the things which +other men care for, it must be as your husband." + +<p>"Pray,—pray do not say that." + +<p>"Yes; I think that I have a right to say it,—and a right to +expect that you should believe me. I will not ask you to be my +wife if you do not love me. Not that I should fear aught for +myself, but that you should not be pressed to make a sacrifice of +yourself because I am your friend and cousin. But I think it is +quite possible you might come to love me,—unless your heart be +absolutely given away elsewhere." + +<p>"What am I to say?" + +<p>"We each of us know of what the other is thinking. If Paul +Montague has robbed me of my love?" + +<p>"Mr Montague has never said a word." + +<p>"If he had, I think he would have wronged me. He met you in +my house, and I think must have known what my feelings were towards +you." + +<p>"But he never has." + +<p>"We have been like brothers together,—one brother being very much +older than the other, indeed; or like father and son. I think +he should place his hopes elsewhere." + +<p>"What am I to say? If he have such hope he has not told +me. I think it almost cruel that a girl should be asked in that +way." + +<p>"Hetta, I should not wish to be cruel to you. Of course I +know the way of the world in such matters. I have no right to +ask you about Paul Montague,—no right to expect an answer. But +it is all the world to me. You can understand that I should +think you might learn to love even me, if you loved no one +else." The tone of his voice was manly, and at the same time +full of entreaty. His eyes as he looked at her were bright with +love and anxiety. She not only believed him as to the tale +which he now told her; but she believed in him altogether. She +knew that he was a staff on which a woman might safely lean, trusting +to it for comfort and protection in life. In that moment she +all but yielded to him. Had he seized her in his arms and +kissed her then, I think she would have yielded. She did all +but love him. She so regarded him that had it been some other +woman that he craved, she would have used every art she knew to have +backed his suit, and would have been ready to swear that any woman +was a fool who refused him. She almost hated herself because +she was unkind to one who so thoroughly deserved kindness. As +it was, she made him no answer, but continued to walk beside him +trembling. "I thought I would tell it you all, because I wish +you to know exactly the state of my mind. I would show you if I +could all my heart and all my thoughts about yourself as in a glass +case. Do not coy your love for me if you can feel it. +When you know, dear, that a man's heart is set upon a woman as mine +is set on you, so that it is for you to make his life bright or dark, +for you to open or to shut the gates of his earthly Paradise, I think +you will be above keeping him in darkness for the sake of a girlish +scruple." + +<p>"Oh, Roger!" + +<p>"If ever there should come a time in which you can say it truly, +remember my truth to you and say it boldly. I at least shall +never change. Of course if you love another man and give +yourself to him, it will be all over. Tell me that boldly +also. I have said it all now. God bless you, my own +heart's darling. I hope,—I hope I may be strong enough through +it all to think more of your happiness than of my own." Then he +parted from her abruptly, taking his way over one of the bridges, and +leaving her to find her way into the house alone. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="20"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XX. Lady Pomona's Dinner Party</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Roger Carbury's half-formed plan of keeping Henrietta at home +while Lady Carbury and Sir Felix went to dine at Caversham fell to +the ground. It was to be carried out only in the event of +Hetta's yielding to his prayer. But he had in fact not made a +prayer, and Hetta had certainly yielded nothing. When the +evening came, Lady Carbury started with her son and daughter, and +Roger was left alone. In the ordinary course of his life he was +used to solitude. During the greater part of the year he would +eat and drink and live without companionship; so that there was to +him nothing peculiarly sad in this desertion. But on the +present occasion he could not prevent himself from dwelling on the +loneliness of his lot in life. These cousins of his who were +his guests cared nothing for him. Lady Carbury had come to his +house simply that it might be useful to her; Sir Felix did not +pretend to treat him with even ordinary courtesy; and Hetta herself, +though she was soft to him and gracious, was soft and gracious +through pity rather than love. On this day he had, in truth, +asked her for nothing; but he had almost brought himself to think +that she might give all that he wanted without asking. And yet, +when he told her of the greatness of his love, and of its endurance, +she was simply silent. When the carriage taking them to dinner +went away down the road, he sat on the parapet of the bridge in front +of the house listening to the sound of the horses' feet, and telling +himself that there was nothing left for him in life. + +<p>If ever one man had been good to another, he had been good to Paul +Montague, and now Paul Montague was robbing him of everything he +valued in the world. His thoughts were not logical, nor was his +mind exact. The more he considered it, the stronger was his +inward condemnation of his friend. He had never mentioned to +any one the services he had rendered to Montague. In speaking +of him to Hetta he had alluded only to the affection which had +existed between them. But he felt that because of those +services his friend Montague had owed it to him not to fall in love +with the girl he loved; and he thought that if, unfortunately, this +had happened unawares, Montague should have retired as soon as he +learned the truth. He could not bring himself to forgive his +friend, even though Hetta had assured him that his friend had never +spoken to her of love. He was sore all over, and it was Paul +Montague who made him sore. Had there been no such man at +Carbury when Hetta came there, Hetta might now have been mistress of +the house. He sat there till the servant came to tell him that +his dinner was on the table. Then he crept in and ate,—so that +the man might not see his sorrow; and, after dinner, he sat with a +book in his hand seeming to read. But he read not a word, for +his mind was fixed altogether on his cousin Hetta. "What a +poor creature a man is," he said to himself, "who is not sufficiently +his own master to get over a feeling like this." + +<p>At Caversham there was a very grand party,—as grand almost as a +dinner party can be in the country. There were the Earl and +Countess of Loddon and Lady Jane Pewet from Loddon Park, and the +bishop and his wife, and the Hepworths. These, with the +Carburys and the parson's family, and the people staying in the +house, made twenty-four at the dinner table. As there were +fourteen ladies and only ten men, the banquet can hardly be said to +have been very well arranged. But those things cannot be done +in the country with the exactness which the appliances of London make +easy; and then the Longestaffes, though they were decidedly people of +fashion, were not famous for their excellence in arranging such +matters. If aught, however, was lacking in exactness, it was +made up in grandeur. There were three powdered footmen, and in +that part of the country Lady Pomona alone was served after this +fashion; and there was a very heavy butler, whose appearance of +itself was sufficient to give éclat to a family. The +grand saloon in which nobody ever lived was thrown open, and sofas +and chairs on which nobody ever sat were uncovered. It was not +above once in the year that this kind of thing vas done at Caversham; +but when it was done, nothing was spared which could contribute to +the magnificence of the fête. Lady Pomona and her two +tall daughters standing up to receive the little Countess of Loddon +and Lady Jane Pewet, who was the image of her mother on a somewhat +smaller scale, while Madame Melmotte and Marie stood behind as though +ashamed of themselves, was a sight to see. Then the Carburys +came, and then Mrs Yeld with the bishop. The grand room was +soon fairly full; but nobody had a word to say. The bishop was +generally a man of much conversation, and Lady Loddon, if she were +well pleased with her listeners, could talk by the hour without +ceasing. But on this occasion nobody could utter a word. +Lord Loddon pottered about, making a feeble attempt, in which he was +seconded by no one. Lord Alfred stood, stock-still, stroking +his grey moustache with his hand. That much greater man, +Augustus Melmotte, put his thumbs into the arm-holes of his +waistcoat, and was impassible. The bishop saw at a glance the +hopelessness of the occasion, and made no attempt. The master +of the house shook hands with each guest as he entered, and then +devoted his mind to expectation of the next corner. Lady Pomona +and her two daughters were grand and handsome, but weary and +dumb. In accordance with the treaty, Madame Melmotte had been +entertained civilly for four entire days. It could not be +expected that the ladies of Caversham should come forth unwearied +after such a struggle. + +<p>When dinner was announced Felix was allowed to take in Marie +Melmotte. There can be no doubt but that the Caversham ladies +did execute their part of the treaty. They were led to suppose +that this arrangement would be desirable to the Melmottes, and they +made it. The great Augustus himself went in with Lady Carbury, +much to her satisfaction. She also had been dumb in the +drawing-room; but now, if ever, it would be her duty to exert +herself. "I hope you like Suffolk," she said. + +<p>"Pretty well, I thank you. Oh, yes;—very nice place for a +little fresh air." + +<p>"Yes;—that's just it, Mr Melmotte. When the summer comes +one does long so to see the flowers." + +<p>"We have better flowers in our balconies than any I see down +here," said Mr Melmotte. + +<p>"No doubt;—because you can command the floral tribute of the +world at large. What is there that money will not do? It +can turn a London street into a bower of roses, and give you grottoes +in Grosvenor Square." + +<p>"It's a very nice place, is London." + +<p>"If you have got plenty of money, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"And if you have not, it's the best place I know to get it. +Do you live in London, ma'am?" He had quite forgotten Lady +Carbury even if he had seen her at his house, and with the dulness of +hearing common to men, had not picked up her name when told to take +her out to dinner. "Oh, yes, I live in London. I have had +the honour of being entertained by you there." This she said +with her sweetest smile. + +<p>"Oh, indeed. So many do come, that I don't always just +remember." + +<p>"How should you,—with all the world flocking round you? I +am Lady Carbury, the mother of Sir Felix Carbury, whom I think you +will remember." + +<p>"Yes; I know Sir Felix. He's sitting there, next to my +daughter." + +<p>"Happy fellow!" + +<p>"I don't know much about that. Young men don't get their +happiness in that way now. They've got other things to think +of." + +<p>"He thinks so much of his business." + +<p>"Oh! I didn't know," said Mr Melmotte. + +<p>"He sits at the same Board with you, I think, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"Oh;—that's his business!" said Mr Melmotte, with a grim smile. + +<p>Lady Carbury was very clever as to many things, and was not +ill-informed on matters in general that were going on around her; but +she did not know much about the city, and was profoundly ignorant as +to the duties of those Directors of whom, from time to time, she saw +the names in a catalogue. "I trust that he is diligent there," +she said; "and that he is aware of the great privilege which he +enjoys in having the advantage of your counsel and guidance." + +<p>"He don't trouble me much, ma'am, and I don't trouble him +much." After this Lady Carbury said no more as to her son's +position in the city. She endeavoured to open various other +subjects of conversation; but she found Mr Melmotte to be heavy on +her hands. After a while she had to abandon him in despair, and +give herself up to raptures in favour of Protestantism at the bidding +of the Caversham parson, who sat on the other side of her, and who +had been worked to enthusiasm by some mention of Father Barham's +name. + +<p>Opposite to her, or nearly so, sat Sir Felix and his love. +"I have told mamma," Marie had whispered, as she walked in to dinner +with him. She was now full of the idea so common to girls who +are engaged,—and as natural as it is common,—that she might tell +everything to her lover. + +<p>"Did she say anything?" he asked. Then Marie had to take her +place and arrange her dress before she could reply to him. "As +to her, I suppose it does not matter what she says, does it?" + +<p>"She said a great deal. She thinks that papa will think you +are not rich enough. Hush! Talk about something else, or +people will hear." So much she had been able to say during the +bustle. + +<p>Felix was not at all anxious to talk about his love, and changed +the subject very willingly. "Have you been riding?" he asked. + +<p>"No; I don't think there are horses here,—not for visitors, that +is. How did you get home? Did you have any adventures?" + +<p>"None at all," said Felix, remembering Ruby Ruggles. "I just +rode home quietly. I go to town to-morrow." + +<p>"And we go on Wednesday. Mind you come and see us before +long." This she said bringing her voice down to a whisper. + +<p>"Of course I shall. I suppose I'd better go to your father +in the city. Does he go every day?" + +<p>"Oh yes, every day. He's back always about seven. +Sometimes he's good-natured enough when he comes back, but sometimes +he's very cross. He's best just after dinner. But it's so +hard to get to him then. Lord Alfred is almost always there; +and then other people come, and they play cards. I think the +city will be best." + +<p>"You'll stick to it?" he asked. + +<p>"Oh, yes;—indeed I will. Now that I've once said it nothing +will ever turn me. I think papa knows that." Felix looked +at her as she said this, and thought that he saw more in her +countenance than he had ever read there before. Perhaps she +would consent to run away with him; and, if so, being the only child, +she would certainly,—almost certainly,—be forgiven. But if he +were to run away with her and marry her, and then find that she were +not forgiven, and that Melmotte allowed her to starve without a +shilling of fortune, where would he be then? Looking at the +matter in all its bearings, considering among other things the +trouble and the expense of such a measure, he thought that he could +not afford to run away with her. + +<p>After dinner he hardly spoke to her; indeed, the room itself,—the +same big room in which they had been assembled before the +feast,—seemed to be ill-adapted for conversation. Again nobody +talked to anybody, and the minutes went very heavily till at last the +carriages were there to take them all home. "They arranged that +you should sit next to her," said Lady Carbury to her son, as they +were in the carriage. + +<p>"Oh, I suppose that came naturally;—one young man and one young +woman, you know." + +<p>"Those things are always arranged, and they would not have done it +unless they had thought that it would please Mr Melmotte. Oh, +Felix! if you can bring it about." + +<p>"I shall if I can, mother; you needn't make a fuss about it." + +<p>"No, I won't. You cannot wonder that I should be +anxious. You behaved beautifully to her at dinner; I was so +happy to see you together. Good night, Felix, and God bless +you!" she said again, as they were parting for the night. "I +shall be the happiest and the proudest mother in England if this +comes about." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="21"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI. Everybody Goes to Them</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When the Melmottes went from Caversham the house was very +desolate. The task of entertaining these people was indeed +over, and had the return to London been fixed for a certain near day, +there would have been comfort at any rate among the ladies of the +family. But this was so far from being the case that the +Thursday and Friday passed without anything being settled, and +dreadful fears began to fill the minds of Lady Pomona and Sophia +Longestaffe. Georgiana was also impatient, but she asserted +boldly that treachery, such as that which her mother and sister +contemplated, was impossible. Their father, she thought, would +not dare to propose it. On each of these days,—three or four +times daily,—hints were given and questions were asked, but without +avail. Mr Longestaffe would not consent to have a day fixed +till he had received some particular letter, and would not even +listen to the suggestion of a day. "I suppose we can go at any +rate on Tuesday," Georgiana said on the Friday evening. "I +don't know why you should suppose anything of the kind," the father +replied. Poor Lady Pomona was urged by her daughters to compel +him to name a day; but Lady Pomona was less audacious in urging the +request than her younger child, and at the same time less anxious for +its completion. On the Sunday morning before they went to +church there was a great discussion upstairs. The Bishop of +Elmham was going to preach at Caversham church, and the three ladies +were dressed in their best London bonnets. They were in their +mother's room, having just completed the arrangements of their +church-going toilet. It was supposed that the expected letter +had arrived. Mr Longestaffe had certainly received a despatch +from his lawyer, but had not as yet vouchsafed any reference to its +contents. He had been more than ordinarily silent at breakfast, +and,—so Sophia asserted,—more disagreeable than ever. The +question had now arisen especially in reference to their +bonnets. "You might as well wear them," said Lady Pomona, "for +I am sure you will not be in London again this year." + +<p>"You don't mean it, mamma," said Sophia. + +<p>"I do, my dear. He looked like it when he put those papers +back into his pocket. I know what his face means so well." + +<p>"It is not possible," said Sophia. "He promised, and he got +us to have those horrid people because he promised." + +<p>"Well, my dear, if your father says that we can't go back, I +suppose we must take his word for it. It is he must decide of +course. What he meant I suppose was, that he would take us back +if he could." + +<p>"Mamma!" shouted Georgiana. Was there to be treachery not +only on the part of their natural adversary, who, adversary though he +was, had bound himself to terms by a treaty, but treachery also in +their own camp! + +<p>"My dear, what can we do?" said Lady Pomona. + +<p>"Do!" Georgiana was now going to speak out plainly. +"Make him understand that we are not going to be sat upon like +that. I'll do something, if that's going to be the way of +it. If he treats me like that I'll run off with the first man +that will take me, let him be who it may." + +<p>"Don't talk like that, Georgiana, unless you wish to kill me." + +<p>"I'll break his heart for him. He does not care about +us,—not the least,—whether we are happy or miserable; but he cares +very much about the family name. I'll tell him that I'm not +going to be a slave. I'll marry a London tradesman before I'll +stay down here." The younger Miss Longestaffe was lost in +passion at the prospect before her. + +<p>"Oh, Georgey, don't say such horrid things as that," pleaded her +sister. + +<p>"It's all very well for you, Sophy. You've got George +Whitstable." + +<p>"I haven't got George Whitstable." + +<p>"Yes, you have, and your fish is fried. Dolly does just what +he pleases, and spends money as fast as he likes. Of course it +makes no difference to you, mamma, where you are." + +<p>"You are very unjust," said Lady Pomona, wailing, "and you say +horrid things." + +<p>"I ain't unjust at all. It doesn't matter to you. And +Sophy is the same as settled. But I'm to be sacrificed! +How am I to see anybody down here in this horrid hole? Papa +promised and he must keep his word." + +<p>Then there came to them a loud voice calling to them from the +hall. "Are any of you coming to church, or are you going to +keep the carriage waiting all day?" Of course they were all +going to church. They always did go to church when they were at +Caversham; and would more especially do so to-day, because of the +bishop and because of the bonnets. They trooped down into the +hall and into the carriage, Lady Pomona leading the way. +Georgiana stalked along, passing her father at the front door without +condescending to look at him. Not a word was spoken on the way +to church, or on the way home. During the service Mr +Longestaffe stood up in the corner of his pew, and repeated the +responses in a loud voice. In performing this duty he had been +an example to the parish all his life. The three ladies knelt +on their hassocks in the most becoming fashion, and sat during the +sermon without the slightest sign either of weariness or of +attention. They did not collect the meaning of any one +combination of sentences. It was nothing to them whether the +bishop had or had not a meaning. Endurance of that kind was +their strength. Had the bishop preached for forty-five minutes +instead of half an hour they would not have complained. It was +the same kind of endurance which enabled Georgiana to go on from year +to year waiting for a husband of the proper sort. She could put +up with any amount of tedium if only the fair chance of obtaining +ultimate relief were not denied to her. But to be kept at +Caversham all the summer would be as bad as hearing a bishop preach +for ever! After the service they came back to lunch, and that +meal also was eaten in silence. When it was over the head of +the family put himself into the dining-room arm-chair, evidently +meaning to be left alone there. In that case he would have +meditated upon his troubles till he went to sleep, and would have +thus got through the afternoon with comfort. But this was +denied to him. The two daughters remained steadfast while the +things were being removed; and Lady Pomona, though she made one +attempt to leave the room, returned when she found that her daughters +would not follow her. Georgiana had told her sister that she +meant to "have it out" with her father, and Sophia had of course +remained in the room in obedience to her sister's behest. When +the last tray had been taken out, Georgiana began. "Papa, don't +you think you could settle now when we are to go back to town? +Of course we want to know about engagements and all that. There +is Lady Monogram's party on Wednesday. We promised to be there +ever so long ago." + +<p>"You had better write to Lady Monogram and say you can't keep your +engagement." + +<p>"But why not, papa? We could go up on Wednesday morning." + +<p>"You can't do anything of the kind." + +<p>"But, my dear, we should all like to have a day fixed," said Lady +Pomona. Then there was a pause. Even Georgiana, in her +present state of mind, would have accepted some distant, even some +undefined time, as a compromise. + +<p>"Then you can't have a day fixed," said Mr Longestaffe. + +<p>"How long do you suppose that we shall be kept here?" said Sophia, +in a low constrained voice. + +<p>"I do not know what you mean by being kept here. This is +your home, and this is where you may make up your minds to live." + +<p>"But we are to go back?" demanded Sophia. Georgiana stood by +in silence, listening, resolving, and biding her time. + +<p>"You'll not return to London this season," said Mr Longestaffe, +turning himself abruptly to a newspaper which he held in his hands. + +<p>"Do you mean that that is settled?" said Lady Pomona. "I +mean to say that that is settled," said Mr Longestaffe. Was +there ever treachery like this! The indignation in Georgiana's +mind approached almost to virtue as she thought of her father's +falseness. She would not have left town at all but for that +promise. She would not have contaminated herself with the +Melmottes but for that promise. And now she was told that the +promise was to be absolutely broken, when it was no longer possible +that she could get back to London,—even to the house of the hated +Primeros,—without absolutely running away from her father's +residence! "Then, papa," she said, with affected calmness, "you +have simply and with premeditation broken your word to us." + +<p>"How dare you speak to me in that way, you wicked child!" + +<p>"I am not a child, papa, as you know very well. I am my own +mistress,—by law." + +<p>"Then go and be your own mistress. You dare to tell me, your +father, that I have premeditated a falsehood! If you tell me +that again, you shall eat your meals in your own room or not eat them +in this house." + +<p>"Did you not promise that we should go back if we would come down +and entertain these people?" + +<p>"I will not argue with a child, insolent and disobedient as you +are. If I have anything to say about it, I will say it to your +mother. It should be enough for you that I, your father, tell +you that you have to live here. Now go away, and if you choose +to be sullen, go and be sullen where I shan't see you." +Georgiana looked round on her mother and sister and then marched +majestically out of the room. She still meditated revenge, but +she was partly cowed, and did not dare in her father's presence to go +on with her reproaches. She stalked off into the room in which +they generally lived, and there she stood panting with anger, +breathing indignation through her nostrils. + +<p>"And you mean to put up with it, mamma?" she said. + +<p>"What can we do, my dear?" + +<p>"I will do something. I'm not going to be cheated and +swindled and have my life thrown away into the bargain. I have +always behaved well to him. I have never run up bills without +saying anything about them." This was a cut at her elder +sister, who had once got into some little trouble of that kind. +"I have never got myself talked about with anybody. If there is +anything to be done I always do it. I have written his letters +for him till I have been sick, and when you were ill I never asked +him to stay out with us after two or half-past two at the +latest. And now he tells me that I am to eat my meals up in my +bedroom because I remind him that he distinctly promised to take us +back to London! Did he not promise, mamma?" + +<p>"I understood so, my dear." + +<p>"You know he promised, mamma. If I do anything now he must +bear the blame of it. I am not going to keep myself straight +for the sake of the family, and then be treated in that way." + +<p>"You do that for your own sake, I suppose," said her sister. + +<p>"It is more than you've been able to do for anybody's sake," said +Georgiana, alluding to a very old affair,—to an ancient flirtation, +in the course of which the elder daughter had made a foolish and a +futile attempt to run away with an officer of dragoons whose private +fortune was very moderate. Ten years had passed since that, and +the affair was never alluded to except in moments of great +bitterness. + +<p>"I've kept myself as straight as you have," said Sophia. +"It's easy enough to be straight, when a person never cares for +anybody, and nobody cares for a person." + +<p>"My dears, if you quarrel what am I to do?" said their mother. + +<p>"It is I that have to suffer," continued Georgiana. "Does he +expect me to find anybody here that I could take? Poor George +Whitstable is not much; but there is nobody else at all." + +<p>"You may have him if you like," said Sophia, with a chuck of her +head. + +<p>"Thank you, my dear, but I shouldn't like it at all. I +haven't come to that quite yet." + +<p>"You were talking of running away with somebody." + +<p>"I shan't run away with George Whitstable; you may be sure of +that. I'll tell you what I shall do,—I will write papa a +letter. I suppose he'll condescend to read it. If he +won't take me up to town himself, he must send me up to the +Primeros. What makes me most angry in the whole thing is that +we should have condescended to be civil to the Melmottes down in the +country. In London one does those things, but to have them here +was terrible!" + +<p>During that entire afternoon nothing more was said. Not a +word passed between them on any subject beyond those required by the +necessities of life. Georgiana had been as hard to her sister +as to her father, and Sophia in her quiet way resented the +affront. She was now almost reconciled to the sojourn in the +country, because it inflicted a fitting punishment on Georgiana, and +the presence of Mr Whitstable at a distance of not more than ten +miles did of course make a difference to herself. Lady Pomona +complained of a headache, which was always an excuse with her for not +speaking;—and Mr Longestaffe went to sleep. Georgiana during +the whole afternoon remained apart, and on the next morning the head +of the family found the following letter on his dressing-table:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +My DEAR PAPA<br> +<br> + I don't think you ought to be surprised +because we feel that our going up to town is so very important to +us. If we are not to be in London at this time of the year we +can never see anybody, and of course you know what that must mean for +me. If this goes on about Sophia, it does not signify for her, +and, though mamma likes London, it is not of real importance. +But it is very, very hard upon me. It isn't for pleasure that I +want to go up. There isn't so very much pleasure in it. +But if I'm to be buried down here at Caversham, I might just as well +be dead at once. If you choose to give up both houses for a +year, or for two years, and take us all abroad, I should not grumble +in the least. There are very nice people to be met abroad, and +perhaps things go easier that way than in town. And there would +be nothing for horses, and we could dress very cheap and wear our old +things. I'm sure I don't want to run up bills. But if you +would only think what Caversham must be to me, without any one worth +thinking about within twenty miles, you would hardly ask me to stay +here.<br> +<br> + You certainly did say that if we would +come down here with those Melmottes we should be taken back to town, +and you cannot be surprised that we should be disappointed when we +are told that we are to be kept here after that. It makes me +feel that life is so hard that I can't bear it. I see other +girls having such chances when I have none, that sometimes I think I +don't know what will happen to me." </i> [This was the nearest +approach which she dared to make in writing to that threat which she +had uttered to her mother of running away with somebody.] <i>"I +suppose that now it is useless for me to ask you to take us all back +this summer,—though it was promised; but I hope you'll give me money +to go up to the Primeros. It would only be me and my +maid. Julia Primero asked me to stay with them when you first +talked of not going up, and I should not in the least object to +reminding her, only it should be done at once. Their house in +Queen's Gate is very large, and I know they've a room. They all +ride, and I should want a horse; but there would be nothing else, as +they have plenty of carriages, and the groom who rides with Julia +would do for both of us. Pray answer this at once, papa.<br> +<br> + Your affectionate daughter,<br> +<br> + GEORGIANA LONGESTAFFE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Mr Longestaffe did condescend to read the letter. He, though +he had rebuked his mutinous daughter with stern severity, was also to +some extent afraid of her. At a sudden burst he could stand +upon his authority, and assume his position with parental dignity; +but not the less did he dread the wearing toil of continued domestic +strife. He thought that upon the whole his daughter liked a row +in the house. If not, there surely would not be so many +rows. He himself thoroughly hated them. He had not any +very lively interest in life. He did not read much; he did not +talk much; he was not specially fond of eating and drinking; he did +not gamble, and he did not care for the farm. To stand about +the door and hall and public rooms of the clubs to which he belonged +and hear other men talk politics or scandal, was what he liked better +than anything else in the world. But he was quite willing to +give this up for the good of his family. He would be contented +to drag through long listless days at Caversham, and endeavour to +nurse his property, if only his daughter would allow it. By +assuming a certain pomp in his living, which had been altogether +unserviceable to himself and family, by besmearing his footmen's +heads, and bewigging his coachmen, by aping, though never achieving, +the grand ways of grander men than himself, he had run himself into +debt. His own ambition had been a peerage, and he had thought +that this was the way to get it. A separate property had come +to his son from his wife's mother,—some £2,000 or £3,000 a year, +magnified by the world into double its amount,—and the knowledge of +this had for a time reconciled him to increasing the burdens on the +family estates. He had been sure that Adolphus, when of age, +would have consented to sell the Sussex property in order that the +Suffolk property might be relieved. But Dolly was now in debt +himself, and though in other respects the most careless of men, was +always on his guard in any dealings with his father. He would +not consent to the sale of the Sussex property unless half of the +proceeds were to be at once handed to himself. The father could +not bring himself to consent to this, but, while refusing it, found +the troubles of the world very hard upon him. Melmotte had done +something for him,—but in doing this Melmotte was very hard and +tyrannical. Melmotte, when at Caversham, had looked into his +affairs, and had told him very plainly that with such an +establishment in the country he was not entitled to keep a house in +town. Mr Longestaffe had then said something about his +daughters,—something especially about Georgiana,—and Mr Melmotte +had made a suggestion. + +<p>Mr Longestaffe, when he read his daughter's appeal, did feel for +her, in spite of his anger. But if there was one man he hated +more than another, it was his neighbour Mr Primero; and if one woman, +it was Mrs Primero. Primero, whom Mr Longestaffe regarded as +quite an upstart, and anything but a gentleman, owed no man +anything. He paid his tradesmen punctually, and never met the +squire of Caversham without seeming to make a parade of his virtue in +that direction. He had spent many thousands for his party in +county elections and borough elections, and was now himself member +for a metropolitan district. He was a radical, of course, or, +according to Mr Longestaffe's view of his political conduct, acted +and voted on the radical side because there was nothing to be got by +voting and acting on the other. And now there had come into +Suffolk a rumour that Mr Primero was to have a peerage. To +others the rumour was incredible, but Mr Longestaffe believed it, and +to Mr Longestaffe that belief was an agony. A Baron Bundlesham +just at his door, and such a Baron Bundlesham, would be more than Mr +Longestaffe could endure. It was quite impossible that his +daughter should be entertained in London by the Primeros. + +<p>But another suggestion had been made. Georgiana's letter had +been laid on her father's table on the Monday morning. On the +following morning, when there could have been no intercourse with +London by letter, Lady Pomona called her younger daughter to her, and +handed her a note to read. "Your papa has this moment given it +me. Of course you must judge for yourself." This was the +note;— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +MY DEAR MR LONGESTAFFE,<br> +<br> + As you seem determined not to return to London this season, perhaps +one of your young ladies would like to come to us. Mrs Melmotte would +be delighted to have Miss Georgiana for June and July. If so, she need +only give Mrs Melmotte a day's notice.<br> +<br> + Yours truly,<br> +<br> + AUGUSTUS MELMOTTE<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Georgiana, as soon as her eye had glanced down the one side of +note paper on which this invitation was written, looked up for the +date. It was without a date, and had, she felt sure, been left +in her father's hands to be used as he might think fit. She +breathed very hard. Both her father and mother had heard her +speak of these Melmottes, and knew what she thought of them. +There was an insolence in the very suggestion. But at the first +moment she said nothing of that. "Why shouldn't I go to the +Primeros?" she asked. + +<p>"Your father will not hear of it. He dislikes them +especially." + +<p>"And I dislike the Melmottes. I dislike the Primeros of +course, but they are not so bad as the Melmottes. That would be +dreadful." + +<p>"You must judge for yourself; Georgiana." + +<p>"It is that,—or staying here?" + +<p>"I think so, my dear." + +<p>"If papa chooses I don't know why I am to mind. It will be +awfully disagreeable,—absolutely disgusting!" + +<p>"She seemed to be very quiet." + +<p>"Pooh, mamma! Quiet! She was quiet here because she +was afraid of us. She isn't yet used to be with people like +us. She'll get over that if I'm in the house with her. +And then she is, oh! so frightfully vulgar! She must have +been the very sweeping of the gutters. Did you not see it, +mamma? She could not even open her mouth, she was so ashamed of +herself. I shouldn't wonder if they turned out to be something +quite horrid. They make me shudder. Was there ever +anything so dreadful to look at as he is?" + +<p>"Everybody goes to them," said Lady Pomona. "The Duchess of +Stevenage has been there over and over again, and so has Lady Auld +Reekie. Everybody goes to their house." + +<p>"But everybody doesn't go and live with them. Oh, mamma,—to +have to sit down to breakfast every day for ten weeks with that man +and that woman!" + +<p>"Perhaps they'll let you have your breakfast upstairs." + +<p>"But to have to go out with them;—walking into the room after +her! Only think of it!" + +<p>"But you are so anxious to be in London, my dear." + +<p>"Of course I am anxious. What other chance have I, +mamma? And, oh dear, I am so tired of it! Pleasure, +indeed! Papa talks of pleasure. If papa had to work half +as hard as I do, I wonder what he'd think of it. I suppose I +must do it. I know it will make me so ill that I shall almost +die under it. Horrid, horrid people! And papa to propose +it, who has always been so proud of everything,—who used to think so +much of being with the right set" + +<p>"Things are changed, Georgiana," said the anxious mother. + +<p>"Indeed they are when papa wants me to go and stay with people +like that. Why, mamma, the apothecary in Bungay is a fine +gentleman compared with Mr Melmotte, and his wife is a fine lady +compared with Madame Melmotte. But I'll go. If papa +chooses me to be seen with such people it is not my fault. +There will be no disgracing one's self after that. I don't +believe in the least that any decent man would propose to a girl in +such a house, and you and papa must not be surprised if I take some +horrid creature from the Stock Exchange. Papa has altered his +ideas; and so, I suppose, I had better alter mine." + +<p>Georgiana did not speak to her father that night, but Lady Pomona +informed Mr Longestaffe that Mr Melmotte's invitation was to be +accepted. She herself would write a line to Madame Melmotte, +and Georgiana would go up on the Friday following. "I hope +she'll like it," said Mr Longestaffe. The poor man had no +intention of irony. It was not in his nature to be severe after +that fashion. But to poor Lady Pomona the words sounded very +cruel. How could any one like to live in a house with Mr and +Madame Melmotte! + +<p>On the Friday morning there was a little conversation between the +two sisters, just before Georgiana's departure to the railway +station, which was almost touching. She had endeavoured to hold +up her head as usual, but had failed. The thing that she was +going to do cowed her even in the presence of her sister. +"Sophy, I do so envy you staying here." + +<p>"But it was you who were so determined to be in London." + +<p>"Yes; I was determined, and am determined. I've got to get +myself settled somehow, and that can't be done down here. But +you are not going to disgrace yourself." + +<p>"There's no disgrace in it, Georgey." + +<p>"Yes, there is. I believe the man to be a swindler and a +thief; and I believe her to be anything low that you can think +of. As to their pretensions to be gentlefolk, it is +monstrous. The footmen and housemaids would be much better." + +<p>"Then don't go, Georgey." + +<p>"I must go. It's the only chance that is left. If I +were to remain down here everybody would say that I was on the +shelf. You are going to marry Whitstable, and you'll do very +well. It isn't a big place, but there's no debt on it, and +Whitstable himself isn't a bad sort of fellow." + +<p>"Is he, now?" + +<p>"Of course he hasn't much to say for himself; for he's always at +home. But he is a gentleman." + +<p>"That he certainly is." + +<p>"As for me I shall give over caring about gentlemen now. The +first man that comes to me with four or five thousand a year, I'll +take him, though he'd come out of Newgate or Bedlam. And I +shall always say it has been papa's doing." + +<p>And so Georgiana Longestaffe went up to London and stayed with the +Melmottes. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="22"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII. Lord Nidderdale's Morality</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It was very generally said in the city about this time that the +Great South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway was the very best +thing out. It was known that Mr Melmotte had gone into it with +heart and hand. There were many who declared,—with gross +injustice to the Great Fisker,—that the railway was Melmotte's own +child, that he had invented it, advertised it, agitated it, and +floated it; but it was not the less popular on that account. A +railway from Salt Lake City to Mexico no doubt had much of the +flavour of a castle in Spain. Our far-western American brethren +are supposed to be imaginative. Mexico has not a reputation +among us for commercial security, or that stability which produces +its four, five, or six per cent, with the regularity of +clockwork. But there was the Panama railway, a small affair +which had paid twenty-five per cent.; and there was the great line +across the continent to San Francisco, in which enormous fortunes had +been made. It came to be believed that men with their eyes open +might do as well with the Great South Central as had ever been done +before with other speculations, and this belief was no doubt founded +on Mr Melmotte's partiality for the enterprise. Mr Fisker had +"struck 'ile" when he induced his partner, Montague, to give him a +note to the great man. + +<p>Paul Montague himself, who cannot be said to have been a man +having his eyes open, in the city sense of the word, could not learn +how the thing was progressing. At the regular meetings of the +Board, which never sat for above half an hour, two or three papers +were read by Miles Grendall. Melmotte himself would speak a few +slow words, intended to be cheery, and always indicative of triumph, +and then everybody would agree to everything, somebody would sign +something, and the "Board" for that day would be over. To Paul +Montague this was very unsatisfactory. More than once or twice +he endeavoured to stay the proceedings, not as disapproving, but +simply as desirous of being made to understand; but the silent scorn +of his chairman put him out of countenance, and the opposition of his +colleagues was a barrier which he was not strong enough to +overcome. Lord Alfred Grendall would declare that he "did not +think all that was at all necessary." Lord Nidderdale, with +whom Montague had now become intimate at the Beargarden, would nudge +him in the ribs and bid him hold his tongue. Mr Cohenlupe would +make a little speech in fluent but broken English, assuring the +Committee that everything was being done after the approved city +fashion. Sir Felix, after the first two meetings, was never +there. And thus Paul Montague, with a sorely burdened +conscience, was carried along as one of the Directors of the Great +South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway Company. + +<p>I do not know whether the burden was made lighter to him or +heavier, by the fact that the immediate pecuniary result was +certainly very comfortable. The Company had not yet been in +existence quite six weeks,—or at any rate Melmotte had not been +connected with it above that time,—and it had already been suggested +to him twice that he should sell fifty shares at £112 10s. He +did not even yet know how many shares he possessed, but on both +occasions he consented to the proposal, and on the following day +received a cheque for £625,—that sum representing the profit over +and above the original nominal price of £100 a share. The +suggestion was made to him by Miles Grendall, and when he asked some +questions as to the manner in which the shares had been allocated, he +was told that all that would be arranged in accordance with the +capital invested and must depend on the final disposition of the +Californian property. "But from what we see, old fellow," said +Miles, "I don't think you have anything to fear. You seem to be +about the best in of them all. Melmotte wouldn't advise you to +sell out gradually, if he didn't look upon the thing as a certain +income as far as you are concerned." + +<p>Paul Montague understood nothing of all this, and felt that he was +standing on ground which might be blown from under his feet at any +moment. The uncertainty, and what he feared might be the +dishonesty, of the whole thing, made him often very miserable. +In those wretched moments his conscience was asserting itself. +But again there were times in which he also was almost triumphant, +and in which he felt the delight of his wealth. Though he was +snubbed at the Board when he wanted explanations, he received very +great attention outside the board-room from those connected with the +enterprise. Melmotte had asked him to dine two or three +times. Mr Cohenlupe had begged him to go down to his little +place at Rickmansworth,—an entreaty with which Montague had not as +yet complied. Lord Alfred was always gracious to him, and +Nidderdale and Carbury were evidently anxious to make him one of +their set at the club. Many other houses became open to him +from the same source. Though Melmotte was supposed to be the +inventor of the railway, it was known that Fisker, Montague, and +Montague were largely concerned in it, and it was known also that +Paul Montague was one of the Montagues named in that firm. +People, both in the City and the West End, seemed to think that he +knew all about it, and treated him as though some of the manna +falling from that heaven were at his disposition. There were +results from this which were not unpleasing to the young man. +He only partially resisted the temptation; and though determined at +times to probe the affair to the bottom, was so determined only at +times. The money was very pleasant to him. The period +would now soon arrive before which he understood himself to be +pledged not to make a distinct offer to Henrietta Carbury; and when +that period should have been passed, it would be delightful to him to +know that he was possessed of property sufficient to enable him to +give a wife a comfortable home. In all his aspirations, and in +all his fears, he was true to Hetta Carbury, and made her the centre +of his hopes. Nevertheless, had Hetta known everything, it may +be feared that she would have at any rate endeavoured to dismiss him +from her heart. + +<p>There was considerable uneasiness in the bosoms of others of the +Directors, and a disposition to complain against the Grand Director, +arising from a grievance altogether different from that which +afflicted Montague. Neither had Sir Felix Carbury nor Lord +Nidderdale been invited to sell shares, and consequently neither of +them had received any remuneration for the use of their names. +They knew well that Montague had sold shares. He was quite open +on the subject, and had told Felix, whom he hoped some day to regard +as his brother-in-law, exactly what shares he had sold, and for how +much;—and the two men had endeavoured to make the matter +intelligible between themselves. The original price of the +shares being £100 each, and £12 10s. a share having been paid to +Montague as the premium, it was to be supposed that the original +capital was re-invested in other shares. But each owned to the +other that the matter was very complicated to him, and Montague could +only write to Hamilton K. Fisker at San Francisco asking for +explanation. As yet he had received no answer. But it was +not the wealth flowing into Montague's hands which embittered +Nidderdale and Carbury. They understood that he had really +brought money into the concern, and was therefore entitled to take +money out of it. Nor did it occur to them to grudge Melmotte +his more noble pickings, for they knew how great a man was +Melmotte. Of Cohenlupe's doings they heard nothing; but he was +a regular city man, and had probably supplied funds. Cohenlupe +was too deep for their inquiry. But they knew that Lord Alfred +had sold shares, and had received the profit; and they knew also how +utterly impossible it was that Lord Alfred should have produced +capital. If Lord Alfred Grendall was entitled to plunder, why +were not they? And if their day for plunder had not yet come, +why Lord Alfred's? And if there was so much cause to fear Lord +Alfred that it was necessary to throw him a bone, why should not they +also make themselves feared? Lord Alfred passed all his time +with Melmotte,—had, as these young men said, become Melmotte's head +valet,—and therefore had to be paid. But that reason did not +satisfy the young men. + +<p>"You haven't sold any shares;—have you?" This question Sir +Felix asked Lord Nidderdale at the club. Nidderdale was +constant in his attendance at the Board, and Felix was not a little +afraid that he might be jockied also by him. + +<p>"Not a share." + +<p>"Nor got any profits?" + +<p>"Not a shilling of any kind. As far as money is concerned my +only transaction has been my part of the expense of Fisker's dinner." + +<p>"What do you get then, by going into the city?" asked Sir Felix. + +<p>"I'm blessed if I know what I get. I suppose something will +turn up some day." + +<p>"In the meantime, you know, there are our names. And +Grendall is making a fortune out of it." + +<p>"Poor old duffer," said his lordship. "If he's doing so +well, I think Miles ought to be made to pay up something of what he +owes. I think we ought to tell him that we shall expect him to +have the money ready when that bill of Vossner's comes round." + +<p>"Yes, by George; let's tell him that. Will you do it?" + +<p>"Not that it will be the least good. It would be quite +unnatural to him to pay anything." + +<p>"Fellows used to pay their gambling debts," said Sir Felix, who +was still in funds, and who still held a considerable assortment of +I.O.U.'s. + +<p>"They don't now,—unless they like it. How did a fellow +manage before, if he hadn't got it?" + +<p>"He went smash," said Sir Felix, "and disappeared and was never +heard of any more. It was just the same as if he'd been found +cheating. I believe a fellow might cheat now and nobody'd say +anything!" + +<p>"I shouldn't," said Lord Nidderdale. "What's the use of +being beastly ill-natured? I'm not very good at saying my +prayers, but I do think there's something in that bit about forgiving +people. Of course cheating isn't very nice: and it isn't very +nice for a fellow to play when he knows he can't pay; but I don't +know that it's worse than getting drunk like Dolly Longestaffe, or +quarrelling with everybody as Grasslough does,—or trying to marry +some poor devil of a girl merely because she's got money. I +believe in living in glass houses, but I don't believe in throwing +stones. Do you ever read the Bible, Carbury?" + +<p>"Read the Bible! Well;—yes;—no;—that is, I suppose, I +used to do." + +<p>"I often think I shouldn't have been the first to pick up a stone +and pitch it at that woman. Live and let live;—that's my +motto." + +<p>"But you agree that we ought to do something about these shares?" +said Sir Felix, thinking that this doctrine of forgiveness might be +carried too far. + +<p>"Oh, certainly. I'll let old Grendall live with all my +heart; but then he ought to let me live too. Only, who's to +bell the cat?" + +<p>"What cat?" + +<p>"It's no good our going to old Grendall," said Lord Nidderdale, +who had some understanding in the matter, "nor yet to young +Grendall. The one would only grunt and say nothing, and the +other would tell every lie that came into his head. The cat in +this matter I take to be our great master, Augustus Melmotte." + +<p>This little meeting occurred on the day after Felix Carbury's +return from Suffolk, and at a time at which, as we know, it was the +great duty of his life to get the consent of old Melmotte to his +marriage with Marie Melmotte. In doing that he would have to +put one bell on the cat, and he thought that for the present that was +sufficient. In his heart of hearts he was afraid of +Melmotte. But, then, as be knew very well, Nidderdale was +intent on the same object. Nidderdale, he thought, was a very +queer fellow. That talking about the Bible, and the forgiving +of trespasses, was very queer; and that allusion to the marrying of +heiresses very queer indeed. He knew that Nidderdale wanted to +marry the heiress, and Nidderdale must also know that he wanted to +marry her. And yet Nidderdale was indelicate enough to talk +about it! And now the man asked who should bell the cat! +"You go there oftener than I do, and perhaps you could do it best," +said Sir Felix. + +<p>"Go where?" + +<p>"To the Board." + +<p>"But you're always at his house. He'd be civil to me, +perhaps, because I'm a lord: but then, for the same reason, he'd +think I was the bigger fool of the two." + +<p>"I don't see that at all," said Sir Felix. + +<p>"I ain't afraid of him, if you mean that," continued Lord +Nidderdale. "He's a wretched old reprobate, and I don't doubt +but he'd skin you and me if he could make money off our +carcases. But as he can't skin me, I'll have a shy at +him. On the whole I think he rather likes me, because I've +always been on the square with him. If it depended on him, you +know, I should have the girl to-morrow." + +<p>"Would you?" Sir Felix did not at all mean to doubt his +friend's assertion, but felt it hard to answer so very strange a +statement. + +<p>"But then she don't want me, and I ain't quite sure that I want +her. Where the devil would a fellow find himself if the money +wasn't all there?" Lord Nidderdale then sauntered away, leaving +the baronet in a deep study of thought as to such a condition of +things as that which his lordship had suggested. Where +the –––– mischief would he, Sir Felix +Carbury, be, if he were to marry the girl, and then to find that the +money was not all there? + +<p>On the following Friday, which was the Board day, Nidderdale went +to the great man's offices in Abchurch Lane, and so contrived that he +walked with the great man to the Board meeting. Melmotte was +always very gracious in his manner to Lord Nidderdale, but had never, +up to this moment, had any speech with his proposed son-in-law about +business. "I wanted just to ask you something," said the lord, +hanging on the chairman's arm. + +<p>"Anything you please, my lord." + +<p>"Don't you think that Carbury and I ought to have some shares to +sell?" + +<p>"No, I don't,—if you ask me." + +<p>"Oh;—I didn't know. But why shouldn't we as well as the +others?" + +<p>"Have you and Sir Felix put any money into it?" + +<p>"Well, if you come to that, I don't suppose we have. How +much has Lord Alfred put into it?" + +<p>"<b>I</b> have taken shares for Lord Alfred," said Melmotte, +putting very heavy emphasis on the personal pronoun. "If it +suits me to advance money to Lord Alfred Grendall, I suppose I may do +so without asking your lordship's consent, or that of Sir Felix +Carbury." + +<p>"Oh, certainly. I don't want to make inquiry as to what you +do with your money." + +<p>"I'm sure you don't, and, therefore, we won't say anything more +about it. You wait awhile, Lord Nidderdale, and you'll find it +will come all right. If you've got a few thousand pounds loose, +and will put them into the concern, why, of course you can sell; and, +if the shares are up, can sell at a profit. It's presumed just +at present that, at some early day, you'll qualify for your +directorship by doing so, and till that is done, the shares are +allocated to you, but cannot be transferred to you." + +<p>"That's it, is it?" said Lord Nidderdale, pretending to understand +all about it. + +<p>"If things go on as we hope they will between you and Marie, you +can have pretty nearly any number of shares that you please;—that +is, if your father consents to a proper settlement." + +<p>"I hope it'll all go smooth, I'm sure," said Nidderdale. Thank +you; I'm ever so much obliged to you, and I'll explain it all +to Carbury." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="23"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII. "Yes;—I'm a Baronet"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>How eager Lady Carbury was that her son should at once go in form +to Marie's father and make his proposition may be easily +understood. "My dear Felix," she said, standing over his +bedside a little before noon, "pray don't put it off; you don't know +how many slips there may be between the cup and the lip." + +<p>"It's everything to get him in a good humour," pleaded Sir Felix. + +<p>"But the young lady will feel that she is ill-used." + +<p>"There's no fear of that; she's all right. What am I to say +to him about money? That's the question." + +<p>"I shouldn't think of dictating anything, Felix." + +<p>"Nidderdale, when he was on before, stipulated for a certain sum +down; or his father did for him. So much cash was to be paid +over before the ceremony, and it only went off because Nidderdale +wanted the money to do what he liked with." + +<p>"You wouldn't mind having it settled?" + +<p>"No;—I'd consent to that on condition that the money was paid +down, and the income insured to me,—say £7,000 or £8,000 a +year. I wouldn't do it for less, mother; it wouldn't be worth +while." + +<p>"But you have nothing left of your own." + +<p>"I've got a throat that I can cut, and brains that I can blow +out," said the son, using an argument which he conceived might be +efficacious with his mother; though, had she known him, she might +have been sure that no man lived less likely to cut his own throat or +blow out his own brains. + +<p>"Oh, Felix! how brutal it is to speak to me in that way." + +<p>"It may be brutal; but you know, mother, business is +business. You want me to marry this girl because of her money." + +<p>"You want to marry her yourself." + +<p>"I'm quite a philosopher about it. I want her money; and +when one wants money, one should make up one's mind how much or how +little one means to take,—and whether one is sure to get it." + +<p>"I don't think there can be any doubt." + +<p>"If I were to marry her, and if the money wasn't there, it would +be very like cutting my throat then, mother. If a man plays and +loses, he can play again and perhaps win; but when a fellow goes in +for an heiress, and gets the wife without the money, he feels a +little hampered you know." + +<p>"Of course he'd pay the money first." + +<p>"It's very well to say that. Of course he ought; but it +would be rather awkward to refuse to go into church after everything +had been arranged because the money hadn't been paid over. He's +so clever, that he'd contrive that a man shouldn't know whether the +money had been paid or not. You can't carry £10,000 a year +about in your pocket, you know. If you'll go, mother, perhaps I +might think of getting up." + +<p>Lady Carbury saw the danger, and turned over the affair on every +side in her own mind. But she could also see the house in +Grosvenor Square, the expenditure without limit, the congregating +duchesses, the general acceptation of the people, and the mercantile +celebrity of the man. And she could weigh against that the +absolute pennilessness of her baronet-son. As he was, his +condition was hopeless. Such a one must surely run some +risk. The embarrassments of such a man as Lord Nidderdale were +only temporary. There were the family estates, and the +marquisate, and a golden future for him; but there was nothing coming +to Felix in the future. + +<p>All the goods he would ever have of his own, he had +now;—position, a title, and a handsome face. Surely he could +afford to risk something! Even the ruins and wreck of such +wealth as that displayed in Grosvenor Square would be better than the +baronet's present condition. And then, though it was possible +that old Melmotte should be ruined some day, there could be no doubt +as to his present means; and would it not be probable that he would +make hay while the sun shone by securing his daughter's +position? She visited her son again on the next morning, which +was Sunday, and again tried to persuade him to the marriage. "I +think you should be content to run a little risk," she said. + +<p>Sir Felix had been unlucky at cards on Saturday night, and had +taken, perhaps, a little too much wine. He was at any rate +sulky, and in a humour to resent interference. "I wish you'd +leave me alone," he said, "to manage my own business." + +<p>"Is it not my business too?" + +<p>"No; you haven't got to marry her, and to put up with these +people. I shall make up my mind what to do myself, and I don't +want anybody to meddle with me." + +<p>"You ungrateful boy!" + +<p>"I understand all about that. Of course I'm ungrateful when +I don't do everything just as you wish it. You don't do any +good. You only set me against it all." + +<p>"How do you expect to live, then? Are you always to be a +burden on me and your sister? I wonder that you've no +shame. Your cousin Roger is right. I will quit London +altogether, and leave you to your own wretchedness." + +<p>"That's what Roger says; is it? I always thought Roger was a +fellow of that sort." + +<p>"He is the best friend I have." What would Roger have +thought had he heard this assertion from Lady Carbury? + +<p>"He's an ill-tempered, close-fisted, interfering cad, and if he +meddles with my affairs again, I shall tell him what I think of +him. Upon my word, mother, these little disputes up in my +bedroom ain't very pleasant. Of course it's your house; but if +you do allow me a room, I think you might let me have it to +myself." It was impossible for Lady Carbury, in her present +mood, and in his present mood, to explain to him that in no other way +and at no other time could she ever find him. If she waited +till he came down to breakfast, he escaped from her in five minutes, +and then he returned no more till some unholy hour in the +morning. She was as good a pelican as ever allowed the blood to +be torn from her own breast to satisfy the greed of her young, but +she felt that she should have something back for her blood,—some +return for her sacrifices. This chick would take all as long as +there was a drop left, and then resent the fondling of the +mother-bird as interference. Again and again there came upon +her moments in which she thought that Roger Carbury was right. +And yet she knew that when the time came she would not be able to be +severe. She almost hated herself for the weakness of her own +love,—but she acknowledged it. If he should fall utterly, she +must fall with him. In spite of his cruelty, his callous +hardness, his insolence to herself, his wickedness, and ruinous +indifference to the future, she must cling to him to the last. +All that she had done, and all that she had borne, all that she was +doing and bearing,—was it not for his sake? + +<p>Sir Felix had been in Grosvenor Square since his return from +Carbury, and had seen Madame Melmotte and Marie; but he had seen them +together, and not a word had been said about the engagement. He +could not make much use of the elder woman. She was as gracious +as was usual with her; but then she was never very gracious. +She had told him that Miss Longestaffe was coming to her, which was a +great bore, as the young lady was "fatigante." Upon this Marie +had declared that she intended to like the young lady very +much. "Pooh!" said Madame Melmotte. "You never like no +person at all." At this Marie had looked over to her lover and +smiled. "Ah, yes; that is all very well,—while it lasts; but +you care for no friend." From which Felix had judged that +Madame Melmotte at any rate knew of his offer, and did not absolutely +disapprove of it. On the Saturday he had received a note at his +club from Marie. "Come on Sunday at half-past two. You +will find papa after lunch." This was in his possession when +his mother visited him in his bedroom, and he had determined to obey +the behest. But he would not tell her of his intention, because +he had drunk too much wine, and was sulky. + +<p>At about three on Sunday he knocked at the door in Grosvenor +Square and asked for the ladies. Up to the moment of his +knocking,—even after he had knocked, and when the big porter was +opening the door,—he intended to ask for Mr Melmotte; but at the +last his courage failed him, and he was shown up into the +drawing-room. There he found Madame Melmotte, Marie, Georgiana +Longestaffe, and—Lord Nidderdale. Marie looked anxiously into +his face, thinking that he had already been with her father. He +slid into a chair close to Madame Melmotte, and endeavoured to seem +at his ease. Lord Nidderdale continued his flirtation with Miss +Longestaffe,—a flirtation which she carried on in a half whisper, +wholly indifferent to her hostess or the young lady of the +house. "We know what brings you here," she said. + +<p>"I came on purpose to see you." + +<p>"I'm sure, Lord Nidderdale, you didn't expect to find me here." + +<p>"Lord bless you, I knew all about it, and came on purpose. +It's a great institution; isn't it?" + +<p>"It's an institution you mean to belong to,—permanently." + +<p>"No, indeed. I did have thoughts about it as fellows do when +they talk of going into the army or to the bar; but I couldn't +pass. That fellow there is the happy man. I shall go on +coming here, because you're here. I don't think you'll like it +a bit, you know." + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall, Lord Nidderdale." + +<p>After a while Marie contrived to be alone with her lover near one +of the windows for a few seconds. "Papa is downstairs in the +book-room," she said. "Lord Alfred was told when he came that +he was out." It was evident to Sir Felix that everything was +prepared for him. "You go down," she continued, "and ask the +man to show you into the book-room." + +<p>"Shall I come up again?" + +<p>"No; but leave a note for me here under cover to Madame +Didon." Now Sir Felix was sufficiently at home in the house to +know that Madame Didon was Madame Melmotte's own woman, commonly +called Didon by the ladies of the family. "Or send it by +post,—under cover to her. That will be better. Go at +once, now." It certainly did seem to Sir Felix that the very +nature of the girl was altered. But he went, just shaking hands +with Madame Melmotte, and bowing to Miss Longestaffe. + +<p>In a few moments he found himself with Mr Melmotte in the chamber +which had been dignified with the name of the book-room. The +great financier was accustomed to spend his Sunday afternoons here, +generally with the company of Lord Alfred Grendall. It may be +supposed that he was meditating on millions, and arranging the prices +of money and funds for the New York, Paris, and London +Exchanges. But on this occasion he was waked from slumber, +which he seemed to have been enjoying with a cigar in his +mouth. "How do you do, Sir Felix?" he said. "I suppose +you want the ladies." + +<p>"I've just been in the drawing-room, but I thought I'd look in on +you as I came down." It immediately occurred to Melmotte that +the baronet had come about his share of the plunder out of the +railway, and he at once resolved to be stern in his manner, and +perhaps rude also. He believed that he should thrive best by +resenting any interference with him in his capacity as +financier. He thought that he had risen high enough to venture +on such conduct, and experience had told him that men who were +themselves only half-plucked, might easily be cowed by a savage +assumption of superiority. And he, too, had generally the +advantage of understanding the game, while those with whom he was +concerned did not, at any rate, more than half understand it. +He could thus trade either on the timidity or on the ignorance of his +colleagues. When neither of these sufficed to give him +undisputed mastery, then he cultivated the cupidity of his +friends. He liked young associates because they were more timid +and less greedy than their elders. Lord Nidderdale's +suggestions had soon been put at rest, and Mr Melmotte anticipated no +greater difficulty with Sir Felix. Lord Alfred he had been +obliged to buy. + +<p>"I'm very glad to see you, and all that," said Melmotte, assuming +a certain exaltation of the eyebrows which they who had many dealings +with him often found to be very disagreeable; "but this is hardly a +day for business, Sir Felix, nor,—yet a place for business." + +<p>Sir Felix wished himself at the Beargarden. He certainly had +come about business,—business of a particular sort; but Marie had +told him that of all days Sunday would be the best, and had also told +him that her father was more likely to be in a good humour on Sunday +than on any other day. Sir Felix felt that he had not been +received with good humour. "I didn't mean to intrude, Mr +Melmotte," he said. + +<p>"I dare say not. I only thought I'd tell you. You +might have been going to speak about that railway." + +<p>"Oh dear no." + +<p>"Your mother was saying to me down in the county that she hoped +you attended to the business. I told her that there was nothing +to attend to." + +<p>"My mother doesn't understand anything at all about it," said Sir +Felix. + +<p>"Women never do. Well;—what can I do for you, now that you +are here?" + +<p>"Mr Melmotte, I'm come,—I'm come to;—in short, Mr Melmotte, I +want to propose myself as a suitor for your daughter's hand." + +<p>"The d–––– you do!" + +<p>"Well, yes; and we hope you'll give us your consent." + +<p>"She knows you're coming, then?" + +<p>"Yes;—she knows." + +<p>"And my wife,—does she know?" + +<p>"I've never spoken to her about it. Perhaps Miss Melmotte +has." + +<p>"And how long have you and she understood each other?" + +<p>"I've been attached to her ever since I saw her," said Sir +Felix. "I have indeed. I've spoken to her +sometimes. You know how that kind of thing goes on." + +<p>"I'm blessed if I do. I know how it ought to go on. I +know that when large sums of money are supposed to be concerned, the +young man should speak to the father before he speaks to the +girl. He's a fool if he don't, if he wants to get the father's +money. So she has given you a promise?" + +<p>"I don't know about a promise." + +<p>"Do you consider that she's engaged to you?" + +<p>"Not if she's disposed to get out of it," said Sir Felix, hoping +that he might thus ingratiate himself with the father. "Of +course, I should be awfully disappointed." + +<p>"She has consented to your coming to me?" + +<p>"Well, yes;—in a sort of a way. Of course she knows that it +all depends on you." + +<p>"Not at all. She's of age. If she chooses to marry +you she can marry you. If that's all you want, her consent is +enough. You're a baronet, I believe?" + +<p>"Oh, yes, I'm a baronet." + +<p>"And therefore you've come to your own property. You haven't +to wait for your father to die, and I dare say you are indifferent +about money." + +<p>This was a view of things which Sir Felix felt that he was bound +to dispel, even at the risk of offending the father. "Not +exactly that," he said. "I suppose you will give your daughter +a fortune, of course." + +<p>"Then I wonder you didn't come to me before you went to her. +If my daughter marries to please me, I shall give her money, no +doubt. How much is neither here nor there. If she marries +to please herself, without considering me, I shan't give her a +farthing." + +<p>"I had hoped that you might consent, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"I've said nothing about that. It is possible. You're +a man of fashion and have a title of your own,—and no doubt a +property. If you'll show me that you've an income fit to +maintain her, I'll think about it at any rate. What is your +property, Sir Felix?" + +<p>What could three or four thousand a year, or even five or six, +matter to a man like Melmotte? It was thus that Sir Felix +looked at it. When a man can hardly count his millions he ought +not to ask questions about trifling sums of money. But the +question had been asked, and the asking of such a question was no +doubt within the prerogative of a proposed father-in-law. At +any rate, it must be answered. For a moment it occurred to Sir +Felix that he might conveniently tell the truth. It would be +nasty for the moment, but there would be nothing to come after. +Were he to do so he could not be dragged down lower and lower into +the mire by cross-examinings. There might be an end of all his +hopes, but there would at the same time be an end of all his +misery. But he lacked the necessary courage. "It isn't a +large property, you know," he said. + +<p>"Not like the Marquis of Westminster's, I suppose," said the +horrid, big, rich scoundrel. + +<p>"No;—not quite like that," said Sir Felix, with a sickly laugh. + +<p>"But you have got enough to support a baronet's title?" + +<p>"That depends on how you want to support it," said Sir Felix, +putting off the evil day. + +<p>"Where's your family seat?" + +<p>"Carbury Manor, down in Suffolk, near the Longestaffes, is the old +family place." + +<p>"That doesn't belong to you," said Melmotte, very sharply. + +<p>"No; not yet. But I'm the heir." + +<p>Perhaps if there is one thing in England more difficult than +another to be understood by men born and bred out of England, it is +the system under which titles and property descend together, or in +various lines. The jurisdiction of our Courts of Law is +complex, and so is the business of Parliament. But the rules +regulating them, though anomalous, are easy to the memory compared +with the mixed anomalies of the peerage and primogeniture. They +who are brought up among it, learn it as children do a language, but +strangers who begin the study in advanced life, seldom make +themselves perfect in it. It was everything to Melmotte that he +should understand the ways of the country which he had adopted; and +when he did not understand, he was clever at hiding his +ignorance. Now he was puzzled. He knew that Sir Felix was +a baronet, and therefore presumed him to be the head of the +family. He knew that Carbury Manor belonged to Roger Carbury, +and he judged by the name it must be an old family property. +And now the baronet declared that he was heir to the man who was +simply an Esquire. "Oh, the heir are you? But how did he +get it before you? You're the head of the family?" + +<p>"Yes, I am the head of the family, of course," said Sir Felix, +lying directly. "But the place won't be mine till he +dies. It would take a long time to explain it all." + +<p>"He's a young man, isn't he?" + +<p>"No;—not what you'd call a young man. He isn't very old." + +<p>"If he were to marry and have children, how would it be then?" + +<p>Sir Felix was beginning to think that he might have told the truth +with discretion. "I don't quite know how it would be. I +have always understood that I am the heir. It's not very likely +that he will marry." + +<p>"And in the meantime what is your own property?" + +<p>"My father left me money in the funds and in railway stock,—and +then I am my mother's heir." + +<p>"You have done me the honour of telling me that you wish to marry +my daughter." + +<p>"Certainly." + +<p>"Would you then object to inform me the amount and nature of the +income on which you intend to support your establishment as a married +man? I fancy that the position you assume justifies the +question on my part." The bloated swindler, the vile city +ruffian, was certainly taking a most ungenerous advantage of the +young aspirant for wealth. It was then that Sir Felix felt his +own position. Was he not a baronet, and a gentleman, and a very +handsome fellow, and a man of the world who had been in a crack +regiment? If this surfeited sponge of speculation, this crammed +commercial cormorant, wanted more than that for his daughter why +could he not say so without asking disgusting questions such as +these,—questions which it was quite impossible that a gentleman +should answer? Was it not sufficiently plain that any gentleman +proposing to marry the daughter of such a man as Melmotte, must do so +under the stress of pecuniary embarrassment? Would it not be an +understood bargain that, as he provided the rank and position, she +would provide the money? And yet the vulgar wretch took +advantage of his assumed authority to ask these dreadful +questions! Sir Felix stood silent, trying to look the man in +the face, but failing;—wishing that he was well out of the house, +and at the Beargarden. "You don't seem to be very clear about +your own circumstances, Sir Felix. Perhaps you will get your +lawyer to write to me." + +<p>"Perhaps that will be best," said the lover. + +<p>"Either that, or to give it up. My daughter, no doubt, will +have money; but money expects money." At this moment Lord +Alfred entered the room. "You're very late to-day, +Alfred. Why didn't you come as you said you would?" + +<p>"I was here more than an hour ago, and they said you were out." + +<p>"I haven't been out of this room all day,—except to lunch. +Good morning, Sir Felix. Ring the bell, Alfred, and we'll have +a little soda and brandy." Sir Felix had gone through some +greeting with his fellow Director Lord Alfred, and at last succeeded +in getting Melmotte to shake hands with him before he went. "Do +you know anything about that young fellow?" Melmotte asked as soon as +the door was closed. + +<p>"He's a baronet without a shilling;—was in the army and had to +leave it," said Lord Alfred as he buried his face in a big tumbler. + +<p>"Without a shilling! I supposed so. But he's heir to a +place down in Suffolk;—eh?" + +<p>"Not a bit of it. It's the same name, and that's about +all. Mr Carbury has a small property there, and he might give +it to me to-morrow. I wish he would, though there isn't much of +it. That young fellow has nothing to do with it whatever." + +<p>"Hasn't he now!" Mr Melmotte, as he speculated upon it, +almost admired the young man's impudence. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="24"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV. Miles Grendall's Triumph</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Sir Felix as he walked down to his club felt that he had been +checkmated,—and was at the same time full of wrath at the insolence +of the man who had so easily beaten him out of the field. As +far as he could see, the game was over. No doubt he might marry +Marie Melmotte. The father had told him so much himself, and he +perfectly believed the truth of that oath which Marie had +sworn. He did not doubt but that she'd stick to him close +enough. She was in love with him, which was natural; and was a +fool,—which was perhaps also natural. But romance was not the +game which he was playing. People told him that when girls +succeeded in marrying without their parents' consent, fathers were +always constrained to forgive them at last. That might be the +case with ordinary fathers. But Melmotte was decidedly not an +ordinary father. He was,—so Sir Felix declared to +himself,—perhaps the greatest brute ever created. Sir Felix +could not but remember that elevation of the eyebrows, and the brazen +forehead, and the hard mouth. He had found himself quite unable +to stand up against Melmotte, and now he cursed and swore at the man +as he was carried down to the Beargarden in a cab. + +<p>But what should he do? Should he abandon Marie Melmotte +altogether, never go to Grosvenor Square again, and drop the whole +family, including the Great Mexican Railway? Then an idea +occurred to him. Nidderdale had explained to him the result of +his application for shares. "You see we haven't bought any and +therefore can't sell any. There seems to be something in +that. I shall explain it all to my governor, and get him to go +a thou' or two. If he sees his way to get the money back, he'd +do that and let me have the difference." On that Sunday +afternoon Sir Felix thought over all this. "Why shouldn't he +'go a thou,' and get the difference?" He made a mental +calculation. £12 10s per £100! £125 for a thousand! and +all paid in ready money. As far as Sir Felix could understand, +directly the one operation had been perfected the thousand pounds +would be available for another. As he looked into it with all +his intelligence he thought that he began to perceive that that was +the way in which the Melmottes of the world made their money. +There was but one objection. He had not got the entire thousand +pounds. But luck had been on the whole very good to him. +He had more than the half of it in real money, lying at a bank in the +city at which he had opened an account. And he had very much +more than the remainder in I.O.U.'s from Dolly Longestaffe and Miles +Grendall. In fact if every man had his own,—and his bosom +glowed with indignation as he reflected on the injustice with which +he was kept out of his own,—he could go into the city and take up +his shares to-morrow, and still have ready money at his +command. If he could do this, would not such conduct on his +part be the best refutation of that charge of not having any fortune +which Melmotte had brought against him? He would endeavour to +work the money out of Dolly Longestaffe;—and he entertained an idea +that though it would be impossible to get cash from Miles Grendall, +he might use his claim against Miles in the city. Miles was +Secretary to the Board, and might perhaps contrive that the money +required for the shares should not be all ready money. Sir +Felix was not very clear about it, but thought that he might possibly +in this way use the indebtedness of Miles Grendall. "How I do +hate a fellow who does not pay up," he said to himself as he sat +alone in his club, waiting for some friend to come in. And he +formed in his head Draconic laws which he would fain have executed +upon men who lost money at play and did not pay. "How the deuce +fellows can look one in the face, is what I can't understand," he +said to himself. + +<p>He thought over this great stroke of exhibiting himself to +Melmotte as a capitalist till he gave up his idea of abandoning his +suit. So he wrote a note to Marie Melmotte in accordance with +her instructions. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR M.,<br> +<br> + Your father cut up very rough about +money. Perhaps you had better see him yourself; or would your +mother?<br> +<br> + Yours always,<br> +<br> + F.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>This, as directed, he put under cover to Madame Didon,—Grosvenor +Square, and posted at the club. He had put nothing at any rate +in the letter which would commit him. + +<p>There was generally on Sundays a house dinner, so called, at eight +o'clock. Five or six men would sit down, and would always +gamble afterwards. On this occasion Dolly Longestaffe sauntered +in at about seven in quest of sherry and bitters, and Felix found the +opportunity a good one to speak of his money. "You couldn't +cash your I.O.U.'s for me to-morrow;—could you?" + +<p>"To-morrow! oh, lord!" + +<p>"I'll tell you why. You know I'd tell you anything because I +think we are really friends. I'm after that daughter of +Melmotte's." + +<p>"I'm told you're to have her." + +<p>"I don't know about that. I mean to try at any rate. +I've gone in you know for that Board in the city." + +<p>"I don't know anything about Boards, my boy." + +<p>"Yes, you do, Dolly. You remember that American fellow, +Montague's friend, that was here one night and won all our money." + +<p>"The chap that had the waistcoat, and went away in the morning to +California. Fancy starting to California after a hard +night. I always wondered whether he got there alive." + +<p>"Well;—I can't explain to you all about it, because you hate +those kinds of things." + +<p>"And because I am such a fool." + +<p>"I don't think you're a fool at all, but it would take a +week. But it's absolutely essential for me to take up a lot of +shares in the city to-morrow;—or perhaps Wednesday might do. +I'm bound to pay for them, and old Melmotte will think that I'm +utterly hard up if I don't. Indeed he said as much, and the +only objection about me and this girl of his is as to money. +Can't you understand, now, how important it may be?" + +<p>"It's always important to have a lot of money. I know that." + +<p>"I shouldn't have gone in for this kind of thing if I hadn't +thought I was sure. You know how much you owe me, don't you?" + +<p>"Not in the least." + +<p>"It's about eleven hundred pounds!" + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder." + +<p>"And Miles Grendall owes me two thousand. Grasslough and +Nidderdale when they lose always pay with Miles's I.O.U.'s." + +<p>"So should I, if I had them." + +<p>"It'll come to that soon that there won't be any other stuff +going, and they really ain't worth anything. I don't see what's +the use of playing when this rubbish is shoved about the table. +As for Grendall himself, he has no feeling about it." + +<p>"Not the least, I should say." + +<p>"You'll try and get me the money, won't you, Dolly?" + +<p>"Melmotte has been at me twice. He wants me to agree to sell +something. He's an old thief, and of course he means to rob +me. You may tell him that if he'll let me have the money in the +way I've proposed, you are to have a thousand pounds out of it. +I don't know any other way." + +<p>"You could write me that,—in a business sort of way." + +<p>"I couldn't do that, Carbury. What's the use? I never +write any letters, I can't do it. You tell him that; and if the +sale comes off, I'll make it straight." + +<p>Miles Grendall also dined there, and after dinner, in the +smoking-room, Sir Felix tried to do a little business with the +Secretary. He began his operations with unusual courtesy, +believing that the man must have some influence with the great +distributor of shares. + +<p>"I'm going to take up my shares in that company," said Sir Felix. + +<p>"Ah;—indeed." And Miles enveloped himself from head to +foot in smoke. + +<p>"I didn't quite understand about it, but Nidderdale saw Melmotte +and he has explained it, I think I shall go in for a couple of +thousand on Wednesday." + +<p>"Oh;—ah." + +<p>"It will be the proper thing to do—won't it?" + +<p>"Very good—thing to do!" Miles Grendall smoked harder and +harder as the suggestions were made to him. + +<p>"Is it always ready money?" + +<p>"Always ready money," said Miles shaking his head, as though in +reprobation of so abominable an institution. + +<p>"I suppose they allow some time to their own Directors, if a +deposit, say 50 per cent., is made for the shares?" + +<p>"They'll give you half the number, which would come to the same +thing." + +<p>Sir Felix turned this over in his mind, but let him look at it as +he would, could not see the truth of his companion's remark. +"You know I should want to sell again,—for the rise." + +<p>"Oh; you'll want to sell again." + +<p>"And therefore I must have the full number." + +<p>"You could sell half the number, you know," said Miles. + +<p>"I'm determined to begin with ten shares;—that's £1,000. +Well;—I have got the money, but I don't want to draw out so +much. Couldn't you manage for me that I should get them on +paying 50 per cent, down?" + +<p>"Melmotte does all that himself." + +<p>"You could explain, you know, that you are a little short in your +own payments to me." This Sir Felix said, thinking it to be a +delicate mode of introducing his claim upon the Secretary. + +<p>"That's private," said Miles frowning. + +<p>"Of course it's private; but if you would pay me the money I could +buy the shares with it though they are public." + +<p>"I don't think we could mix the two things together, Carbury." + +<p>"You can't help me?" + +<p>"Not in that way." + +<p>"Then, when the deuce will you pay me what you owe me?" Sir +Felix was driven to this plain expression of his demand by the +impassibility of his debtor. Here was a man who did not pay his +debts of honour, who did not even propose any arrangement for paying +them, and who yet had the impudence to talk of not mixing up private +matters with affairs of business! It made the young baronet +very sick. Miles Grendall smoked on in silence. There was +a difficulty in answering the question, and he therefore made no +answer. "Do you know how much you owe me?" continued the +baronet, determined to persist now that he had commenced the +attack. There was a little crowd of other men in the room, and +the conversation about the shares had been commenced in an +undertone. These two last questions Sir Felix had asked in a +whisper, but his countenance showed plainly that he was speaking in +anger. + +<p>"Of course I know," said Miles. + +<p>"Well?" + +<p>"I'm not going to talk about it here," + +<p>"Not going to talk about it here?" + +<p>"No. This is a public room." + +<p>"I am going to talk about it," said Sir Felix, raising his voice. + +<p>"Will any fellow come upstairs and play a game of billiards?" said +Miles Grendall rising from his chair. Then he walked slowly out +of the room, leaving Sir Felix to take what revenge he pleased. +For a moment Sir Felix thought that he would expose the transaction +to the whole room; but he was afraid, thinking that Miles Grendall +was a more popular man than himself. + +<p>It was Sunday night; but not the less were the gamblers assembled +in the card-room at about eleven. Dolly Longestaffe was there, +and with him the two lords, and Sir Felix, and Miles Grendall of +course, and, I regret to say, a much better man than any of them, +Paul Montague. Sir Felix had doubted much as to the propriety +of joining the party. What was the use of playing with a man +who seemed by general consent to be liberated from any obligation to +pay? But then if he did not play with him, where should he find +another gambling table? They began with whist, but soon laid +that aside and devoted themselves to loo. The least respected +man in that confraternity was Grendall, and yet it was in compliance +with the persistency of his suggestion that they gave up the nobler +game. "Let's stick to whist; I like cutting out," said +Grasslough. "It's much more jolly having nothing to do now and +then; one can always bet," said Dolly shortly afterwards. "I +hate loo," said Sir Felix in answer to a third application. "I +like whist best," said Nidderdale, "but I'll play anything anybody +likes,—pitch and toss if you please." But Miles Grendall had +his way, and loo was the game. + +<p>At about two o'clock Grendall was the only winner. The play +had not been very high, but nevertheless he had won largely. +Whenever a large pool had collected itself he swept it into his +garners. The men opposed to him hardly grudged him this stroke +of luck. He had hitherto been unlucky; and they were able to +pay him with his own paper, which was so valueless that they parted +with it without a pang. Even Dolly Longestaffe seemed to have a +supply of it. The only man there not so furnished was Montague, +and while the sums won were quite small he was allowed to pay with +cash. But to Sir Felix it was frightful to see ready money +going over to Miles Grendall, as under no circumstances could it be +got back from him. "Montague," he said, "just change these for +the time. I'll take them back, if you still have them when +we've done." And he handed a lot of Miles's paper across the +table. The result of course would be that Felix would receive +so much real money, and that Miles would get back more of his own +worthless paper. To Montague it would make no difference, and +he did as he was asked,—or rather was preparing to do so, when Miles +interfered. On what principle of justice could Sir Felix come +between him and another man? "I don't understand this kind of +thing," he said. "When I win from you, Carbury, I'll take my +I.O.U.'s, as long as you have any." + +<p>"By George, that's kind." + +<p>"But I won't have them handed about the table to be changed." + +<p>"Pay them yourself, then," said Sir Felix, laying a handful down +on the table. + +<p>"Don't let's have a row," said Lord Nidderdale. + +<p>"Carbury is always making a row," said Grasslough. + +<p>"Of course he is," said Miles Grendall. + +<p>"I don't make more row than anybody else; but I do say that as we +have such a lot of these things, and as we all know that we don't get +cash for them as we want it, Grendall shouldn't take money and walk +off with it." + +<p>"Who is walking off?" said Miles. + +<p>"And why should you be entitled to Montague's money more than any +of us?" asked Grasslough. + +<p>The matter was debated, and was thus decided. It was not to +be allowed that Miles's paper should be negotiated at the table in +the manner that Sir Felix had attempted to adopt. But Mr +Grendall pledged his honour that when they broke up the party he +would apply any money that he might have won to the redemption of his +I.O.U.'s, paying a regular percentage to the holders of them. +The decision made Sir Felix very cross. He knew that their +condition at six or seven in the morning would not be favourable to +such commercial accuracy,—which indeed would require an accountant +to effect it; and he felt sure that Miles, if still a winner, would +in truth walk off with the ready money. + +<p>For a considerable time he did not speak, and became very moderate +in his play, tossing his cards about, almost always losing, but +losing a minimum, and watching the board. He was sitting next +to Grendall, and he thought that he observed that his neighbour moved +his chair farther and farther away from him, and nearer to Dolly +Longestaffe, who was next to him on the other side. This went +on for an hour, during which Grendall still won,—and won heavily +from Paul Montague. "I never saw a fellow have such a run of +luck in my life," said Grasslough. "You've had two trumps dealt +to you every hand almost since we began!" + +<p>"Ever so many hands I haven't played at all," said Miles. + +<p>"You've always won when I've played," said Dolly. "I've been +looed every time." + +<p>"You oughtn't to begrudge me one run of luck, when I've lost so +much," said Miles, who, since he began, had destroyed paper counters +of his own making, supposed to represent considerably above £1,000, +and had also,—which was of infinitely greater concern to +him,—received an amount of ready money which was quite a godsend to +him. + +<p>"What's the good of talking about it?" said Nidderdale. "I +hate all this row about winning and losing. Let's go on, or go +to bed." The idea of going to bed was absurd. So they +went on. Sir Felix, however, hardly spoke at all, played very +little, and watched Miles Grendall without seeming to watch +him. At last he felt certain that he saw a card go into the +man's sleeve, and remembered at the moment that the winner had owed +his success to a continued run of aces. He was tempted to rush +at once upon the player, and catch the card on his person. But +he feared. Grendall was a big man; and where would he be if +there should be no card there? And then, in the scramble, there +would certainly be at any rate a doubt. And he knew that the +men around him would be most unwilling to believe such an +accusation. Grasslough was Grendall's friend, and Nidderdale +and Dolly Longestaffe would infinitely rather be cheated than suspect +any one of their own set of cheating them. He feared both the +violence of the man he should accuse, and also the unpassive good +humour of the others. He let that opportunity pass by, again +watched, and again saw the card abstracted. Thrice he saw it, +till it was wonderful to him that others also should not see +it. As often as the deal came round, the man did it. +Felix watched more closely, and was certain that in each round the +man had an ace at least once. It seemed to him that nothing +could be easier. At last he pleaded a headache, got up, and +went away, leaving the others playing. He had lost nearly a +thousand pounds, but it had been all in paper. "There's +something the matter with that fellow," said Grasslough. + +<p>"There's always something the matter with him, I think," said +Miles. "He is so awfully greedy about his money." Miles +had become somewhat triumphant in his success. + +<p>"The less said about that, Grendall, the better," said +Nidderdale. "We have put up with a good deal, you know, and he +has put up with as much as anybody." Miles was cowed at once, +and went on dealing without manoeuvring a card on that hand. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="25"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV. In Grosvenor Square</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Marie Melmotte was hardly satisfied with the note which she +received from Didon early on the Monday morning. With a +volubility of French eloquence, Didon declared that she would be +turned out of the house if either Monsieur or Madame were to know +what she was doing. Marie told her that Madame would certainly +never dismiss her. "Well, perhaps not Madame," said Didon, who +knew too much about Madame to be dismissed; "but Monsieur!" +Marie declared that by no possibility could Monsieur know anything +about it. In that house nobody ever told anything to +Monsieur. He was regarded as the general enemy, against whom +the whole household was always making ambushes, always firing guns +from behind rocks and trees. It is not a pleasant condition for +a master of a house; but in this house the master at any rate knew +how he was placed. It never occurred to him to trust any +one. Of course his daughter might run away. But who would +run away with her without money? And there could be no money +except from him. He knew himself and his own strength. He +was not the man to forgive a girl, and then bestow his wealth on the +Lothario who had injured him. His daughter was valuable to him +because she might make him the father-in-law of a Marquis or an Earl; +but the higher that he rose without such assistance, the less need +had he of his daughter's aid. Lord Alfred was certainly very +useful to him. Lord Alfred had whispered into his ear that by +certain conduct and by certain uses of his money, he himself might be +made a baronet. "But if they should say that I'm not an +Englishman?" suggested Melmotte. Lord Alfred had explained that +it was not necessary that he should have been born in England, or +even that he should have an English name. No questions would be +asked. Let him first get into Parliament, and then spend a +little money on the proper side,—by which Lord Alfred meant the +Conservative side,—and be munificent in his entertainments, and the +baronetcy would be almost a matter of course. Indeed, there was +no knowing what honours might not be achieved in the present days by +money scattered with a liberal hand. In these conversations, +Melmotte would speak of his money and power of making money as though +they were unlimited,—and Lord Alfred believed him. + +<p>Marie was dissatisfied with her letter,—not because it described +her father as "cutting up rough." To her who had known her +father all her life that was a matter of course. But there was +no word of love in the note. An impassioned correspondence +carried on through Didon would be delightful to her. She was +quite capable of loving, and she did love the young man. She +had, no doubt, consented to accept the addresses of others whom she +did not love,—but this she had done at the moment almost of her +first introduction to the marvellous world in which she was now +living. As days went on she ceased to be a child, and her +courage grew within her. She became conscious of an identity of +her own, which feeling was produced in great part by the contempt +which accompanied her increasing familiarity with grand people and +grand names and grand things. She was no longer afraid of +saying No to the Nidderdales on account of any awe of them +personally. It might be that she should acknowledge herself to +be obliged to obey her father, though she was drifting away even from +the sense of that obligation. Had her mind been as it was now +when Lord Nidderdale first came to her, she might indeed have loved +him, who, as a man, was infinitely better than Sir Felix, and who, +had he thought it to be necessary, would have put some grace into his +lovemaking. But at that time she had been childish. He, +finding her to be a child, had hardly spoken to her. And she, +child though she was, had resented such usage. But a few months +in London had changed all this, and now she was a child no +longer. She was in love with Sir Felix, and had told her +love. Whatever difficulties there might be, she intended to be +true. If necessary, she would run away. Sir Felix was her +idol, and she abandoned herself to its worship. But she desired +that her idol should be of flesh and blood, and not of wood. +She was at first half-inclined to be angry; but as she sat with his +letter in her hand, she remembered that he did not know Didon as well +as she did, and that he might be afraid to trust his raptures to such +custody. She could write to him at his club, and having no such +fear, she could write warmly. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +Grosvenor Square. Early Monday Morning.<br> +<br> +DEAREST, DEAREST FELIX,<br> +<br> + I have just got your note;—such a +scrap! Of course papa would talk about money because he never +thinks of anything else. I don't know anything about money, and +I don't care in the least how much you have got. Papa has got +plenty, and I think he would give us some if we were once +married. I have told mamma, but mamma is always afraid of +everything. Papa is very cross to her sometimes;—more so than +to me. I will try to tell him, though I can't always get at +him. I very often hardly see him all day long. But I +don't mean to be afraid of him, and will tell him that on my word and +honour I will never marry any one except you. I don't think he +will beat me, but if he does, I'll bear it,—for your sake. He +does beat mamma sometimes, I know.<br> +<br> + You can write to me quite safely +through Didon. I think if you would call some day and give her +something, it would help, as she is very fond of money. Do +write and tell me that you love me. I love you better than +anything in the world, and I will never.—never give you up. I +suppose you can come and call,—unless papa tells the man in the hall +not to let you in. I'll find that out from Didon, but I can't +do it before sending this letter. Papa dined out yesterday +somewhere with that Lord Alfred, so I haven't seen him since you were +here. I never see him before he goes into the city in the +morning. Now I am going downstairs to breakfast with mamma and +that Miss Longestaffe. She is a stuck-up thing. Didn't +you think so at Caversham?<br> +<br> + Good-bye. You are my own, own, own darling Felix.<br> +<br> + And I am your own, own affectionate ladylove,<br> +<br> + MARIE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Sir Felix when he read this letter at his club in the afternoon of +the Monday, turned up his nose and shook his head. He thought +if there were much of that kind of thing to be done, he could not go +on with it, even though the marriage were certain, and the money +secure. "What an infernal little ass!" he said to himself as he +crumpled the letter up. + +<p>Marie having intrusted her letter to Didon, together with a little +present of gloves and shoes, went down to breakfast. Her mother +was the first there, and Miss Longestaffe soon followed. That +lady, when she found that she was not expected to breakfast with the +master of the house, abandoned the idea of having her meal sent to +her in her own room. Madame Melmotte she must endure. +With Madame Melmotte she had to go out in the carriage every +day. Indeed she could only go to those parties to which Madame +Melmotte accompanied her. If the London season was to be of any +use at all, she must accustom herself to the companionship of Madame +Melmotte. The man kept himself very much apart from her. +She met him only at dinner, and that not often. Madame Melmotte +was very bad; but she was silent, and seemed to understand that her +guest was only her guest as a matter of business. + +<p>But Miss Longestaffe already perceived that her old acquaintances +were changed in their manner to her. She had written to her +dear friend Lady Monogram, whom she had known intimately as Miss +Triplex, and whose marriage with Sir Damask Monogram had been +splendid preferment, telling how she had been kept down in Suffolk at +the time of her friend's last party, and how she had been driven to +consent to return to London as the guest of Madame Melmotte. +She hoped her friend would not throw her off on that account. +She had been very affectionate, with a poor attempt at fun, and +rather humble. Georgiana Longestaffe had never been humble +before; but the Monograms were people so much thought of and in such +an excellent set! She would do anything rather then lose the +Monograms. But it was of no use. She had been humble in +vain, for Lady Monogram had not even answered her note. "She +never really cared for anybody but herself," Georgiana said in her +wretched solitude. Then, too, she had found that Lord +Nidderdale's manner to her had been quite changed. She was not +a fool, and could read these signs with sufficient accuracy. +There had been little flirtations between her and +Nidderdale,—meaning nothing, as every one knew that Nidderdale must +marry money; but in none of them had he spoken to her as he spoke +when he met her in Madame Melmotte's drawing-room. She could +see it in the faces of people as they greeted her in the +park,—especially in the faces of the men. She had always +carried herself with a certain high demeanour, and had been able to +maintain it. All that was now gone from her, and she knew +it. Though the thing was as yet but a few days old she +understood that others understood that she had degraded +herself. "What's all this about?" Lord Grasslough had said to +her, seeing her come into a room behind Madame Melmotte. She +had simpered, had tried to laugh, and had then turned away her face. + +<p>"Impudent scoundrel!" she said to herself, knowing that a +fortnight ago he would not have dared to address her in such a tone. + +<p>A day or two afterwards an occurrence took place worthy of +commemoration. Dolly Longestaffe called on his sister! +His mind must have been much stirred when he allowed himself to be +moved to such uncommon action. He came too at a very early +hour, not much after noon, when it was his custom to be eating his +breakfast in bed. He declared at once to the servant that he +did not wish to see Madame Melmotte or any of the family. He +had called to see his sister. He was therefore shown into a +separate room where Georgiana joined him. + +<p>"What's all this about?" + +<p>She tried to laugh as she tossed her head. "What brings you +here, I wonder? This is quite an unexpected compliment." + +<p>"My being here doesn't matter. I can go anywhere without +doing much harm. Why are you staying with these people?" + +<p>"Ask papa." + +<p>"I don't suppose he sent you here?" + +<p>"That's just what he did do." + +<p>"You needn't have come, I suppose, unless you liked it. Is +it because they are none of them coming up?" + +<p>"Exactly that, Dolly. What a wonderful young man you are for +guessing!" + +<p>"Don't you feel ashamed of yourself?" + +<p>"No;—not a bit." + +<p>"Then I feel ashamed for you." + +<p>"Everybody comes here." + +<p>"No;—everybody does not come and stay here as you are +doing. Everybody doesn't make themselves a part of the +family. I have heard of nobody doing it except you. I +thought you used to think so much of yourself." + +<p>"I think as much of myself as ever I did," said Georgiana, hardly +able to restrain her tears. + +<p>"I can tell you nobody else will think much of you if you remain +here. I could hardly believe it when Nidderdale told me." + +<p>"What did he say, Dolly?" + +<p>"He didn't say much to me, but I could see what he thought. +And of course everybody thinks the same. How you can like the +people yourself is what I can't understand!" + +<p>"I don't like them,—I hate them." + +<p>"Then why do you come and live with them?" + +<p>"Oh, Dolly, it is impossible to make you understand. A man +is so different. You can go just where you please, and do what +you like. And if you're short of money, people will give you +credit. And you can live by yourself and all that sort of +thing. How should you like to be shut up down at Caversham all +the season?" + +<p>"I shouldn't mind it,—only for the governor." + +<p>"You have got a property of your own. Your fortune is made +for you. What is to become of me?" + +<p>"You mean about marrying?" + +<p>"I mean altogether," said the poor girl, unable to be quite as +explicit with her brother, as she had been with her father, and +mother, and sister. "Of course I have to think of myself." + +<p>"I don't see how the Melmottes are to help you. The long and +the short of it is, you oughtn't to be here. It's not often I +interfere, but when I heard it I thought I'd come and tell you. +I shall write to the governor, and tell him too. He should have +known better." + +<p>"Don't write to papa, Dolly!" + +<p>"Yes, I shall. I am not going to see everything going to the +devil without saying a word. Good-bye." + +<p>As soon as he had left he hurried down to some club that was +open,—not the Beargarden, as it was long before the Beargarden +hours,—and actually did write a letter to his father. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +MY DEAR FATHER,<br> +<br> + I have seen Georgiana at Mr Melmotte's +house. She ought not to be there. I suppose you don't +know it, but everybody says he's a swindler. For the sake of +the family I hope you will get her home again. It seems to me +that Bruton Street is the proper place for the girls at this time of +the year.<br> +<br> + Your affectionate son,<br> +<br> + ADOLPHUS LONGESTAFFE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>This letter fell upon old Mr Longestaffe at Caversham like a +thunderbolt. It was marvellous to him that his son should have +been instigated to write a letter. The Melmottes must be very +bad indeed,—worse than he had thought,—or their iniquities would +not have brought about such energy as this. But the passage +which angered him most was that which told him that he ought to have +taken his family back to town. This had come from his son, who +had refused to do anything to help him in his difficulties. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="26"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI. Mrs Hurtle</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Paul Montague at this time lived in comfortable lodgings in +Sackville Street, and ostensibly the world was going well with +him. But he had many troubles. His troubles in reference +to Fisker, Montague, and Montague,—and also their consolation,—are +already known to the reader. He was troubled too about his +love, though when he allowed his mind to expatiate on the success of +the great railway he would venture to hope that on that side his life +might perhaps be blessed. Henrietta had at any rate as yet +showed no disposition to accept her cousin's offer. He was +troubled too about the gambling, which he disliked, knowing that in +that direction there might be speedy ruin, and yet returning to it +from day to day in spite of his own conscience. But there was +yet another trouble which culminated just at this time. One +morning, not long after that Sunday night which had been so +wretchedly spent at the Beargarden, he got into a cab in Piccadilly +and had himself taken to a certain address in Islington. Here +he knocked at a decent, modest door,—at such a house as men live in +with two or three hundred a year,—and asked for Mrs Hurtle. +Yes;—Mrs Hurtle lodged there, and he was shown into the +drawing-room. There he stood by the round table for a quarter +of an hour turning over the lodging-house books which lay there, and +then Mrs Hurtle entered the room. Mrs Hurtle was a widow whom +he had once promised to marry. "Paul," she said, with a quick, +sharp voice, but with a voice which could be very pleasant when she +pleased,—taking him by the hand as she spoke, "Paul, say that that +letter of yours must go for nothing. Say that it shall be so, +and I will forgive everything." + +<p>"I cannot say that," he replied, laying his hand on hers. + +<p>"You cannot say it! What do you mean? Will you dare to +tell me that your promises to me are to go for nothing?" + +<p>"Things are changed," said Paul hoarsely. He had come +thither at her bidding because he had felt that to remain away would +be cowardly, but the meeting was inexpressibly painful to him. +He did think that he had sufficient excuse for breaking his troth to +this woman, but the justification of his conduct was founded on +reasons which he hardly knew how to plead to her. He had heard +that of her past life which, had he heard it before, would have saved +him from his present difficulty. But he had loved her,—did +love her in a certain fashion; and her offences, such as they were, +did not debar her from his sympathies. + +<p>"How are they changed? I am two years older, if you mean +that." As she said this she looked round at the glass, as +though to see whether she was become so haggard with age as to be +unfit to become this man's wife. She was very lovely, with a +kind of beauty which we seldom see now. In these days men +regard the form and outward lines of a woman's face and figure more +than either the colour or the expression, and women fit themselves to +men's eyes. With padding and false hair without limit a figure +may be constructed of almost any dimensions. The sculptors who +construct them, male and female, hairdressers and milliners, are very +skilful, and figures are constructed of noble dimensions, sometimes +with voluptuous expansion, sometimes with classic reticence, +sometimes with dishevelled negligence which becomes very dishevelled +indeed when long out of the sculptor's hands. Colours indeed +are added, but not the colours which we used to love. The taste +for flesh and blood has for the day given place to an appetite for +horsehair and pearl powder. But Mrs Hurtle was not a beauty +after the present fashion. She was very dark,—a dark +brunette,—with large round blue eyes, that could indeed be soft, but +could also be very severe. Her silken hair, almost black, hung +in a thousand curls all round her head and neck. Her cheeks and +lips and neck were full, and the blood would come and go, giving a +varying expression to her face with almost every word she +spoke. Her nose also was full, and had something of the +pug. But nevertheless it was a nose which any man who loved her +would swear to be perfect. Her mouth was large, and she rarely +showed her teeth. Her chin was full, marked by a large dimple, +and as it ran down to her neck was beginning to form a second. +Her bust was full and beautifully shaped; but she invariably dressed +as though she were oblivious, or at any rate neglectful, of her own +charms. Her dress, as Montague had seen her, was always +black,—not a sad weeping widow's garment, but silk or woollen or +cotton as the case might be, always new, always nice, always +well-fitting, and most especially always simple. She was +certainly a most beautiful woman, and she knew it. She looked +as though she knew it,—but only after that fashion in which a woman +ought to know it. Of her age she had never spoken to +Montague. She was in truth over thirty,—perhaps almost as near +thirty-five as thirty. But she was one of those whom years +hardly seem to touch. + +<p>"You are beautiful as ever you were," he said. + +<p>"Psha! Do not tell me of that. I care nothing for my +beauty unless it can bind me to your love. Sit down there and +tell me what it means." Then she let go his hand, and seated +herself opposite to the chair which she gave him. + +<p>"I told you in my letter." + +<p>"You told me nothing in your letter,—except that it was to +be—off. Why is it to be—off? Do you not love me?" +Then she threw herself upon her knees, and leaned upon his, and +looked up in his face. "Paul," she said, "I have come across +the Atlantic on purpose to see you,—after so many months,—and will +you not give me one kiss? Even though you should leave me for +ever, give me one kiss." Of course he kissed her, not once, but +with a long, warm embrace. How could it have been +otherwise? With all his heart he wished that she would have +remained away, but while she knelt there at his feet what could he do +but embrace her? "Now tell me everything," she said, seating +herself on a footstool at his feet. + +<p>She certainly did not look like a woman whom a man might ill-treat +or scorn with impunity. Paul felt, even while she was lavishing +her caresses upon him, that she might too probably turn and rend him +before he left her. He had known something of her temper +before, though he had also known the truth and warmth of her +love. He had travelled with her from San Francisco to England, +and she had been very good to him in illness, in distress of mind and +in poverty,—for he had been almost penniless in New York. When +they landed at Liverpool they were engaged as man and wife. He +had told her all his affairs, had given her the whole history of his +life. This was before his second journey to America, when +Hamilton K. Fisker was unknown to him. But she had told him +little or nothing of her own life,—but that she was a widow, and +that she was travelling to Paris on business. When he left her +at the London railway station, from which she started for Dover, he +was full of all a lover's ardour. He had offered to go with +her, but that she had declined. But when he remembered that he +must certainly tell his friend Roger of his engagement, and +remembered also how little he knew of the lady to whom he was +engaged, he became embarrassed. What were her means he did not +know. He did know that she was some years older than himself, +and that she had spoken hardly a word to him of her own family. +She had indeed said that her husband had been one of the greatest +miscreants ever created, and had spoken of her release from him as +the one blessing she had known before she had met Paul +Montague. But it was only when he thought of all this after she +had left him,—only when he reflected how bald was the story which he +must tell Roger Carbury,—that he became dismayed. Such had +been the woman's cleverness, such her charm, so great her power of +adaptation, that he had passed weeks in her daily company, with still +progressing intimacy and affection, without feeling that anything had +been missing. + +<p>He had told his friend, and his friend had declared to him that it +was impossible that he should marry a woman whom he had met in a +railway train without knowing something about her. Roger did +all he could to persuade the lover to forget his love,—and partially +succeeded. It is so pleasant and so natural that a young man +should enjoy the company of a clever, beautiful woman on a long +journey,—so natural that during the journey he should allow himself +to think that she may during her whole life be all in all to him as +she is at that moment;—and so natural again that he should see his +mistake when he has parted from her! But Montague, though he +was half false to his widow, was half true to her. He had +pledged his word, and that he said ought to bind him. Then he +returned to California, and learned, through the instrumentality of +Hamilton K. Fisker, that in San Francisco Mrs Hurtle was regarded as +a mystery. Some people did not quite believe that there ever +had been a Mr Hurtle. Others said that there certainly had been +a Mr Hurtle, and that to the best of their belief he still +existed. The fact, however, best known of her was that she had +shot a man through the head somewhere in Oregon. She had not +been tried for it, as the world of Oregon had considered that the +circumstances justified the deed. Everybody knew that she was +very clever and very beautiful,—but everybody also thought that she +was very dangerous. "She always had money when she was here," +Hamilton Fisker said, "but no one knew where it came from." +Then he wanted to know why Paul inquired. "I don't think, you +know, that I should like to go in for a life partnership, if you mean +that," said Hamilton K. Fisker. + +<p>Montague had seen her in New York as he passed through on his +second journey to San Francisco, and had then renewed his promises in +spite of his cousin's caution. He told her that he was going to +see what he could make of his broken fortunes,—for at this time, as +the reader will remember, there was no great railway in +existence,—and she had promised to follow him. Since that, +they had never met till this day. She had not made the promised +journey to San Francisco, at any rate before he had left it. +Letters from her had reached him in England, and these he had +answered by explaining to her, or endeavouring to explain, that their +engagement must be at an end. And now she had followed him to +London! "Tell me everything," she said, leaning upon him and +looking up into his face. + +<p>"But you,—when did you arrive here?" + +<p>"Here, at this house, I arrived the night before last. On +Tuesday I reached Liverpool. There I found that you were +probably in London, and so I came on. I have come only to see +you. I can understand that you should have been estranged from +me. That journey home is now so long ago! Our meeting in +New York was so short and wretched. I would not tell you +because you then were poor yourself, but at that moment I was +penniless. I have got my own now out from the very teeth of +robbers." As she said this, she looked as though she could be +very persistent in claiming her own,—or what she might think to be +her own. "I could not get across to San Francisco as I said I +would, and when I was there you had quarrelled with your uncle and +returned. And now I am here. I at any rate have been +faithful." As she said this his arm was again thrown over her, +so as to press her head to his knee. "And now," she said, "tell +me about yourself?" + +<p>His position was embarrassing and very odious to himself. +Had he done his duty properly, he would gently have pushed her from +him, have sprung to his legs, and have declared that, however faulty +might have been his previous conduct, he now found himself bound to +make her understand that he did not intend to become her +husband. But he was either too much of a man or too little of a +man for conduct such as that. He did make the avowal to +himself, even at that moment as she sat there. Let the matter +go as it would, she should never be his wife. He would marry no +one unless it was Hetta Carbury. But he did not at all know how +to get this said with proper emphasis, and yet with properly +apologetic courtesy. "I am engaged here about this railway," he +said. "You have heard, I suppose, of our projected scheme?" + +<p>"Heard of it! San Francisco is full of it. Hamilton +Fisker is the great man of the day there, and, when I left, your +uncle was buying a villa for seventy-four thousand dollars. And +yet they say that the best of it all has been transferred to you +Londoners. Many there are very hard upon Fisker for coming here +and doing as he did." + +<p>"It's doing very well, I believe," said Paul, with some feeling of +shame, as he thought how very little he knew about it. + +<p>"You are the manager here in England?" + +<p>"No,—I am a member of the firm that manages it at San Francisco; +but the real manager here is our chairman, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"Ah I have heard of him. He is a great man;—a Frenchman, is +he not? There was a talk of inviting him to California. +You know him, of course?" + +<p>"Yes,—I know him. I see him once a week." + +<p>"I would sooner see that man than your Queen, or any of your dukes +or lords. They tell me that he holds the world of commerce in +his right hand. What power;—what grandeur!" + +<p>"Grand enough," said Paul, "if it all came honestly." + +<p>"Such a man rises above honesty," said Mrs Hurtle, "as a great +general rises above humanity when he sacrifices an army to conquer a +nation. Such greatness is incompatible with small +scruples. A pigmy man is stopped by a little ditch, but a giant +stalks over the rivers." + +<p>"I prefer to be stopped by the ditches," said Montague. + +<p>"Ah, Paul, you were not born for commerce. And I will grant +you this, that commerce is not noble unless it rises to great +heights. To live in plenty by sticking to your counter from +nine in the morning to nine at night, is not a fine life. But +this man with a scratch of his pen can send out or call in millions +of dollars. Do they say here that he is not honest?" + +<p>"As he is my partner in this affair perhaps I had better say +nothing against him." + +<p>"Of course such a man will be abused. People have said that +Napoleon was a coward, and Washington a traitor. You must take +me where I shall see Melmotte. He is a man whose hand I would +kiss; but I would not condescend to speak even a word of reverence to +any of your Emperors." + +<p>"I fear you will find that your idol has feet of clay." + +<p>"Ah,—you mean that he is bold in breaking those precepts of yours +about coveting worldly wealth. All men and women break that +commandment, but they do so in a stealthy fashion, half drawing back +the grasping hand, praying to be delivered from temptation while they +filch only a little, pretending to despise the only thing that is +dear to them in the world. Here is a man who boldly says that +he recognises no such law; that wealth is power, and that power is +good, and that the more a man has of wealth the greater and the +stronger and the nobler be can be. I love a man who can turn +the hobgoblins inside out and burn the wooden bogies that he meets." + +<p>Montague had formed his own opinions about Melmotte. Though +connected with the man, he believed their Grand Director to be as +vile a scoundrel as ever lived. Mrs Hurtle's enthusiasm was +very pretty, and there was something of feminine eloquence in her +words. But it was shocking to see them lavished on such a +subject. "Personally, I do not like him," said Paul. + +<p>"I had thought to find that you and he were hand and glove." + +<p>"Oh no." + +<p>"But you are prospering in this business?" + +<p>"Yes,—I suppose we are prospering. It is one of those +hazardous things in which a man can never tell whether he be really +prosperous till he is out of it. I fell into it altogether +against my will. I had no alternative." + +<p>"It seems to me to have been a golden chance." + +<p>"As far as immediate results go it has been golden." + +<p>"That at any rate is well, Paul. And now,—now that we have +got back into our old way of talking, tell me what all this +means. I have talked to no one after this fashion since we +parted. Why should our engagement be over? You used to +love me, did you not?" + +<p>He would willingly have left her question unanswered, but she +waited for an answer. "You know I did," he said. + +<p>"I thought so. This I know, that you were sure and are sure +of my love to you. Is it not so? Come, speak openly like +a man. Do you doubt me?" + +<p>He did not doubt her, and was forced to say so. "No, +indeed." + +<p>"Oh, with what bated, half-mouthed words you speak,—fit for a +girl from a nursery! Out with it if you have anything to say +against me! You owe me so much at any rate. I have never +ill-treated you. I have never lied to you. I have taken +nothing from you,—if I have not taken your heart. I have given +you all that I can give." Then she leaped to her feet and stood +a little apart from him. "If you hate me, say so." + +<p>"Winifred," he said, calling her by her name. + +<p>"Winifred! Yes, now for the first time, though I have called +you Paul from the moment you entered the room. Well, speak +out. Is there another woman that you love?" + +<p>At this moment Paul Montague proved that at any rate he was no +coward. Knowing the nature of the woman, how ardent, how +impetuous she could be, and how full of wrath, he had come at her +call intending to tell her the truth which he now spoke. "There +is another," he said. + +<p>She stood silent, looking into his face, thinking how she would +commence her attack upon him. She fixed her eyes upon him, +standing quite upright, squeezing her own right hand with the fingers +of the left. "Oh," she said, in a whisper "that is the reason +why I am told that I am to be—off." + +<p>"That was not the reason." + +<p>"What,—can there be more reason than that,—better reason than +that? Unless, indeed, it be that as you have learned to love +another so also you have learned to—hate me." + +<p>"Listen to me, Winifred." + +<p>"No, sir; no Winifred now! How did you dare to kiss me, +knowing that it was on your tongue to tell me I was to be cast +aside? And so you love—some other woman! I am too old to +please you, too rough,—too little like the dolls of your own +country! What were your—other reasons? Let me hear +your—other reasons, that I may tell you that they are lies." + +<p>The reasons were very difficult to tell, though when put forward +by Roger Carbury they had been easily pleaded. Paul knew but +little about Winifred Hurtle, and nothing at all about the late Mr +Hurtle. His reasons curtly put forward might have been so +stated. "We know too little of each other," he said. + +<p>"What more do you want to know? You can know all for the +asking. Did I ever refuse to answer you? As to my +knowledge of you and your affairs, if I think it sufficient, need you +complain? What is it that you want to know? Ask anything +and I will tell you. Is it about my money? You knew when +you gave me your word that I had next to none. Now I have ample +means of my own. You knew that I was a widow. What +more? If you wish to hear of the wretch that was my husband, I +will deluge you with stories. I should have thought that a man +who loved would not have cared to hear much of one—who perhaps was +loved once." + +<p>He knew that his position was perfectly indefensible. It +would have been better for him not to have alluded to any reasons, +but to have remained firm to his assertion that he loved another +woman. He must have acknowledged himself to be false, perjured, +inconstant, and very base. A fault that may be venial to those +who do not suffer, is damnable, deserving of an eternity of tortures, +in the eyes of the sufferer. He must have submitted to be told +that he was a fiend, and might have had to endure whatever of +punishment a lady in her wrath could inflict upon him. But he +would have been called upon for no further mental effort. His +position would have been plain. But now he was all at +sea. "I wish to hear nothing," he said. + +<p>"Then why tell me that we know so little of each other? +That, surely, is a poor excuse to make to a woman,—after you have +been false to her. Why did you not say that when we were in New +York together? Think of it, Paul. Is not that mean?" + +<p>"I do not think that I am mean." + +<p>"No;—a man will lie to a woman, and justify it always. Who +is—this lady?" + +<p>He knew that he could not at any rate be warranted in mentioning +Hetta Carbury's name. He had never even asked her for her love, +and certainly had received no assurance that he was loved. "I +cannot name her." + +<p>"And I, who have come hither from California to see you, am to +return satisfied because you tell me that you have—changed your +affections? That is to be all, and you think that fair? +That suits your own mind, and leaves no sore spot in your +heart? You can do that, and shake hands with me, and go +away,—without a pang, without a scruple?" + +<p>"I did not say so." + +<p>"And you are the man who cannot bear to hear me praise Augustus +Melmotte because you think him dishonest! Are you a liar?" + +<p>"I hope not." + +<p>"Did you say you would be my husband? Answer me, sir." + +<p>"I did say so." + +<p>"Do you now refuse to keep your promise? You shall answer +me." + +<p>"I cannot marry you." + +<p>"Then, sir, are you not a liar?" It would have taken him +long to explain to her, even had he been able, that a man may break a +promise and yet not tell a lie. He had made up his mind to +break his engagement before he had seen Hetta Carbury, and therefore +he could not accuse himself of falseness on her account. He had +been brought to his resolution by the rumours he had heard of her +past life, and as to his uncertainty about her husband. If Mr +Hurtle were alive, certainly then he would not be a liar because he +did not marry Mrs Hurtle. He did not think himself to be a +liar, but he was not at once ready with his defence. "Oh, +Paul," she said, changing at once into softness,—"I am pleading to +you for my life. Oh, that I could make you feel that I am +pleading for my life. Have you given a promise to this lady +also?" + +<p>"No," said he. "I have given no promise." + +<p>"But she loves you?" + +<p>"She has never said so." + +<p>"You have told her of your love?" + +<p>"Never." + +<p>"There is nothing, then, between you? And you would put her +against me,—some woman who has nothing to suffer, no cause of +complaint, who, for aught you know, cares nothing for you. Is +that so?" + +<p>"I suppose it is," said Paul. + +<p>"Then you may still be mine. Oh, Paul, come back to +me. Will any woman love you as I do,—live for you as I +do? Think what I have done in coming here, where I have no +friend,—not a single friend,—unless you are a friend. Listen +to me. I have told the woman here that I am engaged to marry +you." + +<p>"You have told the woman of the house?" + +<p>"Certainly I have. Was I not justified? Were you not +engaged to me? Am I to have you to visit me here, and to risk +her insults, perhaps to be told to take myself off and to find +accommodation elsewhere, because I am too mealy-mouthed to tell the +truth as to the cause of my being here? I am here because you +have promised to make me your wife, and, as far as I am concerned, I +am not ashamed to have the fact advertised in every newspaper in the +town. I told her that I was the promised wife of one Paul +Montague, who was joined with Mr Melmotte in managing the new great +American railway, and that Mr Paul Montague would be with me this +morning. She was too far-seeing to doubt me, but had she +doubted, I could have shown her your letters. Now go and tell +her that what I have said is false,—if you dare." The woman +was not there, and it did not seem to be his immediate duty to leave +the room in order that he might denounce a lady whom he certainly had +ill-used. The position was one which required thought. +After a while he took up his hat to go. "Do you mean to tell +her that my statement is untrue?" + +<p>"No,—" he said; "not to-day." + +<p>"And you will come back to me?" + +<p>"Yes;—I will come back." + +<p>"I have no friend here, but you, Paul. Remember that. +Remember all your promises. Remember all our love,—and be good +to me." Then she let him go without another word. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="27"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII. Mrs Hurtle Goes to the Play</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>On the day after the visit just recorded, Paul Montague received +the following letter from Mrs Hurtle:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +MY DEAR PAUL,—<br> +<br> + I think that perhaps we hardly made +ourselves understood to each other yesterday, and I am sure that you +do not understand how absolutely my whole life is now at stake. +I need only refer you to our journey from San Francisco to London to +make you conscious that I really love you. To a woman such love +is all important. She cannot throw it from her as a man may do +amidst the affairs of the world. Nor, if it has to be thrown +from her, can she bear the loss as a man bears it. Her thoughts +have dwelt on it with more constancy than his;—and then too her +devotion has separated her from other things. My devotion to +you has separated me from everything.<br> +<br> + But I scorn to come to you as a +suppliant. If you choose to say after hearing me that you will +put me away from you because you have seen some one fairer than I am, +whatever course I may take in my indignation, I shall not throw +myself at your feet to tell you of my wrongs. I wish, however, +that you should hear me. You say that there is some one you +love better than you love me, but that you have not committed +yourself to her. Alas, I know too much of the world to be +surprised that a man's constancy should not stand out two years in +the absence of his mistress. A man cannot wrap himself up and +keep himself warm with an absent love as a woman does. But I +think that some remembrance of the past must come back upon you now +that you have seen me again. I think that you must have owned +to yourself that you did love me, and that you could love me +again. You sin against me to my utter destruction if you leave +me. I have given up every friend I have to follow you. As +regards the other—nameless lady, there can be no fault; for, as you +tell me, she knows nothing of your passion.<br> +<br> + You hinted that there were other +reasons,—that we know too little of each other. You meant no +doubt that you knew too little of me. Is it not the case that +you were content when you knew only what was to be learned in those +days of our sweet intimacy, but that you have been made discontented +by stories told you by your partners at San Francisco? If this +be so, trouble yourself at any rate to find out the truth before you +allow yourself to treat a woman as you propose to treat me. I +think you are too good a man to cast aside a woman you have +loved,—like a soiled glove,—because ill-natured words have been +spoken of her by men, or perhaps by women, who know nothing of her +life. My late husband, Caradoc Hurtle, was Attorney-General in +the State of Kansas when I married him, I being then in possession of +a considerable fortune left to me by my mother. There his life +was infamously bad. He spent what money he could get of mine, +and then left me and the State, and took himself to Texas;—where he +drank himself to death. I did not follow him, and in his +absence I was divorced from him in accordance with the laws of Kansas +State. I then went to San Francisco about property of my +mother's, which my husband had fraudulently sold to a countryman of +ours now resident in Paris,—having forged my name. There I met +you, and in that short story I tell you all that there is to be +told. It may be that you do not believe me now; but if so, are +you not bound to go where you can verify your own doubts or my +word?<br> +<br> + I try to write dispassionately, but I +am in truth overborne by passion. I also have heard in +California rumours about myself, and after much delay I received your +letter. I resolved to follow you to England as soon as +circumstances would permit me. I have been forced to fight a +battle about my property, and I have won it. I had two reasons +for carrying this through by my personal efforts before I saw +you. I had begun it and had determined that I would not be +beaten by fraud. And I was also determined that I would not +plead to you as a pauper. We have talked too freely together in +past days of our mutual money matters for me to feel any delicacy in +alluding to them. When a man and woman have agreed to be +husband and wife there should be no delicacy of that kind. When +we came here together we were both embarrassed. We both had +some property, but neither of us could enjoy it. Since that I +have made my way through my difficulties. From what I have +heard at San Francisco I suppose that you have done the same. I +at any rate shall be perfectly contented if from this time our +affairs can be made one.<br> +<br> + And now about +myself,—immediately. I have come here all alone. Since I +last saw you in New York I have not had altogether a good time. +I have had a great struggle and have been thrown on my own resources +and have been all alone. Very cruel things have been said of +me. You heard cruel things said, but I presume them to have +been said to you with reference to my late husband. Since that +they have been said to others with reference to you. I have not +now come, as my countrymen do generally, backed with a trunk full of +introductions and with scores of friends ready to receive me. +It was necessary to me that I should see you and hear my fate,—and +here I am. I appeal to you to release me in some degree from +the misery of my solitude. You know,—no one so well,—that my +nature is social and that I am not given to be melancholy. Let +us be cheerful together, as we once were, if it be only for a +day. Let me see you as I used to see you, and let me be seen as +I used to be seen.<br> +<br> + Come to me and take me out with you, +and let us dine together, and take me to one of your theatres. +If you wish it I will promise you not to allude to that revelation +you made to me just now, though of course it is nearer to my heart +than any other matter. Perhaps some woman's vanity makes me +think that if you would only see me again, and talk to me as you used +to talk, you would think of me as you used to think.<br> +<br> + You need not fear but you will find me +at home. I have no whither to go,—and shall hardly stir from +the house till you come to me. Send me a line, however, that I +may have my hat on if you are minded to do as I ask you.<br> +<br> + Yours with all my heart,<br> +<br> + WINIFRED HURTLE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>This letter took her much time to write, though she was very +careful so to write as to make it seem that it had flown easily from +her pen. She copied it from the first draught, but she copied +it rapidly, with one or two premeditated erasures, so that it should +look to have been done hurriedly. There had been much art in +it. She had at any rate suppressed any show of anger. In +calling him to her she had so written as to make him feel that if he +would come he need not fear the claws of an offended lioness:—and +yet she was angry as a lioness who had lost her cub. She had +almost ignored that other lady whose name she had not yet +heard. She had spoken of her lover's entanglement with that +other lady as a light thing which might easily be put aside. +She had said much of her own wrongs, but had not said much of the +wickedness of the wrong-doer. Invited as she had invited him, +surely he could not but come to her! And then, in her reference +to money, not descending to the details of dollars and cents, she had +studied how to make him feel that he might marry her without +imprudence. As she read it over to herself she thought that +there was a tone through it of natural feminine uncautious +eagerness. She put her letter up in an envelope, stuck a stamp +on it and addressed,—it and then threw herself back in her chair to +think of her position. + +<p>He should marry her,—or there should be something done which +should make the name of Winifred Hurtle known to the world! She +had no plan of revenge yet formed. She would not talk of +revenge,—she told herself that she would not even think of revenge +till she was quite sure that revenge would be necessary. But +she did think of it, and could not keep her thoughts from it for a +moment. Could it be possible that she, with all her +intellectual gifts as well as those of her outward person, should be +thrown over by a man whom well as she loved him,—and she did love +him with all her heart,—she regarded as greatly inferior to +herself! He had promised to marry her; and he should marry her, +or the world should hear the story of his perjury! + +<p>Paul Montague felt that he was surrounded by difficulties as soon +as he read the letter. That his heart was all the other way he +was quite sure; but yet it did seem to him that there was no escape +from his troubles open to him. There was not a single word in +this woman's letter that he could contradict. He had loved her +and had promised to make her his wife,—and had determined to break +his word to her because he found that she was enveloped in dangerous +mystery. He had so resolved before he had ever seen Hetta +Carbury, having been made to believe by Roger Carbury that a marriage +with an unknown American woman,—of whom he only did know that she +was handsome and clever would be a step to ruin. The woman, as +Roger said, was an adventuress,—might never have had a +husband,—might at this moment have two or three,—might be +overwhelmed with debt,—might be anything bad, dangerous, and +abominable. All that he had heard at San Francisco had +substantiated Roger's views. "Any scrape is better than that +scrape," Roger had said to him. Paul had believed his Mentor, +and had believed with a double faith as soon as he had seen Hetta +Carbury. + +<p>But what should he do now? It was impossible, after what had +passed between them, that he should leave Mrs Hurtle at her lodgings +at Islington without any notice. It was clear enough to him +that she would not consent to be so left. Then her present +proposal,—though it seemed to be absurd and almost comical in the +tragical condition of their present circumstances,—had in it some +immediate comfort. To take her out and give her a dinner, and +then go with her to some theatre, would be easy and perhaps +pleasant. It would be easier, and certainly much pleasanter, +because she had pledged herself to abstain from talking of her +grievances. Then he remembered some happy evenings, delicious +hours, which he had so passed with her, when they were first together +at New York. There could be no better companion for such a +festival. She could talk,—and she could listen as well as +talk. And she could sit silent, conveying to her neighbour the +sense of her feminine charms by her simple proximity. He had +been very happy when so placed. Had it been possible he would +have escaped the danger now, but the reminiscence of past delights in +some sort reconciled him to the performance of this perilous duty. + +<p>But when the evening should be over, how would he part with +her? When the pleasant hour should have passed away and he had +brought her back to her door, what should he say to her then? +He must make some arrangement as to a future meeting. He knew +that he was in a great peril, and he did not know how he might best +escape it. He could not now go to Roger Carbury for advice; for +was not Roger Carbury his rival? It would be for his friend's +interest that he should marry the widow. Roger Carbury, as he +knew well, was too honest a man to allow himself to be guided in any +advice he might give by such a feeling, but, still, on this matter, +he could no longer tell everything to Roger Carbury. He could +not say all that he would have to say without speaking of Hetta;—and +of his love for Hetta he could not speak to his rival. + +<p>He had no other friend in whom he could confide. There was +no other human being he could trust, unless it was Hetta +herself. He thought for a moment that he would write a stern +and true letter to the woman, telling her that as it was impossible +that there should ever be marriage between them, he felt himself +bound to abstain from her society. But then he remembered her +solitude, her picture of herself in London without even an +acquaintance except himself, and he convinced himself that it would +be impossible that he should leave her without seeing her. So +he wrote to her thus:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR WINIFRED,<br> +<br> + I will come for you to-morrow at +half-past five. We will dine together at the Thespian;—and +then I will have a box at the Haymarket. The Thespian is a good +sort of place, and lots of ladies dine there. You can dine in +your bonnet.<br> +<br> + Yours affectionately,<br> +<br> + P. M.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Some half-formed idea ran through his brain that P. M. was a safer +signature than Paul Montague. Then came a long train of +thoughts as to the perils of the whole proceeding. She had told +him that she had announced herself to the keeper of the lodging-house +as engaged to him, and he had in a manner authorized the statement by +declining to contradict it at once. And now, after that +announcement, he was assenting to her proposal that they should go +out and amuse themselves together. Hitherto she had always +seemed to him to be open, candid, and free from intrigue. He +had known her to be impulsive, capricious, at times violent, but +never deceitful. Perhaps he was unable to read correctly the +inner character of a woman whose experience of the world had been +much wider than his own. His mind misgave him that it might be +so; but still he thought that he knew that she was not +treacherous. And yet did not her present acts justify him in +thinking that she was carrying on a plot against him? The note, +however, was sent, and he prepared for the evening of the play, +leaving the dangers of the occasion to adjust themselves. He +ordered the dinner and he took the box, and at the hour fixed he was +again at her lodgings. + +<p>The woman of the house with a smile showed him into Mrs Hurtle's +sitting-room, and he at once perceived that the smile was intended to +welcome him as an accepted lover. It was a smile half of +congratulation to the lover, half of congratulation to herself as a +woman that another man had been caught by the leg and made +fast. Who does not know the smile? What man, who has been +caught and made sure, has not felt a certain dissatisfaction at being +so treated, understanding that the smile is intended to convey to him +a sense of his own captivity? It has, however, generally +mattered but little to us. If we have felt that something of +ridicule was intended, because we have been regarded as cocks with +their spurs cut away, then we also have a pride when we have declared +to ourselves that upon the whole we have gained more than we have +lost. But with Paul Montague at the present moment there was no +satisfaction, no pride,—only a feeling of danger which every hour +became deeper, and stronger, with less chance of escape. He was +almost tempted at this moment to detain the woman, and tell her the +truth,—and bear the immediate consequences. But there would be +treason in doing so, and he would not, could not do it. + +<p>He was left hardly a moment to think of this. Almost before +the woman had shut the door, Mrs Hurtle came to him out of her +bedroom, with her hat on her head. Nothing could be more simple +than her dress, and nothing prettier. It was now June, and the +weather was warm, and the lady wore a light gauzy black dress,—there +is a fabric which the milliners I think call grenadine,—coming close +up round her throat. It was very pretty, and she was prettier +even than her dress. And she had on a hat, black also, small +and simple, but very pretty. There are times at which a man +going to a theatre with a lady wishes her to be bright in her +apparel,—almost gorgeous; in which he will hardly be contented +unless her cloak be scarlet, and her dress white, and her gloves of +some bright hue,—unless she wear roses or jewels in her hair. +It is thus our girls go to the theatre now, when they go intending +that all the world shall know who they are. But there are times +again in which a man would prefer that his companion should be very +quiet in her dress,—but still pretty; in which he would choose that +she should dress herself for him only. All this Mrs Hurtle had +understood accurately; and Paul Montague, who understood nothing of +it, was gratified. "You told me to have a hat, and here I +am,—hat and all." She gave him her hand, and laughed, and +looked pleasantly at him, as though there was no cause of unhappiness +between them. The lodging-house woman saw them enter the cab, +and muttered some little word as they went off. Paul did not +hear the word, but was sure that it bore some indistinct reference to +his expected marriage. + +<p>Neither during the drive, nor at the dinner, nor during the +performance at the theatre, did she say a word in allusion to her +engagement. It was with them, as in former days it had been at +New York. She whispered pleasant words to him, touching his arm +now and again with her finger as she spoke, seeming ever better +inclined to listen than to speak. Now and again she referred, +after some slightest fashion, to little circumstances that had +occurred between them, to some joke, some hour of tedium, some moment +of delight; but it was done as one man might do it to another,—if any +man could have done it so pleasantly. There was a scent which he +had once approved, and now she bore it on her handkerchief. +There was a ring which he had once given her, and she wore it on the +finger with which she touched his sleeve. With his own hands he +had once adjusted her curls, and each curl was as he had placed +it. She had a way of shaking her head, that was very pretty,—a +way that might, one would think, have been dangerous at her age, as +likely to betray those first grey hairs which will come to disturb the +last days of youth. He had once told her in sport to be more +careful. She now shook her head again, and, as he smiled, she +told him that she could still dare to be careless. There are a +thousand little silly softnesses which are pretty and endearing +between acknowledged lovers, with which no woman would like to +dispense, to which even men who are in love submit sometimes with +delight; but which in other circumstances would be vulgar,—and to the +woman distasteful. There are closenesses and sweet approaches, +smiles and nods and pleasant winkings, whispers, innuendoes and hints, +little mutual admirations and assurances that there are things known +to those two happy ones of which the world beyond is altogether +ignorant. Much of this comes of nature, but something of it +sometimes comes by art. Of such art as there may be in it Mrs +Hurtle was a perfect master. No allusion was made to their +engagement,—not an unpleasant word was spoken; but the art was +practised with all its pleasant adjuncts. Paul was flattered to +the top of his bent; and, though the sword was hanging over his head, +though he knew that the sword must fall,—must partly fall that very +night,—still he enjoyed it. + +<p>There are men who, of their natures, do not like women, even though +they may have wives and legions of daughters, and be surrounded by +things feminine in all the affairs of their lives. Others again +have their strongest affinities and sympathies with women, and are +rarely altogether happy when removed from their influence. Paul +Montague was of the latter sort. At this time he was thoroughly +in love with Hetta Carbury, and was not in love with Mrs Hurtle. +He would have given much of his golden prospects in the American +railway to have had Mrs Hurtle reconveyed suddenly to San +Francisco. And yet he had a delight in her presence. "The +acting isn't very good," he said when the piece was nearly over. + +<p>"What does it signify? What we enjoy or what we suffer +depends upon the humour. The acting is not first-rate, but I +have listened and laughed and cried, because I have been happy." + +<p>He was bound to tell her that he also had enjoyed the evening, and +was bound to say it in no voice of hypocritical constraint. "It +has been very jolly," he said. + +<p>"And one has so little that is really jolly, as you call it. +I wonder whether any girl ever did sit and cry like that because her +lover talked to another woman. What I find fault with is that +the writers and actors are so ignorant of men and women as we see them +every day. It's all right that she should cry, but she wouldn't +cry there." The position described was so nearly her own, that +he could say nothing to this. She had so spoken on +purpose,—fighting her own battle after her own fashion, knowing well +that her words would confuse him. "A woman hides such +tears. She may be found crying because she is unable to hide +them;—but she does not willingly let the other woman see them. +Does she?" + +<p>"I suppose not." + +<p>"Medea did not weep when she was introduced to Creusa." + +<p>"Women are not all Medeas," he replied. + +<p>"There's a dash of the savage princess about most of them. I +am quite ready if you like. I never want to see the curtain +fall. And I have had no nosegay brought in a wheelbarrow to +throw on to the stage. Are you going to see me home?" + +<p>"Certainly." + +<p>"You need not. I'm not a bit afraid of a London cab by +myself." But of course he accompanied her to Islington. He +owed her at any rate as much as that. She continued to talk +during the whole journey. What a wonderful place London was,—so +immense, but so dirty! New York of course was not so big, but +was, she thought, pleasanter. But Paris was the gem of gems +among towns. She did not like Frenchmen, and she liked +Englishmen even better than Americans; but she fancied that she could +never like English women. "I do so hate all kinds of +buckram. I like good conduct, and law, and religion too if it be +not forced down one's throat; but I hate what your women call +propriety. I suppose what we have been doing to-night is very +improper; but I am quite sure that it has not been in the least +wicked." + +<p>"I don't think it has," said Paul Montague very tamely. It is +a long way from the Haymarket to Islington, but at last the cab +reached the lodging-house door. "Yes, this is it," she +said. "Even about the houses there is an air of stiff-necked +propriety which frightens me." She was getting out as she spoke, +and he had already knocked at the door. "Come in for one +moment," she said as he paid the cabman. The woman the while was +standing with the door in her hand. It was near midnight,—but, +when people are engaged, hours do not matter. The woman of the +house, who was respectability herself,—a nice kind widow, with five +children, named Pipkin,—understood that and smiled again as he +followed the lady into the sitting-room. She had already taken +off her hat and was flinging it on to the sofa as he entered. +"Shut the door for one moment," she said; and he shut it. Then +she threw herself into his arms, not kissing him but looking up into +his face. "Oh Paul," she exclaimed, "my darling! Oh Paul, +my love! I will not bear to be separated from you. No, +no;—never. I swear it, and you may believe me. There is +nothing I cannot do for love of you,—but to lose you." Then she +pushed him from her and looked away from him, clasping her hands +together. "But Paul, I mean to keep my pledge to you +to-night. It was to be an island in our troubles, a little +holiday in our hard school-time, and I will not destroy it at its +close. You will see me again soon,—will you not?" He +nodded assent, then took her in his arms and kissed her, and left her +without a word. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="28"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII. Dolly Longestaffe Goes into the City</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It has been told how the gambling at the Beargarden went on one +Sunday night. On the following Monday Sir Felix did not go to +the club. He had watched Miles Grendall at play, and was sure +that on more than one or two occasions the man had cheated. Sir +Felix did not quite know what in such circumstances it would be best +for him to do. Reprobate as he was himself, this work of +villainy was new to him and seemed to be very terrible. What +steps ought he to take? He was quite sure of his facts, and yet +he feared that Nidderdale and Grasslough and Longestaffe would not +believe him. He would have told Montague, but Montague had, he +thought, hardly enough authority at the club to be of any use to +him. On the Tuesday again he did not go to the club. He +felt severely the loss of the excitement to which he had been +accustomed, but the thing was too important to him to be slurred +over. He did not dare to sit down and play with the man who had +cheated him without saying anything about it. On the Wednesday +afternoon life was becoming unbearable to him and he sauntered into +the building at about five in the afternoon. There, as a matter +of course, he found Dolly Longestaffe drinking sherry and +bitters. "Where the blessed angels have you been?" said +Dolly. Dolly was at that moment alert with the sense of a duty +performed. He had just called on his sister and written a sharp +letter to his father, and felt himself to be almost a man of business. + +<p>"I've had fish of my own to fry," said Felix, who had passed the +last two days in unendurable idleness. Then he referred again to +the money which Dolly owed him, not making any complaint, not indeed +asking for immediate payment, but explaining with an air of importance +that if a commercial arrangement could be made, it might, at this +moment, be very serviceable to him. "I'm particularly anxious to +take up those shares," said Felix. + +<p>"Of course you ought to have your money." + +<p>"I don't say that at all, old fellow. I know very well that +you're all right. You're not like that fellow, Miles Grendall." + +<p>"Well; no. Poor Miles has got nothing to bless himself +with. I suppose I could get it, and so I ought to pay." + +<p>"That's no excuse for Grendall," said Sir Felix, shaking his head. + +<p>"A chap can't pay if he hasn't got it, Carbury. A chap ought +to pay of course. I've had a letter from our lawyer within the +last half hour—here it is." And Dolly pulled a letter out of +his pocket which he had opened and read indeed the last hour, but +which had been duly delivered at his lodgings early in the +morning. "My governor wants to sell Pickering, and Melmotte +wants to buy the place. My governor can't sell without me, and +I've asked for half the plunder. I know what's what. My +interest in the property is greater than his. It isn't much of a +place, and they are talking of £50,000, over and above the debt upon +it. £25,000 would pay off what I owe on my own property, and +make me very square. From what this fellow says I suppose +they're going to give in to my terms." + +<p>"By George, that'll be a grand thing for you, Dolly." + +<p>"Oh yes. Of course I want it. But I don't like the +place going. I'm not much of a fellow, I know. I'm awfully +lazy and can't get myself to go in for things as I ought to do; but +I've a sort of feeling that I don't like the family property going to +pieces. A fellow oughtn't to let his family property go to +pieces." + +<p>"You never lived at Pickering." + +<p>"No;—and I don't know that it is any good. It gives us 3 per +cent. on the money it's worth, while the governor is paying 6 per +cent., and I'm paying 25, for the money we've borrowed. I know +more about it than you'd think. It ought to be sold, and now I +suppose it will be sold. Old Melmotte knows all about it, and if +you like I'll go with you to the city to-morrow and make it straight +about what I owe you. He'll advance me £1,000, and then you can +get the shares. Are you going to dine here?" + +<p>Sir Felix said that he would dine at the club, but declared, with +considerable mystery in his manner, that he could not stay and play +whist afterwards. He acceded willingly to Dolly's plans of +visiting Abchurch Lane on the following day, but had some difficulty +in inducing his friend to consent to fix on an hour early enough for +city purposes. Dolly suggested that they should meet at the club +at 4 p.m. Sir Felix had named noon, and promised to call at Dolly's +lodgings. They split the difference at last and agreed to start +at two. They then dined together, Miles Grendall dining alone at +the next table to them. Dolly and Grendall spoke to each other +frequently, but in that conversation the young baronet would not +join. Nor did Grendall ever address himself to Sir Felix. +"Is there anything up between you and Miles?" said Dolly, when they +had adjourned to the smoking-room. + +<p>"I can't bear him." + +<p>"There never was any love between you two, I know. But you +used to speak, and you've played with him all through." + +<p>"Played with him! I should think I have. Though he did +get such a haul last Sunday he owes me more than you do now." + +<p>"Is that the reason you haven't played the last two nights?" + +<p>Sir Felix paused a moment. "No;—that is not the +reason. I'll tell you all about it in the cab to-morrow." +Then he left the club, declaring that he would go up to Grosvenor +Square and see Marie Melmotte. He did go up to the Square, and +when he came to the house he would not go in. What was the +good? He could do nothing further till he got old Melmotte's +consent, and in no way could he so probably do that as by showing that +he had got money wherewith to buy shares in the railway. What he +did with himself during the remainder of the evening the reader need +not know, but on his return home at some comparatively early hour, he +found this note from Marie. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +Wednesday Afternoon.<br> +<br> +DEAREST FELIX,<br> +<br> + Why don't we see you? Mamma would +say nothing if you came. Papa is never in the +drawing-room. Miss Longestaffe is here of course, and people +always come in in the evening. We are just going to dine out at +the Duchess of Stevenage's. Papa, and mamma and I. Mamma +told me that Lord Nidderdale is to be there, but you need not be a bit +afraid. I don't like Lord Nidderdale, and I will never take any +one but the man I love. You know who that is. Miss +Longestaffe is so angry because she can't go with us. What do +you think of her telling me that she did not understand being left +alone? We are to go afterwards to a musical party at Lady +Gamut's. Miss Longestaffe is going with us, but she says she +hates music. She is such a set-up thing! I wonder why papa +has her here. We don't go anywhere to-morrow evening, so pray +come.<br> +<br> + And why haven't you written me something +and sent it to Didon? She won't betray us. And if she did, +what matters? I mean to be true. If papa were to beat me +into a mummy I would stick to you. He told me once to take Lord +Nidderdale, and then he told me to refuse him. And now he wants +me to take him again. But I won't. I'll take no one but my +own darling.<br> +<br> + Yours for ever and ever,<br> +<br> + MARIE<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Now that the young lady had begun to have an interest of her own in +life, she was determined to make the most of it. All this was +delightful to her, but to Sir Felix it was simply "a bother." +Sir Felix was quite willing to marry the girl to-morrow,—on condition +of course that the money was properly arranged; but he was not willing +to go through much work in the way of love-making with Marie +Melmotte. In such business he preferred Ruby Ruggles as a +companion. + +<p>On the following day Felix was with his friend at the appointed +time, and was only kept an hour waiting while Dolly ate his breakfast +and struggled into his coat and boots. On their way to the city +Felix told his dreadful story about Miles Grendall. "By George!" +said Dolly. "And you think you saw him do it!" + +<p>"It's not thinking at all. I'm sure I saw him do it three +times. I believe he always had an ace somewhere about +him." Dolly sat quite silent thinking of it. "What had I +better do?" asked Sir Felix. + +<p>"By George;—I don't know." + +<p>"What should you do?" + +<p>"Nothing at all. I shouldn't believe my own eyes. Or +if I did, should take care not to look at him." + +<p>"You wouldn't go on playing with him?" + +<p>"Yes I should. It'd be such a bore breaking up." + +<p>"But Dolly,—if you think of it!" + +<p>"That's all very fine, my dear fellow, but I shouldn't think of it." + +<p>"And you won't give me your advice." + +<p>"Well—no; I think I'd rather not. I wish you hadn't told +me. Why did you pick me out to tell me? Why didn't you +tell Nidderdale?" + +<p>"He might have said, why didn't you tell Longestaffe?" + +<p>"No, he wouldn't. Nobody would suppose that anybody would +pick me out for this kind of thing. If I'd known that you were +going to tell me such a story as this I wouldn't have come with you." + +<p>"That's nonsense, Dolly." + +<p>"Very well. I can't bear these kind of things. I feel +all in a twitter already." + +<p>"You mean to go on playing just the same?" + +<p>"Of course I do. If he won anything very heavy I should begin +to think about it, I suppose. Oh; this is Abchurch Lane, is +it? Now for the man of money." + +<p>The man of money received them much more graciously than Felix had +expected. Of course nothing was said about Marie and no further +allusion was made to the painful subject of the baronet's +"property." Both Dolly and Sir Felix were astonished by the +quick way in which the great financier understood their views and the +readiness with which he undertook to comply with them. No +disagreeable questions were asked as to the nature of the debt between +the young men. Dolly was called upon to sign a couple of +documents, and Sir Felix to sign one,—and then they were assured that +the thing was done. Mr Adolphus Longestaffe had paid Sir Felix +Carbury a thousand pounds, and Sir Felix Carbury's commission had been +accepted by Mr Melmotte for the purchase of railway stock to that +amount. Sir Felix attempted to say a word. He endeavoured +to explain that his object in this commercial transaction was to make +money immediately by reselling the shares,—and to go on continually +making money by buying at a low price and selling at a high +price. He no doubt did believe that, being a Director, if he +could once raise the means of beginning this game, he could go on with +it for an unlimited period;—buy and sell, buy and sell;—so that he +would have an almost regular income. This, as far as he could +understand, was what Paul Montague was allowed to do,—simply because +he had become a Director with a little money. Mr Melmotte was +cordiality itself, but he could not be got to go into +particulars. It was all right. "You will wish to sell +again, of course,—of course. I'll watch the market for +you." When the young men left the room all they knew, or thought +that they knew, was, that Dolly Longestaffe had authorized Melmotte to +pay a thousand pounds on his behalf to Sir Felix, and that Sir Felix +had instructed the same great man to buy shares with the amount. +"But why didn't he give you the scrip?" said Dolly on his way +westwards. + +<p>"I suppose it's all right with him," said Sir Felix. + +<p>"Oh yes;—it's all right. Thousands of pounds to him are only +like half-crowns to us fellows. I should say it's all +right. All the same, he's the biggest rogue out, you +know." Sir Felix already began to be unhappy about his thousand +pounds. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="29"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIX. Miss Melmotte's Courage</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lady Carbury continued to ask frequent questions as to the +prosecution of her son's suit, and Sir Felix began to think that he +was persecuted. "I have spoken to her father," he said crossly. + +<p>"And what did Mr Melmotte say?" + +<p>"Say;—what should he say? He wanted to know what income I +had got. After all he's an old screw." + +<p>"Did he forbid you to come there any more?" + +<p>"Now, mother, it's no use your cross-examining me. If you'll +let me alone I'll do the best I can." + +<p>"She has accepted you, herself?" + +<p>"Of course she has. I told you that at Carbury." + +<p>"Then, Felix, if I were you I'd run off with her. I would +indeed. It's done every day, and nobody thinks any harm of it +when you marry the girl. You could do it now because I know +you've got money. From all I can hear she's just the sort of +girl that would go with you." The son sat silent, listening to +these maternal councils. He did believe that Marie would go off +with him, were he to propose the scheme to her. Her own father +had almost alluded to such a proceeding,—had certainly hinted that it +was feasible,—but at the same time had very clearly stated that in +such case the ardent lover would have to content himself with the lady +alone. In any such event as that there would be no +fortune. But then, might not that only be a threat? Rich +fathers generally do forgive their daughters, and a rich father with +only one child would surely forgive her when she returned to him, as +she would do in this instance, graced with a title. Sir Felix +thought of all this as he sat there silent. His mother read his +thoughts as she continued. "Of course, Felix, there must be some +risk." + +<p>"Fancy what it would be to be thrown over at last!" he +exclaimed. "I couldn't bear it. I think I should kill +her." + +<p>"Oh no, Felix; you wouldn't do that. But when I say there +would be some risk I mean that there would be very little. There +would be nothing in it that ought to make him really angry. He +has nobody else to give his money to, and it would be much nicer to +have his daughter, Lady Carbury, with him, than to be left all alone +in the world." + +<p>"I couldn't live with him, you know. I couldn't do it." + +<p>"You needn't live with him, Felix. Of course she would visit +her parents. When the money was once settled you need see as +little of them as you pleased. Pray do not allow trifles to +interfere with you. If this should not succeed, what are you to +do? We shall all starve unless something be done. If I +were you, Felix, I would take her away at once. They say she is +of age." + +<p>"I shouldn't know where to take her," said Sir Felix, almost +stunned into thoughtfulness by the magnitude of the proposition made +to him. "All that about Scotland is done with now." + +<p>"Of course you would marry her at once." + +<p>"I suppose so,—unless it were better to stay as we were, till the +money was settled." + +<p>"Oh no; no! Everybody would be against you. If you take +her off in a spirited sort of way and then marry her, everybody will +be with you. That's what you want. The father and mother +will be sure to come round, if—" + +<p>"The mother is nothing." + +<p>"He will come round if people speak up in your favour. I +could get Mr Alf and Mr Broune to help. I'd try it, Felix; +indeed I would. Ten thousand a year is not to be had every +year." + +<p>Sir Felix gave no assent to his mother's views. He felt no +desire to relieve her anxiety by an assurance of activity in the +matter. But the prospect was so grand that it had excited even +him. He had money sufficient for carrying out the scheme, and if +he delayed the matter now, it might well be that he would never again +find himself so circumstanced. He thought that he would ask +somebody whither he ought to take her, and what he ought to do with +her;—and that he would then make the proposition to herself. +Miles Grendall would be the man to tell him, because, with all his +faults, Miles did understand things. But he could not ask +Miles. He and Nidderdale were good friends; but Nidderdale +wanted the girl for himself. Grasslough would be sure to tell +Nidderdale. Dolly would be altogether useless. He thought +that, perhaps, Herr Vossner would be the man to help him. There +would be no difficulty out of which Herr Vossner would not extricate +"a fellow,"—if "the fellow" paid him. + +<p>On Thursday evening he went to Grosvenor Square, as desired by +Marie,—but unfortunately found Melmotte in the drawing-room. +Lord Nidderdale was there also, and his lordship's old father, the +Marquis of Auld Reekie, whom Felix, when he entered the room, did not +know. He was a fierce-looking, gouty old man, with watery eyes, +and very stiff grey hair,—almost white. He was standing up +supporting himself on two sticks when Sir Felix entered the +room. There were also present Madame Melmotte, Miss Longestaffe, +and Marie. As Felix had entered the hail one huge footman had +said that the ladies were not at home; then there had been for a +moment a whispering behind a door,—in which he afterwards conceived +that Madame Didon had taken a part;—and upon that a second tall +footman had contradicted the first and had ushered him up to the +drawing-room. He felt considerably embarrassed, but shook hands +with the ladies, bowed to Melmotte, who seemed to take no notice of +him, and nodded to Lord Nidderdale. He had not had time to place +himself, when the Marquis arranged things. "Suppose we go +downstairs," said the Marquis. + +<p>"Certainly, my lord," said Melmotte. "I'll show your lordship +the way." The Marquis did not speak to his son, but poked at him +with his stick, as though poking him out of the door. So +instigated, Nidderdale followed the financier, and the gouty old +Marquis toddled after them. + +<p>Madame Melmotte was beside herself with trepidation. "You +should not have been made to come up at all," she said. "Il faut +que vous vous retiriez." + +<p>"I am very sorry," said Sir Felix, looking quite aghast. "I +think that I had at any rate better retire," said Miss Longestaffe, +raising herself to her full height and stalking out of the room. + +<p>"Qu'elle est méchante," said Madame Melmotte. "Oh, she +is so bad. Sir Felix, you had better go too. +Yes,—indeed." + +<p>"No," said Marie, running to him, and taking hold of his arm. +"Why should he go? I want papa to know." + +<p>"Il vous tuera," said Madame Melmotte. "My God, yes." + +<p>"Then he shall," said Marie, clinging to her lover. "I will +never marry Lord Nidderdale. If he were to cut me into bits I +wouldn't do it. Felix, you love me; do you not?" + +<p>"Certainly," said Sir Felix, slipping his arm round her waist. + +<p>"Mamma," said Marie, "I will never have any other man but +him;—never, never, never. Oh, Felix, tell her that you love +me." + +<p>"You know that, don't you, ma'am?" Sir Felix was a little +troubled in his mind as to what he should say, or what he should do. + +<p>"Oh, love! It is a beastliness," said Madame Melmotte. +"Sir Felix, you had better go. Yes, indeed. Will you be so +obliging?" + +<p>"Don't go," said Marie. "No, mamma, he shan't go. What +has he to be afraid of? I will walk down among them into papa's +room, and say that I will never marry that man, and that this is my +lover. Felix, will you come?" + +<p>Sir Felix did not quite like the proposition. There had been +a savage ferocity in that Marquis's eye, and there was habitually a +heavy sternness about Melmotte, which together made him resist the +invitation. "I don't think I have a right to do that," he said, +"because it is Mr Melmotte's own house." + +<p>"I wouldn't mind," said Marie. "I told papa to-day that I +wouldn't marry Lord Nidderdale." + +<p>"Was he angry with you?" + +<p>"He laughed at me. He manages people till he thinks that +everybody must do exactly what he tells them. He may kill me, +but I will not do it. I have quite made up my mind. Felix, +if you will be true to me, nothing shall separate us. I will not +be ashamed to tell everybody that I love you." + +<p>Madame Melmotte had now thrown herself into a chair and was +sighing. Sir Felix stood on the rug with his arm round Marie's +waist listening to her protestations, but saying little in answer to +them,—when, suddenly, a heavy step was heard ascending the +stairs. "C'est lui," screamed Madame Melmotte, bustling up from +her seat and hurrying out of the room by a side door. The two +lovers were alone for one moment, during which Marie lifted up her +face, and Sir Felix kissed her lips. "Now be brave," she said, +escaping from his arm, "and I'll be brave." Mr Melmotte looked +round the room as he entered. "Where are the others?" he asked. + +<p>"Mamma has gone away, and Miss Longestaffe went before mamma." + +<p>"Sir Felix, it is well that I should tell you that my daughter is +engaged to marry Lord Nidderdale." + +<p>"Sir Felix, I am not engaged—to—marry Lord Nidderdale," said +Marie. "It's no good, papa. I won't do it. If you +chop me to pieces, I won't do it." + +<p>"She will marry Lord Nidderdale," continued Mr Melmotte, addressing +himself to Sir Felix. "As that is arranged, you will perhaps +think it better to leave us. I shall be happy to renew my +acquaintance with you as soon as the fact is recognized;—or happy to +see you in the city at any time." + +<p>"Papa, he is my lover," said Marie. + +<p>"Pooh!" + +<p>"It is not pooh. He is. I will never have any +other. I hate Lord Nidderdale; and as for that dreadful old man, +I could not bear to look at him. Sir Felix is as good a +gentleman as he is. If you loved me, papa, you would not want to +make me unhappy all my life." + +<p>Her father walked up to her rapidly with his hand raised, and she +clung only the closer to her lover's arm. At this moment Sir +Felix did not know what he might best do, but he thoroughly wished +himself out in the square. "Jade," said Melmotte, "get to your +room." + +<p>"Of course I will go to bed, if you tell me, papa." + +<p>"I do tell you. How dare you take hold of him in that way +before me! Have you no idea of disgrace?" + +<p>"I am not disgraced. It is not more disgraceful to love him +than that other man. Oh, papa, don't. You hurt me. I +am going." He took her by the arm and dragged her to the door, +and then thrust her out. + +<p>"I am very sorry, Mr Melmotte," said Sir Felix, "to have had a hand +in causing this disturbance." + +<p>"Go away, and don't come back any more;—that's all. You +can't both marry her. All you have got to understand is +this. I'm not the man to give my daughter a single shilling if +she marries against my consent. By the God that hears me, Sir +Felix, she shall not have one shilling. But look you,—if you'll +give this up, I shall be proud to co-operate with you in anything you +may wish to have done in the city." + +<p>After this Sir Felix left the room, went down the stairs, had the +door opened for him, and was ushered into the square. But as he +went through the hall a woman managed to shove a note into his hand +which he read as soon as he found himself under a gas lamp. It +was dated that morning, and had therefore no reference to the fray +which had just taken place. It ran as follows: + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> + I hope you will come to-night. +There is something I cannot tell you then, but you ought to know +it. When we were in France papa thought it wise to settle a lot +of money on me. I don't know how much, but I suppose it was +enough to live on if other things went wrong. He never talked to +me about it, but I know it was done. And it hasn't been undone, +and can't be without my leave. He is very angry about you this +morning, for I told him I would never give you up. He says he +won't give me anything if I marry without his leave. But I am +sure he cannot take it away. I tell you, because I think I ought +to tell you everything.<br> +<br> + M.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Sir Felix as he read this could not but think that he had become +engaged to a very enterprising young lady. It was evident that +she did not care to what extent she braved her father on behalf of her +lover, and now she coolly proposed to rob him. But Sir Felix saw +no reason why he should not take advantage of the money made over to +the girl's name, if he could lay his bands on it. He did not +know much of such transactions, but he knew more than Marie Melmotte, +and could understand that a man in Melmotte's position should want to +secure a portion of his fortune against accidents, by settling it on +his daughter. Whether, having so settled it, he could again +resume it without the daughter's assent, Sir Felix did not know. +Marie, who had no doubt been regarded as an absolutely passive +instrument when the thing was done, was now quite alive to the benefit +which she might possibly derive from it. Her proposition, put +into plain English, amounted to this: "Take me and marry me without my +father's consent,—and then you and I together can rob my father of +the money which, for his own purposes, he has settled upon me." +He had looked upon the lady of his choice as a poor weak thing, +without any special character of her own, who was made worthy of +consideration only by the fact that she was a rich man's daughter; but +now she began to loom before his eyes as something bigger than +that. She had had a will of her own when the mother had +none. She had not been afraid of her brutal father when he, Sir +Felix, had trembled before him. She had offered to be beaten, +and killed, and chopped to pieces on behalf of her lover. There +could be no doubt about her running away if she were asked. + +<p>It seemed to him that within the last month he had gained a great +deal of experience, and that things which heretofore had been +troublesome to him, or difficult, or perhaps impossible, were now +coming easily within his reach. He had won two or three thousand +pounds at cards, whereas invariable loss had been the result of the +small play in which he had before indulged. He had been set to +marry this heiress, having at first no great liking for the attempt, +because of its difficulties and the small amount of hope which it +offered him. The girl was already willing and anxious to jump +into his arms. Then he had detected a man cheating at cards,—an +extent of iniquity that was awful to him before he had seen it,—and +was already beginning to think that there was not very much in +that. If there was not much in it, if such a man as Miles +Grendall could cheat at cards and be brought to no punishment, why +should not he try it? It was a rapid way of winning, no +doubt. He remembered that on one or two occasions he had asked +his adversary to cut the cards a second time at whist, because he had +observed that there was no honour at the bottom. No feeling of +honesty had interfered with him. The little trick had hardly +been premeditated, but when successful without detection had not +troubled his conscience. Now it seemed to him that much more +than that might be done without detection. But nothing had +opened his eyes to the ways of the world so widely as the sweet +lover-like proposition made by Miss Melmotte for robbing her +father. It certainly recommended the girl to him. She had +been able at an early age, amidst the circumstances of a very secluded +life, to throw off from her altogether those scruples of honesty, +those bugbears of the world, which are apt to prevent great +enterprises in the minds of men. + +<p>What should he do next? This sum of money of which Marie +wrote so easily was probably large. It would not have been worth +the while of such a man as Mr Melmotte to make a trifling provision of +this nature. It could hardly be less than £50,000,—might +probably be very much more. But this was certain to him,—that +if he and Marie were to claim this money as man and wife, there could +then be no hope of further liberality. It was not probable that +such a man as Mr Melmotte would forgive even an only child such an +offence as that. Even if it were obtained, £50,000 would not be +very much. And Melmotte might probably have means, even if the +robbery were duly perpetrated, of making the possession of the money +very uncomfortable. These were deep waters into which Sir Felix +was preparing to plunge; and he did not feel himself to be altogether +comfortable, although he liked the deep waters. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="30"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX. Mr Melmotte's Promise</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>On the following Saturday there appeared in Mr Alf's paper, the +"Evening Pulpit," a very remarkable article on the South Central +Pacific and Mexican Railway. It was an article that attracted a +great deal of attention and was therefore remarkable, but it was in +nothing more remarkable than in this,—that it left on the mind of +its reader no impression of any decided opinion about the +railway. The Editor would at any future time be able to refer +to his article with equal pride whether the railway should become a +great cosmopolitan fact, or whether it should collapse amidst the +foul struggles of a horde of swindlers. In utrumque paratus, +the article was mysterious, suggestive, amusing, well-informed,—that +in the "Evening Pulpit" was a matter of course,—and, above all +things, ironical. Next to its omniscience its irony was the +strongest weapon belonging to the "Evening Pulpit." There was a +little praise given, no doubt in irony, to the duchesses who served +Mr Melmotte. There was a little praise, given of course in +irony, to Mr Melmotte's Board of English Directors. There was a +good deal of praise, but still alloyed by a dash of irony, bestowed +on the idea of civilizing Mexico by joining it to California. +Praise was bestowed upon England for taking up the matter, but +accompanied by some ironical touches at her incapacity to believe +thoroughly in any enterprise not originated by herself. Then +there was something said of the universality of Mr Melmotte's +commercial genius, but whether said in a spirit prophetic of ultimate +failure and disgrace, or of heavenborn success and unequalled +commercial splendour, no one could tell. + +<p>It was generally said at the clubs that Mr Alf had written this +article himself. Old Splinter, who was one of a body of men +possessing an excellent cellar of wine and calling themselves Paides +Pallados, and who had written for the heavy quarterlies any time this +last forty years, professed that he saw through the article. +The "Evening Pulpit" had been, he explained, desirous of going as far +as it could in denouncing Mr Melmotte without incurring the danger of +an action for libel. Mr Splinter thought that the thing was +clever but mean. These new publications generally were +mean. Mr Splinter was constant in that opinion; but, putting +the meanness aside, he thought that the article was well done. +According to his view it was intended to expose Mr Melmotte and the +railway. But the Paides Pallados generally did not agree with +him. Under such an interpretation, what had been the meaning of +that paragraph in which the writer had declared that the work of +joining one ocean to another was worthy of the nearest approach to +divinity that had been granted to men? Old Splinter chuckled +and gabbled as he heard this, and declared that there was not wit +enough left now even among the Paides Pallados to understand a shaft +of irony. There could be no doubt, however, at the time, that +the world did not go with old Splinter, and that the article served +to enhance the value of shares in the great railway enterprise. + +<p>Lady Carbury was sure that the article was intended to write up +the railway, and took great joy in it. She entertained in her +brain a somewhat confused notion that if she could only bestir +herself in the right direction and could induce her son to open his +eyes to his own advantage, very great things might be achieved, so +that wealth might become his handmaid and luxury the habit and the +right of his life. He was the beloved and the accepted suitor +of Marie Melmotte. He was a Director of this great company, +sitting at the same board with the great commercial hero. He +was the handsomest young man in London. And he was a +baronet. Very wild Ideas occurred to her. Should she take +Mr Alf into her entire confidence? If Melmotte and Alf could be +brought together what might they not do? Alf could write up +Melmotte, and Melmotte could shower shares upon Alf. And if +Melmotte would come and be smiled upon by herself, be flattered as +she thought that she could flatter him, be told that he was a god, +and have that passage about the divinity of joining ocean to ocean +construed to him as she could construe it, would not the great man +become plastic under her hands? And if, while this was a-doing, +Felix would run away with Marie, could not forgiveness be made +easy? And her creative mind ranged still farther. Mr +Broune might help, and even Mr Booker. To such a one as +Melmotte, a man doing great things through the force of the +confidence placed in him by the world at large, the freely-spoken +support of the Press would be everything. Who would not buy +shares in a railway as to which Mr Broune and Mr Alf would combine in +saying that it was managed by "divinity"? Her thoughts were +rather hazy, but from day to day she worked hard to make them clear +to herself. + +<p>On the Sunday afternoon Mr Booker called on her and talked to her +about the article. She did not say much to Mr Booker as to her +own connection with Mr Melmotte, telling herself that prudence was +essential in the present emergency. But she listened with all +her ears. It was Mr Booker's idea that the man was going "to +make a spoon or spoil a horn." "You think him honest;—don't +you?" asked Lady Carbury. Mr Booker smiled and hesitated. +"Of course, I mean honest as men can be in such very large +transactions." + +<p>"Perhaps that is the best way of putting it," said Mr Booker. + +<p>"If a thing can be made great and beneficent, a boon to humanity, +simply by creating a belief in it, does not a man become a benefactor +to his race by creating that belief?" + +<p>"At the expense of veracity?" suggested Mr Booker. + +<p>"At the expense of anything?" rejoined Lady Carbury with +energy. "One cannot measure such men by the ordinary rule." + +<p>"You would do evil to produce good?" asked Mr Booker. + +<p>"I do not call it doing evil. You have to destroy a thousand +living creatures every time you drink a glass of water, but you do +not think of that when you are athirst. You cannot send a ship +to sea without endangering lives. You do send ships to sea +though men perish yearly. You tell me this man may perhaps ruin +hundreds, but then again he may create a new world in which millions +will be rich and happy." + +<p>"You are an excellent casuist, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"I am an enthusiastic lover of beneficent audacity," said Lady +Carbury, picking her words slowly, and showing herself to be quite +satisfied with herself as she picked them. "Did I hold your +place, Mr Booker, in the literature of my country—" + +<p>"I hold no place, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"Yes;—and a very distinguished place. Were I circumstanced +as you are I should have no hesitation in lending the whole weight of +my periodical, let it be what it might, to the assistance of so great +a man and so great an object as this." + +<p>"I should be dismissed to-morrow," said Mr Booker, getting up and +laughing as he took his departure. Lady Carbury felt that, as +regarded Mr Booker, she had only thrown out a chance word that could +not do any harm. She had not expected to effect much through Mr +Booker's instrumentality. On the Tuesday evening,—her regular +Tuesday as she called it,—all her three editors came to her +drawing-room; but there came also a greater man than either of +them. She had taken the bull by the horns, and without saying +anything to anybody had written to Mr Melmotte himself, asking him to +honour her poor house with his presence. She had written a very +pretty note to him, reminding him of their meeting at Caversham, +telling him that on a former occasion Madame Melmotte and his +daughter had been so kind as to come to her, and giving him to +understand that of all the potentates now on earth he was the one to +whom she could bow the knee with the purest satisfaction. He +wrote back,—or Miles Grendall did for him,—a very plain note, +accepting the honour of Lady Carbury's invitation. + +<p>The great man came, and Lady Carbury took him under her immediate +wing with a grace that was all her own. She said a word about +their dear friends at Caversham, expressed her sorrow that her son's +engagements did not admit of his being there, and then with the +utmost audacity rushed off to the article in the "Pulpit." Her +friend, Mr Alf, the editor, had thoroughly appreciated the greatness +of Mr Melmotte's character, and the magnificence of Mr Melmotte's +undertakings. Mr Melmotte bowed and muttered something that was +inaudible. "Now I must introduce you to Mr Alf," said the +lady. The introduction was effected, and Mr Alf explained that +it was hardly necessary, as he had already been entertained as one of +Mr Melmotte's guests. + +<p>"There were a great many there I never saw, and probably never +shall see," said Mr Melmotte. + +<p>"I was one of the unfortunates," said Mr Alf. + +<p>"I'm sorry you were unfortunate. If you had come into the +whist room you would have found me." + +<p>"Ah,—if I had but known!" said Mr Alf. The editor, as was +proper, carried about with him samples of the irony which his paper +used so effectively, but it was altogether thrown away upon Melmotte. + +<p>Lady Carbury, finding that no immediate good results could be +expected from this last introduction, tried another. "Mr +Melmotte," she said, whispering to him, "I do so want to make you +known to Mr Broune. Mr Broune I know you have never met +before. A morning paper is a much heavier burden to an editor +than one published in the afternoon. Mr Broune, as of course +you know, manages the 'Breakfast Table.' There is hardly a more +influential man in London than Mr Broune. And they declare, you +know," she said, lowering the tone of her whisper as she communicated +the fact, "that his commercial articles are gospel,—absolutely +gospel." Then the two men were named to each other, and Lady +Carbury retreated;—but not out of hearing. + +<p>"Getting very hot," said Mr Melmotte. + +<p>"Very hot indeed," said Mr Broune. + +<p>"It was over 70 in the city to-day. I call that very hot for +June." + +<p>"Very hot indeed," said Mr Broune again. Then the +conversation was over. Mr Broune sidled away, and Mr Melmotte +was left standing in the middle of the room. Lady Carbury told +herself at the moment that Rome was not built in a day. She +would have been better satisfied certainly if she could have laid a +few more bricks on this day. Perseverance, however, was the +thing wanted. + +<p>But Mr Melmotte himself had a word to say, and before he left the +house he said it. "It was very good of you to ask me, Lady +Carbury;—very good." Lady Carbury intimated her opinion that +the goodness was all on the other side. "And I came," continued +Mr Melmotte, "because I had something particular to say. +Otherwise I don't go out much to evening parties. Your son has +proposed to my daughter." Lady Carbury looked up into his face +with all her eyes;—clasped both her hands together; and then, having +unclasped them, put one upon his sleeve. + +<p>"My daughter, ma'am, is engaged to another man." + +<p>"You would not enslave her affections, Mr Melmotte?" + +<p>"I won't give her a shilling if she marries any one else; that's +all. You reminded me down at Caversham that your son is a +Director at our Board." + +<p>"I did;—I did." + +<p>"I have a great respect for your son, ma'am. I don't want to +hurt him in any way. If he'll signify to my daughter that he +withdraws from this offer of his, because I'm against it, I'll see +that he does uncommon well in the city. I'll be the making of +him. Good night, ma'am." Then Mr Melmotte took his +departure without another word. + +<p>Here at any rate was an undertaking on the part of the great man +that he would be the "making of Felix," if Felix would only obey +him,—accompanied, or rather preceded, by a most positive assurance +that if Felix were to succeed in marrying his daughter he would not +give his son-in-law a shilling! There was very much to be +considered in this. She did not doubt that Felix might be +"made" by Mr Melmotte's city influences, but then any perpetuity of +such making must depend on qualifications in her son which she feared +that he did not possess. The wife without the money would be +terrible! That would be absolute ruin! There could be no +escape then; no hope. There was an appreciation of real tragedy +in her heart while she contemplated the position of Sir Felix married +to such a girl as she supposed Marie Melmotte to be, without any +means of support for either of them but what she could supply. +It would kill her. And for those young people there would be +nothing before them, but beggary and the workhouse. As she +thought of this she trembled with true maternal instincts. Her +beautiful boy,—so glorious with his outward gifts, so fit, as she +thought him, for all the graces of the grand world! Though the +ambition was vilely ignoble, the mother's love was noble and +disinterested. + +<p>But the girl was an only child. The future honours of the +house of Melmotte could be made to settle on no other head. No +doubt the father would prefer a lord for a son-in-law; and, having +that preference, would of course do as he was now doing. That +he should threaten to disinherit his daughter if she married contrary +to his wishes was to be expected. But would it not be equally a +matter of course that he should make the best of the marriage if it +were once effected? His daughter would return to him with a +title, though with one of a lower degree than his ambition +desired. To herself personally, Lady Carbury felt that the +great financier had been very rude. He had taken advantage of +her invitation that he might come to her house and threaten +her. But she would forgive that. She could pass that over +altogether if only anything were to be gained by passing it over. + +<p>She looked round the room, longing for a friend, whom she might +consult with a true feeling of genuine womanly dependence. Her +most natural friend was Roger Carbury. But even had he been +there she could not have consulted him on any matter touching the +Melmottes. His advice would have been very clear. He +would have told her to have nothing at all to do with such +adventurers. But then dear Roger was old-fashioned, and knew +nothing of people as they are now. He lived in a world which, +though slow, had been good in its way; but which, whether bad or +good, had now passed away. Then her eye settled on Mr +Broune. She was afraid of Mr Alf. She had almost begun to +think that Mr Alf was too difficult of management to be of use to +her. But Mr Broune was softer. Mr Booker was serviceable +for an article, but would not be sympathetic as a friend. + +<p>Mr Broune had been very courteous to her lately;—so much so that +on one occasion she had almost feared that the "susceptible old +goose" was going to be a goose again. That would be a bore; but +still she might make use of the friendly condition of mind which such +susceptibility would produce. When her guests began to leave +her, she spoke a word aside to him. She wanted his +advice. Would he stay for a few minutes after the rest of the +company? He did stay, and when all the others were gone she +asked her daughter to leave them. "Hetta," she said, "I have +something of business to communicate to Mr Broune." And so they +were left alone. + +<p>"I'm afraid you didn't make much of Mr Melmotte," she said +smiling. He had seated himself on the end of a sofa, close to +the arm-chair which she occupied. In reply, he only shook his +head and laughed. "I saw how it was, and I was sorry for it; +for he certainly is a wonderful man." + +<p>"I suppose he is, but he is one of those men whose powers do not +lie, I should say, chiefly in conversation. Though, indeed, +there is no reason why he should not say the same of me,—for if he +said little, I said less." + +<p>"It didn't just come off," Lady Carbury suggested with her +sweetest smile. "But now I want to tell you something. I +think I am justified in regarding you as a real friend." + +<p>"Certainly," he said, putting out his hand for hers. + +<p>She gave it to him for a moment, and then took it back +again,—finding that he did not relinquish it of his own +accord. "Stupid old goose!" she said to herself. "And now +to my story. You know my boy, Felix?" The editor nodded +his head. "He is engaged to marry that man's daughter." + +<p>"Engaged to marry Miss Melmotte?" Then Lady Carbury nodded +her head. "Why, she is said to be the greatest heiress that the +world has ever produced. I thought she was to marry Lord +Nidderdale." + +<p>"She has engaged herself to Felix. She is desperately in +love with him,—as is he with her." She tried to tell her story +truly, knowing that no advice can be worth anything that is not based +on a true story;—but lying had become her nature. "Melmotte +naturally wants her to marry the lord. He came here to tell me +that if his daughter married Felix she would not have a penny." + +<p>"Do you mean that he volunteered that as a threat?" + +<p>"Just so;—and he told me that he had come here simply with the +object of saying so. It was more candid than civil, but we must +take it as we get it." + +<p>"He would be sure to make some such threat." + +<p>"Exactly. That is just what I feel. And in these days +young people are often kept from marrying simply by a father's +fantasy. But I must tell you something else. He told me +that if Felix would desist, he would enable him to make a fortune in +the city." + +<p>"That's bosh," said Broune with decision. + +<p>"Do you think it must be so;—certainly?" + +<p>"Yes, I do. Such an undertaking, if intended by Melmotte, +would give me a worse opinion of him than I have ever held." + +<p>"He did make it." + +<p>"Then he did very wrong. He must have spoken with the +purpose of deceiving." + +<p>"You know my son is one of the Directors of that great American +Railway. It was not just as though the promise were made to a +young man who was altogether unconnected with him." + +<p>"Sir Felix's name was put there, in a hurry, merely because he has +a title, and because Melmotte thought he, as a young man, would not +be likely to interfere with him. It may be that he will be able +to sell a few shares at a profit; but, if I understand the matter +rightly, he has no capital to go into such a business." + +<p>"No;—he has no capital." + +<p>"Dear Lady Carbury, I would place no dependence at all on such a +promise as that." + +<p>"You think he should marry the girl then in spite of the father?" + +<p>Mr Broune hesitated before he replied to this question. But +it was to this question that Lady Carbury especially wished for a +reply. She wanted some one to support her under the +circumstances of an elopement. She rose from her chair, and he +rose at the same time. + +<p>"Perhaps I should have begun by saying that Felix is all but +prepared to take her off. She is quite ready to go. She +is devoted to him. Do you think he would be wrong?" + +<p>"That is a question very hard to answer." + +<p>"People do it every day. Lionel Goldsheiner ran away the +other day with Lady Julia Start, and everybody visits them." + +<p>"Oh yes, people do run away, and it all comes right. It was +the gentleman had the money then, and it is said you know that old +Lady Catchboy, Lady Julia's mother, had arranged the elopement +herself as offering the safest way of securing the rich prize. +The young lord didn't like it, so the mother had it done in that +fashion." + +<p>"There would be nothing disgraceful." + +<p>"I didn't say there would;—but nevertheless it is one of those +things a man hardly ventures to advise. If you ask me whether I +think that Melmotte would forgive her, and make her an allowance +afterwards,—I think he would." + +<p>"I am so glad to hear you say that." + +<p>"And I feel quite certain that no dependence whatever should be +placed on that promise of assistance." + +<p>"I quite agree with you. I am so much obliged to you," said +Lady Carbury, who was now determined that Felix should run off with +the girl. "You have been so very kind." Then again she +gave him her hand, as though to bid him farewell for the night. + +<p>"And now," he said, "I also have something to say to you." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="31"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI. Mr Broune Has Made up His Mind</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"And now I have something to say to you." Mr Broune as he +thus spoke to Lady Carbury rose up to his feet and then sat down +again. There was an air of perturbation about him which was +very manifest to the lady, and the cause and coming result of which +she thought that she understood. "The susceptible old goose is +going to do something highly ridiculous and very disagreeable." +It was thus that she spoke to herself of the scene that she saw was +prepared for her, but she did not foresee accurately the shape in +which the susceptibility of the "old goose" would declare +itself. "Lady Carbury," said Mr Broune, standing up a second +time, "we are neither of us so young as we used to be." + +<p>"No, indeed;—and therefore it is that we can afford to ourselves +the luxury of being friends. Nothing but age enables men and +women to know each other intimately." + +<p>This speech was a great impediment to Mr Broune's progress. +It was evidently intended to imply that he at least had reached a +time of life at which any allusion to love would be absurd. And +yet, as a fact, he was nearer fifty than sixty, was young of his age, +could walk his four or five miles pleasantly, could ride his cob in +the park with as free an air as any man of forty, and could +afterwards work through four or five hours of the night with an easy +steadiness which nothing but sound health could produce. Mr +Broune, thinking of himself and his own circumstances, could see no +reason why he should not be in love. "I hope we know each other +intimately at any rate," he said somewhat lamely. + +<p>"Oh, yes;—and it is for that reason that I have come to you for +advice. Had I been a young woman I should not have dared to ask +you." + +<p>"I don't see that. I don't quite understand that. But +it has nothing to do with my present purpose. When I said that +we were neither of us so young as we once were, I uttered what was a +stupid platitude,—a foolish truism." + +<p>"I do not think so," said Lady Carbury smiling. + +<p>"Or would have been, only that I intended something +further." Mr Broune had got himself into a difficulty and +hardly knew how to get out of it. "I was going on to say that I +hoped we were not too old to—love." + +<p>Foolish old darling! What did he mean by making such an ass +of himself? This was worse even than the kiss, as being more +troublesome and less easily pushed on one side and forgotten. +It may serve to explain the condition of Lady Carbury's mind at the +time if it be stated that she did not even at this moment suppose +that the editor of the "Morning Breakfast Table" intended to make her +an offer of marriage. She knew, or thought she knew, that +middle-aged men are fond of prating about love, and getting up +sensational scenes. The falseness of the thing, and the injury +which may come of it, did not shock her at all. Had she known +that the editor professed to be in love with some lady in the next +street, she would have been quite ready to enlist the lady in the +next street among her friends that she might thus strengthen her own +influence with Mr Broune. For herself such make-believe of an +improper passion would be inconvenient, and therefore to be +avoided. But that any man, placed as Mr Broune was in the +world,—blessed with power, with a large income, with influence +throughout all the world around him, courted, fêted, feared and +almost worshipped,—that he should desire to share her fortunes, her +misfortunes, her struggles, her poverty and her obscurity, was not +within the scope of her imagination. There was a homage in it, +of which she did not believe any man to be capable,—and which to her +would be the more wonderful as being paid to herself. She +thought so badly of men and women generally, and of Mr Broune and +herself as a man and a woman individually, that she was unable to +conceive the possibility of such a sacrifice. "Mr Broune," she +said, "I did not think that you would take advantage of the +confidence I have placed in you to annoy me in this way." + +<p>"To annoy you, Lady Carbury! The phrase at any rate is +singular. After much thought I have determined to ask you to be +my wife. That I should be—annoyed, and more than annoyed by +your refusal, is a matter of course. That I ought to expect +such annoyance is perhaps too true. But you can extricate +yourself from the dilemma only too easily." + +<p>The word "wife" came upon her like a thunder-clap. It at +once changed all her feelings towards him. She did not dream of +loving him. She felt sure that she never could love him. +Had it been on the cards with her to love any man as a lover, it +would have been some handsome spendthrift who would have hung from +her neck like a nether millstone. This man was a friend to be +used,—to be used because he knew the world. And now he gave her +this clear testimony that he knew as little of the world as any other +man. Mr Broune of the "Daily Breakfast Table" asking her to be +his wife! But mixed with her other feelings there was a +tenderness which brought back some memory of her distant youth, and +almost made her weep. That a man,—such a man,—should offer to +take half her burdens, and to confer upon her half his +blessings! What an idiot! But what a god! She had +looked upon the man as all intellect, alloyed perhaps by some +passionless remnants of the vices of his youth; and now she found +that he not only had a human heart in his bosom, but a heart that she +could touch. How wonderfully sweet! How infinitely small! + +<p>It was necessary that she should answer him;—and to her it was +only natural that she should think what answer would best assist her +own views without reference to his. It did not occur to her +that she could love him; but it did occur to her that he might lift +her out of her difficulties. What a benefit it would be to her +to have a father, and such a father, for Felix! How easy would +be a literary career to the wife of the editor of the "Morning +Breakfast Table!" And then it passed through her mind that +somebody had told her that the man was paid £3,000 a year for his +work. Would not the world, or any part of it that was +desirable, come to her drawing-room if she were the wife of Mr +Broune? It all passed through her brain at once during that +minute of silence which she allowed herself after the declaration was +made to her. But other ideas and other feelings were present to +her also. Perhaps the truest aspiration of her heart had been +the love of freedom which the tyranny of her late husband had +engendered. Once she had fled from that tyranny and had been +almost crushed by the censure to which she had been subjected. +Then her husband's protection and his tyranny had been restored to +her. + +<p>After that the freedom had come. It had been accompanied by +many hopes never as yet fulfilled, and embittered by many sorrows +which had been always present to her; but still the hopes were alive +and the remembrance of the tyranny was very clear to her. At +last the minute was over and she was bound to speak. "Mr +Broune," she said, "you have quite taken away my breath. I +never expected anything of this kind." + +<p>And now Mr Broune's mouth was opened, and his voice was +free. "Lady Carbury," he said, "I have lived a long time +without marrying, and I have sometimes thought that it would be +better for me to go on the same way to the end. I have worked +so hard all my life that when I was young I had no time to think of +love. And, as I have gone on, my mind has been so fully +employed, that I have hardly realized the want which nevertheless I +have felt. And so it has been with me till I fancied, not that +I was too old for love, but that others would think me so. Then +I met you. As I said at first, perhaps with scant gallantry, +you also are not as young as you once were. But you keep the +beauty of your youth, and the energy, and something of the freshness +of a young heart. And I have come to love you. I speak +with absolute frankness, risking your anger. I have doubted +much before I resolved upon this. It is so hard to know the +nature of another person. But I think I understand yours;—and +if you can confide your happiness with me, I am prepared to entrust +mine to your keeping." Poor Mr Broune! Though endowed +with gifts peculiarly adapted for the editing of a daily newspaper, +he could have had but little capacity for reading a woman's character +when he talked of the freshness of Lady Carbury's young mind! +And he must have surely been much blinded by love, before convincing +himself that he could trust his happiness to such keeping. + +<p>"You do me infinite honour. You pay me a great compliment," +ejaculated Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Well?" + +<p>"How am I to answer you at a moment? I expected nothing of +this. As God is to be my judge it has come upon me like a +dream. I look upon your position as almost the highest in +England,—on your prosperity as the uttermost that can be achieved." + +<p>"That prosperity, such as it is, I desire most anxiously to share +with you." + +<p>"You tell me so;—but I can hardly yet believe it. And then +how am I to know my own feelings so suddenly? Marriage as I +have found it, Mr Broune, has not been happy. I have suffered +much. I have been wounded in every joint, hurt in every +nerve,—tortured till I could hardly endure my punishment. At +last I got my liberty, and to that I have looked for happiness." + +<p>"Has it made you happy?" + +<p>"It has made me less wretched. And there is so much to be +considered! I have a son and a daughter, Mr Broune." + +<p>"Your daughter I can love as my own. I think I prove my +devotion to you when I say that I am willing for your sake to +encounter the troubles which may attend your son's future career." + +<p>"Mr Broune, I love him better,—always shall love him +better,—than anything in the world." This was calculated to +damp the lover's ardour, but he probably reflected that should he now +be successful, time might probably change the feeling which had just +been expressed. "Mr Broune," she said, "I am now so agitated +that you had better leave me. And it is very late. The +servant is sitting up, and will wonder that you should remain. +It is near two o'clock." + +<p>"When may I hope for an answer?" + +<p>"You shall not be kept waiting. I will write to you, almost +at once. I will write to you,—to-morrow; say the day after +to-morrow, on Thursday. I feel that I ought to have been +prepared with an answer; but I am so surprised that I have none +ready." He took her hand in his, and kissing it, left her +without another word. + +<p>As he was about to open the front door to let himself out, a key +from the other side raised the latch, and Sir Felix, returning from +his club, entered his mother's house. The young man looked up +into Mr Broune's face with mingled impudence and surprise. +"Halloo, old fellow," he said, "you've been keeping it up late here; +haven't you?" He was nearly drunk, and Mr Broune, perceiving +his condition, passed him without a word. Lady Carbury was +still standing in the drawing-room, struck with amazement at the +scene which had just passed, full of doubt as to her future conduct, +when she heard her son tumbling up the stairs. It was +impossible for her not to go out to him. "Felix," she said, +"why do you make so much noise as you come in?" + +<p>"Noish! I'm not making any noish. I think I'm very +early. Your people's only just gone. I shaw shat editor +fellow at the door that won't call himself Brown. He'sh great +ass'h, that fellow. All right, mother. Oh, ye'sh, I'm all +right." And so he tumbled up to bed, and his mother followed +him to see that the candle was at any rate placed squarely on the +table, beyond the reach of the bed curtains. + +<p>Mr Broune as he walked to his newspaper office experienced all +those pangs of doubt which a man feels when he has just done that +which for days and weeks past he has almost resolved that he had +better leave undone. That last apparition which he had +encountered at his lady love's door certainly had not tended to +reassure him. What curse can be much greater than that +inflicted by a drunken, reprobate son? The evil, when in the +course of things it comes upon a man, has to be borne; but why should +a man in middle life unnecessarily afflict himself with so terrible a +misfortune? The woman, too, was devoted to the cub! Then +thousands of other thoughts crowded upon him. How would this +new life suit him? He must have a new house, and new ways; must +live under a new dominion, and fit himself to new pleasures. +And what was he to gain by it? Lady Carbury was a handsome +woman, and he liked her beauty. He regarded her too as a clever +woman; and, because she had flattered him, he had liked her +conversation. He had been long enough about town to have known +better,—and as he now walked along the streets, he almost felt that +he ought to have known better. Every now and again he warmed +himself a little with the remembrance of her beauty, and told himself +that his new home would be pleasanter, though it might perhaps be +less free, than the old one. He tried to make the best of it; +but as he did so was always repressed by the memory of the appearance +of that drunken young baronet. + +<p>Whether for good or for evil, the step had been taken and the +thing was done. It did not occur to him that the lady would +refuse him. All his experience of the world was against such +refusal. Towns which consider, always render themselves. +Ladies who doubt always solve their doubts in the one +direction. Of course she would accept him;—and of course he +would stand to his guns. As he went to his work he endeavoured +to bathe himself in self-complacency; but, at the bottom of it, there +was a substratum of melancholy which leavened his prospects. + +<p>Lady Carbury went from the door of her son's room to her own +chamber, and there sat thinking through the greater part of the +night. During these hours she perhaps became a better woman, as +being more oblivious of herself, than she had been for many a +year. It could not be for the good of this man that he should +marry her,—and she did in the midst of her many troubles try to +think of the man's condition. Although in the moments of her +triumph,—and such moments were many,—she would buoy herself up with +assurances that her Felix would become a rich man, brilliant with +wealth and rank, an honour to her, a personage whose society would be +desired by many, still in her heart of hearts she knew how great was +the peril, and in her imagination she could foresee the nature of the +catastrophe which might come. He would go utterly to the dogs +and would take her with him. And whithersoever he might go, to +what lowest canine regions he might descend, she knew herself well +enough to be sure that whether married or single she would go with +him. Though her reason might be ever so strong in bidding her +to desert him, her heart, she knew, would be stronger than her +reason. He was the one thing in the world that overpowered +her. In all other matters she could scheme, and contrive, and +pretend; could get the better of her feelings and fight the world +with a double face, laughing at illusions and telling herself that +passions and preferences were simply weapons to be used. But +her love for her son mastered her,—and she knew it. As it was +so, could it be fit that she should marry another man? + +<p>And then her liberty! Even though Felix should bring her to +utter ruin, nevertheless she would be and might remain a free +woman. Should the worse come to the worst she thought that she +could endure a Bohemian life in which, should all her means have been +taken from her, she could live on what she earned. Though Felix +was a tyrant after a kind, he was not a tyrant who could bid her do +this or that. A repetition of marriage vows did not of itself +recommend itself to her. As to loving the man, liking his +caresses, and being specially happy because he was near her,—no +romance of that kind ever presented itself to her imagination. +How would it affect Felix and her together,—and Mr Broune as +connected with her and Felix? If Felix should go to the dogs, +then would Mr Broune not want her. Should Felix go to the stars +instead of the dogs, and become one of the gilded ornaments of the +metropolis, then would not he and she want Mr Broune. It was +thus that she regarded the matter. + +<p>She thought very little of her daughter as she considered all +this. There was a home for Hetta, with every comfort, if Hetta +would only condescend to accept it. Why did not Hetta marry her +cousin Roger Carbury and let there be an end of that trouble? +Of course Hetta must live wherever her mother lived till she should +marry; but Hetta's life was so much at her own disposal that her +mother did not feel herself bound to be guided in the great matter by +Hetta's predispositions. + +<p>But she must tell Hetta should she ultimately make up her mind to +marry the man, and in that case the sooner this was done the +better. On that night she did not make up her mind. Ever +and again as she declared to herself that she would not marry him, +the picture of a comfortable assured home over her head, and the +conviction that the editor of the "Morning Breakfast Table" would be +powerful for all things, brought new doubts to her mind. But +she could not convince herself, and when at last she went to her bed +her mind was still vacillating. The next morning she met Hetta +at breakfast, and with assumed nonchalance asked a question about the +man who was perhaps about to be her husband. "Do you like Mr +Broune, Hetta?" + +<p>"Yes;—pretty well. I don't care very much about him. +What makes you ask, mamma?" + +<p>"Because among my acquaintances in London there is no one so truly +kind to me as he is." + +<p>"He always seems to me to like to have his own way." + +<p>"Why shouldn't he like it?" + +<p>"He has to me that air of selfishness which is so very common with +people in London;—as though what he said were all said out of +surface politeness." + +<p>"I wonder what you expect, Hetta, when you talk of London +people? Why should not London people be as kind as other +people? I think Mr Broune is as obliging a man as any one I +know. But if I like anybody, you always make little of +him. The only person you seem to think well of is Mr Montague." + +<p>"Mamma, that is unfair and unkind. I never mention Mr +Montague's name if I can help it,—and I should not have spoken of Mr +Broune, had you not asked me." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="32"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII. Lady Monogram</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Georgiana Longestaffe had now been staying with the Melmottes for +a fortnight, and her prospects in regard to the London season had not +much improved. Her brother had troubled her no further, and her +family at Caversham had not, as far as she was aware, taken any +notice of Dolly's interference. Twice a week she received a +cold, dull letter from her mother,—such letters as she had been +accustomed to receive when away from home; and these she had +answered, always endeavouring to fill her sheet with some customary +description of fashionable doings, with some bit of scandal such as +she would have repeated for her mother's amusement,—and her own +delectation in the telling of it,—had there been nothing painful in +the nature of her sojourn in London. Of the Melmottes she +hardly spoke. She did not say that she was taken to the houses +in which it was her ambition to be seen. She would have lied +directly in saying so. But she did not announce her own +disappointment. She had chosen to come up to the Melmottes in +preference to remaining at Caversham, and she would not declare her +own failure. "I hope they are kind to you," Lady Pomona always +said. But Georgiana did not tell her mother whether the +Melmottes were kind or unkind. + +<p>In truth, her "season" was a very unpleasant season. Her +mode of living was altogether different to anything she had already +known. The house in Bruton Street had never been very bright, +but the appendages of life there had been of a sort which was not +known in the gorgeous mansion in Grosvenor Square. It had been +full of books and little toys and those thousand trifling household +gods which are accumulated in years, and which in their accumulation +suit themselves to the taste of their owners. In Grosvenor +Square there were no Lares;—no toys, no books, nothing but gold and +grandeur, pomatum, powder and pride. The Longestaffe life had +not been an easy, natural, or intellectual life; but the Melmotte +life was hardly endurable even by a Longestaffe. She had, +however, come prepared to suffer much, and was endowed with +considerable power of endurance in pursuit of her own objects. +Having willed to come, even to the Melmottes, in preference to +remaining at Caversham, she fortified herself to suffer much. +Could she have ridden in the park at mid-day in desirable company, +and found herself in proper houses at midnight, she would have borne +the rest, bad as it might have been. But it was not so. +She had her horse, but could with difficulty get any proper +companion. She had been in the habit of riding with one of the +Primero girls,—and old Primero would accompany them, or perhaps a +brother Primero, or occasionally her own father. And then, when +once out, she would be surrounded by a cloud of young men,—and +though there was but little in it, a walking round and round the same +bit of ground with the same companions and with the smallest attempt +at conversation, still it had been the proper thing and had satisfied +her. Now it was with difficulty that she could get any cavalier +such as the laws of society demand. Even Penelope Primero +snubbed her,—whom she, Georgiana Longestaffe, had hitherto endured +and snubbed. She was just allowed to join them when old Primero +rode, and was obliged even to ask for that assistance. + +<p>But the nights were still worse. She could only go where +Madame Melmotte went, and Madame Melmotte was more prone to receive +people at home than to go out. And the people she did receive +were antipathetic to Miss Longestaffe. She did not even know +who they were, whence they came, or what was their nature. They +seemed to be as little akin to her as would have been the shopkeepers +in the small town near Caversham. She would sit through long +evenings almost speechless, trying to fathom the depth of the +vulgarity of her associates. Occasionally she was taken out, +and was then, probably, taken to very grand houses. The two +duchesses and the Marchioness of Auld Reekie received Madame +Melmotte, and the garden parties of royalty were open to her. +And some of the most elaborate fêtes of the season,—which +indeed were very elaborate on behalf of this and that travelling +potentate,—were attained. On these occasions Miss Longestaffe +was fully aware of the struggle that was always made for invitations, +often unsuccessfully, but sometimes with triumph. Even the +bargains, conducted by the hands of Lord Alfred and his mighty +sister, were not altogether hidden from her. The Emperor of +China was to be in London and it was thought proper that some private +person, some untitled individual, should give the Emperor a dinner, +so that the Emperor might see how an English merchant lives. Mr +Melmotte was chosen on condition that he would spend £10,000 on the +banquet;—and, as a part of his payment for this expenditure, was to +be admitted with his family, to a grand entertainment given to the +Emperor at Windsor Park. Of these good things Georgiana +Longestaffe would receive her share. But she went to them as a +Melmotte and not as a Longestaffe,—and when amidst these gaieties, +though she could see her old friends, she was not with them. +She was ever behind Madame Melmotte, till she hated the make of that +lady's garments and the shape of that lady's back. + +<p>She had told both her father and mother very plainly that it +behoved her to be in London at this time of the year that she +might—look for a husband. She had not hesitated in declaring +her purpose; and that purpose, together with the means of carrying it +out, had not appeared to them to be unreasonable. She wanted to +be settled in life. She had meant, when she first started on +her career, to have a lord;—but lords are scarce. She was +herself not very highly born, not very highly gifted, not very +lovely, not very pleasant, and she had no fortune. She had long +made up her mind that she could do without a lord, but that she must +get a commoner of the proper sort. He must be a man with a +place in the country and sufficient means to bring him annually to +London. He must be a gentleman,—and, probably, in +parliament. And above all things he must be in the right +set. She would rather go on for ever struggling than take some +country Whitstable as her sister was about to do. But now the +men of the right sort never came near her. The one object for +which she had subjected herself to all this ignominy seemed to have +vanished altogether in the distance. When by chance she danced +or exchanged a few words with the Nidderdales and Grassloughs whom +she used to know, they spoke to her with a want of respect which she +felt and tasted but could hardly analyse. Even Miles Grendall, +who had hitherto been below her notice, attempted to patronize her in +a manner that bewildered her. All this nearly broke her heart. + +<p>And then from time to time little rumours reached her ears which +made her aware that, in the teeth of all Mr Melmotte's social +successes, a general opinion that he was a gigantic swindler was +rather gaining ground than otherwise. "Your host is a wonderful +fellow, by George!" said Lord Nidderdale. "No one seems to know +which way he'll turn up at last." "There's nothing like being a +robber, if you can only rob enough," said Lord Grasslough,—not +exactly naming Melmotte, but very clearly alluding to him. +There was a vacancy for a member of parliament at Westminster, and +Melmotte was about to come forward as a candidate. "If he can +manage that I think he'll pull through," she heard one man say. +"If money'll do it, it will be done," said another. She could +understand it all. Mr Melmotte was admitted into society, +because of some enormous power which was supposed to lie in his +hands; but even by those who thus admitted him he was regarded as a +thief and a scoundrel. This was the man whose house had been +selected by her father in order that she might make her search for a +husband from beneath his wing! + +<p>In her agony she wrote to her old friend Julia Triplex, now the +wife of Sir Damask Monogram. She had been really intimate with +Julia Triplex, and had been sympathetic when a brilliant marriage had +been achieved. Julia had been without fortune, but very +pretty. Sir Damask was a man of great wealth, whose father had +been a contractor. But Sir Damask himself was a sportsman, +keeping many horses on which other men often rode, a yacht in which +other men sunned themselves, a deer forest, a moor, a large machinery +for making pheasants. He shot pigeons at Hurlingham, drove +four-in-hand in the park, had a box at every race-course, and was the +most good-natured fellow known. He had really conquered the +world, had got over the difficulty of being the grandson of a +butcher, and was now as good as though the Monograms had gone to the +crusades. Julia Triplex was equal to her position, and made the +very most of it. She dispensed champagne and smiles, and made +everybody, including herself, believe that she was in love with her +husband. Lady Monogram had climbed to the top of the tree, and +in that position had been, of course, invaluable to her old +friend. We must give her her due and say that she had been +fairly true to friendship while Georgiana—behaved herself. She +thought that Georgiana in going to the Melmottes had not behaved +herself, and therefore she had determined to drop Georgiana. +"Heartless, false, purse-proud creature," Georgiana said to herself +as she wrote the following letter in humiliating agony. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR LADY MONOGRAM,<br> +<br> + I think you hardly understand my +position. Of course you have cut me. Haven't you? +And of course I must feel it very much. You did not use to be +ill-natured, and I hardly think you can have become so now when you +have everything pleasant around you. I do not think that I have +done anything that should make an old friend treat me in this way, +and therefore I write to ask you to let me see you. Of course +it is because I am staying here. You know me well enough to be +sure that it can't be my own choice. Papa arranged it +all. If there is anything against these people, I suppose papa +does not know it. Of course they are not nice. Of course +they are not like anything that I have been used to. But when +papa told me that the house in Bruton Street was to be shut up and +that I was to come here, of course I did as I was bid. I don't +think an old friend like you, whom I have always liked more than +anybody else, ought to cut me for it. It's not about the +parties, but about yourself that I mind. I don't ask you to +come here, but if you will see me I can have the carriage and will go +to you.<br> +<br> + Yours, as ever,<br> +<br> + GEORGIANA LONGESTAFFE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>It was a troublesome letter to get written. Lady Monogram +was her junior in age and had once been lower than herself in social +position. In the early days of their friendship she had +sometimes domineered over Julia Triplex, and had been entreated by +Julia, in reference to balls here and routes there. The great +Monogram marriage had been accomplished very suddenly, and had taken +place,—exalting Julia very high,—just as Georgiana was beginning to +allow her aspirations to descend. It was in that very season +that she moved her castle in the air from the Upper to the Lower +House. And now she was absolutely begging for notice, and +praying that she might not be cut! She sent her letter by post +and on the following day received a reply, which was left by a +footman. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR GEORGIANA,<br> +<br> + Of course I shall be delighted to see +you. I don't know what you mean by cutting. I never cut +anybody. We happen to have got into different sets, but that is +not my fault. Sir Damask won't let me call on the +Melmottes. I can't help that. You wouldn't have me go +where he tells me not. I don't know anything about them myself, +except that I did go to their ball. But everybody knows that's +different. I shall be at home all to-morrow till three,—that +is to-day I mean, for I'm writing after coming home from Lady +Killarney's ball; but if you wish to see me alone you had better come +before lunch.<br> +<br> + Yours affectionately,<br> +<br> + J. MONOGRAM.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Georgiana condescended to borrow the carriage and reached her +friend's house a little after noon. The two ladies kissed each +other when they met—of course, and then Miss Longestaffe at once +began. "Julia, I did think that you would at any rate have +asked me to your second ball." + +<p>"Of course you would have been asked if you had been up in Bruton +Street. You know that as well as I do. It would have been +a matter of course." + +<p>"What difference does a house make?" + +<p>"But the people in a house make a great deal of difference, my +dear. I don't want to quarrel with you, my dear; but I can't +know the Melmottes." + +<p>"Who asks you?" + +<p>"You are with them." + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you can't ask anybody to your house +without asking everybody that lives with that person? It's done +every day." + +<p>"Somebody must have brought you." + +<p>"I would have come with the Primeros, Julia." + +<p>"I couldn't do it. I asked Damask and he wouldn't have +it. When that great affair was going on in February, we didn't +know much about the people. I was told that everybody was going +and therefore I got Sir Damask to let me go. He says now that +he won't let me know them; and after having been at their house I +can't ask you out of it, without asking them too." + +<p>"I don't see it at all, Julia." + +<p>"I'm very sorry, my dear, but I can't go against my husband." + +<p>"Everybody goes to their house," said Georgiana, pleading her +cause to the best of her ability. "The Duchess of Stevenage has +dined in Grosvenor Square since I have been there." + +<p>"We all know what that means," replied Lady Monogram. + +<p>"And people are giving their eyes to be asked to the dinner party +which he is to give to the Emperor in July;—and even to the +reception afterwards." + +<p>"To hear you talk, Georgiana, one would think that you didn't +understand anything," said Lady Monogram. "People are going to +see the Emperor, not to see the Melmottes. I dare say we might +have gone,—only I suppose we shan't now because of this row." + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by a row, Julia." + +<p>"Well;—it is a row, and I hate rows. Going there when the +Emperor of China is there, or anything of that kind, is no more than +going to the play. Somebody chooses to get all London into his +house, and all London chooses to go. But it isn't understood +that that means acquaintance. I should meet Madame Melmotte in +the park afterwards and not think of bowing to her." + +<p>"I should call that rude." + +<p>"Very well. Then we differ. But really it does seem to +me that you ought to understand these things as well as +anybody. I don't find any fault with you for going to the +Melmottes,—though I was very sorry to hear it; but when you have +done it, I don't think you should complain of people because they +won't have the Melmottes crammed down their throats." + +<p>"Nobody has wanted it," said Georgiana sobbing. At this +moment the door was opened, and Sir Damask came in. "I'm +talking to your wife about the Melmottes," she continued, determined +to take the bull by the horns. "I'm staying there, and—I think +it—unkind that Julia—hasn't been—to see me. That's all." + +<p>"How'd you do, Miss Longestaffe? She doesn't know +them." And Sir Damask, folding his hands together, raising his +eyebrows, and standing on the rug, looked as though he had solved the +whole difficulty. + +<p>"She knows me, Sir Damask." + +<p>"Oh yes;—she knows you. That's a matter of course. +We're delighted to see you, Miss Longestaffe—I am, always. +Wish we could have had you at Ascot. But—." Then he +looked as though he had again explained everything. + +<p>"I've told her that you don't want me to go to the Melmottes," +said Lady Monogram. + +<p>"Well, no;—not just to go there. Stay and have lunch, Miss +Longestaffe." + +<p>"No, thank you." + +<p>"Now you're here, you'd better," said Lady Monogram. + +<p>"No, thank you. I'm sorry that I have not been able to make +you understand me. I could not allow our very long friendship +to be dropped without a word." + +<p>"Don't say—dropped," exclaimed the baronet. + +<p>"I do say dropped, Sir Damask. I thought we should have +understood each other;—your wife and I. But we haven't. +Wherever she might have gone, I should have made it my business to +see her; but she feels differently. Good-bye." + +<p>"Good-bye, my dear. If you will quarrel, it isn't my +doing." Then Sir Damask led Miss Longestaffe out, and put her +into Madame Melmotte's carriage. "It's the most absurd thing I +ever knew in my life," said the wife as soon as her husband had +returned to her. "She hasn't been able to bear to remain down +in the country for one season, when all the world knows that her +father can't afford to have a house for them in town. Then she +condescends to come and stay with these abominations and pretends to +feel surprised that her old friends don't run after her. She is +old enough to have known better." + +<p>"I suppose she likes parties," said Sir Damask. + +<p>"Likes parties! She'd like to get somebody to take +her. It's twelve years now since Georgiana Longestaffe came +out. I remember being told of the time when I was first entered +myself. Yes, my dear, you know all about it, I dare say. +And there she is still. I can feel for her, and do feel for +her. But if she will let herself down in that way she can't +expect not to be dropped. You remember the woman;—don't you?" + +<p>"What woman?" + +<p>"Madame Melmotte?" + +<p>"Never saw her in my life." + +<p>"Oh yes, you did. You took me there that night when +Prince—danced with the girl. Don't you remember the blowsy fat +woman at the top of the stairs;—a regular horror?" + +<p>"Didn't look at her. I was only thinking what a lot of money +it all cost." + +<p>"I remember her, and if Georgiana Longestaffe thinks I'm going +there to make an acquaintance with Madame Melmotte she is very much +mistaken. And if she thinks that that is the way to get +married, I think she is mistaken again." Nothing perhaps is so +efficacious in preventing men from marrying as the tone in which +married women speak of the struggles made in that direction by their +unmarried friends. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="33"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII. John Crumb</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Sir Felix Carbury made an appointment for meeting Ruby Ruggles a +second time at the bottom of the kitchen-garden belonging to Sheep's +Acre farm, which appointment he neglected, and had, indeed, made +without any intention of keeping it. But Ruby was there, and +remained hanging about among the cabbages till her grandfather +returned from Harlestone market. An early hour had been named; +but hours may be mistaken, and Ruby had thought that a fine +gentleman, such as was her lover, used to live among fine people up +in London, might well mistake the afternoon for the morning. If +he would come at all she could easily forgive such a mistake. +But he did not come, and late in the afternoon she was obliged to +obey her grandfather's summons as he called her into the house. + +<p>After that for three weeks she heard nothing of her London lover, +but she was always thinking of him;—and though she could not +altogether avoid her country lover, she was in his company as little +as possible. One afternoon her grandfather returned from Bungay +and told her that her country lover was coming to see her. +"John Crumb be a coming over by-and-by," said the old man. "See +and have a bit o' supper ready for him." + +<p>"John Crumb coming here, grandfather? He's welcome to stay +away then, for me." + +<p>"That be dommed." The old man thrust his old hat on to his +head and seated himself in a wooden arm-chair that stood by the +kitchen-fire. Whenever he was angry he put on his hat, and the +custom was well understood by Ruby. "Why not welcome, and he +all one as your husband? Look ye here, Ruby, I'm going to have +an eend o' this. John Crumb is to marry you next month, and the +banns is to be said." + +<p>"The parson may say what he pleases, grandfather. I can't +stop his saying of 'em. It isn't likely I shall try, +neither. But no parson among 'em all can marry me without I'm +willing." + +<p>"And why should you no be willing, you contrairy young jade, you?" + +<p>"You've been a'drinking, grandfather." + +<p>He turned round at her sharp, and threw his old hat at her +head;—nothing to Ruby's consternation, as it was a practice to which +she was well accustomed. She picked it up, and returned it to +him with a cool indifference which was intended to exasperate +him. "Look ye here, Ruby," he said, "out o' this place you +go. If you go as John Crumb's wife you'll go with five hun'erd +pound, and we'll have a dinner here, and a dance, and all Bungay." + +<p>"Who cares for all Bungay,—a set of beery chaps as knows nothing +but swilling and smoking;—and John Crumb the main of 'em all? +There never was a chap for beer like John Crumb." + +<p>"Never saw him the worse o' liquor in all my life." And the +old farmer, as he gave this grand assurance, rattled his fist down +upon the table. + +<p>"It ony just makes him stoopider and stoopider the more he +swills. You can't tell me, grandfather, about John Crumb, I +knows him." + +<p>"Didn't ye say as how ye'd have him? Didn't ye give him a +promise?" + +<p>"If I did, I ain't the first girl as has gone back of her +word,—and I shan't be the last." + +<p>"You means you won't have him?" + +<p>"That's about it, grandfather." + +<p>"Then you'll have to have somebody to fend for ye, and that pretty +sharp,—for you won't have me." + +<p>"There ain't no difficulty about that, grandfather." + +<p>"Very well. He's a coming here to-night, and you may settle +it along wi' him. Out o' this ye shall go. I know of your +doings." + +<p>"What doings! You don't know of no doings. There ain't +no doings. You don't know nothing ag'in me." + +<p>"He's a coming here to-night, and if you can make it up wi' him, +well and good. There's five hun'erd pound, and ye shall have +the dinner and dance and all Bungay. He ain't a going to be put +off no longer;—he ain't." + +<p>"Whoever wanted him to be put on? Let him go his own gait." + +<p>"If you can't make it up wi' him—" + +<p>"Well, grandfather, I shan't anyways." + +<p>"Let me have my say, will ye, yer jade, you? There's five +hun'erd pound! and there ain't ere a farmer in Suffolk or Norfolk +paying rent for a bit of land like this can do as well for his darter +as that,—let alone only a granddarter. You never thinks o' +that;—you don't. If you don't like to take it,—leave +it. But you'll leave Sheep's Acre too." + +<p>"Bother Sheep's Acre. Who wants to stop at Sheep's +Acre? It's the stoopidest place in all England." + +<p>"Then find another. Then find another. That's all +aboot it. John Crumb's a coming up for a bit o' supper. +You tell him your own mind. I'm dommed if I trouble aboot +it. On'y you don't stay here. Sheep's Acre ain't good +enough for you, and you'd best find another home. Stoopid, is +it? You'll have to put up wi' places stoopider nor Sheep's +Acre, afore you've done." + +<p>In regard to the hospitality promised to Mr Crumb, Miss Ruggles +went about her work with sufficient alacrity. She was quite +willing that the young man should have a supper, and she did +understand that, so far as the preparation of the supper went, she +owed her service to her grandfather. She therefore went to work +herself, and gave directions to the servant girl who assisted her in +keeping her grandfather's house. But as she did this, she +determined that she would make John Crumb understand that she would +never be his wife. Upon that she was now fully resolved. +As she went about the kitchen, taking down the ham and cutting the +slices that were to be broiled, and as she trussed the fowl that was +to be boiled for John Crumb, she made mental comparisons between him +and Sir Felix Carbury. She could see, as though present to her +at the moment, the mealy, floury head of the one, with hair stiff +with perennial dust from his sacks, and the sweet glossy dark +well-combed locks of the other, so bright, so seductive, that she was +ever longing to twine her fingers among them. And she +remembered the heavy, flat, broad honest face of the mealman, with +his mouth slow in motion, and his broad nose looking like a huge +white promontory, and his great staring eyes, from the corners of +which he was always extracting meal and grit;—and then also she +remembered the white teeth, the beautiful soft lips, the perfect +eyebrows, and the rich complexion of her London lover. Surely a +lease of Paradise with the one, though but for one short year, would +be well purchased at the price of a life with the other! "It's +no good going against love," she said to herself, "and I won't +try. He shall have his supper, and be told all about it, and +then go home. He cares more for his supper than he do for +me." And then, with this final resolution firmly made, she +popped the fowl into the pot. Her grandfather wanted her to +leave Sheep's Acre. Very well. She had a little money of +her own, and would take herself off to London. She knew what +people would say, but she cared nothing for old women's tales. +She would know how to take care of herself, and could always say in +her own defence that her grandfather had turned her out of Sheep's +Acre. + +<p>Seven had been the hour named, and punctually at that hour John +Crumb knocked at the back door of Sheep's Acre farm-house. Nor +did he come alone. He was accompanied by his friend Joe Mixet, +the baker of Bungay, who, as all Bungay knew, was to be his best man +at his marriage. John Crumb's character was not without any +fine attributes. He could earn money,—and having earned it +could spend and keep it in fair proportion. He was afraid of no +work, and,—to give him his due,—was afraid of no man. He was +honest, and ashamed of nothing that he did. And after his +fashion he had chivalrous ideas about women. He was willing to +thrash any man that ill-used a woman, and would certainly be a most +dangerous antagonist to any man who would misuse a woman belonging to +him. But Ruby had told the truth of him in saying that he was +slow of speech, and what the world calls stupid in regard to all +forms of expression. He knew good meal from bad as well as any +man, and the price at which he could buy it so as to leave himself a +fair profit at the selling. He knew the value of a clear +conscience, and without much argument had discovered for himself that +honesty is in truth the best policy. Joe Mixet, who was dapper +of person and glib of tongue, had often declared that any one buying +John Crumb for a fool would lose his money. Joe Mixet was +probably right; but there had been a want of prudence, a lack of +worldly sagacity, in the way in which Crumb had allowed his proposed +marriage with Ruby Ruggles to become a source of gossip to all +Bungay. His love was now an old affair; and, though he never +talked much, whenever he did talk, he talked about that. He was +proud of Ruby's beauty, and of her fortune, and of his own status as +her acknowledged lover,—and he did not hide his light under a +bushel. Perhaps the publicity so produced had some effect in +prejudicing Ruby against the man whose offer she had certainly once +accepted. Now when he came to settle the day,—having heard +more than once or twice that there was a difficulty with Ruby,—he +brought his friend Mixet with him as though to be present at his +triumph. "If here isn't Joe Mixet," said Ruby to herself. +"Was there ever such a stoopid as John Crumb? There's no end to +his being stoopid." + +<p>The old man had slept off his anger and his beer while Ruby had +been preparing the feast, and now roused himself to entertain his +guests. "What, Joe Mixet; is that thou? Thou'rt +welcome. Come in, man. Well, John, how is it wi' +you? Ruby's stewing o' something for us to eat a bit. +Don't e' smell it?"—John Crumb lifted up his great nose, sniffed +and grinned. + +<p>"John didn't like going home in the dark like," said the baker, +with his little joke. "So I just come along to drive away the +bogies." + +<p>"The more the merrier;—the more the merrier. Ruby'll have +enough for the two o' you, I'll go bail. So John Crumb's afraid +of bogies;—is he? The more need he to have some 'un in his +house to scart 'em away." + +<p>The lover had seated himself without speaking a word; but now he +was instigated to ask a question. "Where be she, Muster +Ruggles?" They were seated in the outside or front kitchen, in +which the old man and his granddaughter always lived; while Ruby was +at work in the back kitchen. As John Crumb asked this question +she could be heard distinctly among the pots and the plates. +She now came out, and wiping her hands on her apron, shook hands with +the two young men. She had enveloped herself in a big household +apron when the cooking was in hand, and had not cared to take it off +for the greeting of this lover. "Grandfather said as how you +was a coming out for your supper, so I've been a seeing to it. +You'll excuse the apron, Mr Mixet." + +<p>"You couldn't look nicer, miss, if you was to try ever so. +My mother says as it's housifery as recommends a girl to the young +men. What do you say, John?" + +<p>"I loiks to see her loik o' that," said John rubbing his hands +down the back of his trowsers, and stooping till he had brought his +eyes down to a level with those of his sweetheart. + +<p>"It looks homely; don't it John?" said Mixet. + +<p>"Bother!" said Ruby, turning round sharp, and going back to the +other kitchen. John Crumb turned round also, and grinned at his +friend, and then grinned at the old man. + +<p>"You've got it all afore you," said the farmer,—leaving the lover +to draw what lesson he might from this oracular proposition. + +<p>"And I don't care how soon I ha'e it in hond;—that I don't," said +John. + +<p>"That's the chat," said Joe Mixet. "There ain't nothing +wanting in his house;—is there, John? It's all there,—cradle, +caudle-cup, and the rest of it. A young woman going to John +knows what she'll have to eat when she gets up, and what she'll lie +down upon when she goes to bed." This he declared in a loud +voice for the benefit of Ruby in the back kitchen. + +<p>"That she do," said John, grinning again. "There's a hun'erd +and fifty poond o' things in my house forbye what mother left behind +her." + +<p>After this there was no more conversation till Ruby reappeared +with the boiled fowl, and without her apron. She was followed +by the girl with a dish of broiled ham and an enormous pyramid of +cabbage. Then the old man got up slowly and opening some +private little door of which he kept the key in his breeches pocket, +drew a jug of ale and placed it on the table. And from a +cupboard of which he also kept the key, he brought out a bottle of +gin. Everything being thus prepared, the three men sat round +the table, John Crumb looking at his chair again and again before he +ventured to occupy it. "If you'll sit yourself down, I'll give +you a bit of something to eat," said Ruby at last. Then he sank +at once into has chair. Ruby cut up the fowl standing, and +dispensed the other good things, not even placing a chair for herself +at the table,—and apparently not expected to do so, for no one +invited her. "Is it to be spirits or ale, Mr Crumb?" she said, +when the other two men had helped themselves. He turned round +and gave her a look of love that might have softened the heart of an +Amazon; but instead of speaking he held up his tumbler, and bobbed +his head at the beer jug. Then she filled it to the brim, +frothing it in the manner in which he loved to have it frothed. +He raised it to his mouth slowly, and poured the liquor in as though +to a vat. Then she filled it again. He had been her +lover, and she would be as kind to him as she knew how,—short of +love. + +<p>There was a good deal of eating done, for more ham came in, and +another mountain of cabbage; but very little or nothing was +said. John Crumb ate whatever was given to him of the fowl, +sedulously picking the bones, and almost swallowing them; and then +finished the second dish of ham, and after that the second instalment +of cabbage. He did not ask for more beer, but took it as often +as Ruby replenished his glass. When the eating was done, Ruby +retired into the back kitchen, and there regaled herself with some +bone or merry-thought of the fowl, which she had with prudence +reserved, sharing her spoils however with the other maiden. +This she did standing, and then went to work, cleaning the +dishes. The men lit their pipes and smoked in silence, while +Ruby went through her domestic duties. So matters went on for +half an hour; during which Ruby escaped by the back door, went round +into the house, got into her own room, and formed the grand +resolution of going to bed. She began her operations in fear +and trembling, not being sure that her grandfather would bring the +man upstairs to her. As she thought of this she stayed her +hand, and looked to the door. She knew well that there was no +bolt there. It would be terrible to her to be invaded by John +Crumb after his fifth or sixth glass of beer. And, she declared +to herself, that should he come he would be sure to bring Joe Mixet +with him to speak his mind for him. So she paused and listened. + +<p>When they had smoked for some half hour the old man called for his +granddaughter, but called of course in vain. "Where the +mischief is the jade gone?" he said, slowly making his way into the +back kitchen. The maid, as soon as she heard her master moving, +escaped into the yard and made no response, while the old man stood +bawling at the back door. "The devil's in them. They're +off some gates," he said aloud. "She'll make the place hot for +her, if she goes on this way." Then he returned to the two +young men. "She's playing off her games somewheres," he +said. "Take a glass of sperrits and water, Mr Crumb, and I'll +see after her." + +<p>"I'll just take a drop of y'ell," said John Crumb, apparently +quite unmoved by the absence of his sweetheart. + +<p>It was sad work for the old man. He went down the yard and +into the garden, hobbling among the cabbages, not daring to call very +loud, as he did not wish to have it supposed that the girl was lost; +but still anxious, and sore at heart as to the ingratitude shown to +him. He was not bound to give the girl a home at all. She +was not his own child. And he had offered her £500! "Domm +her," he said aloud as he made his way back to the house. After +much search and considerable loss of time he returned to the kitchen +in which the two men were sitting, leading Ruby in his hand. +She was not smart in her apparel, for she had half undressed herself, +and been then compelled by her grandfather to make herself fit to +appear in public. She had acknowledged to herself that she had +better go down and tell John Crumb the truth. For she was still +determined that she would never be John Crumb's wife. "You can +answer him as well as I, grandfather," she had said. Then the +farmer had cuffed her, and told her that she was an idiot. "Oh, +if it comes to that," said Ruby, "I'm not afraid of John Crumb, nor +yet of nobody else. Only I didn't think you'd go to strike me, +grandfather." "I'll knock the life out of thee, if thou goest +on this gate," he had said. But she had consented to come down, +and they entered the room together. + +<p>"We're a disturbing you a'most too late, miss," said Mr Mixet. + +<p>"It ain't that at all, Mr Mixet. If grandfather chooses to +have a few friends, I ain't nothing against it. I wish he'd +have a few friends a deal oftener than he do. I likes nothing +better than to do for 'em;—only when I've done for 'em and they're +smoking their pipes and that like, I don't see why I ain't to leave +'em to 'emselves." + +<p>"But we've come here on a hauspicious occasion, Miss Ruby." + +<p>"I don't know nothing about auspicious, Mr Mixet. If you and +Mr Crumb've come out to Sheep's Acre farm for a bit of supper—" + +<p>"Which we ain't," said John Crumb very loudly;—"nor yet for +beer;—not by no means." + +<p>"We've come for the smiles of beauty," said Joe Mixet. Ruby +chucked up her head. "Mr Mixet, if you'll be so good as to stow +that! There ain't no beauty here as I knows of, and if there +was it isn't nothing to you." + +<p>"Except in the way of friendship," said Mixet. + +<p>"I'm just as sick of all this as a man can be," said Mr Ruggles, +who was sitting low in his chair, with his back bent, and his head +forward. "I won't put up with it no more." + +<p>"Who wants you to put up with it?" said Ruby. "Who wants 'em +to come here with their trash? Who brought 'em to-night? I +don't know what business Mr Mixet has interfering along o' me. +I never interfere along o' him." + +<p>"John Crumb, have you anything to say?" asked the old man. + +<p>Then John Crumb slowly arose from his chair, and stood up at his +full height. "I hove," said he, swinging his head to one side. + +<p>"Then say it." + +<p>"I will," said he. He was still standing bolt upright with +his hands down by his side. Then he stretched out his left to +his glass which was half full of beer, and strengthened himself as +far as that would strengthen him. Having done this he slowly +deposited the pipe which he still held in his right hand. + +<p>"Now speak your mind, like a man," said Mixet. + +<p>"I intends it," said John. But he still stood dumb, looking +down upon old Ruggles, who from his crouched position was looking up +at him. Ruby was standing with both her hands upon the table +and her eyes intent upon the wall over the fire-place. + +<p>"You've asked Miss Ruby to be your wife a dozen times;—haven't +you, John?" suggested Mixet. + +<p>"I hove." + +<p>"And you mean to be as good as your word?" + +<p>"I do." + +<p>"And she has promised to have you?" + +<p>"She hove." + +<p>"More nor once or twice?" To this proposition Crumb found it +only necessary to bob his head. "You're ready?—and willing?" + +<p>"I am." + +<p>"You're wishing to have the banns said without any more delay?" + +<p>"There ain't no delay 'bout me;—never was." + +<p>"Everything is ready in your own house?" + +<p>"They is." + +<p>"And you will expect Miss Ruby to come to the scratch?" + +<p>"I sholl." + +<p>"That's about it, I think," said Joe Mixet, turning to the +grandfather. "I don't think there was ever anything much more +straightforward than that. You know, I know, Miss Ruby knows +all about John Crumb. John Crumb didn't come to Bungay +yesterday nor yet the day before. There's been a talk of five +hundred pounds, Mr Ruggles." Mr Ruggles made a slight gesture +of assent with his head. "Five hundred pounds is very +comfortable; and added to what John has will make things that snug +that things never was snugger. But John Crumb isn't after Miss +Ruby along of her fortune." + +<p>"Nohows," said the lover, shaking his head and still standing +upright with his hands by his side. + +<p>"Not he;—it isn't his ways, and them as knows him'll never say it +of him. John has a heart in his buzsom." + +<p>"I has," said John, raising his hand a little above his stomach. + +<p>"And feelings as a man. It's true love as has brought John +Crumb to Sheep's Acre farm this night;—love of that young lady, if +she'll let me make so free. He's a proposed to her, and she's a +haccepted him, and now it's about time as they was married. +That's what John Crumb has to say." + +<p>"That's what I has to say," repeated John Crumb, "and I means it." + +<p>"And now, miss," continued Mixet, addressing himself to Ruby, +"you've heard what John has to say." + +<p>"I've heard you, Mr Mixet, and I've heard quite enough." + +<p>"You can't have anything to say against it, Miss; can you? +There's your grandfather as is willing, and the-money as one may say +counted out,—and John Crumb is willing, with his house so ready that +there isn't a ha'porth to do. All we want is for you to name +the day." + +<p>"Say to-morrow, Ruby, and I'll not be agen it," said John Crumb, +slapping his thigh. + +<p>"I won't say to-morrow, Mr Crumb, nor yet the day after to-morrow, +nor yet no day at all. I'm not going to have you. I've +told you as much before." + +<p>"That was only in fun, loike." + +<p>"Then now I tell you in earnest. There's some folk wants +such a deal of telling." + +<p>"You don't mean,—never?" + +<p>"I do mean never, Mr Crumb." + +<p>"Didn't you say as you would, Ruby? Didn't you say so as +plain as the nose on my face?" John as he asked these questions +could hardly refrain from tears. + +<p>"Young women is allowed to change their minds," said Ruby. + +<p>"Brute!" exclaimed old Ruggles. "Pig! Jade! I'll +tell you what, John. She'll go out o' this into the +streets;—that's what she wull. I won't keep her here, no +longer;—nasty, ungrateful, lying slut." + +<p>"She ain't that;—she ain't that," said John. "She ain't +that at all. She's no slut. I won't hear her called +so;—not by her grandfather. But, oh, she has a mind to put me +so abouts, that I'll have to go home and hang myself" + +<p>"Dash it, Miss Ruby, you ain't a going to serve a young man that +way," said the baker. + +<p>"If you'll jist keep yourself to yourself, I'll be obliged to you, +Mr Mixet," said Ruby. "If you hadn't come here at all things +might have been different." + +<p>"Hark at that now," said John, looking at his friend almost with +indignation. + +<p>Mr Mixet, who was fully aware of his rare eloquence and of the +absolute necessity there had been for its exercise if any arrangement +were to be made at all, could not trust himself to words after +this. He put on his hat and walked out through the back kitchen +into the yard declaring that his friend would find him there, round +by the pigsty wall, whenever he was ready to return to Bungay. +As soon as Mixet was gone John looked at his sweetheart out of the +corners of his eyes and made a slow motion towards her, putting out +his right hand as a feeler. "He's aff now, Ruby," said John. + +<p>"And you'd better be aff after him," said the cruel girl. + +<p>"And when'll I come back again?" + +<p>"Never. It ain't no use. What's the good of more +words, Mr Crumb?" + +<p>"Domm her; domm her," said old Ruggles. "I'll even it to +her. She'll have to be out on the roads this night." + +<p>"She shall have the best bed in my house if she'll come for it," +said John, "and the old woman to look arter her; and I won't come +nigh her till she sends for me." + +<p>"I can find a place for myself, thank ye, Mr Crumb." Old +Ruggles sat grinding his teeth, and swearing to himself, taking his +hat off and putting it on again, and meditating vengeance. + +<p>"And now if you please, Mr Crumb, I'll go upstairs to my own +room." + +<p>"You don't go up to any room here, you jade you." The old +man as he said this got up from his chair as though to fly at +her. And he would have struck her with his stick but that he +was stopped by John Crumb. + +<p>"Don't hit the girl, no gate, Mr Ruggles." + +<p>"Domm her, John; she breaks my heart." While her lover held +her grandfather Ruby escaped, and seated herself on the bedside, +again afraid to undress, lest she should be disturbed by her +grandfather. "Ain't it more nor a man ought to have to +bear;—ain't it, Mr Crumb?" said the grandfather appealing to the +young man. + +<p>"It's the ways on 'em, Mr Ruggles." + +<p>"Ways on 'em! A whipping at the cart-tail ought to be the +ways on her. She's been and seen some young buck." + +<p>Then John Crumb turned red all over, through the flour, and sparks +of anger flashed from his eyes. "You ain't a meaning of it, +master?" + +<p>"I'm told there's been the squoire's cousin aboot,—him as they +call the baronite." + +<p>"Been along wi' Ruby?" The old man nodded at him. "By +the mortials I'll baronite him;—I wull," said John, seizing his hat +and stalking off through the back kitchen after his friend. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="34"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV. Ruby Ruggles Obeys Her Grandfather</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>The next day there was a great surprise at Sheep's Acre farm, +which communicated itself to the towns of Bungay and Beccles, and +even affected the ordinary quiet life of Carbury Manor. Ruby +Ruggles had gone away, and at about twelve o'clock in the day the old +farmer became aware of the fact. She had started early, at +about seven in the morning; but Ruggles himself had been out long +before that, and had not condescended to ask for her when he returned +to the house for his breakfast. There had been a bad scene up +in the bedroom overnight, after John Crumb had left the farm. +The old man in his anger had tried to expel the girl; but she had +hung on to the bed-post and would not go; and he had been frightened, +when the maid came up crying and screaming murder. "You'll be +out o' this to-morrow as sure as my name's Dannel Ruggles," said the +farmer panting for breath. But for the gin which he had taken +he would hardly have struck her;—but he had struck her, and pulled +her by the hair, and knocked her about;—and in the morning she took +him at his word and was away. About twelve he heard from the +servant girl that she had gone. She had packed a box and had +started up the road carrying the box herself. "Grandfather says +I'm to go, and I'm gone," she had said to the girl. At the +first cottage she had got a boy to carry her box into Beccles, and to +Beccles she had walked. For an hour or two Ruggles sat, quiet, +within the house, telling himself that she might do as she pleased +with herself,—that he was well rid of her, and that from henceforth +he would trouble himself no more about her. But by degrees +there came upon him a feeling half of compassion and half of fear, +with perhaps some mixture of love, instigating him to make search for +her. She had been the same to him as a child, and what would +people say of him if he allowed her to depart from him after this +fashion? Then he remembered his violence the night before, and +the fact that the servant girl had heard if she had not seen +it. He could not drop his responsibility in regard to Ruby, +even if he would. So, as a first step, he sent in a message to +John Crumb, at Bungay, to tell him that Ruby Ruggles had gone off +with a box to Beccles. John Crumb went open-mouthed with the +news to Joe Mixet, and all Bungay soon knew that Ruby Ruggles had run +away. + +<p>After sending his message to Crumb the old man still sat thinking, +and at last made up his mind that he would go to his landlord. +He held a part of his farm under Roger Carbury, and Roger Carbury +would tell him what he ought to do. A great trouble had come +upon him. He would fain have been quiet, but his conscience and +his heart and his terrors all were at work together,—and he found +that he could not eat his dinner. So he had out his cart and +horse and drove himself off to Carbury Hall. + +<p>It was past four when he started, and he found the squire seated +on the terrace after an early dinner, and with him was Father Barham, +the priest. The old man was shown at once round into the +garden, and was not long in telling his story. There had been +words between him and his granddaughter about her lover. Her +lover had been accepted and had come to the farm to claim his +bride. Ruby had behaved very badly. The old man made the +most of Ruby's bad behaviour, and of course as little as possible of +his own violence. But he did explain that there had been +threats used when Ruby refused to take the man, and that Ruby had, +this day, taken herself off. + +<p>"I always thought it was settled that they were to be man and +wife," said Roger. + +<p>"It was settled, squoire;—and he war to have five hun'erd pound +down;—money as I'd saved myself. Drat the jade." + +<p>"Didn't she like him, Daniel?" + +<p>"She liked him well enough till she'd seed somebody else." +Then old Daniel paused, and shook his head, and was evidently the +owner of a secret. The squire got up and walked round the +garden with him,—and then the secret was told. The farmer was +of opinion that there was something between the girl and Sir +Felix. Sir Felix some weeks since had been seen near the farm +and on the same occasion Ruby had been observed at some little +distance from the house with her best clothes on. + +<p>"He's been so little here, Daniel," said the squire. + +<p>"It goes as tinder and a spark o' fire, that does," said the +farmer. "Girls like Ruby don't want no time to be wooed by one +such as that, though they'll fall-lall with a man like John Crumb for +years." + +<p>"I suppose she's gone to London." + +<p>"Don't know nothing of where she's gone, squoire;—only she have +gone some'eres. May be it's Lowestoft. There's lots of +quality at Lowestoft a'washing theyselves in the sea." + +<p>Then they returned to the priest, who might be supposed to be +cognizant of the guiles of the world and competent to give advice on +such an occasion as this. "If she was one of our people," said +Father Barham, "we should have her back quick enough." + +<p>"Would ye now?" said Ruggles, wishing at the moment that he and +all his family had been brought up as Roman Catholics. + +<p>"I don't see how you would have more chance of catching her than +we have," said Carbury. + +<p>"She'd catch herself. Wherever she might be she'd go to the +priest, and he wouldn't leave her till he'd seen her put on the way +back to her friends." + +<p>"With a flea in her lug," suggested the farmer. + +<p>"Your people never go to a clergyman in their distress. It's +the last thing they'd think of. Any one might more probably be +regarded as a friend than the parson. But with us the poor know +where to look for sympathy." + +<p>"She ain't that poor, neither," said the grandfather. + +<p>"She had money with her?" + +<p>"I don't know just what she had; but she ain't been brought up +poor. And I don't think as our Ruby'd go of herself to any +clergyman. It never was her way." + +<p>"It never is the way with a Protestant," said the priest. + +<p>"We'll say no more about that for the present," said Roger, who +was waxing wroth with the priest. That a man should be fond of +his own religion is right; but Roger Carbury was beginning to think +that Father Barham was too fond of his religion. "What had we +better do? I suppose we shall hear something of her at the +railway. There are not so many people leaving Beccles but that +she may be remembered." So the waggonette was ordered, and they +all prepared to go off to the station together. + +<p>But before they started John Crumb rode up to the door. He +had gone at once to the farm on hearing of Ruby's departure, and had +followed the farmer from thence to Carbury. Now he found the +squire and the priest and the old man standing around as the horses +were being put to the carriage. "Ye ain't a' found her, Mr +Ruggles, ha' ye?" he asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow. + +<p>"Noa;—we ain't a' found no one yet." + +<p>"If it was as she was to come to harm, Mr Carbury, I'd never +forgive myself,—never," said Crumb. + +<p>"As far as I can understand it is no doing of yours, my friend," +said the squire. + +<p>"In one way, it ain't; and in one way it is. I was over +there last night a bothering of her. She'd a' come round may +be, if she'd a' been left alone. She wouldn't a' been off now, +only for our going over to Sheep's Acre. But,—oh!" + +<p>"What is it, Mr Crumb?" + +<p>"He's a coosin o' yours, squoire; and long as I've known Suffolk, +I've never known nothing but good o' you and yourn. But if your +baronite has been and done this! Oh, Mr Carbury! If I was +to wring his neck round, you wouldn't say as how I was wrong; would +ye, now?" Roger could hardly answer the question. On +general grounds the wringing of Sir Felix's neck, let the immediate +cause for such a performance have been what it might, would have +seemed to him to be a good deed. The world would be better, +according to his thinking, with Sir Felix out of it than in it. +But still the young man was his cousin and a Carbury, and to such a +one as John Crumb he was bound to defend any member of his family as +far as he might be defensible. "They says as how he was groping +about Sheep's Acre when he was last here, a hiding himself and +skulking behind hedges. Drat 'em all. They've gals enough +of their own,—them fellows. Why can't they let a fellow +alone? I'll do him a mischief, Master Roger; I wull;—if he's +had a hand in this." Poor John Crumb! When he had his +mistress to win he could find no words for himself; but was obliged +to take an eloquent baker with him to talk for him. Now in his +anger he could talk freely enough. + +<p>"But you must first learn that Sir Felix has had anything to do +with this, Mr Crumb." + +<p>"In coorse; in coorse. That's right. That's +right. Must l'arn as he did it, afore I does it. But when +I have l'arned—!" And John Crumb clenched his fist as though a +very short lesson would suffice for him upon this occasion. + +<p>They all went to the Beccles Station, and from thence to the +Beccles Post-office,—so that Beccles soon knew as much about it as +Bungay. At the railway station Ruby was distinctly +remembered. She had taken a second-class ticket by the morning +train for London, and had gone off without any appearance of +secrecy. She had been decently dressed, with a hat and cloak, +and her luggage had been such as she might have been expected to +carry, had all her friends known that she was going. So much +was made clear at the railway station, but nothing more could be +learned there. Then a message was sent by telegraph to the +station in London, and they all waited, loitering about the +Post-office, for a reply. One of the porters in London +remembered seeing such a girl as was described, but the man who was +supposed to have carried her box for her to a cab had gone away for +the day. It was believed that she had left the station in a +four-wheel cab. "I'll be arter her. I'll be arter her at +once," said John Crumb. But there was no train till night, and +Roger Carbury was doubtful whether his going would do any good. +It was evidently fixed on Crumb's mind that the first step towards +finding Ruby would be the breaking of every bone in the body of Sir +Felix Carbury. Now it was not at all apparent to the squire +that his cousin had had anything to do with this affair. It had +been made quite clear to him that the old man had quarrelled with his +granddaughter and had threatened to turn her out of his house, not +because she had misbehaved with Sir Felix, but on account of her +refusing to marry John Crumb. John Crumb had gone over to the +farm expecting to arrange it all, and up to that time there had been +no fear about Felix Carbury. Nor was it possible that there +should have been communication between Ruby and Felix since the +quarrel at the farm. Even if the old man were right in +supposing that Ruby and the baronet had been acquainted,—and such +acquaintance could not but be prejudicial to the girl,—not on that +account would the baronet be responsible for her abduction. +John Crumb was thirsting for blood and was not very capable in his +present mood of arguing the matter out coolly, and Roger, little as +he toyed his cousin, was not desirous that all Suffolk should know +that Sir Felix Carbury had been thrashed within an inch of his life +by John Crumb of Bungay. "I'll tell you what I'll do," said he, +putting his hand kindly on the old man's shoulder. "I'll go up +myself by the first train to-morrow. I can trace her better +than Mr Crumb can do, and you will both trust me." + +<p>"There's not one in the two counties I'd trust so soon," said the +old man. + +<p>"But you'll let us know the very truth," said John Crumb. +Roger Carbury made him an indiscreet promise that he would let him +know the truth. So the matter was settled, and the grandfather +and lover returned together to Bungay. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="35"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXV. Melmotte's Glory</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Augustus Melmotte was becoming greater and greater in every +direction,—mightier and mightier every day. He was learning to +despise mere lords, and to feel that he might almost domineer over a +duke. In truth he did recognize it as a fact that he must +either domineer over dukes, or else go to the wall. It can +hardly be said of him that he had intended to play so high a game, +but the game that he had intended to play had become thus high of its +own accord. A man cannot always restrain his own doings and +keep them within the limits which he had himself planned for +them. They will very often fall short of the magnitude to which +his ambition has aspired. They will sometimes soar higher than +his own imagination. So it had now been with Mr Melmotte. +He had contemplated great things; but the things which he was +achieving were beyond his contemplation. + +<p>The reader will not have thought much of Fisker on his arrival in +England. Fisker was, perhaps, not a man worthy of much +thought. He had never read a book. He had never written a +line worth reading. He had never said a prayer. He cared +nothing for humanity. He had sprung out of some Californian +gully, was perhaps ignorant of his own father and mother, and had +tumbled up in the world on the strength of his own audacity. +But, such as he was, he had sufficed to give the necessary impetus +for rolling Augustus Melmotte onwards into almost unprecedented +commercial greatness. When Mr Melmotte took his offices in +Abchurch Lane, he was undoubtedly a great man, but nothing so great +as when the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway had become not +only an established fact, but a fact established in Abchurch +Lane. The great company indeed had an office of its own, where +the Board was held; but everything was really managed in Mr +Melmotte's own commercial sanctum. Obeying, no doubt, some +inscrutable law of commerce, the grand enterprise,—"perhaps the +grandest when you consider the amount of territory manipulated, which +has ever opened itself before the eyes of a great commercial people," +as Mr Fisker with his peculiar eloquence observed through his nose, +about this time, to a meeting of shareholders at San Francisco,—had +swung itself across from California to London, turning itself to the +centre of the commercial world as the needle turns to the pole, till +Mr Fisker almost regretted the deed which himself had done. And +Melmotte was not only the head, but the body also, and the feet of it +all. The shares seemed to be all in Melmotte's pocket, so that +he could distribute them as he would; and it seemed also that when +distributed and sold, and when bought again and sold again, they came +back to Melmotte's pocket. Men were contented to buy their +shares and to pay their money, simply on Melmotte's word. Sir +Felix had realized a large portion of his winnings at cards,—with +commendable prudence for one so young and extravagant,—and had +brought his savings to the great man. The great man had swept +the earnings of the Beargarden into his till, and had told Sir Felix +that the shares were his. Sir Felix had been not only +contented, but supremely happy. He could now do as Paul +Montague was doing,—and Lord Alfred Grendall. He could realize +a perennial income, buying and selling. It was only after the +reflection of a day or two that he found that he had as yet got +nothing to sell. It was not only Sir Felix that was admitted +into these good things after this fashion. Sir Felix was but +one among hundreds. In the meantime the bills in Grosvenor +Square were no doubt paid with punctuality,—and these bills must +have been stupendous. The very servants were as tall, as +gorgeous, almost as numerous, as the servants of royalty,—and +remunerated by much higher wages. There were four coachmen with +egregious wigs, and eight footmen, not one with a circumference of +calf less than eighteen inches. + +<p>And now there appeared a paragraph in the "Morning Breakfast +Table," and another appeared in the "Evening Pulpit," telling the +world that Mr Melmotte had bought Pickering Park, the magnificent +Sussex property of Adolphus Longestaffe, Esq., of Caversham. +And it was so. The father and son, who never had agreed before, +and who now had come to no agreement in the presence of each other, +had each considered that their affairs would be safe in the hands of +so great a man as Mr Melmotte, and had been brought to terms. +The purchase-money, which was large, was to be divided between +them. The thing was done with the greatest ease,—there being +no longer any delay as is the case when small people are at +work. The magnificence of Mr Melmotte affected even the +Longestaffe lawyers. Were I to buy a little property, some +humble cottage with a garden,—or you, O reader, unless you be +magnificent,—the money to the last farthing would be wanted, or +security for the money more than sufficient, before we should be able +to enter in upon our new home. But money was the very breath of +Melmotte's nostrils, and therefore his breath was taken for +money. Pickering was his, and before a week was over a London +builder had collected masons and carpenters by the dozen down at +Chichester, and was at work upon the house to make it fit to be a +residence for Madame Melmotte. There were rumours that it was +to be made ready for the Goodwood week, and that the Melmotte +entertainment during that festival would rival the duke's. + +<p>But there was still much to be done in London before the Goodwood +week should come round, in all of which Mr Melmotte was concerned, +and of much of which Mr Melmotte was the very centre. A member +for Westminster had succeeded to a peerage, and thus a seat was +vacated. It was considered to be indispensable to the country +that Mr Melmotte should go into Parliament, and what constituency +could such a man as Melmotte so fitly represent as one combining as +Westminster does all the essences of the metropolis? There was +the popular element, the fashionable element, the legislative +element, the legal element, and the commercial element. +Melmotte undoubtedly was the man for Westminster. His thorough +popularity was evinced by testimony which perhaps was never before +given in favour of any candidate for any county or borough. In +Westminster there must of course be a contest. A seat for +Westminster is a thing not to be abandoned by either political party +without a struggle. But, at the beginning of the affair, when +each party had to seek the most suitable candidate which the country +could supply, each party put its hand upon Melmotte. And when +the seat, and the battle for the seat, were suggested to Melmotte, +then for the first time was that great man forced to descend from the +altitudes on which his mind generally dwelt, and to decide whether he +would enter Parliament as a Conservative or a Liberal. He was +not long in convincing himself that the conservative element in +British Society stood the most in need of that fiscal assistance +which it would be in his province to give; and on the next day every +hoarding in London declared to the world that Melmotte was the +conservative candidate for Westminster. It is needless to say that +his committee was made up of peers, bankers, and publicans, with all +that absence of class prejudice for which the party has become famous +since the ballot was introduced among us. Some unfortunate +Liberal was to be made to run against him, for the sake of the party; +but the odds were ten to one on Melmotte. + +<p>This no doubt was a great matter,—this affair of the seat; but +the dinner to be given to the Emperor of China was much +greater. It was the middle of June, and the dinner was to be +given on Monday, 8th July, now three weeks hence;—but all London was +already talking of it. The great purport proposed was to show +to the Emperor by this banquet what an English merchant-citizen of +London could do. Of course there was a great amount of scolding +and a loud clamour on the occasion. Some men said that Melmotte +was not a citizen of London, others that he was not a merchant, +others again that he was not an Englishman. But no man could +deny that he was both able and willing to spend the necessary money; +and as this combination of ability and will was the chief thing +necessary, they who opposed the arrangement could only storm and +scold. On the 20th of June the tradesmen were at work, throwing +up a building behind, knocking down walls, and generally transmuting +the house in Grosvenor Square in such a fashion that two hundred +guests might be able to sit down to dinner in the dining-room of a +British merchant. + +<p>But who were to be the two hundred? It used to be the case +that when a gentleman gave a dinner he asked his own guests;—but +when affairs become great, society can hardly be carried on after +that simple fashion. The Emperor of China could not be made to +sit at table without English royalty, and English royalty must know +whom it has to meet,—must select at any rate some of its +comrades. The minister of the day also had his candidates for +the dinner,—in which arrangement there was however no private +patronage, as the list was confined to the cabinet and their +wives. The Prime Minister took some credit to himself in that +he would not ask for a single ticket for a private friend. But +the Opposition as a body desired their share of seats. Melmotte +had elected to stand for Westminster on the conservative interest, +and was advised that he must insist on having as it were a +conservative cabinet present, with its conservative wives. He +was told that he owed it to his party, and that his party exacted +payment of the debt. But the great difficulty lay with the city +merchants. This was to be a city merchant's private feast, and +it was essential that the Emperor should meet this great merchant's +brother merchants at the merchant's board. No doubt the Emperor +would see all the merchants at the Guildhall; but that would be a +semi-public affair, paid for out of the funds of a corporation. +This was to be a private dinner. Now the Lord Mayor had set his +face against it, and what was to be done? Meetings were held; a +committee was appointed; merchant guests were selected, to the number +of fifteen with their fifteen wives;—and subsequently the Lord Mayor +was made a baronet on the occasion of receiving the Emperor in the +city. The Emperor with his suite was twenty. Royalty had +twenty tickets, each ticket for guest and wife. The existing +Cabinet was fourteen; but the coming was numbered at about eleven +only;—each one for self and wife. Five ambassadors and five +ambassadresses were to be asked. There were to be fifteen real +merchants out of the city. Ten great peers,—with their +peeresses,—were selected by the general committee of +management. There were to be three wise men, two poets, three +independent members of the House of Commons, two Royal Academicians, +three editors of papers, an African traveller who had just come home, +and a novelist;—but all these latter gentlemen were expected to come +as bachelors. Three tickets were to be kept over for +presentation to bores endowed with a power of making themselves +absolutely unendurable if not admitted at the last moment,—and ten +were left for the giver of the feast and his own family and +friends. It is often difficult to make things go smooth,—but +almost all roughnesses may be smoothed at last with patience and +care, and money, and patronage. + +<p>But the dinner was not to be all. Eight hundred additional +tickets were to be issued for Madame Melmotte's evening +entertainment, and the fight for these was more internecine than for +seats at the dinner. The dinner-seats, indeed, were handled in +so statesmanlike a fashion that there was not much visible fighting +about them. Royalty manages its affairs quietly. The +existing Cabinet was existing, and though there were two or three +members of it who could not have got themselves elected at a single +unpolitical club in London, they had a right to their seats at +Melmotte's table. What disappointed ambition there might be +among conservative candidates was never known to the public. +Those gentlemen do not wash their dirty linen in public. The +ambassadors of course were quiet, but we may be sure that the +Minister from the United States was among the favoured five. +The city bankers and bigwigs, as has been already said, were at first +unwilling to be present, and therefore they who were not chosen could +not afterwards express their displeasure. No grumbling was +heard among the peers, and that which came from the peeresses floated +down into the current of the great fight about the evening +entertainment. The poet laureate was of course asked, and the +second poet was as much a matter of course. Only two +Academicians had in this year painted royalty, so that there was no +ground for jealousy there. There were three, and only three, +specially insolent and specially disagreeable independent members of +Parliament at that time in the House, and there was no difficulty in +selecting them. The wise men were chosen by their age. +Among editors of newspapers there was some ill-blood. That Mr +Alf and Mr Broune should be selected was almost a matter of +course. They were hated accordingly, but still this was +expected. But why was Mr Booker there? Was it because he +had praised the Prime Minister's translation of Catullus? The +African traveller chose himself by living through all his perils and +coming home. A novelist was selected; but as royalty wanted +another ticket at the last moment, the gentleman was only asked to +come in after dinner. His proud heart, however, resented the +treatment, and he joined amicably with his literary brethren in +decrying the festival altogether. + +<p>We should be advancing too rapidly into this portion of our story +were we to concern ourselves deeply at the present moment with the +feud as it raged before the evening came round, but it may be right +to indicate that the desire for tickets at last became a burning +passion, and a passion which in the great majority of cases could not +be indulged. The value of the privilege was so great that +Madame Melmotte thought that she was doing almost more than +friendship called for when she informed her guest, Miss Longestaffe, +that unfortunately there would be no seat for her at the +dinner-table; but that, as payment for her loss, she should receive +an evening ticket for herself and a joint ticket for a gentleman and +his wife. Georgiana was at first indignant, but she accepted +the compromise. What she did with her tickets shall be +hereafter told. + +<p>From all this I trust it will be understood that the Mr Melmotte +of the present hour was a very different man from that Mr Melmotte +who was introduced to the reader in the early chapters of this +chronicle. Royalty was not to be smuggled in and out of his +house now without his being allowed to see it. No manoeuvres +now were necessary to catch a simple duchess. Duchesses were +willing enough to come. Lord Alfred when he was called by his +Christian name felt no aristocratic twinges. He was only too +anxious to make himself more and more necessary to the great +man. It is true that all this came as it were by jumps, so that +very often a part of the world did not know on what ledge in the +world the great man was perched at that moment. Miss +Longestaffe who was staying in the house did not at all know how +great a man her host was. Lady Monogram when she refused to go +to Grosvenor Square, or even to allow any one to come out of the +house in Grosvenor Square to her parties, was groping in outer +darkness. Madame Melmotte did not know. Marie Melmotte +did not know. The great man did not quite know himself where, +from time to time, he was standing. But the world at large +knew. The world knew that Mr Melmotte was to be Member for +Westminster, that Mr Melmotte was to entertain the Emperor of China, +that Mr Melmotte carried the South Central Pacific and Mexican +Railway in his pocket;—and the world worshipped Mr Melmotte. + +<p>In the meantime Mr Melmotte was much troubled about his private +affairs. He had promised his daughter to Lord Nidderdale, and +as he rose in the world had lowered the price which he offered for +this marriage,—not so much in the absolute amount of fortune to be +ultimately given, as in the manner of giving it. Fifteen +thousand a year was to be settled on Marie and on her eldest son, and +twenty thousand pounds were to be paid into Nidderdale's hands six +months after the marriage. Melmotte gave his reasons for not +paying this sum at once. Nidderdale would be more likely to be +quiet, if he were kept waiting for that short time. Melmotte +was to purchase and furnish for them a house in town. It was, +too, almost understood that the young people were to have Pickering +Park for themselves, except for a week or so at the end of +July. It was absolutely given out in the papers that Pickering +was to be theirs. It was said on all sides that Nidderdale was +doing very well for himself. The absolute money was not perhaps +so great as had been at first asked; but then, at that time, Melmotte +was not the strong rock, the impregnable tower of commerce, the very +navel of the commercial enterprise of the world,—as all men now +regarded him. Nidderdale's father, and Nidderdale himself, +were, in the present condition of things, content with a very much +less stringent bargain than that which they had endeavoured at first +to exact. + +<p>But, in the midst of all this, Marie, who had at one time +consented at her father's instance to accept the young lord, and who +in some speechless fashion had accepted him, told both the young lord +and her father, very roundly, that she had changed her mind. +Her father scowled at her and told her that her mind in the matter +was of no concern. He intended that she should marry Lord +Nidderdale, and himself fixed some day in August for the +wedding. "It is no use, father, for I will never have him," +said Marie. + +<p>"Is it about that other scamp?" he asked angrily. + +<p>"If you mean Sir Felix Carbury, it is about him. He has been +to you and told you, and therefore I don't know why I need hold my +tongue." + +<p>"You'll both starve, my lady; that's all." Marie however was +not so wedded to the grandeur which she encountered in Grosvenor +Square as to be afraid of the starvation which she thought she might +have to suffer if married to Sir Felix Carbury. Melmotte had +not time for any long discussion. As he left her he took hold +of her and shook her. "By—," he said, "if you run rusty after +all I've done for you, I'll make you suffer. You little fool; +that man's a beggar. He hasn't the price of a petticoat or a +pair of stockings. He's looking only for what you haven't got, +and shan't have if you marry him. He wants money, not you, you +little fool!" + +<p>But after that she was quite settled in her purpose when +Nidderdale spoke to her. They had been engaged and then it had +been off;—and now the young nobleman, having settled everything with +the father, expected no great difficulty in resettling everything +with the girl. He was not very skilful at making love,—but he +was thoroughly good-humoured, from his nature anxious to please, and +averse to give pain. There was hardly any injury which he could +not forgive, and hardly any kindness which he would not do,—so that +the labour upon himself was not too great. "Well, Miss +Melmotte," he said, "governors are stern beings: are they not?" + +<p>"Is yours stern, my lord?" + +<p>"What I mean is that sons and daughters have to obey them. I +think you understand what I mean. I was awfully spoony on you +that time before; I was indeed." + +<p>"I hope it didn't hurt you much, Lord Nidderdale." + +<p>"That's so like a woman; that is. You know well enough that +you and I can't marry without leave from the governors." + +<p>"Nor with it," said Marie, holding her head. + +<p>"I don't know how that may be. There was some hitch +somewhere,—I don't quite know where." The hitch had been with +himself, as he demanded ready money. "But it's all right +now. The old fellows are agreed. Can't we make a match of +it, Miss Melmotte?" + +<p>"No, Lord Nidderdale; I don't think we can." + +<p>"Do you mean that?" + +<p>"I do mean it. When that was going on before I knew nothing +about it. I have seen more of things since then." + +<p>"And you've seen somebody you like better than me?" + +<p>"I say nothing about that, Lord Nidderdale. I don't think +you ought to blame me, my lord." + +<p>"Oh dear no." + +<p>"There was something before, but it was you that was off +first. Wasn't it now?" + +<p>"The governors were off, I think." + +<p>"The governors have a right to be off, I suppose. But I +don't think any governor has a right to make anybody marry any one." + +<p>"I agree with you there;—I do indeed," said Lord Nidderdale. + +<p>"And no governor shall make me marry. I've thought a great +deal about it since that other time, and that's what I've come to +determine." + +<p>"But I don't know why you shouldn't—just marry me—because +you—like me." + +<p>"Only,—just because I don't. Well; I do like you, Lord +Nidderdale." + +<p>"Thanks;—so much!" + +<p>"I like you ever so,—only marrying a person is different." + +<p>"There's something in that, to be sure." + +<p>"And I don't mind telling you," said Marie with an almost solemn +expression on her countenance, "because you are good-natured and +won't get me into a scrape if you can help it, that I do like +somebody else;—oh, so much." + +<p>"I supposed that was it." + +<p>"That is it." + +<p>"It's a deuced pity. The governors had settled everything, +and we should have been awfully jolly. I'd have gone in for all +the things you go in for; and though your governor was screwing us up +a bit, there would have been plenty of tin to go on with. You +couldn't think of it again?" + +<p>"I tell you, my lord, I'm—in love." + +<p>"Oh, ah;—yes. So you were saying. It's an awful +bore. That's all. I shall come to the party all the same +if you send me a ticket." And so Nidderdale took his dismissal, +and went away,—not however without an idea that the marriage would +still come off. There was always,—so he thought,—such a +bother about things before they would get themselves fixed. +This happened some days after Mr Broune's proposal to Lady Carbury, +more than a week since Marie had seen Sir Felix. As soon as +Lord Nidderdale was gone she wrote again to Sir Felix begging that +she might hear from him,—and entrusted her letter to Didon. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="36"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI. Mr Broune's Perils</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lady Carbury had allowed herself two days for answering Mr +Broune's proposition. It was made on Tuesday night and she was +bound by her promise to send a reply some time on Thursday. But +early on the Wednesday morning she had made up her mind; and at noon +on that day her letter was written. She had spoken to Hetta +about the man, and she had seen that Hetta had disliked him. +She was not disposed to be much guided by Hetta's opinion. In +regard to her daughter she was always influenced by a vague idea that +Hetta was an unnecessary trouble. There was an excellent match +ready for her if she would only accept it. There was no reason +why Hetta should continue to add herself to the family burden. +She never said this even to herself,—but she felt it, and was not +therefore inclined to consult Hetta's comfort on this occasion. +But nevertheless, what her daughter said had its effect. She +had encountered the troubles of one marriage, and they had been very +bad. She did not look upon that marriage as a mistake,—having +even up to this day a consciousness that it had been the business of +her life, as a portionless girl, to obtain maintenance and position +at the expense of suffering and servility. But that had been +done. The maintenance was, indeed, again doubtful, because of +her son's vices; but it might so probably be again secured,—by means +of her son's beauty! Hetta had said that Mr Broune liked his +own way. Had not she herself found that all men liked their own +way? And she liked her own way. She liked the comfort of +a home to herself. Personally she did not want the +companionship of a husband. And what scenes would there be +between Felix and the man! And added to all this there was +something within her, almost amounting to conscience, which told her +that it was not right that she should burden any one with the +responsibility and inevitable troubles of such a son as her son +Felix. What would she do were her husband to command her to +separate herself from her son? In such circumstances she would +certainly separate herself from her husband. Having considered +these things deeply, she wrote as follows to Mr Broune:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAREST FRIEND,<br> +<br> + I need not tell you that I have thought +much of your generous and affectionate offer. How could I refuse +such a prospect as you offer me without much thought? I regard +your career as the most noble which a man's ambition can +achieve. And in that career no one is your superior. I +cannot but be proud that such a one as you should have asked me to be +his wife. But, my friend, life is subject to wounds which are +incurable, and my life has been so wounded. I have not strength +left me to make my heart whole enough to be worthy of your +acceptance. I have been so cut and scotched and lopped by the +sufferings which I have endured that I am best alone. It cannot +all be described;—and yet with you I would have no reticence. I +would put the whole history before you to read, with all my troubles +past and still present, all my hopes, and all my fears,—with every +circumstance as it has passed by and every expectation that remains, +were it not that the poor tale would be too long for your +patience. The result of it would be to make you feel that I am +no longer fit to enter in upon a new home. I should bring +showers instead of sunshine, melancholy in lieu of mirth.<br> +<br> + I will, however, be bold enough to +assure you that could I bring myself to be the wife of any man I would +now become your wife. But I shall never marry again.<br> +<br> + Nevertheless, I am your most +affectionate friend,<br> +<br> + MATILDA CARBURY.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>About six o'clock in the afternoon she sent this letter to Mr +Broune's rooms in Pall Mall East, and then sat for awhile alone,—full +of regrets. She had thrown away from her a firm footing which +would certainly have served her for her whole life. Even at this +moment she was in debt,—and did not know how to pay her debts without +mortgaging her life income. She longed for some staff on which +she could lean. She was afraid of the future. When she +would sit with her paper before her, preparing her future work for the +press, copying a bit here and a bit there, inventing historical +details, dovetailing her chronicle, her head would sometimes seem to +be going round as she remembered the unpaid baker, and her son's +horses, and his unmeaning dissipation, and all her doubts about the +marriage. As regarded herself, Mr Broune would have made her +secure,—but that now was all over. Poor woman! This at +any rate may be said for her,—that had she accepted the man her +regrets would have been as deep. + +<p>Mr Broune's feelings were more decided in their tone than those of +the lady. He had not made his offer without consideration, and +yet from the very moment in which it had been made he repented +it. That gently sarcastic appellation by which Lady Carbury had +described him to herself when he had kissed her best explained that +side of Mr Broune's character which showed itself in this +matter. He was a susceptible old goose. Had she allowed +him to kiss her without objection, the kissing might probably have +gone on; and, whatever might have come of it, there would have been no +offer of marriage. He had believed that her little manoeuvres +had indicated love on her part, and he had felt himself constrained to +reciprocate the passion. She was beautiful in his eyes. +She was bright. She wore her clothes like a lady; and,—if it +was written in the Book of the Fates that some lady was to sit at the +top of his table,—Lady Carbury would look as well there as any +other. She had repudiated the kiss, and therefore he had felt +himself bound to obtain for himself the right to kiss her. + +<p>The offer had no sooner been made than he met her son reeling in, +drunk, at the front door. As he made his escape the lad had +insulted him. This perhaps helped to open his eyes. When +he woke the next morning, or rather late in the next day, after his +night's work, he was no longer able to tell himself that the world was +all right with him. Who does not know that sudden thoughtfulness +at waking, that first matutinal retrospection, and prospection, into +things as they have been and are to be; and the lowness of heart, the +blankness of hope which follows the first remembrance of some folly +lately done, some word ill-spoken, some money misspent,—or perhaps a +cigar too much, or a glass of brandy and soda-water which he should +have left untasted? And when things have gone well, how the +waker comforts himself among the bedclothes as he claims for himself +to be whole all over, teres atque rotundus,—so to have managed his +little affairs that he has to fear no harm, and to blush inwardly at +no error! Mr Broune, the way of whose life took him among many +perils, who in the course of his work had to steer his bark among many +rocks, was in the habit of thus auditing his daily account as he shook +off sleep about noon,—for such was his lot, that he seldom was in bed +before four or five in the morning. On this Wednesday he found +that he could not balance his sheet comfortably. He had taken a +very great step and he feared that he had not taken it with +wisdom. As he drank the cup of tea with which his servant +supplied him while he was yet in bed, he could not say of himself, +teres atque rotundus, as he was wont to do when things were well with +him. Everything was to be changed. As he lit a cigarette +he bethought himself that Lady Carbury would not like him to smoke in +her bedroom. Then he remembered other things. "I'll be +d–––– if he shall live in my house," he said +to himself. + +<p>And there was no way out of it. It did not occur to the man +that his offer could be refused. During the whole of that day +he went about among his friends in a melancholy fashion, saying +little snappish uncivil things at the club, and at last dining by +himself with about fifteen newspapers around him. After dinner +he did not speak a word to any man, but went early to the office of +the newspaper in Trafalgar Square at which he did his nightly +work. Here he was lapped in comforts,—if the best of chairs, +of sofas, of writing tables, and of reading lamps can make a man +comfortable who has to read nightly thirty columns of a newspaper, or +at any rate to make himself responsible for their contents. + +<p>He seated himself to his work like a man, but immediately saw Lady +Carbury's letter on the table before him. It was his custom +when he did not dine at home to have such documents brought to him at +his office as had reached his home during his absence;—and here was +Lady Carbury's letter. He knew her writing well, and was aware +that here was the confirmation of his fate. It had not been +expected, as she had given herself another day for her answer,—but +here it was, beneath his hand. Surely this was almost +unfeminine haste. He chucked the letter, unopened, a little +from him, and endeavoured to fix his attention on some printed slip +that was ready for him. For some ten minutes his eyes went +rapidly down the lines, but he found that his mind did not follow +what he was reading. He struggled again, but still his thoughts +were on the letter. He did not wish to open it, having some +vague idea that, till the letter should have been read, there was a +chance of escape. The letter would not become due to be read +till the next day. It should not have been there now to tempt +his thoughts on this night. But he could do nothing while it +lay there. "It shall be a part of the bargain that I shall +never have to see him," he said to himself, as he opened it. +The second line told him that the danger was over. + +<p>When he had read so far he stood up with his back to the +fireplace, leaving the letter on the table. Then, after all, +the woman wasn't in love with him! But that was a reading of +the affair which he could hardly bring himself to look upon as +correct. The woman had shown her love by a thousand +signs. There was no doubt, however, that she now had her +triumph. A woman always has a triumph when she rejects a +man,—and more especially when she does so at a certain time of +life. Would she publish her triumph? Mr Broune would not +like to have it known about among brother editors, or by the world at +large, that he had offered to marry Lady Carbury and that Lady +Carbury had refused him. He had escaped; but the sweetness of +his present safety was not in proportion to the bitterness of his +late fears. + +<p>He could not understand why Lady Carbury should have refused +him! As he reflected upon it, all memory of her son for the +moment passed away from him. Full ten minutes had passed, +during which he had still stood upon the rug, before he read the +entire letter. "'Cut and scotched and lopped!' I suppose she +has been," he said to himself. He had heard much of Sir +Patrick, and knew well that the old general had been no lamb. +"I shouldn't have cut her, or scotched her, or lopped her." +When he had read the whole letter patiently there crept upon him +gradually a feeling of admiration for her, greater than he had ever +yet felt,—and, for awhile, he almost thought that he would renew his +offer to her. "'Showers instead of sunshine; melancholy instead of +mirth,'" he repeated to himself. "I should have done the best +for her, taking the showers and the melancholy if they were +necessary." + +<p>He went to his work in a mixed frame of mind, but certainly +without that dragging weight which had oppressed him when he entered +the room. Gradually, through the night, he realized the +conviction that he had escaped, and threw from him altogether the +idea of repeating his offer. Before he left he wrote her a +line: + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> + Be it so. It need not break our +friendship.<br> +<br> + N. B.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>This he sent by a special messenger, who returned with a note to +his lodgings long before he was up on the following morning. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> + No;—no; certainly not. No word +of this will ever pass my mouth.<br> +<br> + M. C.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Mr Broune thought that he was very well out of the danger, and +resolved that Lady Carbury should never want anything that his +friendship could do for her. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="37"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII. The Board-Room</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>On Friday, the 21st June, the Board of the South Central Pacific +and Mexican Railway sat in its own room behind the Exchange, as was +the Board's custom every Friday. On this occasion all the +members were there, as it had been understood that the chairman was +to make a special statement. There was the great chairman as a +matter of course. In the midst of his numerous and immense +concerns he never threw over the railway, or delegated to other less +experienced hands those cares which the commercial world had +intrusted to his own. Lord Alfred was there, with Mr Cohenlupe, +the Hebrew gentleman, and Paul Montague, and Lord Nidderdale,—and +even Sir Felix Carbury. Sir Felix had come, being very anxious +to buy and sell, and not as yet having had an opportunity of +realizing his golden hopes, although he had actually paid a thousand +pounds in hard money into Mr Melmotte's hands. The secretary, +Mr Miles Grendall, was also present as a matter of course. The +Board always met at three, and had generally been dissolved at a +quarter past three. Lord Alfred and Mr Cohenlupe sat at the +chairman's right and left hand. Paul Montague generally sat +immediately below, with Miles Grendall opposite to him;—but on this +occasion the young lord and the young baronet took the next +places. It was a nice little family party, the great chairman +with his two aspiring sons-in-law, his two particular friends,—the +social friend, Lord Alfred, and the commercial friend Mr +Cohenlupe,—and Miles, who was Lord Alfred's son. It would have +been complete in its friendliness, but for Paul Montague, who had +lately made himself disagreeable to Mr Melmotte;—and most +ungratefully so, for certainly no one had been allowed so free a use +of the shares as the younger member of the house of Fisker, Montague, +and Montague. + +<p>It was understood that Mr Melmotte was to make a statement. +Lord Nidderdale and Sir Felix had conceived that this was to be done +as it were out of the great man's heart, of his own wish, so that +something of the condition of the company might be made known to the +directors of the company. But this was not perhaps exactly the +truth. Paul Montague had insisted on giving vent to certain +doubts at the last meeting but one, and, having made himself very +disagreeable indeed, had forced this trouble on the great +chairman. On the intermediate Friday the chairman had made +himself very unpleasant to Paul, and this had seemed to be an effort +on his part to frighten the inimical director out of his opposition, +so that the promise of a statement need not be fulfilled. What +nuisance can be so great to a man busied with immense affairs, as to +have to explain,—or to attempt to explain,—small details to men +incapable of understanding them? But Montague had stood to his +guns. He had not intended, he said, to dispute the commercial +success of the company. But he felt very strongly, and he +thought that his brother directors should feel as strongly, that it +was necessary that they should know more than they did know. +Lord Alfred had declared that he did not in the least agree with his +brother director. "If anybody don't understand, it's his own +fault," said Mr Cohenlupe. But Paul would not give way, and it +was understood that Mr Melmotte would make a statement. + +<p>The "Boards" were always commenced by the reading of a certain +record of the last meeting out of a book. This was always done +by Miles Grendall; and the record was supposed to have been written +by him. But Montague had discovered that this statement in the +book was always prepared and written by a satellite of Melmotte's +from Abchurch Lane who was never present at the meeting. The +adverse director had spoken to the secretary,—it will be remembered +that they were both members of the Beargarden,—and Miles had given a +somewhat evasive reply. "A cussed deal of trouble and all that, +you know! He's used to it, and it's what he's meant for. +I'm not going to flurry myself about stuff of that kind." +Montague after this had spoken on the subject both to Nidderdale and +Felix Carbury. "He couldn't do it, if it was ever so," +Nidderdale had said. "I don't think I'd bully him if I were +you. He gets £500 a-year, and if you knew all he owes, and all +he hasn't got, you wouldn't try to rob him of it." With Felix +Carbury, Montague had as little success. Sir Felix hated the +secretary, had detected him cheating at cards, had resolved to expose +him,—and had then been afraid to do so. He had told Dolly +Longestaffe, and the reader will perhaps remember with what +effect. He had not mentioned the affair again, and had +gradually fallen back into the habit of playing at the club. +Loo, however, had given way to whist, and Sir Felix had satisfied +himself with the change. He still meditated some dreadful +punishment for Miles Grendall, but, in the meantime, felt himself +unable to oppose him at the Board. Since the day at which the +aces had been manipulated at the club he had not spoken to Miles +Grendall except in reference to the affairs of the whist table. +The "Board" was now commenced as usual. Miles read the short +record out of the book,—stumbling over every other word, and going +through the performance so badly that had there been anything to +understand no one could have understood it. "Gentlemen," said +Mr Melmotte, in his usual hurried way, "is it your pleasure that I +shall sign the record?" Paul Montague rose to say that it was +not his pleasure that the record should be signed. But Melmotte +had made his scrawl, and was deep in conversation with Mr Cohenlupe +before Paul could get upon his legs. + +<p>Melmotte, however, had watched the little struggle. +Melmotte, whatever might be his faults, had eyes to see and ears to +hear. He perceived that Montague had made a little struggle and +had been cowed; and he knew how hard it is for one man to persevere +against five or six, and for a young man to persevere against his +elders. Nidderdale was filliping bits of paper across the table +at Carbury. Miles Grendall was poring over the book which was +in his charge. Lord Alfred sat back in his chair, the picture +of a model director, with his right hand within his waistcoat. +He looked aristocratic, respectable, and almost commercial. In +that room he never by any chance opened his mouth, except when called +on to say that Mr Melmotte was right, and was considered by the +chairman really to earn his money. Melmotte for a minute or two +went on conversing with Cohenlupe, having perceived that Montague for +the moment was cowed. Then Paul put both his hands upon the +table, intending to rise and ask some perplexing question. +Melmotte saw this also and was upon his legs before Montague had +risen from his chair. "Gentlemen," said Mr Melmotte, "it may +perhaps be as well if I take this occasion of saying a few words to +you about the affairs of the company." Then, instead of going +on with his statement, he sat down again, and began to turn over +sundry voluminous papers very slowly, whispering a word or two every +now and then to Mr Cohenlupe. Lord Alfred never changed his +posture and never took his hand from his breast. Nidderdale and +Carbury filliped their paper pellets backwards and forwards. +Montague sat profoundly listening,—or ready to listen when anything +should be said. As the chairman had risen from his chair to +commence his statement, Paul felt that he was bound to be +silent. When a speaker is in possession of the floor, he is in +possession even though he be somewhat dilatory in looking to his +references, and whispering to his neighbour. And, when that +speaker is a chairman, of course some additional latitude must be +allowed to him. Montague understood this, and sat silent. +It seemed that Melmotte had much to say to Cohenlupe, and Cohenlupe +much to say to Melmotte. Since Cohenlupe had sat at the Board +he had never before developed such powers of conversation. + +<p>Nidderdale didn't quite understand it. He had been there +twenty minutes, was tired of his present amusement, having been +unable to hit Carbury on the nose, and suddenly remembered that the +Beargarden would now be open. He was no respecter of persons, +and had got over any little feeling of awe with which the big table +and the solemnity of the room may have first inspired him. "I +suppose that's about all," he said, looking up at Melmotte. + +<p>"Well;—perhaps as your lordship is in a hurry, and as my lord +here is engaged elsewhere,—" turning round to Lord Alfred, who had +not uttered a syllable or made a sign since he had been in his +seat, "—we had better adjourn this meeting for another week." + +<p>"I cannot allow that," said Paul Montague. + +<p>"I suppose then we must take the sense of the Board," said the +Chairman. + +<p>"I have been discussing certain circumstances with our friend and +Chairman," said Cohenlupe, "and I must say that it is not expedient +just at present to go into matters too freely." + +<p>"My Lords and Gentlemen," said Melmotte. "I hope that you +trust me." + +<p>Lord Alfred bowed down to the table and muttered something which +was intended to convey most absolute confidence. "Hear, hear," +said Mr Cohenlupe. "All right," said Lord Nidderdale; "go on;" +and he fired another pellet with improved success. + +<p>"I trust," said the Chairman, "that my young friend, Sir Felix, +doubts neither my discretion nor my ability." + +<p>"Oh dear, no;—not at all," said the baronet, much tattered at +being addressed in this kindly tone. He had come there with +objects of his own, and was quite prepared to support the Chairman on +any matter whatever. + +<p>"My Lords and Gentlemen," continued Melmotte, "I am delighted to +receive this expression of your confidence. If I know anything +in the world I know something of commercial matters. I am able +to tell you that we are prospering. I do not know that greater +prosperity has ever been achieved in a shorter time by a commercial +company. I think our friend here, Mr Montague, should be as +feelingly aware of that as any gentleman." + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Mr Melmotte?" asked Paul. + +<p>"What do I mean?—Certainly nothing adverse to your character, +sir. Your firm in San Francisco, sir, know very well how the +affairs of the Company are being transacted on this side of the +water. No doubt you are in correspondence with Mr Fisker. +Ask him. The telegraph wires are open to you, sir. But, +my Lords and Gentlemen, I am able to inform you that in affairs of +this nature great discretion is necessary. On behalf of the +shareholders at large whose interests are in our hands, I think it +expedient that any general statement should be postponed for a short +time, and I flatter myself that in that opinion I shall carry the +majority of this Board with me." Mr Melmotte did not make his +speech very fluently; but, being accustomed to the place which he +occupied, he did manage to get the words spoken in such a way as to +make them intelligible to the company. "I now move that this +meeting be adjourned to this day week," he added. + +<p>"I second that motion," said Lord Alfred, without moving his hand +from his breast. + +<p>"I understood that we were to have a statement," said Montague. + +<p>"You've had a statement," said Mr Cohenlupe. + +<p>"I will put my motion to the vote," said the Chairman. "I +shall move an amendment," said Paul, determined that he would not be +altogether silenced. + +<p>"There is nobody to second it," said Mr Cohenlupe. + +<p>"How do you know till I've made it?" asked the rebel. "I +shall ask Lord Nidderdale to second it, and when he has heard it I +think that he will not refuse." + +<p>"Oh, gracious me! why me? No;—don't ask me. I've got +to go away. I have indeed." + +<p>"At any rate I claim the right of saying a few words. I do +not say whether every affair of this Company should or should not be +published to the world." + +<p>"You'd break up everything if you did," said Cohenlupe. + +<p>"Perhaps everything ought to be broken up. But I say nothing +about that. What I do say is this. That as we sit here as +directors and will be held to be responsible as such by the public, +we ought to know what is being done. We ought to know where the +shares really are. I for one do not even know what scrip has +been issued." + +<p>"You've bought and sold enough to know something about it," said +Melmotte. + +<p>Paul Montague became very red in the face. "I, at any rate, +began," he said, "by putting what was to me a large sum of money into +the affair." + +<p>"That's more than I know," said Melmotte. "Whatever shares +you have, were issued at San Francisco, and not here." + +<p>"I have taken nothing that I haven't paid for," said +Montague. "Nor have I yet had allotted to me anything like the +number of shares which my capital would represent. But I did +not intend to speak of my own concerns." + +<p>"It looks very like it," said Cohenlupe. + +<p>"So far from it that I am prepared to risk the not improbable loss +of everything I have in the world. I am determined to know what +is being done with the shares, or to make it public to the world at +large that I, one of the directors of the Company, do not in truth +know anything about it. I cannot, I suppose, absolve myself +from further responsibility; but I can at any rate do what is right +from this time forward,—and that course I intend to take." + +<p>"The gentleman had better resign his seat at this Board," said +Melmotte. "There will be no difficulty about that." + +<p>"Bound up as I am with Fisker and Montague in California I fear +that there will be difficulty." + +<p>"Not in the least," continued the Chairman. "You need only +gazette your resignation and the thing is done. I had intended, +gentlemen, to propose an addition to our number. When I name to +you a gentleman, personally known to many of you, and generally +esteemed throughout England as a man of business, as a man of +probity, and as a man of fortune, a man standing deservedly high in +all British circles, I mean Mr Longestaffe of Caversham—" + +<p>"Young Dolly, or old," asked Lord Nidderdale. + +<p>"I mean Mr Adolphus Longestaffe, senior, of Caversham. I am +sure that you will all be glad to welcome him among you. I had +thought to strengthen our number by this addition. But if Mr +Montague is determined to leave us,—and no one will regret the loss +of his services so much as I shall,—it will be my pleasing duty to +move that Adolphus Longestaffe, senior, Esquire, of Caversham, be +requested to take his place. If on consideration Mr Montague +shall determine to remain with us,—and I for one most sincerely hope +that such reconsideration may lead to such determination,—then I +shall move that an additional director be added to our number, and +that Mr Longestaffe be requested to take the chair of that additional +director." The latter speech Mr Melmotte got through very +glibly, and then immediately left the chair, so as to show that the +business of the Board was closed for that day without any possibility +of re-opening it. + +<p>Paul went up to him and took him by the sleeve, signifying that he +wished to speak to him before they parted. "Certainly," said +the great man bowing. "Carbury," he said, looking round on the +young baronet with his blandest smile, "if you are not in a hurry, +wait a moment for me. I have a word or two to say before you +go. Now, Mr Montague, what can I do for you?" Paul began +his story, expressing again the opinion which he had already very +plainly expressed at the table. But Melmotte stopped him very +shortly, and with much less courtesy than he had shown in the speech +which he had made from the chair. "The thing is about this way, +I take it, Mr Montague;—you think you know more of this matter than +I do." + +<p>"Not at all, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"And I think that I know more of it than you do. Either of +us may be right. But as I don't intend to give way to you, +perhaps the less we speak together about it the better. You +can't be in earnest in the threat you made, because you would be +making public things communicated to you under the seal of +privacy,—and no gentleman would do that. But as long as you +are hostile to me, I can't help you,—and so good afternoon." +Then, without giving Montague the possibility of a reply, he escaped +into an inner room which had the word "Private" painted on the door, +and which was supposed to belong to the chairman individually. +He shut the door behind him, and then, after a few moments, put out +his head and beckoned to Sir Felix Carbury. Nidderdale was +gone. Lord Alfred with his son were already on the +stairs. Cohenlupe was engaged with Melmotte's clerk on the +record-book. Paul Montague, finding himself without support and +alone, slowly made his way out into the court. + +<p>Sir Felix had come into the city intending to suggest to the +Chairman that having paid his thousand pounds he should like to have +a few shares to go on with. He was, indeed, at the present +moment very nearly penniless, and had negotiated, or lost at cards, +all the I.O.U.'s which were in any degree serviceable. He still +had a pocketbook full of those issued by Miles Grendall; but it was +now an understood thing at the Beargarden that no one was to be +called upon to take them except Miles Grendall himself;—an +arrangement which robbed the card-table of much of its delight. +Beyond this, also, he had lately been forced to issue a little paper +himself,—in doing which he had talked largely of his shares in the +railway. His case certainly was hard. He had actually +paid a thousand pounds down in hard cash, a commercial transaction +which, as performed by himself, he regarded as stupendous. It +was almost incredible to himself that he should have paid any one a +thousand pounds, but he had done it with much difficulty,—having +carried Dolly junior with him all the way into the city,—in the +belief that he would thus put himself in the way of making a +continual and unfailing income. He understood that as a +director he would be always entitled to buy shares at par, and, as a +matter of course, always able to sell them at the market price. +This he understood to range from ten to fifteen and twenty per cent, +profit. He would have nothing to do but to buy and sell +daily. He was told that Lord Alfred was allowed to do it to a +small extent; and that Melmotte was doing it to an enormous +extent. But before he could do it he must get something,—he +hardly knew what,—out of Melmotte's hands. Melmotte certainly +did not seem to shun him, and therefore there could be no difficulty +about the shares. As to danger,—who could think of danger in +reference to money intrusted to the hands of Augustus Melmotte? + +<p>"I am delighted to see you here," said Melmotte, shaking him +cordially by the hand. "You come regularly, and you'll find +that it will be worth your while. There's nothing like +attending to business. You should be here every Friday." + +<p>"I will," said the baronet. + +<p>"And let me see you sometimes up at my place in Abchurch +Lane. I can put you more in the way of understanding things +there than I can here. This is all a mere formal sort of +thing. You can see that." + +<p>"Oh yes, I see that." + +<p>"We are obliged to have this kind of thing for men like that +fellow Montague. By-the-bye, is he a friend of yours?" + +<p>"Not particularly. He is a friend of a cousin of mine; and +the women know him at home. He isn't a pal of mine if you mean +that." + +<p>"If he makes himself disagreeable, he'll have to go to the +wall;—that's all. But never mind him at present. Was +your mother speaking to you of what I said to her?" + +<p>"No, Mr Melmotte," said Sir Felix, staring with all his eyes. + +<p>"I was talking to her about you, and I thought that perhaps she +might have told you. This is all nonsense, you know, about you +and Marie." Sir Felix looked into the man's face. It was +not savage, as he had seen it. But there had suddenly come upon +his brow that heavy look of a determined purpose which all who knew +the man were wont to mark. Sir Felix had observed it a few +minutes since in the Board-room, when the chairman was putting down +the rebellious director. "You understand that; don't +you?" Sir Felix still looked at him, but made no reply. +"It's all d–––– nonsense. You haven't +got a brass farthing, you know. You've no income at all; you're +just living on your mother, and I'm afraid she's not very well +off. How can you suppose that I shall give my girl to +you?" Felix still looked at him but did not dare to contradict +a single statement made. Yet when the man told him that he had +not a brass farthing he thought of his own thousand pounds which were +now in the man's pocket. "You're a baronet, and that's about +all, you know," continued Melmotte. "The Carbury property, +which is a very small thing, belongs to a distant cousin who may +leave it to me if he pleases;—and who isn't very much older than you +are yourself." + +<p>"Oh, come, Mr Melmotte; he's a great deal older than me." + +<p>"It wouldn't matter if he were as old as Adam. The thing is +out of the question, and you must drop it." Then the look on +his brow became a little heavier. "You hear what I say. +She is going to marry Lord Nidderdale. She was engaged to him +before you ever saw her. What do you expect to get by it?" + +<p>Sir Felix had not the courage to say that he expected to get the +girl he loved. But as the man waited for an answer he was +obliged to say something. "I suppose it's the old story," he +said. + +<p>"Just so;—the old story. You want my money, and she wants +you, just because she has been told to take somebody else. You +want something to live on;—that's what you want. Come;—out +with it. Is not that it? When we understand each other +I'll put you in the way of making money." + +<p>"Of course I'm not very well off," said Felix. + +<p>"About as badly as any young man that I can hear of. You +give me your written promise that you'll drop this affair with Marie, +and you shan't want for money." + +<p>"A written promise!" + +<p>"Yes;—a written promise. I give nothing for nothing. +I'll put you in the way of doing so well with these shares that you +shall be able to marry any other girl you please;—or to live without +marrying, which you'll find to be better." + +<p>There was something worthy of consideration in Mr Melmotte's +proposition. Marriage of itself, simply as a domestic +institution, had not specially recommended itself to Sir Felix +Carbury. A few horses at Leighton, Ruby Ruggles or any other +beauty, and life at the Beargarden were much more to his taste. +And then he was quite alive to the fact that it was possible that he +might find himself possessed of the wife without the money. +Marie, indeed, had a grand plan of her own, with reference to that +settled income; but then Marie might be mistaken,—or she might be +lying. If he were sure of making money in the way Melmotte now +suggested, the loss of Marie would not break his heart. But +then also Melmotte might be—lying. "By-the-bye, Mr Melmotte," +said he, "could you let me have those shares?" + +<p>"What shares?" And the heavy brow became still heavier. + +<p>"Don't you know?—I gave you a thousand pounds, and I was to +have ten shares." + +<p>"You must come about that on the proper day, to the proper place." + +<p>"When is the proper day?" + +<p>"It is the twentieth of each month, I think." Sir Felix +looked very blank at hearing this, knowing that this present was the +twenty-first of the month. "But what does that signify? +Do you want a little money?" + +<p>"Well, I do," said Sir Felix. "A lot of fellows owe me +money, but it's so hard to get it." + +<p>"That tells a story of gambling," said Mr Melmotte. "You +think I'd give my girl to a gambler?" + +<p>"Nidderdale's in it quite as thick as I am." + +<p>"Nidderdale has a settled property which neither he nor his father +can destroy. But don't you be such a fool as to argue with +me. You won't get anything by it. If you'll write that +letter here now—" + +<p>"What;—to Marie?" + +<p>"No;—not to Marie at all; but to me. It need never be known +to her. If you'll do that I'll stick to you and make a man of +you. And if you want a couple of hundred pounds I'll give you a +cheque for it before you leave the room. Mind, I can tell you +this. On my word of honour as a gentleman, if my daughter were +to marry you, she'd never have a single shilling. I should +immediately make a will and leave all my property to St. George's +Hospital. I have quite made up my mind about that." + +<p>"And couldn't you manage that I should have the shares before the +twentieth of next month?" + +<p>"I'll see about it. Perhaps I could let you have a few of my +own. At any rate I won't see you short of money." + +<p>The terms were enticing and the letter was of course +written. Melmotte himself dictated the words, which were not +romantic in their nature. The reader shall see the letter. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR SIR,<br> +<br> + In consideration of the offers made by +you to me, and on a clear understanding that such a marriage would be +disagreeable to you and to the lady's mother, and would bring down a +father's curse upon your daughter, I hereby declare and promise that +I will not renew my suit to the young lady, which I hereby altogether +renounce.<br> +<br> + I am, Dear Sir,<br> +<br> + Your obedient servant,<br> +<br> + FELIX CARBURY.<br> +<br> +AUGUSTUS MELMOTTE, Esq.,<br> +Grosvenor Square.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>The letter was dated 21st July, and bore the printed address of +the offices of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway. + +<p>"You'll give me that cheque for £200, Mr Melmotte?" The +financier hesitated for a moment, but did give the baronet the cheque +as promised. "And you'll see about letting me have those +shares?" + +<p>"You can come to me in Abchurch Lane, you know." Sir Felix +said that he would call in Abchurch Lane. + +<p>As he went westward towards the Beargarden, the baronet was not +happy in his mind. Ignorant as he was as to the duties of a +gentleman, indifferent as he was to the feelings of others, still he +felt ashamed of himself. He was treating the girl very +badly. Even he knew that he was behaving badly. He was so +conscious of it that he tried to console himself by reflecting that +his writing such a letter as that would not prevent his running away +with the girl, should he, on consideration, find it to be worth his +while to do so. + +<p>That night he was again playing at the Beargarden, and he lost a +great part of Mr Melmotte's money. He did in fact lose much +more than the £200; but when he found his ready money going from him +he issued paper. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="38"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII. Paul Montague's Troubles</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Paul Montague had other troubles on his mind beyond this trouble +of the Mexican Railway. It was now more than a fortnight since +he had taken Mrs Hurtle to the play, and she was still living in +lodgings at Islington. He had seen her twice, once on the +following day, when he was allowed to come and go without any special +reference to their engagement, and again, three or four days +afterwards, when the meeting was by no means so pleasant. She +had wept, and after weeping had stormed. She had stood upon +what she called her rights, and had dared him to be false to +her. Did he mean to deny that he had promised to marry +her? Was not his conduct to her, ever since she had now been in +London, a repetition of that promise? And then again she became +soft, and pleaded with him. But for the storm he might have +given way. At the moment he had felt that any fate in life +would be better than a marriage on compulsion. Her tears and +her pleadings, nevertheless, touched him very nearly. He had +promised her most distinctly. He had loved her and had won her +love. And she was lovely. The very violence of the storm +made the sunshine more sweet. She would sit down on a stool at +his feet, and it was impossible to drive her away from him. She +would look up in his face and he could not but embrace her. +Then there had come a passionate flood of tears and she was in his +arms. How he had escaped he hardly knew, but he did know that +he had promised to be with her again before two days should have +passed. + +<p>On the day named he wrote to her a letter excusing himself, which +was at any rate true in words. He had been summoned, he said, +to Liverpool on business, and must postpone seeing her till his +return. And he explained that the business on which he was +called was connected with the great American railway, and, being +important, demanded his attention. In words this was +true. He had been corresponding with a gentleman at Liverpool +with whom he had become acquainted on his return home after having +involuntarily become a partner in the house of Fisker, Montague, and +Montague. This man he trusted and had consulted, and the +gentleman, Mr Ramsbottom by name, had suggested that he should come +to him at Liverpool. He had gone, and his conduct at the Board +had been the result of the advice which he had received; but it may +be doubted whether some dread of the coming interview with Mrs Hurtle +had not added strength to Mr Ramsbottom's invitation. + +<p>In Liverpool he had heard tidings of Mrs Hurtle, though it can +hardly be said that he obtained any trustworthy information. +The lady after landing from an American steamer had been at Mr +Ramsbottom's office, inquiring for him, Paul; and Mr Ramsbottom had +thought that the inquiries were made in a manner indicating +danger. He therefore had spoken to a fellow-traveller with Mrs +Hurtle, and the fellow-traveller had opined that Mrs Hurtle was "a +queer card." "On board ship we all gave it up to her that she +was about the handsomest woman we had ever seen, but we all said that +there was a bit of the wild cat in her breeding." Then Mr +Ramsbottom had asked whether the lady was a widow. "There was a +man on board from Kansas," said the fellow-traveller, "who knew a man +named Hurtle at Leavenworth, who was separated from his wife and is +still alive. There was, according to him, a queer story about +the man and his wife having fought a duel with pistols, and then +having separated." This Mr Ramsbottom, who in an earlier stage +of the affair had heard something of Paul and Mrs Hurtle together, +managed to communicate to the young man. His advice about the +railway company was very clear and general, and such as an honest man +would certainly give; but it might have been conveyed by +letter. The information, such as it was, respecting Mrs Hurtle, +could only be given vivâ voce, and perhaps the invitation to +Liverpool had originated in Mr Ramsbottom's appreciation of this +fact. "As she was asking after you here, perhaps it is well +that you should know," his friend said to him. Paul had only +thanked him, not daring on the spur of the moment to speak of his own +difficulties. + +<p>In all this there had been increased dismay, but there had also +been some comfort. It had only been at moments in which he had +been subject to her softer influences that Paul had doubted as to his +adherence to the letter which he had written to her, breaking off his +engagement. When she told him of her wrongs and of her love; of +his promise and his former devotion to her; when she assured him that +she had given up everything in life for him, and threw her arms round +him, looking into his eyes;—then he would almost yield. But +when, what the traveller called the breeding of the wild cat, showed +itself;—and when, having escaped from her, he thought of Hetta +Carbury and of her breeding,—he was fully determined that, let his +fate be what it might, it should not be that of being the husband of +Mrs Hurtle. That he was in a mass of troubles from which it +would be very difficult for him to extricate himself he was well +aware;—but if it were true that Mr Hurtle was alive, that fact might +help him. She certainly had declared him to be,—not separated, +or even divorced,—but dead. And if it were true also that she +had fought a duel with one husband, that also ought to be a reason +why a gentleman should object to become her second husband. +These facts would at any rate justify himself to himself, and would +enable himself to break from his engagement without thinking himself +to be a false traitor. + +<p>But he must make up his mind as to some line of conduct. She +must be made to know the truth. If he meant to reject the lady +finally on the score of her being a wild cat, he must tell her +so. He felt very strongly that he must not flinch from the wild +cat's claws. That he would have to undergo some severe +handling, an amount of clawing which might perhaps go near his life, +he could perceive. Having done what he had done he would have +no right to shrink from such usage. He must tell her to her +face that he was not satisfied with her past life, and that therefore +he would not marry her. Of course he might write to her;—but +when summoned to her presence he would be unable to excuse himself, +even to himself, for not going. It was his misfortune,—and +also his fault,—that he had submitted to be loved by a wild cat. + +<p>But it might be well that before he saw her he should get hold of +information that might have the appearance of real evidence. He +returned from Liverpool to London on the morning of the Friday on +which the Board was held, and thought even more of all this than he +did of the attack which he was prepared to make on Mr Melmotte. +If he could come across that traveller he might learn +something. The husband's name had been Caradoc Carson +Hurtle. If Caradoc Carson Hurtle had been seen in the State of +Kansas within the last two years, that certainly would be sufficient +evidence. As to the duel he felt that it might be very hard to +prove that, and that if proved, it might be hard to found upon the +fact any absolute right on his part to withdraw from the +engagement. But there was a rumour also, though not +corroborated during his last visit to Liverpool, that she had shot a +gentleman in Oregon. Could he get at the truth of that +story? If they were all true, surely he could justify himself +to himself. + +<p>But this detective's work was very distasteful to him. After +having had the woman in his arms how could he undertake such +inquiries as these? And it would be almost necessary that he +should take her in his arms again while he was making them,—unless +indeed he made them with her knowledge. Was it not his duty, as +a man, to tell everything to herself? To speak to her thus:—"I +am told that your life with your last husband was, to say the least +of it, eccentric; that you even fought a duel with him. I could +not marry a woman who had fought a duel,—certainly not a woman who +had fought with her own husband. I am told also that you shot +another gentleman in Oregon. It may well be that the gentleman +deserved to be shot; but there is something in the deed so repulsive +to me,—no doubt irrationally,—that, on that score also, I must +decline to marry you. I am told also that Mr Hurtle has been +seen alive quite lately. I had understood from you that he is +dead. No doubt you may have been deceived. But as I +should not have engaged myself to you had I known the truth, so now I +consider myself justified in absolving myself from an engagement +which was based on a misconception." It would no doubt be +difficult to get through all these details; but it might be +accomplished gradually,—unless in the process of doing so he should +incur the fate of the gentleman in Oregon. At any rate he would +declare to her as well as he could the ground on which he claimed a +right to consider himself free, and would bear the +consequences. Such was the resolve which he made on his journey +up from Liverpool, and that trouble was also on his mind when he rose +up to attack Mr Melmotte single-handed at the Board. + +<p>When the Board was over, he also went down to the +Beargarden. Perhaps, with reference to the Board, the feeling +which hurt him most was the conviction that he was spending money +which he would never have had to spend had there been no Board. +He had been twitted with this at the Board-meeting, and had justified +himself by referring to the money which had been invested in the +company of Fisker, Montague, and Montague, which money was now +supposed to have been made over to the railway. But the money +which he was spending had come to him after a loose fashion, and he +knew that if called upon for an account, he could hardly make out one +which would be square and intelligible to all parties. +Nevertheless he spent much of his time at the Beargarden, dining +there when no engagement carried him elsewhere. On this evening +he joined his table with Nidderdale's, at the young lord's +instigation. "What made you so savage at old Melmotte to-day?" +said the young lord. + +<p>"I didn't mean to be savage, but I think that as we call ourselves +Directors we ought to know something about it." + +<p>"I suppose we ought. I don't know, you know. I'll tell +you what I've been thinking. I can't make out why the mischief +they made me a Director." + +<p>"Because you're a lord," said Paul bluntly. + +<p>"I suppose there's something in that. But what good can I do +them? Nobody thinks that I know anything about business. +Of course I'm in Parliament, but I don't often go there unless they +want me to vote. Everybody knows that I'm hard up. I +can't understand it. The Governor said that I was to do it, and +so I've done it." + +<p>"They say, you know,—there's something between you and Melmotte's +daughter." + +<p>"But if there is, what has that to do with a railway in the +city? And why should Carbury be there? And, heaven and +earth, why should old Grendall be a Director? I'm impecunious; +but if you were to pink out the two most hopeless men in London in +regard to money, they would be old Grendall and young Carbury. +I've been thinking a good deal about it, and I can't make it out." + +<p>"I have been thinking about it too," said Paul. + +<p>"I suppose old Melmotte is all right?" asked Nidderdale. +This was a question which Montague found it difficult to +answer. How could he be justified in whispering suspicions to +the man who was known to be at any rate one of the competitors for +Marie Melmotte's hand? "You can speak out to me, you know," +said Nidderdale, nodding his head. + +<p>"I've got nothing to speak. People say that he is about the +richest man alive." + +<p>"He lives as though he were." + +<p>"I don't see why it shouldn't be all true. Nobody, I take +it, knows very much about him." + +<p>When his companion had left him, Nidderdale sat down, thinking of +it all. It occurred to him that he would "be coming a cropper +rather," were he to marry Melmotte's daughter for her money, and then +find that she had got none. + +<p>A little later in the evening he invited Montague to go up to the +card-room. "Carbury, and Grasslough, and Dolly Longestaffe are +there waiting," he said. But Paul declined. He was too +full of his troubles for play. "Poor Miles isn't there, if +you're afraid of that," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"Miles Grendall wouldn't hinder me," said Montague. + +<p>"Nor me either. Of course it's a confounded shame. I +know that as well as anybody. But, God bless me, I owe a fellow +down in Leicestershire heaven knows how much for keeping horses, and +that's a shame." + +<p>"You'll pay him some day." + +<p>"I suppose I shall,—if I don't die first. But I should have +gone on with the horses just the same if there had never been +anything to come;—only they wouldn't have given me tick, you +know. As far as I'm concerned it's just the same. I like +to live whether I've got money or not. And I fear I don't have +many scruples about paying. But then I like to let live +too. There's Carbury always saying nasty things about poor +Miles. He's playing himself without a rap to back him. If +he were to lose, Vossner wouldn't stand him a £10 note. But +because he has won, he goes on as though he were old Melmotte +himself. You'd better come up." + +<p>But Montague wouldn't go up. Without any fixed purpose he +left the club, and slowly sauntered northwards through the streets +till he found himself in Welbeck Street. He hardly knew why he +went there, and certainly had not determined to call on Lady Carbury +when he left the Beargarden. His mind was full of Mrs +Hurtle. As long as she was present in London,—as long at any +rate as he was unable to tell himself that he had finally broken away +from her,—he knew himself to be an unfit companion for Henrietta +Carbury. And, indeed, he was still under some promise made to +Roger Carbury, not that he would avoid Hetta's company, but that for +a certain period, as yet unexpired, he would not ask her to be his +wife. It had been a foolish promise, made and then repented +without much attention to words;—but still it was existing, and Paul +knew well that Roger trusted that it would be kept. +Nevertheless Paul made his way up to Welbeck Street and almost +unconsciously knocked at the door. No;—Lady Carbury was not at +home. She was out somewhere with Mr Roger Carbury. Up to +that moment Paul had not heard that Roger was in town; but the reader +may remember that he had come up in search of Ruby Ruggles. +Miss Carbury was at home, the page went on to say. Would Mr +Montague go up and see Miss Carbury? Without much consideration +Mr Montague said that he would go up and see Miss Carbury. +"Mamma is out with Roger," said Hetta, endeavouring to save herself +from confusion. "There is a soirée of learned people somewhere, +and she made poor Roger take her. The ticket was only for her +and her friend, and therefore I could not go." + +<p>"I am so glad to see you. What an age it is since we met." + +<p>"Hardly since the Melmottes' ball," said Hetta. + +<p>"Hardly indeed. I have been here once since that. What +has brought Roger up to town?" + +<p>"I don't know what it is. Some mystery, I think. +Whenever there is a mystery I am always afraid that there is +something wrong about Felix. I do get so unhappy about Felix, +Mr Montague." + +<p>"I saw him to-day in the city, at the Railway Board." + +<p>"But Roger says the Railway Board is all a sham,"—Paul could not +keep himself from blushing as he heard this,—"and that Felix should +not be there. And then there is something going on about that +horrid man's daughter." + +<p>"She is to marry Lord Nidderdale, I think." + +<p>"Is she? They are talking of her marrying Felix, and of +course it is for her money. And I believe that man is +determined to quarrel with them." + +<p>"What man, Miss Carbury?" + +<p>"Mr Melmotte himself. It's all horrid from beginning to +end." + +<p>"But I saw them in the city to-day and they seemed to b the +greatest friends. When I wanted to see Mr Melmotte he bolted +himself into an inner room, but he took your brother with him. +He would not have done that if they had not been friends. When +I saw it I almost thought that he had consented to the marriage." + +<p>"Roger has the greatest dislike to Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"I know he has," said Paul. + +<p>"And Roger is always right. It is always safe to trust +him. Don't you think so, Mr Montague?" Paul did think so, +and was by no means disposed to deny to his rival the praise which +rightly belonged to him; but still he found the subject +difficult. "Of course I will never go against mamma," continued +Hetta, "but I always feel that my cousin Roger is a rock of strength, +so that if one did whatever he said one would never get wrong. +I never found any one else that I thought that of, but I do think it +of him." + +<p>"No one has more reason to praise him than I have." + +<p>"I think everybody has reason to praise him that has to do with +him. And I'll tell you why I think it is. Whenever he +thinks anything he says it;—or, at least, he never says anything +that he doesn't think. If he spent a thousand pounds, everybody +would know that he'd got it to spend; but other people are not like +that." + +<p>"You're thinking of Melmotte." + +<p>"I'm thinking of everybody, Mr Montague;—of everybody except +Roger." + +<p>"Is he the only man you can trust? But it is abominable to +me to seem even to contradict you. Roger Carbury has been to me +the best friend that any man ever had. I think as much of him +as you do." + +<p>"I didn't say he was the only person;—or I didn't mean to say +so. But all my friends—" + +<p>"Am I among the number, Miss Carbury?" + +<p>"Yes;—I suppose so. Of course you are. Why not? +Of course you are a friend,—because you are his friend." + +<p>"Look here, Hetta," he said. "It is no good going on like +this. I love Roger Carbury,—as well as one man can love +another. He is all that you say,—and more. You hardly +know how he denies himself, and how he thinks of everybody near +him. He is a gentleman all round and every inch. He never +lies. He never takes what is not his own. I believe he +does love his neighbour as himself." + +<p>"Oh, Mr Montague! I am so glad to hear you speak of him like +that." + +<p>"I love him better than any man,—as well as a man can love a +man. If you will say that you love him as well as a woman can +love a man,—I will leave England at once, and never return to it." + +<p>"There's mamma," said Henrietta;—for at that moment there was a +double knock at the door. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="39"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX. "I do love him"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>So it was. Lady Carbury had returned home from the +soirée of learned people, and had brought Roger Carbury with +her. They both came up to the drawing-room and found Paul and +Henrietta together. It need hardly be said that they were both +surprised. Roger supposed that Montague was still at Liverpool, +and, knowing that he was not a frequent visitor in Welbeck Street, +could hardly avoid a feeling that a meeting between the two had now +been planned in the mother's absence. The reader knows that it +was not so. Roger certainly was a man not liable to suspicion, +but the circumstances in this case were suspicious. There would +have been nothing to suspect,—no reason why Paul should not have +been there,—but from the promise which had been given. There +was, indeed, no breach of that promise proved by Paul's presence in +Welbeck Street; but Roger felt rather than thought that the two could +hardly have spent the evening together without such breach. +Whether Paul had broken the promise by what he had already said the +reader must be left to decide. + +<p>Lady Carbury was the first to speak. "This is quite an +unexpected pleasure, Mr Montague." Whether Roger suspected +anything or not, she did. The moment she saw Paul the idea +occurred to her that the meeting between Hetta and him had been +preconcerted. + +<p>"Yes," he said making a lame excuse, where no excuse should have +been made,—"I had nothing to do, and was lonely, and thought that I +would come up and see you." Lady Carbury disbelieved him +altogether, but Roger felt assured that his coming in Lady Carbury's +absence had been an accident. The man had said so, and that was +enough. + +<p>"I thought you were at Liverpool," said Roger. + +<p>"I came back to-day,—to be present at that Board in the +city. I have had a good deal to trouble me. I will tell +you all about it just now. What has brought you to London?" + +<p>"A little business," said Roger. + +<p>Then there was an awkward silence. Lady Carbury was angry, +and hardly knew whether she ought not to show her anger. For +Henrietta it was very awkward. She, too, could not but feel +that she had been caught, though no innocence could be whiter than +hers. She knew well her mother's mind, and the way in which her +mother's thoughts would run. Silence was frightful to her, and +she found herself forced to speak. "Have you had a pleasant +evening, mamma?" + +<p>"Have you had a pleasant evening, my dear?" said Lady Carbury, +forgetting herself in her desire to punish her daughter. + +<p>"Indeed, no," said Hetta, attempting to laugh, "I have been trying +to work hard at Dante, but one never does any good when one has to +try to work. I was just going to bed when Mr Montague came +in. What did you think of the wise men and the wise women, +Roger?" + +<p>"I was out of my element, of course; but I think your mother liked +it." + +<p>"I was very glad indeed to meet Dr Palmoil. It seems that if +we can only open the interior of Africa a little further, we can get +everything that is wanted to complete the chemical combination +necessary for feeding the human race. Isn't that a grand idea, +Roger?" + +<p>"A little more elbow grease is the combination that I look to." + +<p>"Surely, Roger, if the Bible is to go for anything, we are to +believe that labour is a curse and not a blessing. Adam was not +born to labour." + +<p>"But he fell; and I doubt whether Dr Palmoil will be able to put +his descendants back into Eden." + +<p>"Roger, for a religious man, you do say the strangest +things! I have quite made up my mind to this;—if ever I can +see things so settled here as to enable me to move, I will visit the +interior of Africa. It is the garden of the world." + +<p>This scrap of enthusiasm so carried them through their immediate +difficulties that the two men were able to take their leave and to +get out of the room with fair comfort. As soon as the door was +closed behind them Lady Carbury attacked her daughter. "What +brought him here?" + +<p>"He brought himself, mamma." + +<p>"Don't answer me in that way, Hetta. Of course he brought +himself. That is insolent." + +<p>"Insolent, mamma! How can you say such hard words? I +meant that he came of his own accord." + +<p>"How long was he here?" + +<p>"Two minutes before you came in. Why do you cross-question +me like this? I could not help his coming. I did not +desire that he might be shown up." + +<p>"You did not know that he was to come?" + +<p>"Mamma, if I am to be suspected, all is over between us." + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" + +<p>"If you can think that I would deceive you, you will think so +always. If you will not trust me, how am I to live with you as +though you did? I knew nothing of his coming." + +<p>"Tell me this, Hetta; are you engaged to marry him?" + +<p>"No;—I am not." + +<p>"Has he asked you to marry him?" + +<p>Hetta paused a moment, considering, before she answered this +question. "I do not think he ever has." + +<p>"You do not think?" + +<p>"I was going on to explain. He never has asked me. But +he has said that which makes me know that he wishes me to be his +wife." + +<p>"What has he said? When did he say it?" + +<p>Again she paused. But again she answered with +straightforward simplicity. "Just before you came in, he +said—; I don't know what he said; but it meant that." + +<p>"You told me he had been here but a minute." + +<p>"It was but very little more. If you take me at my word in +that way, of course you can make me out to be wrong, mamma. It +was almost no time, and yet he said it." + +<p>"He had come prepared to say it." + +<p>"How could he,—expecting to find you?" + +<p>"Psha! He expected nothing of the kind." + +<p>"I think you do him wrong, mamma. I am sure you are doing me +wrong. I think his coming was an accident, and that what he +said was—an accident." + +<p>"An accident!" + +<p>"It was not intended,—not then, mamma. I have known it ever +so long;—and so have you. It was natural that he should say so +when we were alone together." + +<p>"And you;—what did you say?" + +<p>"Nothing. You came." + +<p>"I am sorry that my coming should have been so inopportune. +But I must ask one other question, Hetta. What do you intend to +say?" Hetta was again silent, and now for a longer space. +She put her hand up to her brow and pushed back her hair as she +thought whether her mother had a right to continue this +cross-examination. She had told her mother everything as it had +happened. She had kept back no deed done, no word spoken, +either now or at any time. But she was not sure that her mother +had a right to know her thoughts, feeling as she did that she had so +little sympathy from her mother. "How do you intend to answer +him?" demanded Lady Carbury. + +<p>"I do not know that he will ask again." + +<p>"That is prevaricating." + +<p>"No, mamma;—I do not prevaricate. It is unfair to say that +to me. I do love him. There. I think it ought to +have been enough for you to know that I should never give him +encouragement without telling you about it. I do love him, and +I shall never love any one else." + +<p>"He is a ruined man. Your cousin says that all this Company +in which he is involved will go to pieces." + +<p>Hetta was too clever to allow this argument to pass. She did +not doubt that Roger had so spoken of the Railway to her mother, but +she did doubt that her mother had believed the story. "If so," +said she, "Mr Melmotte will be a ruined man too, and yet you want +Felix to marry Marie Melmotte." + +<p>"It makes me ill to hear you talk,—as if you understood these +things. And you think you will marry this man because he is to +make a fortune out of the Railway!" Lady Carbury was able to +speak with an extremity of scorn in reference to the assumed pursuit +by one of her children of an advantageous position which she was +doing all in her power to recommend to the other child. + +<p>"I have not thought of his fortune. I have not thought of +marrying him, mamma. I think you are very cruel to me. +You say things so hard, that I cannot bear them." + +<p>"Why will you not marry your cousin?" + +<p>"I am not good enough for him." + +<p>"Nonsense!" + +<p>"Very well; you say so. But that is what I think. He +is so much above me, that, though I do love him, I cannot think of +him in that way. And I have told you that I do love some one +else. I have no secret from you now. Good night, mamma," +she said, coming up to her mother and kissing her. "Do be kind +to me; and pray,—pray,—do believe me." Lady Carbury then +allowed herself to be kissed, and allowed her daughter to leave the +room. + +<p>There was a great deal said that night between Roger Carbury and +Paul Montague before they parted. As they walked together to +Roger's hotel he said not a word as to Paul's presence in Welbeck +Street. Paul had declared his visit in Lady Carbury's absence +to have been accidental,—and therefore there was nothing more to be +said. Montague then asked as to the cause of Carbury's journey +to London. "I do not wish it to be talked of," said Roger after +a pause,—"and of course I could not speak of it before Hetta. +A girl has gone away from our neighbourhood. You remember old +Ruggles?" + +<p>"You do not mean that Ruby has levanted? She was to have +married John Crumb." + +<p>"Just so,—but she has gone off, leaving John Crumb in an unhappy +frame of mind. John Crumb is an honest man and almost too good +for her." + +<p>"Ruby is very pretty. Has she gone with any one?" + +<p>"No;—she went alone. But the horror of it is this. +They think down there that Felix has,—well, made love to her, and +that she has been taken to London by him." + +<p>"That would be very bad." + +<p>"He certainly has known her. Though he lied, as he always +lies, when I first spoke to him, I brought him to admit that he and +she had been friends down in Suffolk. Of course we know what +such friendship means. But I do not think that she came to +London at his instance. Of course he would lie about +that. He would lie about anything. If his horse cost him +a hundred pounds, he would tell one man that he gave fifty, and +another two hundred. But he has not lived long enough yet to be +able to lie and tell the truth with the same eye. When he is as +old as I am he'll be perfect." + +<p>"He knows nothing about her coming to town?" + +<p>"He did not when I first asked him. I am not sure, but I +fancy that I was too quick after her. She started last Saturday +morning. I followed on the Sunday, and made him out at his +club. I think that he knew nothing then of her being in +town. He is very clever if he did. Since that he has +avoided me. I caught him once but only for half a minute, and +then he swore that he had not seen her." + +<p>"You still believed him?" + +<p>"No;—he did it very well, but I knew that he was prepared for +me. I cannot say how it may have been. To make matters +worse old Ruggles has now quarrelled with Crumb, and is no longer +anxious to get back his granddaughter. He was frightened at +first; but that has gone off, and he is now reconciled to the loss of +the girl and the saving of his money." + +<p>After that Paul told all his own story,—the double story, both in +regard to Melmotte and to Mrs Hurtle. As regarded the Railway, +Roger could only tell him to follow explicitly the advice of his +Liverpool friend. "I never believed in the thing, you know." + +<p>"Nor did I. But what could I do?" + +<p>"I'm not going to blame you. Indeed, knowing you as I do, +feeling sure that you intend to be honest, I would not for a moment +insist on my own opinion, if it did not seem that Mr Ramsbottom +thinks as I do. In such a matter, when a man does not see his +own way clearly, it behoves him to be able to show that he has +followed the advice of some man whom the world esteems and +recognizes. You have to bind your character to another man's +character; and that other man's character, if it be good, will carry +you through. From what I hear Mr Ramsbottom's character is +sufficiently good;—but then you must do exactly what he tells you." + +<p>But the Railway business, though it comprised all that Montague +had in the world, was not the heaviest of his troubles. What +was he to do about Mrs Hurtle? He had now, for the first time, +to tell his friend that Mrs Hurtle had come to London and that he had +been with her three or four times. There was this great +difficulty in the matter, too,—that it was very hard to speak of his +engagement with Mrs Hurtle without in some sort alluding to his love +for Henrietta Carbury. Roger knew of both loves;—had been very +urgent with his friend to abandon the widow, and at any rate equally +urgent with him to give up the other passion. Were he to marry +the widow, all danger on the other side would be at an end. And +yet, in discussing the question of Mrs Hurtle, he was to do so as +though there were no such person existing as Henrietta Carbury. +The discussion did take place exactly as though there were no such +person as Henrietta Carbury. Paul told it all,—the rumoured +duel, the rumoured murder, and the rumour of the existing husband. + +<p>"It may be necessary that you should go out to Kansas and to +Oregon," said Roger. + +<p>"But even if the rumours be untrue I will not marry her," said +Paul. Roger shrugged his shoulders. He was doubtless +thinking of Hetta Carbury, but he said nothing. "And what would +she do, remaining here?" continued Paul. Roger admitted that it +would be awkward. "I am determined that under no circumstances +will I marry her. I know I have been a fool. I know I +have been wrong. But of course, if there be a fair cause for my +broken word, I will use it if I can." + +<p>"You will get out of it, honestly if you can; but you will get out +of it honestly or—any other way." + +<p>"Did you not advise me to get out of it, Roger;—before we knew as +much as we do now?" + +<p>"I did,—and I do. If you make a bargain with the Devil, it +may be dishonest to cheat him,—and yet I would have you cheat him if +you could. As to this woman, I do believe she has deceived +you. If I were you, nothing should induce me to marry her;—not +though her claws were strong enough to tear me utterly in +pieces. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll go and see her +if you like it." + +<p>But Paul would not submit to this. He felt he was bound +himself to incur the risk of those claws, and that no substitute +could take his place. They sat long into the night, and it was +at last resolved between them that on the next morning Paul should go +to Islington, should tell Mrs Hurtle all the stories which he had +heard, and should end by declaring his resolution that under no +circumstances would he marry her. They both felt how improbable +it was that he should ever be allowed to get to the end of such a +story,—how almost certain it was that the breeding of the wild cat +would show itself before that time should come. But, still, +that was the course to be pursued as far as circumstances would +admit; and Paul was at any rate to declare, claws or no claws, +husband or no husband,—whether the duel or the murder was admitted +or denied,—that he would never make Mrs Hurtle his wife. "I +wish it were over, old fellow," said Roger. + +<p>"So do I," said Paul, as he took his leave. + +<p>He went to bed like a man condemned to die on the next morning, +and he awoke in the same condition. He had slept well, but as +he shook from him his happy dream, the wretched reality at once +overwhelmed him. But the man who is to be hung has no +choice. He cannot, when he wakes, declare that he has changed +his mind, and postpone the hour. It was quite open to Paul +Montague to give himself such instant relief. He put his hand +up to his brow, and almost made himself believe that his head was +aching. This was Saturday. Would it not be as well that +he should think of it further, and put off his execution till +Monday? Monday was so far distant that he felt that he could go +to Islington quite comfortably on Monday. Was there not some +hitherto forgotten point which it would be well that he should +discuss with his friend Roger before he saw the lady? Should he +not rush down to Liverpool, and ask a few more questions of Mr +Ramsbottom? Why should he go forth to execution, seeing that +the matter was in his own hands? + +<p>At last he jumped out of bed and into his tub, and dressed himself +as quickly as he could. He worked himself up into a fit of +fortitude, and resolved that the thing should be done before the fit +was over. He ate his breakfast about nine, and then asked +himself whether he might not be too early were he to go at once to +Islington. But he remembered that she was always early. +In every respect she was an energetic woman, using her time for some +purpose, either good or bad, not sleeping it away in bed. If +one has to be hung on a given day, would it not be well to be hung as +soon after waking as possible? I can fancy that the hangman +would hardly come early enough. And if one had to be hung in a +given week, would not one wish to be hung on the first day of the +week, even at the risk of breaking one's last Sabbath day in this +world? Whatever be the misery to be endured, get it over. +The horror of every agony is in its anticipation. Paul had +realized something of this when he threw himself into a Hansom cab, +and ordered the man to drive to Islington. + +<p>How quick that cab went! Nothing ever goes so quick as a +Hansom cab when a man starts for a dinner-party a little too +early;—nothing so slow when he starts too late. Of all cabs +this, surely, was the quickest. Paul was lodging in Suffolk +Street, close to Pall Mall—whence the way to Islington, across +Oxford Street, across Tottenham Court Road, across numerous squares +north-east of the Museum, seems to be long. The end of Goswell +Road is the outside of the world in that direction, and Islington is +beyond the end of Goswell Road. And yet that Hansom cab was +there before Paul Montague had been able to arrange the words with +which he would begin the interview. He had given the Street and +the number of the street. It was not till after he had started +that it occurred to him that it might be well that he should get out +at the end of the street, and walk to the house,—so that he might, +as it were, fetch breath before the interview was commenced. +But the cabman dashed up to the door in a manner purposely devised to +make every inmate of the house aware that a cab had just arrived +before it. There was a little garden before the house. We +all know the garden;—twenty-four feet long, by twelve broad;—and an +iron-grated door, with the landlady's name on a brass plate. +Paul, when he had paid the cabman,—giving the man half-a-crown, and +asking for no change in his agony,—pushed in the iron gate and +walked very quickly up to the door, rang rather furiously, and before +the door was well opened asked for Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"Mrs Hurtle is out for the day," said the girl who opened the +door. "Leastways, she went out yesterday and won't be back till +to-night." Providence had sent him a reprieve! But he +almost forgot the reprieve, as he looked at the girl and saw that she +was Ruby Ruggles. "Oh laws, Mr Montague, is that you?" +Ruby Ruggles had often seen Paul down in Suffolk, and recognized him +as quickly as he did her. It occurred to her at once that he +had come in search of herself. She knew that Roger Carbury was +up in town looking for her. So much she had of course learned +from Sir Felix,—for at this time she had seen the baronet more than +once since her arrival. Montague, she knew, was Roger Carbury's +intimate friend, and now she felt that she was caught. In her +terror she did not at first remember that the visitor had asked for +Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"Yes, it is I. I was sorry to hear, Miss Ruggles, that you +had left your home." + +<p>"I'm all right, Mr Montague;—I am. Mrs Pipkin is my aunt, +or, leastways, my mother's brother's widow, though grandfather never +would speak to her. She's quite respectable, and has five +children, and lets lodgings. There's a lady here now, and has +gone away with her just for one night down to Southend. They'll +be back this evening, and I've the children to mind, with the servant +girl. I'm quite respectable here, Mr Montague, and nobody need +be a bit afraid about me." + +<p>"Mrs Hurtle has gone down to Southend?" + +<p>"Yes, Mr Montague; she wasn't quite well, and wanted a breath of +air, she said. And aunt didn't like she should go alone, as Mrs +Hurtle is such a stranger. And Mrs Hurtle said as she didn't +mind paying for two, and so they've gone, and the baby with +them. Mrs Pipkin said as the baby shouldn't be no +trouble. And Mrs Hurtle,—she's most as fond of the baby as +aunt. Do you know Mrs Hurtle, sir?" + +<p>"Yes; she's a friend of mine." + +<p>"Oh; I didn't know. I did know as there was some friend as +was expected and as didn't come. Be I to say, sir, as you was +here?" + +<p>Paul thought it might be as well to shift the subject and to ask +Ruby a few questions about herself while he made up his mind what +message he would leave for Mrs Hurtle. "I'm afraid they are +very unhappy about you down at Bungay, Miss Ruggles." + +<p>"Then they've got to be unhappy; that's all about it, Mr +Montague. Grandfather is that provoking as a young woman can't +live with him, nor yet I won't try never again. He lugged me +all about the room by my hair, Mr Montague. How is a young +woman to put up with that? And I did everything for him,—that +careful that no one won't do it again;—did his linen, and his +victuals, and even cleaned his boots of a Sunday, 'cause he was that +mean he wouldn't have anybody about the place only me and the girl +who had to milk the cows. There wasn't nobody to do anything, +only me. And then he went to drag me about by the hairs of my +head. You won't see me again at Sheep's Acre, Mr Montague;—nor +yet won't the Squire." + +<p>"But I thought there was somebody else was to give you a home." + +<p>"John Crumb! Oh yes, there's John Crumb. There's +plenty of people to give me a home, Mr Montague." + +<p>"You were to have been married to John Crumb, I thought." + +<p>"Ladies is to change their minds if they like it, Mr +Montague. I'm sure you've heard that before. Grandfather +made me say I'd have him,—but I never cared that for him." + +<p>"I'm afraid, Miss Ruggles, you won't find a better man up here in +London." + +<p>"I didn't come here to look for a man, Mr Montague; I can tell you +that. They has to look at me, if they want me. But I am +looked after; and that by one as John Crumb ain't fit to +touch." That told the whole story. Paul when he heard the +little boast was quite sure that Roger's fear about Felix was well +founded. And as for John Crumb's fitness to touch Sir Felix, +Paul felt that the Bungay mealman might have an opinion of his own on +that matter. "But there's Betsy a-crying upstairs, and I +promised not to leave them children for one minute." + +<p>"I will tell the Squire that I saw you, Miss Ruggles." + +<p>"What does the Squire want o' me? I ain't nothing to the +Squire,—except that I respects him. You can tell if you +please, Mr Montague, of course. I'm a coming, my darling." + +<p>Paul made his way into Mrs Hurtle's sitting-room and wrote a note +for her in pencil. He had come, he said, immediately on his +return from Liverpool, and was sorry to find that she was away for +the day. When should he call again? If she would make an +appointment he would attend to it. He felt as he wrote this +that he might very safely have himself made an appointment for the +morrow; but he cheated himself into half believing that the +suggestion he now made was the more gracious and civil. At any +rate it would certainly give him another day. Mrs Hurtle would +not return till late in the evening, and as the following day was +Sunday there would be no delivery by post. When the note was +finished he left it on the table, and called to Ruby to tell her that +he was going. "Mr Montague," she said in a confidential +whisper, as she tripped clown the stairs, "I don't see why you need +be saying anything about me, you know." + +<p>"Mr Carbury is up in town looking after you." + +<p>"What am I to Mr Carbury?" + +<p>"Your grandfather is very anxious about you." + +<p>"Not a bit of it, Mr Montague. Grandfather knows very well +where I am. There! Grandfather doesn't want me back, and +I ain't a going. Why should the Squire bother himself about +me? I don't bother myself about him." + +<p>"He's afraid, Miss Ruggles, that you are trusting yourself to a +young man who is not trustworthy." + +<p>"I can mind myself very well, Mr Montague." + +<p>"Tell me this. Have you seen Sir Felix Carbury since you've +been in town?" Ruby, whose blushes came very easily, now +flushed up to her forehead. "You may be sure that he means no +good to you. What can come of an intimacy between you and such +a one as he?" + +<p>"I don't see why I shouldn't have my friend, Mr Montague, as well +as you. Howsomever, if you'll not tell, I'll be ever so much +obliged." + +<p>"But I must tell Mr Carbury." + +<p>"Then I ain't obliged to you one bit," said Ruby, shutting the +door. + +<p>Paul as he walked away could not help thinking of the justice of +Ruby's reproach to him. What business had he to take upon +himself to be a Mentor to any one in regard to an affair of +love;—he, who had engaged himself to marry Mrs Hurtle, and who the +evening before had for the first time declared his love to Hetta +Carbury? + +<p>In regard to Mrs Hurtle he had got a reprieve, as he thought, for +two days;—but it did not make him happy or even comfortable. +As he walked back to his lodgings he knew it would have been better +for him to have had the interview over. But, at any rate, he +could now think of Hetta Carbury, and the words he had spoken to +her. Had he heard that declaration which she had made to her +mother, he would have been able for the hour to have forgotten Mrs +Hurtle. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="40"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XL. "Unanimity is the very soul of these things"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>That evening Montague was surprised to receive at the Beargarden a +note from Mr Melmotte, which had been brought thither by a messenger +from the city,—who had expected to have an immediate answer, as +though Montague lived at the club. + +<p>"DEAR SIR," said the letter, + +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> + If not inconvenient would you call on +me in Grosvenor Square to-morrow, Sunday, at half past eleven. +If you are going to church, perhaps you will make an appointment in +the afternoon; if not, the morning will suit best. I want to +have a few words with you in private about the Company. My +messenger will wait for answer if you are at the club.<br> +<br> + Yours truly,<br> +<br> + AUGUSTUS MELMOTTE.<br> +<br> +PAUL MONTAGUE, Esq.,<br> +The Beargarden.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Paul immediately wrote to say that he would call at Grosvenor +Square at the hour appointed,—abandoning any intentions which he +might have had in reference to Sunday morning service. But this +was not the only letter he received that evening. On his return +to his lodgings, he found a note, containing only one line, which Mrs +Hurtle had found the means of sending to him after her return from +Southend. "I am sorry to have been away. I will expect +you all to-morrow. W. H." The period of the reprieve was +thus curtailed to less than a day. + +<p>On the Sunday morning he breakfasted late and then walked up to +Grosvenor Square, much pondering what the great man could have to say +to him. The great man had declared himself very plainly in the +Board-room,—especially plainly after the Board had risen. Paul +had understood that war was declared, and had understood also that he +was to fight the battle single-handed, knowing nothing of such +strategy as would be required, while his antagonist was a great +master of financial tactics. He was prepared to go to the wall +in reference to his money, only hoping that in doing so he might save +his character and keep the reputation of an honest man. He was +quite resolved to be guided altogether by Mr Ramsbottom, and intended +to ask Mr Ramsbottom to draw up for him such a statement as would be +fitting for him to publish. But it was manifest now that Mr +Melmotte would make some proposition, and it was impossible that he +should have Mr Ramsbottom at his elbow to help him. + +<p>He had been in Melmotte's house on the night of the ball, but had +contented himself after that with leaving a card. He had heard +much of the splendour of the place, but remembered simply the crush +and the crowd, and that he had danced there more than once or twice +with Hetta Carbury. When he was shown into the hail he was +astonished to find that it was not only stripped, but was full of +planks, and ladders, and trussels, and mortar. The preparations +for the great dinner had been already commenced. Through all +this he made his way to the stairs, and was taken up to a small room +on the second floor, where the servant told him that Mr Melmotte +would come to him. Here he waited a quarter of an hour looking +out into the yard at the back. There was not a book in the +room, or even a picture with which he could amuse himself. He +was beginning to think whether his own personal dignity would not be +best consulted by taking his departure, when Melmotte himself, with +slippers on his feet and enveloped in a magnificent dressing-gown, +bustled into the room. "My dear sir, I am so sorry. You +are a punctual man, I see. So am I. A man of business +should be punctual. But they ain't always. +Brehgert,—from the house of Todd, Brehgert, and Goldsheiner, you +know,—has just been with me. We had to settle something about +the Moldavian loan. He came a quarter late, and of course he +went a quarter late. And how is a man to catch a quarter of an +hour? I never could do it." Montague assured the great +man that the delay was of no consequence. "And I am so sorry to +ask you into such a place as this. I had Brehgert in my room +downstairs, and then the house is so knocked about! We get into +a furnished house a little way off in Bruton Street to-morrow. +Longestaffe lets me his house for a month till this affair of the +dinner is over. By-the by, Montague, if you'd like to come to +the dinner, I've got a ticket I can let you have. You know how +they're run after." Montague had heard of the dinner, but had +perhaps heard as little of it as any man frequenting a club at the +west end of London. He did not in the least want to be at the +dinner, and certainly did not wish to receive any extraordinary +civility from Mr Melmotte's hands. + +<p>But he was very anxious to know why Mr Melmotte should offer +it. He excused himself saying that he was not particularly fond +of big dinners, and that he did not like standing in the way of other +people. "Ah, indeed," said Melmotte. "There are ever so +many people of title would give anything for a ticket. You'd be +astonished at the persons who have asked. We've had to squeeze +in a chair on one side for the Master of the Buckhounds, and on the +other for the Bishop of—; I forget what bishop it is, but we had the +two archbishops before. They say he must come because he has +something to do with getting up the missionaries for Tibet. But +I've got the ticket, if you'll have it." This was the ticket +which was to have taken in Georgiana Longestaffe as one of the +Melmotte family, had not Melmotte perceived that it might be useful +to him as a bribe. But Paul would not take the bribe. +"You're the only man in London, then," said Melmotte, somewhat +offended. "But at any rate you'll come in the evening, and I'll +have one of Madame Melmotte's tickets sent to you." Paul not +knowing how to escape, said that he would come in the evening. +"I am particularly anxious," continued he, "to be civil to those who +are connected with our great Railway, and of course, in this country, +your name stands first,—next to my own." + +<p>Then the great man paused, and Paul began to wonder whether it +could be possible that he had been sent for to Grosvenor Square on a +Sunday morning in order that he might be asked to dine in the same +house a fortnight later. But that was impossible. "Have +you anything special to say about the Railway?" he asked. + +<p>"Well, yes. It is so hard to get things said at the +Board. Of course there are some there who do not understand +matters." + +<p>"I doubt if there be any one there who does understand this +matter," said Paul. + +<p>Melmotte affected to laugh. "Well, well; I am not prepared +to go quite so far as that. My friend Cohenlupe has had great +experience in these affairs, and of course you are aware that he is +in Parliament. And Lord Alfred sees farther into them than +perhaps you give him credit for." + +<p>"He may easily do that." + +<p>"Well, well. Perhaps you don't know quite as well as I +do." The scowl began to appear on Mr Melmotte's brow. +Hitherto it had been banished as well as he knew how to banish +it. "What I wanted to say to you was this. We didn't +quite agree at the last meeting." + +<p>"No; we did not." + +<p>"I was very sorry for it. Unanimity is everything in the +direction of such an undertaking as this. With unanimity we can +do—everything." Mr Melmotte in the ecstasy of his enthusiasm +lifted up both his hands over his head. "Without unanimity we +can do—nothing." And the two hands fell. "Unanimity +should be printed everywhere about a Board-room. It should, +indeed, Mr Montague." + +<p>"But suppose the directors are not unanimous." + +<p>"They should be unanimous. They should make themselves +unanimous. God bless my soul! You don't want to see the +thing fall to pieces!" + +<p>"Not if it can be carried on honestly." + +<p>"Honestly! Who says that anything is dishonest?" Again +the brow became very heavy. "Look here, Mr Montague. If +you and I quarrel in the Board-room, there is no knowing the amount +of evil we may do to every individual shareholder in the +Company. I find the responsibility on my shoulders so great +that I say the thing must be stopped. Damme, Mr Montague, it +must be stopped. We mustn't ruin widows and children, Mr +Montague. We mustn't let those shares run down 20 below par for +a mere chimera. I've known a fine property blasted, Mr +Montague, sent straight to the dogs,—annihilated, sir;—so that it +all vanished into thin air, and widows and children past counting +were sent out to starve about the streets,—just because one director +sat in another director's chair. I did, by G—! What do +you think of that, Mr Montague? Gentlemen who don't know the +nature of credit, how strong it is,—as the air,—to buoy you up; how +slight it is,—as a mere vapour,—when roughly touched, can do an +amount of mischief of which they themselves don't in the least +understand the extent! What is it you want, Mr Montague?" + +<p>"What do I want?" Melmotte's description of the peculiar +susceptibility of great mercantile speculations had not been given +without some effect on Montague, but this direct appeal to himself +almost drove that effect out of his mind. "I only want +justice." + +<p>"But you should know what justice is before you demand it at the +expense of other people. Look here, Mr Montague. I +suppose you are like the rest of us, in this matter. You want +to make money out of it." + +<p>"For myself, I want interest for my capital; that is all. +But I am not thinking of myself." + +<p>"You are getting very good interest. If I understand the +matter," and here Melmotte pulled out a little book, showing thereby +how careful he was in mastering details,—"you had about £6,000 +embarked in the business when Fisker joined your firm. You +imagine yourself to have that still." + +<p>"I don't know what I've got." + +<p>"I can tell you then. You have that, and you've drawn nearly +a thousand pounds since Fisker came over, in one shape or +another. That's not bad interest on your money." + +<p>"There was back interest due to me." + +<p>"If so, it's due still. I've nothing to do with that. +Look here, Mr Montague. I am most anxious that you should +remain with us. I was about to propose, only for that little +rumpus the other day, that, as you're an unmarried man, and have time +on your hands, you should go out to California and probably across to +Mexico, in order to get necessary information for the Company. +Were I of your age, unmarried, and without impediment, it is just the +thing I should like. Of course you'd go at the Company's +expense. I would see to your own personal interests while you +were away;—or you could appoint any one by power of attorney. +Your seat at the Board would be kept for you; but, should anything +occur amiss,—which it won't, for the thing is as sound as anything I +know,—of course you, as absent, would not share the +responsibility. That's what I was thinking. It would be a +delightful trip;—but if you don't like it, you can of course remain +at the Board, and be of the greatest use to me. Indeed, after a +bit I could devolve nearly the whole management on you;—and I must +do something of the kind, as I really haven't the time for it. +But,—if it is to be that way,—do be unanimous. Unanimity is +the very soul of these things;—the very soul, Mr Montague." + +<p>"But if I can't be unanimous?" + +<p>"Well;—if you can't, and if you won't take my advice about going +out;—which, pray, think about, for you would be most useful. +It might be the very making of the railway;—then I can only suggest +that you should take your £6,000 and leave us. I, myself, +should be greatly distressed; but if you are determined that way I +will see that you have your money. I will make myself +personally responsible for the payment of it,—some time before the +end of the year." + +<p>Paul Montague told the great man that he would consider the whole +matter, and see him in Abchurch Lane before the next Board day. +"And now, good-bye," said Mr Melmotte, as he bade his young friend +adieu in a hurry. "I'm afraid that I'm keeping Sir Gregory +Gribe, the Bank Director, waiting downstairs." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="41"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLI. All Prepared</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>During all these days Miss Melmotte was by no means contented with +her lover's prowess, though she would not allow herself to doubt his +sincerity. She had not only assured him of her undying +affection in the presence of her father and mother, had not only +offered to be chopped in pieces on his behalf, but had also written +to him, telling how she had a large sum of her father's money within +her power, and how willing she was to make it her own, to throw over +her father and mother, and give herself and her fortune to her +lover. She felt that she had been very gracious to her lover, +and that her lover was a little slow in acknowledging the favours +conferred upon him. But, nevertheless, she was true to her +lover, and believed that he was true to her. Didon had been +hitherto faithful. Marie had written various letters to Sir +Felix and had received two or three very short notes in reply, +containing hardly more than a word or two each. But now she was +told that a day was absolutely fixed for her marriage with Lord +Nidderdale, and that her things were to be got ready. She was +to be married in the middle of August, and here they were, +approaching the end of June. "You may buy what you like, +mamma," she said; "and if papa agrees about Felix, why then I suppose +they'll do. But they'll never be of any use about Lord +Nidderdale. If you were to sew me up in the things by main +force, I wouldn't have him." Madame Melmotte groaned, and +scolded in English, French, and German, and wished that she were +dead; she told Marie that she was a pig, and ass, and a toad, and a +dog. And, ended, as she always did end, by swearing that +Melmotte must manage the matter himself. "Nobody shall manage +this matter for me," said Marie. "I know what I'm about now, +and I won't marry anybody just because it will suit papa." +"Que nous étions encore à Frankfort, ou New-York," said +the elder lady, remembering the humbler but less troubled times of +her earlier life. Marie did not care for Frankfort or New York; +for Paris or for London;—but she did care for Sir Felix Carbury. + +<p>While her father on Sunday morning was transacting business in his +own house with Paul Montague and the great commercial magnates of the +city,—though it may be doubted whether that very respectable +gentleman Sir Gregory Gribe was really in Grosvenor Square when his +name was mentioned,—Marie was walking inside the gardens; Didon was +also there at some distance from her; and Sir Felix Carbury was there +also close alongside of her. Marie had the key of the gardens +for her own use; and had already learned that her neighbours in the +square did not much frequent the place during church time on Sunday +morning. Her lover's letter to her father had of course been +shown to her, and she had taxed him with it immediately. Sir +Felix, who had thought much of the letter as he came from Welbeck +Street to keep his appointment,—having been assured by Didon that +the gate should be left unlocked, and that she would be there to +close it after he had come in,—was of course ready with a lie. +"It was the only thing to do, Marie;—it was indeed." + +<p>"But you said you had accepted some offer." + +<p>"You don't suppose I wrote the letter?" + +<p>"It was your handwriting, Felix." + +<p>"Of course it was. I copied just what he put down. +He'd have sent you clean away where I couldn't have got near you if I +hadn't written it." + +<p>"And you have accepted nothing?" + +<p>"Not at all. As it is, he owes me money. Is not that +odd? I gave him a thousand pounds to buy shares, and I haven't +got anything from him yet." Sir Felix, no doubt, forgot the +cheque for £200. + +<p>"Nobody ever does who gives papa money," said the observant +daughter. + +<p>"Don't they? Dear me! But I just wrote it because I +thought anything better than a downright quarrel." + +<p>"I wouldn't have written it, if it had been ever so." + +<p>"It's no good scolding, Marie. I did it for the best. +What do you think we'd best do now?" Marie looked at him, +almost with scorn. Surely it was for him to propose and for her +to yield. "I wonder whether you're right about that money which +you say is settled." + +<p>"I'm quite sure. Mamma told me in Paris,—just when we were +coming away,—that it was done so that there might be something if +things went wrong. And papa told me that he should want me to +sign something from time to time; and of course I said I would. +But of course I won't,—if I should have a husband of my own." +Felix walked along, pondering the matter, with his hands in his +trousers pockets. He entertained those very fears which had +latterly fallen upon Lord Nidderdale. There would be no +"cropper" which a man could "come" so bad as would be his cropper +were he to marry Marie Melmotte, and then find that he was not to +have a shilling! And, were he now to run off with Marie, after +having written that letter, the father would certainly not forgive +him. This assurance of Marie's as to the settled money was too +doubtful! The game to be played was too full of danger! +And in that case he would certainly get neither his £800, nor the +shares. And if he were true to Melmotte, Melmotte would +probably supply him with ready money. But then there was the +girl at his elbow, and he no more dared to tell her to her face that +he meant to give her up, than he dared to tell Melmotte that he +intended to stick to his engagement. Some half promise would be +the only escape for the present. "What are you thinking of, +Felix?" she asked. + +<p>"It's d–––– difficult to know what to do." + +<p>"But you do love me?" + +<p>"Of course I do. If I didn't love you why should I be here +walking round this stupid place? They talk of your being +married to Nidderdale about the end of August." + +<p>"Some day in August. But that's all nonsense, you +know. They can't take me up and marry me, as they used to do +the girls ever so long ago. I won't marry him. He don't +care a bit for me, and never did. I don't think you care much, +Felix." + +<p>"Yes, I do. A fellow can't go on saying so over and over +again in a beastly place like this. If we were anywhere jolly +together, then I could say it often enough." + +<p>"I wish we were, Felix. I wonder whether we ever shall be." + +<p>"Upon my word I hardly see my way as yet." + +<p>"You're not going to give it up!" + +<p>"Oh no;—not give it up; certainly not. But the bother is a +fellow doesn't know what to do." + +<p>"You've heard of young Mr Goldsheiner, haven't you?" suggested +Marie. + +<p>"He's one of those city chaps." + +<p>"And Lady Julia Start?" + +<p>"She's old Lady Catchboy's daughter. Yes; I've heard of +them. They got spliced last winter." + +<p>"Yes;—somewhere in Switzerland, I think. At any rate they +went to Switzerland, and now they've got a house close to Albert +Gate." + +<p>"How jolly for them! He is awfully rich, isn't he?" + +<p>"I don't suppose he's half so rich as papa. They did all +they could to prevent her going, but she met him down at Folkestone +just as the tidal boat was starting. Didon says that nothing +was easier." + +<p>"Oh;—ah. Didon knows all about it." + +<p>"That she does." + +<p>"But she'd lose her place." + +<p>"There are plenty of places. She could come and live with +us, and be my maid. If you would give her £50 for herself, +she'd arrange it all." + +<p>"And would you come to Folkstone?" + +<p>"I think that would be stupid, because Lady Julia did that. +We should make it a little different. If you liked I wouldn't +mind going to—New York. And then, perhaps, we +might—get—married, you know, on board. That's what Didon +thinks." + +<p>"And would Didon go too?" + +<p>"That's what she proposes. She could go as my aunt, and I'd +call myself by her name,—any French name you know. I should go +as a French girl. And you could call yourself Smith, and be an +American. We wouldn't go together, but we'd get on board just +at the last moment. If they wouldn't—marry us on board, they +would at New York, instantly." + +<p>"That's Didon's plan?" + +<p>"That's what she thinks best,—and she'll do it, if you'll give +her £50 for herself, you know. The 'Adriatic,'—that's a White +Star boat, goes on Thursday week at noon. There's an early +train that would take us down that morning. You had better go +and sleep at Liverpool, and take no notice of us at all till we +meet on board. We could be back in a month,—and then papa +would be obliged to make the best of it." + +<p>Sir Felix at once felt that it would be quite unnecessary for +him to go to Herr Vossner or to any other male counsellor for +advice as to the best means of carrying off his love. The +young lady had it all at her fingers' ends,—even to the amount of +the fee required by the female counsellor. But Thursday week +was very near, and the whole thing was taking uncomfortably defined +proportions. Where was he to get funds if he were to resolve +that he would do this thing? He had been fool enough to +intrust his ready money to Melmotte, and now he was told that when +Melmotte got hold of ready money he was not apt to release +it. And he had nothing to show;—no security that he could +offer to Vossner. And then,—this idea of starting to New York +with Melmotte's daughter immediately after he had written to +Melmotte renouncing the girl, frightened him. + +<br> +<br> + + "There is a tide in the affairs of men,<br> + + Which taken at the flood leads on to fortune."<br> + +<p>Sir Felix did not know these lines, but the lesson taught by +them came home to him at this moment. Now was the tide in his +affairs at which he might make himself, or utterly mar +himself. "It's deuced important," he said at last with a +groan. + +<p>"It's not more important for you than me," said Marie. + +<p>"If you're wrong about the money, and he shouldn't come round, +where should we be then?" + +<p>"Nothing venture, nothing have," said the heiress. + +<p>"That's all very well; but one might venture everything and get +nothing after all." + +<p>"You'd get me," said Marie with a pout. + +<p>"Yes;—and I'm awfully fond of you. Of course I should get +you! But—" + +<p>"Very well then;—if that's your love, said Marie turning back +from him. + +<p>Sir Felix gave a great sigh, and then announced his +resolution. "I'll venture it." + +<p>"Oh, Felix, how grand it will be!" + +<p>"There's a great deal to do, you know. I don't know +whether it can be Thursday week." He was putting in the +coward's plea for a reprieve. + +<p>"I shall be afraid of Didon if it's delayed long." + +<p>"There's the money to get, and all that." + +<p>"I can get some money. Mamma has money in the house." + +<p>"How much?" asked the baronet eagerly. + +<p>"A hundred pounds, perhaps;—perhaps two hundred." + +<p>"That would help certainly. I must go to your father for +money. Won't that be a sell? To get it from him, to +take you away!" + +<p>It was decided that they were to go to New York on a +Thursday,—on Thursday week if possible, but as to that he was to +let her know in a day or two. Didon was to pack up the +clothes and get them sent out of the house. Didon was to have +£50 before she went on board; and as one of the men must know about +it, and must assist in having the trunks smuggled out of the house, +he was to have £10. All had been settled beforehand, so that +Sir Felix really had no need to think about anything. "And +now," said Marie, "there's Didon. Nobody's looking and she +can open that gate for you. When we're gone, do you creep +out. The gate can be left, you know. Then we'll get out +on the other side." Marie Melmotte was certainly a clever +girl. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="42"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLII. "Can You Be Ready in Ten Minutes?"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>After leaving Melmotte's house, on Sunday morning Paul Montague, +went to Roger Carbury's hotel and found his friend just returning +from church. He was bound to go to Islington on that day, but +had made up his mind that he would defer his visit till the +evening. He would dine early and be with Mrs Hurtle about seven +o'clock. But it was necessary that Roger should hear the news +about Ruby Ruggles. "It's not so bad as you thought," said he, +"as she is living with her aunt." + +<p>"I never heard of such an aunt." + +<p>"She says her grandfather knows where she is, and that he doesn't +want her back again." + +<p>"Does she see Felix Carbury?" + +<p>"I think she does," said Paul. + +<p>"Then it doesn't matter whether the woman's her aunt or not. +I'll go and see her and try to get her back to Bungay." + +<p>"Why not send for John Crumb?" + +<p>Roger hesitated for a moment, and then answered, "He'd give Felix +such a thrashing as no man ever had before. My cousin deserves +it as well as any man ever deserved a thrashing; but there are +reasons why I should not like it. And he could not force her +back with him. I don't suppose the girl is all bad,—if she +could see the truth." + +<p>"I don't think she's bad at all." + +<p>"At any rate I'll go and see her," said Roger. "Perhaps I +shall see your widow at the same time." Paul sighed, but said +nothing more about his widow at that moment. "I'll walk up to +Welbeck Street now," said Roger, taking his hat. "Perhaps I +shall see you to-morrow." Paul felt that he could not go to +Welbeck Street with his friend. + +<p>He dined in solitude at the Beargarden, and then again made that +journey to Islington in a cab. As he went he thought of the +proposal that had been made to him by Melmotte. If he could do +it with a clear conscience, if he could really make himself believe +in the railway, such an expedition would not be displeasing to +him. He had said already more than he had intended to say to +Hetta Carbury; and though he was by no means disposed to flatter +himself, yet he almost thought that what he had said had been well +received. At the moment they had been disturbed, but she, as +she heard the sound of her mother coming, had at any rate expressed +no anger. He had almost been betrayed into breaking a +promise. Were he to start now on this journey, the period of +the promise would have passed by before his return. Of course +he would take care that she should know that he had gone in the +performance of a duty. And then he would escape from Mrs +Hurtle, and would be able to make those inquiries which had been +suggested to him. It was possible that Mrs Hurtle should offer +to go with him,—an arrangement which would not at all suit him. + +<p>That at any rate must be avoided. But then how could he do +this without a belief in the railway generally? And how was it +possible that he should have such belief? Mr Ramsbottom did not +believe in it, nor did Roger Carbury. He himself did not in the +least believe in Fisker, and Fisker had originated the railway. +Then, would it not be best that he should take the Chairman's offer +as to his own money? If he could get his £6,000 back and +have done with the railway, he would certainly think himself a lucky +man. But he did not know how far he could with honesty lay +aside his responsibility; and then he doubted whether he could put +implicit trust in Melmotte's personal guarantee for the amount. +This at any rate was clear to him,—that Melmotte was very anxious to +secure his absence from the meetings of the Board. + +<p>Now he was again at Mrs Pipkin's door, and again it was opened by +Ruby Ruggles. His heart was in his mouth as he thought of the +things he had to say. "The ladies have come back from Southend, +Miss Ruggles?" + +<p>"Oh yes, sir, and Mrs Hurtle is expecting you all the day." +Then she put in a whisper on her own account. "You didn't tell +him as you'd seen me, Mr Montague?" + +<p>"Indeed I did, Miss Ruggles." + +<p>"Then you might as well have left it alone, and not have been +ill-natured,—that's all," said Ruby as she opened the door of Mrs +Hurtle's room. + +<p>Mrs Hurtle got up to receive him with her sweetest smile,—and her +smile could be very sweet. She was a witch of a woman, and, as +like most witches she could be terrible, so like most witches she +could charm. "Only fancy," she said, "that you should have come +the only day I have been two hundred yards from the house, except +that evening when you took me to the play. I was so sorry." + +<p>"Why should you be sorry? It is easy to come again." + +<p>"Because I don't like to miss you, even for a day. But I +wasn't well, and I fancied that the house was stuffy, and Mrs Pipkin +took a bright idea and proposed to carry me off to Southend. +She was dying to go herself. She declared that Southend was +Paradise." + +<p>"A cockney Paradise." + +<p>"Oh, what a place it is! Do your people really go to +Southend and fancy that that is the sea?" + +<p>"I believe they do. I never went to Southend myself,—so +that you know more about it than I do." + +<p>"How very English it is a little yellow river and you call it the sea! +Ah you never were at Newport!" + +<p>"But I've been at San Francisco." + +<p>"Yes; you've been at San Francisco, and heard the seals +howling. Well; that's better than Southend." + +<p>"I suppose we do have the sea here in England. It's +generally supposed we're an island." + +<p>"Of course;—but things are so small. If you choose to go +to the west of Ireland, I suppose you'd find the Atlantic. +But nobody ever does go there for fear of being murdered." +Paul thought of the gentleman in Oregon, but said +nothing;—thought, perhaps, of his own condition, and remembered +that a man might be murdered without going either to Oregon or the +west of Ireland. "But we went to Southend, I, and Mrs Pipkin +and the baby, and upon my word I enjoyed it. She was so +afraid that the baby would annoy me, and I thought the baby was so +much the best of it. And then we ate shrimps, and she was so +humble. You must acknowledge that with us nobody would be so +humble. Of course I paid. She has got all her children, +and nothing but what she can make out of these lodgings. +People are just as poor with us;—and other people who happen to be +a little better off, pay for them. But nobody is humble to +another, as you are here. Of course we like to have money as +well as you do, but it doesn't make so much difference." + +<p>"He who wants to receive, all the world over, will make himself +as agreeable as he can to him who can give." + +<p>"But Mrs Pipkin was so humble. However, we got back all +right yesterday evening, and then I found that you had been +here,—at last." + +<p>"You knew that I had to go to Liverpool." + +<p>"I'm not going to scold. Did you get your business done at +Liverpool?" + +<p>"Yes;—one generally gets something done, but never anything very +satisfactorily. Of course it's about this railway." + +<p>"I should have thought that that was satisfactory. +Everybody talks of it as being the greatest thing ever +invented. I wish I was a man that I might be concerned with a +really great thing like that. I hate little peddling +things. I should like to manage the greatest bank in the +world, or to be Captain of the biggest fleet, or to make the +largest railway. It would be better even than being President +of a Republic, because one would have more of one's own way. +What is it that you do in it, Paul?" + +<p>"They want me now to go out to Mexico about it," said he slowly. + +<p>"Shall you go?" said she, throwing herself forward and asking +the question with manifest anxiety. + +<p>"I think not." + +<p>"Why not? Do go. Oh, Paul, I would go with +you. Why should you not go? It is just the thing for +such a one as you to do. The railway will make Mexico a new +country, and then you would be the man who had done it. Why +should you throw away such a chance as that? It will never +come again. Emperors and kings have tried their hands at +Mexico and have been able to do nothing. Emperors and kings +never can do anything. Think what it would be to be the +regenerator of Mexico!" + +<p>"Think what it would be to find one's self there without the +means of doing anything, and to feel that one had been sent there +merely that one might be out of the way" + +<p>"I would make the means of doing something." + +<p>"Means are money. How can I make that?" + +<p>"There is money going. There must be money where there is +all this buying and selling of shares. Where does your uncle +get the money with which he is living like a prince at San +Francisco? Where does Fisker get the money with which he is +speculating in New York? Where does Melmotte get the money +which makes him the richest man in the world? Why should not +you get it as well as the others?" + +<p>"If I were anxious to rob on my own account perhaps I might do +it." + +<p>"Why should it be robbery? I do not want you to live in a +palace and spend millions of dollars on yourself. But I want +you to have ambition. Go to Mexico, and chance it. Take +San Francisco in your way, and get across the country. I will +go every yard with you. Make people there believe that you +are in earnest, and there will be no difficulty about the money." + +<p>He felt that he was taking no steps to approach the subject +which he should have to discuss before he left her,—or rather the +statement which he had resolved that he would make. Indeed +every word which he allowed her to say respecting this Mexican +project carried him farther away from it. He was giving +reasons why the journey should not be made; but was tacitly +admitting that if it were to be made she might be one of the +travellers. The very offer on her part implied an +understanding that his former abnegation of the engagement had been +withdrawn, and yet he shrunk from the cruelty of telling her, in a +sideway fashion, that he would not submit to her companionship +either for the purpose of such a journey or for any other +purpose. The thing must be said in a solemn manner, and must +be introduced on its own basis. But such preliminary +conversation as this made the introduction of it infinitely more +difficult. + +<p>"You are not in a hurry?" she said. + +<p>"Oh no." + +<p>"You're going to spend the evening with me like a good +man? Then I'll ask them to let us have tea." She rang +the bell and Ruby came in, and the tea was ordered. "That +young lady tells me that you are an old friend of hers." + +<p>"I've known about her down in the country, and was astonished to +find her here yesterday." + +<p>"There's some lover, isn't there;—some would-be husband whom she +does not like?" + +<p>"And some won't-be husband, I fear, whom she does like." + +<p>"That's quite of course, if the other is true. Miss Ruby +isn't the girl to have come to her time of life without a +preference. The natural liking of a young woman for a man in +a station above her, because he is softer and cleaner and has +better parts of speech,—just as we keep a pretty dog if we keep a +dog at all,—is one of the evils of the inequality of +mankind. The girl is content with the love without having the +love justified, because the object is more desirable. She can +only have her love justified with an object less desirable. +If all men wore coats of the same fabric, and had to share the soil +of the work of the world equally between them, that evil would come +to an end. A woman here and there might go wrong from fantasy +and diseased passions, but the ever-existing temptation to go wrong +would be at an end." + +<p>"If men were equal to-morrow and all wore the same coats, they +would wear different coats the next day." + +<p>"Slightly different. But there would be no more purple and +fine linen, and no more blue woad. It isn't to be done in a +day of course, nor yet in a century,—nor in a decade of centuries; +but every human being who looks into it honestly will see that his +efforts should be made in that direction. I remember; you +never take sugar; give me that." + +<p>Neither had he come here to discuss the deeply interesting +questions of women's difficulties and immediate or progressive +equality. But having got on to these rocks,—having, as the +reader may perceive, been taken on to them wilfully by the skill of +the woman,—he did not know how to get his bark out again into clear +waters. But having his own subject before him, with all its +dangers, the wild-cat's claws, and the possible fate of the +gentleman in Oregon, he could not talk freely on the subjects which +she introduced, as had been his wont in former years. +"Thanks," he said, changing his cup. "How well you remember!" + +<p>"Do you think I shall ever forget your preferences and +dislikings? Do you recollect telling me about that blue scarf +of mine, that I should never wear blue?" + +<p>She stretched herself out towards him, waiting for an answer, so +that he was obliged to speak. "Of course I do. Black is +your colour;—black and grey; or white,—and perhaps yellow when you +choose to be gorgeous; crimson possibly. But not blue or +green." + +<p>"I never thought much of it before, but I have taken your word +for gospel. It is very good to have an eye for such +things,—as you have, Paul. But I fancy that taste comes +with, or at any rate forebodes, an effete civilization." + +<p>"I am sorry that mine should be effete," he said smiling. + +<p>"You know what I mean, Paul. I speak of nations, not +individuals. Civilization was becoming effete, or at any rate +men were, in the time of the great painters; but Savonarola and +Galileo were individuals. You should throw your lot in with a +new people. This railway to Mexico gives you the chance." + +<p>"Are the Mexicans a new people?" + +<p>"They who will rule the Mexicans are. All American women I +dare say have bad taste in gowns,—and so the vain ones and rich +ones send to Paris for their finery; but I think our taste in men +is generally good. We like our philosophers; we like our +poets; we like our genuine workmen;—but we love our heroes. +I would have you a hero, Paul." He got up from his chair and +walked about the room in an agony of despair. To be told that +he was expected to be a hero at the very moment in his life in +which he felt more devoid of heroism, more thoroughly given up to +cowardice than he had ever been before, was not to be +endured! And yet, with what utmost stretch of courage,—even +though he were willing to devote himself certainly and instantly to +the worst fate that he had pictured to himself,—could he +immediately rush away from these abstract speculations, encumbered +as they were with personal flattery, into his own most unpleasant, +most tragic matter! It was the unfitness that deterred him +and not the possible tragedy. Nevertheless, through it all, +he was sure,—nearly sure,—that she was playing her game, and +playing it in direct antagonism to the game which she knew that he +wanted to play. Would it not be better that he should go away +and write another letter? In a letter he could at any rate +say what he had to say;—and having said it he would then strengthen +himself to adhere to it. + +<p>"What makes you so uneasy?" she asked; still speaking in her +most winning way, caressing him with the tones of her voice. +"Do you not like me to say that I would have you be a hero?" + +<p>"Winifred," he said, "I came here with a purpose, and I had +better carry it out." + +<p>"What purpose?" She still leaned forward, but now +supported her face on her two hands, with her elbows resting on her +knees, looking at him intently. But one would have said that +there was only love in her eyes;—love which might be disappointed, +but still love. The wild cat, if there, was all within, still +hidden from sight. Paul stood with his hands on the back of a +chair, propping himself up and trying to find fitting words for the +occasion. "Stop, my dear," she said. "Must the purpose +be told to-night?" + +<p>"Why not to-night?" + +<p>"Paul, I am not well;—I am weak now. I am a coward. +You do not know the delight to me of having a few words of pleasant +talk to an old friend after the desolation of the last weeks. +Mrs Pipkin is not very charming. Even her baby cannot supply +all the social wants of my life. I had intended that +everything should be sweet to-night. Oh, Paul, if it was your +purpose to tell me of your love, to assure me that you are still my +dear, dear friend, to speak with hope of future days, or with +pleasure of those that are past,—then carry out your purpose. +But if it be cruel, or harsh, or painful; if you had come to speak +daggers;—then drop your purpose for to-night. Try and think +what my solitude must have been to me, and let me have one hour of +comfort." + +<p>Of course he was conquered for that night, and could only have +that solace which a most injurious reprieve could give him. +"I will not harass you, if you are ill," he said. + +<p>"I am ill. It was because I was afraid that I should be +really ill that I went to Southend. The weather is hot, +though of course the sun here is not as we have it. But the +air is heavy,—what Mrs Pipkin calls muggy. I was thinking if +I were to go somewhere for a week, it would do me good. Where +had I better go?" Paul suggested Brighton. "That is +full of people; is it not?—a fashionable place?" + +<p>"Not at this time of the year." + +<p>"But it is a big place. I want some little place that +would be pretty. You could take me down; could you not? +Not very far, you know;—not that any place can be very far from +here." Paul, in his John Bull displeasure, suggested +Penzance, telling her, untruly, that it would take twenty-four +hours. "Not Penzance then, which I know is your very Ultima +Thule;—not Penzance, nor yet Orkney. Is there no other place +except Southend?" + +<p>"There is Cromer in Norfolk,—perhaps ten hours." + +<p>"Is Cromer by the sea?" + +<p>"Yes;—what we call the sea." + +<p>"I mean really the sea, Paul?" + +<p>"If you start from Cromer right away, a hundred miles would +perhaps take you across to Holland. A ditch of that kind +wouldn't do perhaps." + +<p>"Ah,—now I see you are laughing at me. Is Cromer pretty?" + +<p>"Well, yes;—I think it is. I was there once, but I don't +remember much. There's Ramsgate." + +<p>"Mrs Pipkin told me of Ramsgate. I don't think I should +like Ramsgate." + +<p>"There's the Isle of Wight. The Isle of Wight is very +pretty." + +<p>"That's the Queen's place. There would not be room for her +and me too." + +<p>"Or Lowestoft. Lowestoft is not so far as Cromer, and +there is a railway all the distance." + +<p>"And sea?" + +<p>"Sea enough for anything. If you can't see across it, and +if there are waves, and wind enough to knock you down, and +shipwrecks every other day, I don't see why a hundred miles isn't +as good as a thousand." + +<p>"A hundred miles is just as good as a thousand. But, Paul, +at Southend it isn't a hundred miles across to the other side of +the river. You must admit that. But you will be a +better guide than Mrs Pipkin. You would not have taken me to +Southend when I expressed a wish for the ocean;—would you? Let +it be Lowestoft. Is there an hotel?" + +<p>"A small little place." + +<p>"Very small? uncomfortably small? But almost any place +would do for me." + +<p>"They make up, I believe, about a hundred beds; but in the +States it would be very small." + +<p>"Paul," said she, delighted to have brought him back to this +humour, "if I were to throw the tea things at you, it would serve +you right. This is all because I did not lose myself in awe +at the sight of the Southend ocean. It shall be +Lowestoft." Then she rose up and came to him, and took his +arm. "You will take me down, will you not? It is +desolate for a woman to go into such a place all alone. I +will not ask you to stay. And I can return by myself." +She had put both hands on one arm, and turned herself round, and +looked into his face. "You will do that for old acquaintance +sake?" For a moment or two he made no answer, and his face +was troubled, and his brow was black. He was endeavouring to +think;—but he was only aware of his danger, and could see no way +through it. "I don't think you will let me ask in vain for +such a favour as that," she said. + +<p>"No;" he replied. "I will take you down. When will +you go?" He had cockered himself up with some vain idea that +the railway carriage would be a good place for the declaration of +his purpose, or perhaps the sands at Lowestoft. + +<p>"When will I go? when will you take me? You have Boards to +attend, and shares to look to, and Mexico to regenerate. I am +a poor woman with nothing on hand but Mrs Pipkin's baby. Can +you be ready in ten minutes?—because I could." Paul shook his +head and laughed. "I've named a time and that doesn't +suit. Now, sir, you name another, and I'll promise it shall +suit." Paul suggested Saturday, the 29th. He must +attend the next Board, and had promised to see Melmotte before the +Board day. Saturday of course would do for Mrs Hurtle. +Should she meet him at the railway station? Of course he +undertook to come and fetch her. + +<p>Then, as he took his leave, she stood close against him, and put +her cheek up for him to kiss. There are moments in which a +man finds it utterly impossible that he should be prudent,—as to +which, when he thought of them afterwards, he could never forgive +himself for prudence, let the danger have been what it may. +Of course he took her in his arms, and kissed her lips as well as +her cheeks. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="43"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIII. The City Road</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>The statement made by Ruby as to her connection with Mrs Pipkin +was quite true. Ruby's father had married a Pipkin whose +brother had died leaving a widow behind him at Islington. The +old man at Sheep's Acre farm had greatly resented this marriage, +had never spoken to his daughter-in-law,—or to his son after the +marriage, and had steeled himself against the whole Pipkin +race. When he undertook the charge of Ruby he had made it +matter of agreement that she should have no intercourse with the +Pipkins. This agreement Ruby had broken, corresponding on the +sly with her uncle's widow at Islington. When therefore she +ran away from Suffolk she did the best she could with herself in +going to her aunt's house. Mrs Pipkin was a poor woman, and +could not offer a permanent home to Ruby; but she was good-natured, +and came to terms. Ruby was to be allowed to stay at any rate +for a month, and was to work in the house for her bread. But +she made it a part of her bargain that she should be allowed to go +out occasionally. Mrs Pipkin immediately asked after a +lover. "I'm all right," said Ruby. If the lover was +what he ought to be, had he not better come and see her? This +was Mrs Pipkin's suggestion. Mrs Pipkin thought that scandal +might in this way be avoided "That's as it may be, by-and-by," said +Ruby. + +<p>Then she told all the story of John Crumb;—how she hated John +Crumb, how resolved she was that nothing should make her marry John +Crumb. And she gave her own account of that night on which +John Crumb and Mr Mixet ate their supper at the farm, and of the +manner in which her grandfather had treated her because she would +not have John Crumb. Mrs Pipkin was a respectable woman in +her way, always preferring respectable lodgers if she could get +them;—but bound to live. She gave Ruby very good +advice. Of course if she was "dead-set" against John Crumb, +that was one thing! But then there was nothing a young woman +should look to so much as a decent house over her head,—and +victuals. "What's all the love in the world, Ruby, if a man +can't do for you?" Ruby declared that she knew somebody who +could do for her, and could do very well for her. She knew +what she was about, and wasn't going to be put off it. Mrs +Pipkin's morals were good wearing morals, but she was not +strait-laced. If Ruby chose to manage in her own way about +her lover she must. Mrs Pipkin had an idea that young women +in these days did have, and would have, and must have more liberty +than was allowed when she was young. The world was being +changed very fast. Mrs Pipkin knew that as well as +others. And therefore when Ruby went to the theatre once and +again,—by herself as far as Mrs Pipkin knew, but probably in +company with her lover,—and did not get home till past midnight, +Mrs Pipkin said very little about it, attributing such novel +circumstances to the altered condition of her country. She +had not been allowed to go to the theatre with a young man when she +had been a girl,—but that had been in the earlier days of Queen +Victoria, fifteen years ago, before the new dispensation had +come. Ruby had never yet told the name of her lover to Mrs +Pipkin, having answered all inquiries by saying that she was +right. Sir Felix's name had never even been mentioned in +Islington till Paul Montague had mentioned it. She had been +managing her own affairs after her own fashion,—not altogether with +satisfaction, but still without interruption; but now she knew that +interference would come. Mr Montague had found her out, and +had told her grandfather's landlord. The Squire would be +after her, and then John Crumb would come, accompanied of course by +Mr Mixet,—and after that, as she said to herself on retiring to the +couch which she shared with two little Pipkins, "the fat would be +in the fire." + +<p>"Who do you think was at our place yesterday?" said Ruby one +evening to her lover. They were sitting together at a +music-hall,—half music-hall, half theatre, which pleasantly +combined the allurements of the gin-palace, the theatre, and the +ball-room, trenching hard on those of other places. Sir Felix +was smoking, dressed, as he himself called it, "incognito," with a +Tom-and-Jerry hat, and a blue silk cravat, and a green coat. +Ruby thought it was charming. Felix entertained an idea that +were his West End friends to see him in this attire they would not +know him. He was smoking, and had before him a glass of hot +brandy and water, which was common to himself and Ruby. He +was enjoying life. Poor Ruby! She was half-ashamed of +herself, half-frightened, and yet supported by a feeling that it +was a grand thing to have got rid of restraints, and be able to be +with her young man. Why not? The Miss Longestaffes were +allowed to sit and dance and walk about with their young men,—when +they had any. Why was she to be given up to a great mass of +stupid dust like John Crumb, without seeing anything of the +world? But yet, as she sat sipping her lover's brandy and +water between eleven and twelve at the music-hall in the City Road, +she was not altogether comfortable. She saw things which she +did not like to see. And she heard things which she did not +like to hear. And her lover, though he was beautiful,—oh, so +beautiful!—was not all that a lover should be. She was +still a little afraid of him, and did not dare as yet to ask him +for the promise which she expected him to make to her. Her +mind was set upon—marriage, but the word had hardly passed between +them. To have his arm round her waist was heaven to +her. Could it be possible that he and John Crumb were of the +same order of human beings? But how was this to go on? +Even Mrs Pipkin made disagreeable allusions, and she could not live +always with Mrs Pipkin, coming out at nights to drink brandy and +water and hear music with Sir Felix Carbury. She was glad +therefore to take the first opportunity of telling her lover that +something was going to happen. "Who do you suppose was at our +place yesterday?" + +<p>Sir Felix changed colour, thinking of Marie Melmotte, thinking +that perhaps some emissary from Marie Melmotte had been there; +perhaps Didon herself. He was amusing himself during these +last evenings of his in London; but the business of his life was +about to take him to New York. That project was still being +elaborated. He had had an interview with Didon, and nothing +was wanting but the money. Didon had heard of the funds which +had been intrusted by him to Melmotte, and had been very urgent +with him to recover them. Therefore, though his body was not +unfrequently present, late in the night, at the City Road +Music-Hall, his mind was ever in Grosvenor Square. "Who was +it, Ruby?" + +<p>"A friend of the Squire's, a Mr Montague. I used to see +him about in Bungay and Beccles." + +<p>"Paul Montague!" + +<p>"Do you know him, Felix?" + +<p>"Well;—rather. He's a member of our club, and I see him +constantly in the city—and I know him at home." + +<p>"Is he nice?" + +<p>"Well;—that depends on what you call nice. He's a prig of +a fellow." + +<p>"He's got a lady friend where I live." + +<p>"The devil he has!" Sir Felix of course had heard of Roger +Carbury's suit to his sister, and of the opposition to this suit on +the part of Hetta, which was supposed to have been occasioned by +her preference for Paul Montague. "Who is she, Ruby?" + +<p>"Well;—she's a Mrs Hurtle. Such a stunning woman! +Aunt says she's an American. She's got lots of money." + +<p>"Is Montague going to marry her?" + +<p>"Oh dear yes. It's all arranged. Mr Montague comes +quite regular to see her;—not so regular as be ought, though. +When gentlemen are fixed as they're to be married, they never are +regular afterwards. I wonder whether it'll be the same with +you?" + +<p>"Wasn't John Crumb regular, Ruby?" + +<p>"Bother John Crumb! That wasn't none of my doings. +Oh, he'd been regular enough, if I'd let him; he'd been like +clockwork,—only the slowest clock out. But Mr Montague has +been and told the Squire as he saw me. He told me so +himself. The Squire's coming about John Crumb. I know +that. What am I to tell him, Felix?" + +<p>"Tell him to mind his own business. He can't do anything +to you." + +<p>"No;—he can't do nothing. I ain't done nothing wrong, and +he can't send for the police to have me took back to Sheep's +Acre. But he can talk,—and he can look. I ain't one of +those, Felix, as don't mind about their characters,—so don't you +think it. Shall I tell him as I'm with you?" + +<p>"Gracious goodness, no! What would you say that for?" + +<p>"I didn't know. I must say something." + +<p>"Tell him you're nothing to him." + +<p>"But aunt will be letting on about my being out late o'nights; I +know she will. And who am I with? He'll be asking +that." + +<p>"Your aunt does not know?" + +<p>"No;—I've told nobody yet. But it won't do to go on like +that, you know,—will it? You don't want it to go on always +like that;—do you?" + +<p>"It's very jolly, I think." + +<p>"It ain't jolly for me. Of course, Felix, I like to be +with you. That's jolly. But I have to mind them brats +all the day, and to be doing the bedrooms. And that's not the +worst of it." + +<p>"What is the worst of it?" + +<p>"I'm pretty nigh ashamed of myself. Yes, I am." And +now Ruby burst out into tears. "Because I wouldn't have John +Crumb, I didn't mean to be a bad girl. Nor yet I won't. +But what'll I do, if everybody turns against me? Aunt won't +go on for ever in this way. She said last night that—" + +<p>"Bother what she says!" Felix was not at all anxious to +hear what aunt Pipkin might have to say upon such an occasion. + +<p>"She's right too. Of course she knows there's +somebody. She ain't such a fool as to think that I'm out at +these hours to sing psalms with a lot of young women. She +says that whoever it is ought to speak out his mind. +There;—that's what she says. And she's right. A girl +has to mind herself, though she's ever so fond of a young man." + +<p>Sir Felix sucked his cigar and then took a long drink of brandy +and water. Having emptied the beaker before him, he rapped, +for the waiter and called for another. He intended to avoid +the necessity of making any direct reply to Ruby's +importunities. He was going to New York very shortly, and +looked on his journey thither as an horizon in his future beyond +which it was unnecessary to speculate as to any farther +distance. He had not troubled himself to think how it might +be with Ruby when he was gone. He had not even considered +whether he would or would not tell her that he was going, before he +started. It was not his fault that she had come up to +London. She was an "awfully jolly girl," and he liked the +feeling of the intrigue better, perhaps, than the girl +herself. But he assured himself that he wasn't going to give +himself any "d––––d trouble." The +idea of John Crumb coming up to London in his wrath had never +occurred to him,—or he would probably have hurried on his journey +to New York instead of delaying it, as he was doing now. +"Let's go in, and have a dance," he said. + +<p>Ruby was very fond of dancing,—perhaps liked it better than +anything in the world. It was heaven to her to be spinning +round the big room with her lover's arm tight round her waist, with +one hand in his and her other hanging over his back. She +loved the music, and loved the motion. Her ear was good, and +her strength was great, and she never lacked breath. She +could spin along and dance a whole room down, and feel at the time +that the world could have nothing to give better worth having than +that;—and such moments were too precious to be lost. She went +and danced, resolving as she did so that she would have some answer +to her question before she left her lover on that night. + +<p>"And now I must go," she said at last. "You'll see me as +far as the Angel, won't you?" Of course he was ready to see +her as far as the Angel. "What am I to say to the Squire?" + +<p>"Say nothing." + +<p>"And what am I to say to aunt?" + +<p>"Say to her? Just say what you have said all along." + +<p>"I've said nothing all along,—just to oblige you, Felix. I +must say something. A girl has got herself to mind. +What have you got to say to me, Felix?" + +<p>He was silent for about a minute, meditating his answer. +"If you bother me I shall cut it, you know." + +<p>"Cut it!" + +<p>"Yes;—cut it. Can't you wait till I am ready to say +something?" + +<p>"Waiting will be the ruin o' me, if I wait much longer. +Where am I to go, if Mrs Pipkin won't have me no more?" + +<p>"I'll find a place for you." + +<p>"You find a place! No; that won't do. I've told you +all that before. I'd sooner go into service, or—" + +<p>"Go back to John Crumb." + +<p>"John Crumb has more respect for me nor you. He'd make me +his wife to-morrow, and only be too happy." + +<p>"I didn't tell you to come away from him," said Sir Felix. + +<p>"Yes, you did. You told me as I was to come up to London +when I saw you at Sheepstone Beeches;—didn't you? And you +told me you loved me;—didn't you? And that if I wanted +anything you'd get it done for me;—didn't you?" + +<p>"So I will. What do you want? I can give you a +couple of sovereigns, if that's what it is." + +<p>"No it isn't;—and I won't have your money. I'd sooner work +my fingers off. I want you to say whether you mean to marry +me. There!" + +<p>As to the additional lie which Sir Felix might now have told, +that would have been nothing to him. He was going to New +York, and would be out of the way of any trouble; and he thought +that lies of that kind to young women never went for +anything. Young women, he thought, didn't believe them, but +liked to be able to believe afterwards that they had been +deceived. It wasn't the lie that stuck in his throat, but the +fact that he was a baronet. It was in his estimation +"confounded impudence" on the part of Ruby Ruggles to ask to be his +wife. He did not care for the lie, but he did not like to +seem to lower himself by telling such a lie as that at her +dictation. "Marry, Ruby! No, I don't ever mean to +marry. It's the greatest bore out. I know a trick worth +two of that." + +<p>She stopped in the street and looked at him. This was a +state of things of which she had never dreamed. She could +imagine that a man should wish to put it off, but that he should +have the face to declare to his young woman that he never meant to +marry at all, was a thing that she could not understand. What +business had such a man to go after any young woman? "And +what do you mean that I'm to do, Sir Felix?" she said. + +<p>"Just go easy, and not make yourself a bother." + +<p>"Not make myself a bother! Oh, but I will; I will. +I'm to be carrying on with you, and nothing to come of it; but for +you to tell me that you don't mean to marry, never at all! +Never?" + +<p>"Don't you see lots of old bachelors about, Ruby?" + +<p>"Of course I does. There's the Squire. But he don't +come asking girls to keep him company." + +<p>"That's more than you know, Ruby." + +<p>"If he did he'd marry her out of hand,—because he's a +gentleman. That's what he is, every inch of him. He +never said a word to a girl,—not to do her any harm, I'm sure," and +Ruby began to, cry. "You mustn't come no further now, and +I'll never see you again—never! I think you're the falsest +young man, and the basest, and the lowest-minded that I ever heard +tell of. I know there are them as don't keep their +words. Things turn up, and they can't. Or they gets to +like others better; or there ain't nothing to live on. But +for a young man to come after a young woman, and then say, right +out, as he never means to marry at all, is the lowest-spirited +fellow that ever was. I never read of such a one in none of +the books. No, I won't. You go your way, and I'll go +mine." In her passion she was as good as her word, and +escaped from him, running all the way to her aunt's door. +There was in her mind a feeling of anger against the man, which she +did not herself understand, in that he would incur no risk on her +behalf. He would not even make a lover's easy promise, in +order that the present hour might be made pleasant. Ruby let +herself into her aunt's house, and cried herself to sleep with a +child on each side of her. + +<p>On the next day Roger called. She had begged Mrs Pipkin to +attend the door, and had asked her to declare, should any gentleman +ask for Ruby Ruggles, that Ruby Ruggles was out. Mrs Pipkin +had not refused to do so; but, having heard sufficient of Roger +Carbury to imagine the cause which might possibly bring him to the +house, and having made up her mind that Ruby's present condition of +independence was equally unfavourable to the lodging-house and to +Ruby herself, she determined that the Squire, if he did come, +should see the young lady. When therefore Ruby was called +into the little back parlour and found Roger Carbury there, she +thought that she had been caught in a trap. She had been very +cross all the morning. Though in her rage she had been able +on the previous evening to dismiss her titled lover, and to imply +that she never meant to see him again, now, when the remembrance of +the loss came upon her amidst her daily work,—when she could no +longer console herself in her drudgery by thinking of the beautiful +things that were in store for her, and by flattering herself that +though at this moment she was little better than a maid of all work +in a lodging-house, the time was soon coming in which she would +bloom forth as a baronet's bride,—now in her solitude she almost +regretted the precipitancy of her own conduct. Could it be +that she would never see him again;—that she would dance no more in +that gilded bright saloon? And might it not be possible that +she had pressed him too hard? A baronet of course would not +like to be brought to book, as she could bring to book such a one +as John Crumb. But yet,—that he should have said +never;—that he would never marry! Looking at it in any +light, she was very unhappy, and this coming of the Squire did not +serve to cure her misery. + +<p>Roger was very kind to her, taking her by the hand, and bidding +her sit down, and telling her how glad he was to find that she was +comfortably settled with her aunt. "We were all alarmed, of +course, when you went away without telling anybody where you were +going." + +<p>"Grandfather'd been that cruel to me that I couldn't tell him." + +<p>"He wanted you to keep your word to an old friend of yours." + +<p>"To pull me all about by the hairs of my head wasn't the way to +make a girl keep her word;—was it, Mr Carbury? That's what he +did, then;—and Sally Hockett, who is there, heard it. I've +been good to grandfather, whatever I may have been to John Crumb; +and he shouldn't have treated me like that. No girl'd like to +be pulled about the room by the hairs of her head, and she with her +things all off, just getting into bed." + +<p>The Squire had no answer to make to this. That old Ruggles +should be a violent brute under the influence of gin and water did +not surprise him. And the girl, when driven away from her +home by such usage, had not done amiss in coming to her aunt. +But Roger had already heard a few words from Mrs Pipkin as to +Ruby's late hours, had heard also that there was a lover, and knew +very well who that lover was. He also was quite familiar with +John Crumb's state of mind. John Crumb was a gallant, loving +fellow who might be induced to forgive everything, if Ruby would +only go back to him; but would certainly persevere, after some slow +fashion of his own, and "see the matter out," as he would say +himself, if she did not go back. "As you found yourself +obliged to run away," said Roger, "I'm glad that you should be +here; but you don't mean to stay here always?" + +<p>"I don't know," said Ruby. + +<p>"You must think of your future life. You don't want to be +always your aunt's maid." + +<p>"Oh dear, no." + +<p>"It would be very odd if you did, when you may be the wife of +such a man as Mr Crumb." + +<p>"Oh, Mr Crumb! Everybody is going on about Mr Crumb. +I don't like Mr Crumb, and I never will like him." + +<p>"Now look here, Ruby; I have come to speak to you very +seriously, and I expect you to hear me. Nobody can make you +marry Mr Crumb, unless you please." + +<p>"Nobody can't, of course, sir." + +<p>"But I fear you have given him up for somebody else, who +certainly won't marry you, and who can only mean to ruin you." + +<p>"Nobody won't ruin me," said Ruby. "A girl has to look to +herself, and I mean to look to myself." + +<p>"I'm glad to hear you say so, but being out at night with such a +one as Sir Felix Carbury is not looking to yourself. That +means going to the devil head foremost." + +<p>"I ain't a going to the devil," said Ruby, sobbing and blushing. + +<p>"But you will, if you put yourself into the hands of that young +man. He's as bad as bad can be. He's my own cousin, and +yet I'm obliged to tell you so. He has no more idea of +marrying you than I have; but were he to marry you, he could not +support you. He is ruined himself, and would ruin any young +woman who trusted him. I'm almost old enough to be your +father, and in all my experience I never came across so vile a young +man as he is. He would ruin you and cast you from him without +a pang of remorse. He has no heart in his bosom;—none." +Ruby had now given way altogether, and was sobbing with her apron +to her eyes in one corner of the room. "That's what Sir Felix +Carbury is," said the Squire, standing up so that he might speak +with the more energy, and talk her down more thoroughly. "And +if I understand it rightly," he continued, "it is for a vile thing +such as he, that you have left a man who is as much above him in +character, as the sun is above the earth. You think little of +John Crumb because he does not wear a fine coat." + +<p>"I don't care about any man's coat," said Ruby; "but John hasn't +ever a word to say, was it ever so." + +<p>"Words to say! what do words matter? He loves you. +He loves you after that fashion that he wants to make you happy and +respectable, not to make you a bye-word and a disgrace." Ruby +struggled hard to make some opposition to the suggestion, but found +herself to be incapable of speech at the moment. "He thinks +more of you than of himself, and would give you all that he +has. What would that other man give you? If you were +once married to John Crumb, would any one then pull you by the +hairs of your head? Would there be any want then, or any +disgrace?" + +<p>"There ain't no disgrace, Mr Carbury." + +<p>"No disgrace in going about at midnight with such a one as Felix +Carbury? You are not a fool, and you know that it is +disgraceful. If you are not unfit to be an honest man's wife, +go back and beg that man's pardon." + +<p>"John Crumb's pardon! No!" + +<p>"Oh, Ruby, if you knew how highly I respect that man, and how +lowly I think of the other; how I look on the one as a noble +fellow, and regard the other as dust beneath my feet, you would +perhaps change your mind a little." + +<p>Her mind was being changed. His words did have their +effect, though the poor girl struggled against the conviction that +was borne in upon her. She had never expected to hear any one +call John Crumb noble. But she had never respected any one +more highly than Squire Carbury, and he said that John Crumb was +noble. Amidst all her misery and trouble she still told +herself that it was but a dusty, mealy,—and also a dumb nobility. + +<p>"I'll tell you what will take place," continued Roger. "Mr +Crumb won't put up with this you know." + +<p>"He can't do nothing to me, sir." + +<p>"That's true enough. Unless it be to take you in his arms +and press you to his heart, he wants to do nothing to you. Do +you think he'd injure you if he could? You don't know what a +man's love really means, Ruby. But he could do something to +somebody else. How do you think it would be with Felix +Carbury, if they two were in a room together and nobody else by?" + +<p>"John's mortial strong, Mr Carbury." + +<p>"If two men have equal pluck, strength isn't much needed. +One is a brave man, and the other—a coward. Which do you +think is which?" + +<p>"He's your own cousin, and I don't know why you should say +everything again him." + +<p>"You know I'm telling you the truth. You know it as well +as I do myself;—and you're throwing yourself away, and throwing the +man who loves you over,—for such a fellow as that! Go back to +him, Ruby, and beg his pardon." + +<p>"I never will;—never." + +<p>"I've spoken to Mrs Pipkin, and while you're here she will see +that you don't keep such hours any longer. You tell me that +you're not disgraced, and yet you are out at midnight with a young +blackguard like that! I've said what I've got to say, and I'm +going away. But I'll let your grandfather know." + +<p>"Grandfather don't want me no more." + +<p>"And I'll come again. If you want money to go home, I will +let you have it. Take my advice at least in this;—do not see +Sir Felix Carbury any more." Then he took his leave. If +he had failed to impress her with admiration for John Crumb, he had +certainly been efficacious in lessening that which she had +entertained for Sir Felix. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="44"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIV. The Coming Election</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>The very greatness of Mr Melmotte's popularity, the extent of +the admiration which was accorded by the public at large to his +commercial enterprise and financial sagacity, created a peculiar +bitterness in the opposition that was organized against him at +Westminster. As the high mountains are intersected by deep +valleys, as puritanism in one age begets infidelity in the next, as +in many countries the thickness of the winter's ice will be in +proportion to the number of the summer musquitoes, so was the +keenness of the hostility displayed on this occasion in proportion +to the warmth of the support which was manifested. As the +great man was praised, so also was he abused. As he was a +demi-god to some, so was he a fiend to others. And indeed +there was hardly any other way in which it was possible to carry on +the contest against him. From the moment in which Mr Melmotte +had declared his purpose of standing for Westminster in the +Conservative interest, an attempt was made to drive him down the +throats of the electors by clamorous assertions of his +unprecedented commercial greatness. It seemed that there was +but one virtue in the world, commercial enterprise,—and that +Melmotte was its prophet. It seemed, too, that the orators +and writers of the day intended all Westminster to believe that +Melmotte treated his great affairs in a spirit very different from +that which animates the bosoms of merchants in general. He +had risen above feeling of personal profit. His wealth was so +immense that there was no longer place for anxiety on that +score. He already possessed,—so it was said,—enough to +found a dozen families, and he had but one daughter! But by +carrying on the enormous affairs which he held in his hands, he +would be able to open up new worlds, to afford relief to the +oppressed nationalities of the over-populated old countries. +He had seen how small was the good done by the Peabodys and the +Bairds, and, resolving to lend no ear to charities and religions, +was intent on projects for enabling young nations to earn plentiful +bread by the moderate sweat of their brows. He was the head +and front of the railway which was to regenerate Mexico. It +was presumed that the contemplated line from ocean to ocean across +British America would become a fact in his hands. It was he +who was to enter into terms with the Emperor of China for farming +the tea-fields of that vast country. He was already in treaty +with Russia for a railway from Moscow to Khiva. He had a +fleet,—or soon would have a fleet of emigrant ships,—ready to +carry every discontented Irishman out of Ireland to whatever +quarter of the globe the Milesian might choose for the exercise of +his political principles. It was known that he had already +floated a company for laying down a submarine wire from Penzance to +Point de Galle, round the Cape of Good Hope,—so that, in the event +of general wars, England need be dependent on no other country for +its communications with India. And then there was the +philanthropic scheme for buying the liberty of the Arabian fellahs +from the Khedive of Egypt for thirty millions sterling,—the +compensation to consist of the concession of a territory about four +times as big as Great Britain in the lately annexed country on the +great African lakes. It may have been the case that some of +these things were as yet only matters of conversation,—speculations +as to which Mr Melmotte's mind and imagination had been at work, +rather than his pocket or even his credit; but they were all +sufficiently matured to find their way into the public press, and +to be used as strong arguments why Melmotte should become member of +Parliament for Westminster. + +<p>All this praise was of course gall to those who found themselves +called upon by the demands of their political position to oppose Mr +Melmotte. You can run down a demi-god only by making him out +to be a demi-devil. These very persons, the leading Liberals +of the leading borough in England as they called themselves, would +perhaps have cared little about Melmotte's antecedents had it not +become their duty to fight him as a Conservative. Had the +great man found at the last moment that his own British politics +had been liberal in their nature, these very enemies would have +been on his committee. It was their business to secure the +seat. And as Melmotte's supporters began the battle with an +attempt at what the Liberals called "bounce,"—to carry the borough +with a rush by an overwhelming assertion of their candidate's +virtues,—the other party was driven to make some enquiries as to +that candidate's antecedents. They quickly warmed to the +work, and were not less loud in exposing the Satan of speculation, +than had been the Conservatives in declaring the commercial +Jove. Emissaries were sent to Paris and Frankfort, and the +wires were used to Vienna and New York. It was not difficult +to collect stories,—true or false; and some quiet men, who merely +looked on at the game, expressed an opinion that Melmotte might +have wisely abstained from the glories of Parliament. + +<p>Nevertheless there was at first some difficulty in finding a +proper Liberal candidate to run against him. The nobleman who +had been elevated out of his seat by the death of his father had +been a great Whig magnate, whose family was possessed of immense +wealth and of popularity equal to its possessions. One of +that family might have contested the borough at a much less expense +than any other person,—and to them the expense would have mattered +but little. But there was no such member of it +forthcoming. Lord This and Lord That,—and the Honourable This +and the Honourable That, sons of other cognate Lords,—already had +seats which they were unwilling to vacate in the present state of +affairs. There was but one other session for the existing +Parliament; and the odds were held to be very greatly in Melmotte's +favour. Many an outsider was tried, but the outsiders were +either afraid of Melmotte's purse or his influence. Lord +Buntingford was asked, and he and his family were good old +Whigs. But he was nephew to Lord Alfred Grendall, first +cousin to Miles Grendall, and abstained on behalf of his +relatives. An overture was made to Sir Damask Monogram, who +certainly could afford the contest. But Sir Damask did not +see his way. Melmotte was a working bee, while he was a +drone,—and he did not wish to have the difference pointed out by +Mr Melmotte's supporters. Moreover, he preferred his yacht +and his four-in-hand. + +<p>At last a candidate was selected, whose nomination and whose +consent to occupy the position created very great surprise in the +London world. The press had of course taken up the matter +very strongly. The "Morning Breakfast Table" supported Mr +Melmotte with all its weight. There were people who said that +this support was given by Mr Broune under the influence of Lady +Carbury, and that Lady Carbury in this way endeavoured to reconcile +the great man to a marriage between his daughter and Sir +Felix. But it is more probable that Mr Broune saw,—or thought +that he saw,—which way the wind sat, and that he supported the +commercial hero because he felt that the hero would be supported by +the country at large. In praising a book, or putting foremost +the merits of some official or military claimant, or writing up a +charity,—in some small matter of merely personal interest,—the +Editor of the "Morning Breakfast Table" might perhaps allow himself +to listen to a lady whom he loved. But he knew his work too +well to jeopardize his paper by such influences in any matter which +might probably become interesting to the world of his +readers. There was a strong belief in Melmotte. The +clubs thought that he would be returned for Westminster. The +dukes and duchesses fêted him. The city,—even the city +was showing a wavering disposition to come round. Bishops +begged for his name on the list of promoters of their pet +schemes. Royalty without stint was to dine at his +table. Melmotte himself was to sit at the right hand of the +brother of the Sun and of the uncle of the Moon, and British +Royalty was to be arranged opposite, so that every one might seem +to have the place of most honour. How could a conscientious +Editor of a "Morning Breakfast Table," seeing how things were +going, do other than support Mr Melmotte? In fair justice it +may be well doubted whether Lady Carbury had exercised any +influence in the matter. + +<p>But the "Evening Pulpit" took the other side. Now this was +the more remarkable, the more sure to attract attention, inasmuch +as the "Evening Pulpit" had never supported the Liberal +interest. As was said in the first chapter of this work, the +motto of that newspaper implied that it was to be conducted on +principles of absolute independence. Had the "Evening +Pulpit," like some of its contemporaries, lived by declaring from +day to day that all Liberal elements were godlike, and all their +opposites satanic, as a matter of course the same line of argument +would have prevailed as to the Westminster election. But as +it had not been so, the vigour of the "Evening Pulpit" on this +occasion was the more alarming and the more noticeable,—so that +the short articles which appeared almost daily in reference to Mr +Melmotte were read by everybody. Now they who are concerned +in the manufacture of newspapers are well aware that censure is +infinitely more attractive than eulogy,—but they are quite as well +aware that it is more dangerous. No proprietor or editor was +ever brought before the courts at the cost of ever so many hundred +pounds,—which if things go badly may rise to thousands,—because +he had attributed all but divinity to some very poor specimen of +mortality. No man was ever called upon for damages because he +had attributed grand motives. It might be well for politics +and Literature and art,—and for truth in general, if it was +possible to do so, but a new law of libel must be enacted before +such salutary proceedings can take place. Censure on the +other hand is open to very grave perils. Let the Editor have +been ever so conscientious, ever so beneficent,—even ever so +true,—let it be ever so clear that what he has written has been +written on behalf of virtue, and that he has misstated no fact, +exaggerated no fault, never for a moment been allured from public +to private matters,—and he may still be in danger of ruin. +A very long purse, or else a very high courage is needed for the +exposure of such conduct as the "Evening Pulpit" attributed to Mr +Melmotte. The paper took up this line suddenly. After +the second article Mr Alf sent back to Mr Miles Grendall, who in +the matter was acting as Mr Melmotte's secretary, the ticket of +invitation for the dinner, with a note from Mr Alf stating that +circumstances connected with the forthcoming election for +Westminster could not permit him to have the great honour of dining +at Mr Melmotte's table in the presence of the Emperor of +China. Miles Grendall showed the note to the dinner +committee, and, without consultation with Mr Melmotte, it was +decided that the ticket should be sent to the Editor of a +thorough-going Conservative journal. This conduct on the part +of the "Evening Pulpit" astonished the world considerably; but the +world was more astonished when it was declared that Mr Ferdinand +Alf himself was going to stand for Westminster on the Liberal +interest. + +<p>Various suggestions were made. Some said that as Mr Alf +had a large share in the newspaper, and as its success was now an +established fact, he himself intended to retire from the laborious +position which he filled, and was therefore free to go into +Parliament. Others were of opinion that this was the +beginning of a new era in literature, of a new order of things, and +that from this time forward editors would frequently be found in +Parliament, if editors were employed of sufficient influence in the +world to find constituencies. Mr Broune whispered +confidentially to Lady Carbury that the man was a fool for his +pains, and that he was carried away by pride. "Very +clever,—and dashing," said Mr Broune, "but he never had +ballast." Lady Carbury shook her head. She did not want +to give up Mr Alf if she could help it. He had never said a +civil word of her in his paper;—but still she had an idea that it +was well to be on good terms with so great a power. She +entertained a mysterious awe for Mr Alf,—much in excess of any +similar feeling excited by Mr Broune, in regard to whom her awe had +been much diminished since he had made her an offer of +marriage. Her sympathies as to the election of course were +with Mr Melmotte. She believed in him thoroughly. She +still thought that his nod might be the means of making Felix,—or +if not his nod, then his money without the nod. + +<p>"I suppose he is very rich," she said, speaking to Mr Broune +respecting Mr Alf. + +<p>"I dare say he has put by something. But this election +will cost him £10,000;—and if he goes on as he is doing now, +he had better allow another £10,000 for action for +libel. They've already declared that they will indict the +paper." + +<p>"Do you believe about the Austrian Insurance Company?" +This was a matter as to which Mr Melmotte was supposed to have +retired from Paris not with clean hands. + +<p>"I don't believe the 'Evening Pulpit' can prove it,—and I'm sure +that they can't attempt to prove it without an expense of three or +four thousand pounds. That's a game in which nobody wins but +the lawyers. I wonder at Alf. I should have thought +that he would have known how to get all said that he wanted to have +said without running with his head into the lion's mouth. He +has been so clever up to this! God knows he has been bitter +enough, but he has always sailed within the wind." + +<p>Mr Alf had a powerful committee. By this time an animus in +regard to the election had been created strong enough to bring out +the men on both sides, and to produce heat, when otherwise there +might only have been a warmth or, possibly, frigidity. The +Whig Marquises and the Whig Barons came forward, and with them the +liberal professional men, and the tradesmen who had found that +party to answer best, and the democratical mechanics. If +Melmotte's money did not, at last, utterly demoralise the lower +class of voters, there would still be a good fight. And there +was a strong hope that, under the ballot, Melmotte's money might be +taken without a corresponding effect upon the voting. It was +found upon trial that Mr Alf was a good speaker. And though +he still conducted the "Evening Pulpit", he made time for +addressing meetings of the constituency almost daily. And in +his speeches he never spared Melmotte. No one, he said, had a +greater reverence for mercantile grandeur than himself. But +let them take care that the grandeur was grand. How great +would be the disgrace to such a borough as that of Westminster if +it should find that it had been taken in by a false spirit of +speculation and that it had surrendered itself to gambling when it +had thought to do honour to honest commerce. This, connected, +as of course it was, with the articles in the paper, was regarded +as very open speaking. And it had its effect. Some men +began to say that Melmotte had not been known long enough to +deserve confidence in his riches, and the Lord Mayor was already +beginning to think that it might be wise to escape the dinner by +some excuse. + +<p>Melmotte's committee was also very grand. If Alf was +supported by Marquises and Barons, he was supported by Dukes and +Earls. But his speaking in public did not of itself inspire +much confidence. He had very little to say when he attempted +to explain the political principles on which he intended to +act. After a little he confined himself to remarks on the +personal attacks made on him by the other side, and even in doing +that was reiterative rather than diffusive. Let them prove +it. He defied them to prove it. Englishmen were too +great, too generous, too honest, too noble,—the men of Westminster +especially were a great deal too highminded to pay any attention to +such charges as these till they were proved. Then he began +again. Let them prove it. Such accusations as these +were mere lies till they were proved. He did not say much +himself in public as to actions for libel,—but assurances were made +on his behalf to the electors, especially by Lord Alfred Grendall +and his son, that as soon as the election was over all speakers and +writers would be indicted for libel, who should be declared by +proper legal advice to have made themselves liable to such +action. The "Evening Pulpit" and Mr Alf would of course be +the first victims. + +<p>The dinner was fixed for Monday, July the 8th. The +election for the borough was to be held on Tuesday the 9th. +It was generally thought that the proximity of the two days had +been arranged with the view of enhancing Melmotte's expected +triumph. But such in truth, was not the case. It had +been an accident, and an accident that was distressing to some of +the Melmottites. There was much to be done about the +dinner,—which could not be omitted; and much also as to the +election,—which was imperative. The two Grendalls, father +and son, found themselves to be so driven that the world seemed for +them to be turned topsy-turvy. The elder had in old days been +accustomed to electioneering in the interest of his own family, and +had declared himself willing to make himself useful on behalf of Mr +Melmotte. But he found Westminster to be almost too much for +him. He was called here and sent there, till he was very near +rebellion. "If this goes on much longer I shall cut it," he +said to his son. + +<p>"Think of me, governor," said the son "I have to be in the city +four or five times a week." + +<p>"You've a regular salary." + +<p>"Come, governor; you've done pretty well for that. What's +my salary to the shares you've had? The thing is;—will it +last?" + +<p>"How last?" + +<p>"There are a good many who say that Melmotte will burst up." + +<p>"I don't believe it," said Lord Alfred. "They don't know +what they're talking about. There are too many in the same +boat to let him burst up. It would be the bursting up of half +London. But I shall tell him after this that he must make it +easier. He wants to know who's to have every ticket for the +dinner, and there's nobody to tell him except me. And I've +got to arrange all the places, and nobody to help me except that +fellow from the Herald's office. I don't know about people's +rank. Which ought to come first: a director of the bank or a +fellow who writes books?" Miles suggested that the fellow +from the Herald's office would know all about that, and that his +father need not trouble himself with petty details. + +<p>"And you shall come to us for three days,—after it's over," said +Lady Monogram to Miss Longestaffe; a proposition to which Miss +Longestaffe acceded, willingly indeed, but not by any means as +though a favour had been conferred upon her. Now the reason +why Lady Monogram had changed her mind as to inviting her old +friend, and thus threw open her hospitality for three whole days to +the poor young lady who had disgraced herself by staying with the +Melmottes, was as follows. Miss Longestaffe had the disposal +of two evening tickets for Madame Melmotte's grand reception; and +so greatly had the Melmottes risen in general appreciation that +Lady Monogram had found that she was bound, on behalf of her own +position in society, to be present on that occasion. It would +not do that her name should not be in the printed list of the +guests. Therefore she had made a serviceable bargain with her +old friend Miss Longestaffe. She was to have her two tickets +for the reception, and Miss Longestaffe was to be received for +three days as a guest by Lady Monogram. It had also been +conceded that at any rate on one of these nights Lady Monogram +should take Miss Longestaffe out with her, and that she should +herself receive company on another. There was perhaps +something slightly painful at the commencement of the negotiation; +but such feelings soon fade away, and Lady Monogram was quite a +woman of the world. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="45"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLV. Mr Melmotte Is Pressed for Time</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>About this time, a fortnight or nearly so before the election, +Mr Longestaffe came up to town and saw Mr Melmotte very +frequently. He could not go into his own house, as he had let +that for a month to the great financier, nor had he any +establishment in town; but he slept at an hotel and lived at the +Carlton. He was quite delighted to find that his new friend +was an honest Conservative, and he himself proposed the honest +Conservative at the club. There was some idea of electing Mr +Melmotte out of hand, but it was decided that the club could not go +beyond its rule, and could only admit Mr Melmotte out of his +regular turn as soon as he should occupy a seat in the House of +Commons. Mr Melmotte, who was becoming somewhat arrogant, was +heard to declare that if the club did not take him when he was +willing to be taken, it might do without him. If not elected +at once, he should withdraw his name. So great was his +prestige at this moment with his own party that there were some, Mr +Longestaffe among the number, who pressed the thing on the +committee. Mr Melmotte was not like other men. It was a +great thing to have Mr Melmotte in the party. Mr Melmotte's +financial capabilities would in themselves be a tower of +strength. Rules were not made to control the club in a matter +of such importance as this. A noble lord, one among seven who +had been named as a fit leader of the Upper House on the +Conservative side in the next session, was asked to take the matter +up; and men thought that the thing might have been done had he +complied. But he was old-fashioned, perhaps pig-headed; and +the club for the time lost the honour of entertaining Mr Melmotte. + +<p>It may be remembered that Mr Longestaffe had been anxious to +become one of the directors of the Mexican Railway, and that he was +rather snubbed than encouraged when he expressed his wish to Mr +Melmotte. Like other great men, Mr Melmotte liked to choose +his own time for bestowing favours. Since that request was +made the proper time had come, and he had now intimated to Mr +Longestaffe that in a somewhat altered condition of things there +would be a place for him at the Board, and that he and his brother +directors would be delighted to avail themselves of his +assistance. The alliance between Mr Melmotte and Mr +Longestaffe had become very close. The Melmottes had visited +the Longestaffes at Caversham. Georgiana Longestaffe was +staying with Madame Melmotte in London. The Melmottes were +living in Mr Longestaffe's town house, having taken it for a month +at a very high rent. Mr Longestaffe now had a seat at Mr +Melmotte's board. And Mr Melmotte had bought Mr Longestaffe's +estate at Pickering on terms very favourable to the +Longestaffes. It had been suggested to Mr Longestaffe by Mr +Melmotte that he had better qualify for his seat at the Board by +taking shares in the Company to the amount of—perhaps two or three +thousand pounds, and Mr Longestaffe had of course consented. +There would be no need of any transaction in absolute cash. +The shares could of course be paid for out of Mr Longestaffe's half +of the purchase money for Pickering Park, and could remain for the +present in Mr Melmotte's hands. To this also Mr Longestaffe +had consented, not quite understanding why the scrip should not be +made over to him at once. + +<p>It was a part of the charm of all dealings with this great man +that no ready money seemed ever to be necessary for anything. +Great purchases were made and great transactions apparently +completed without the signing even of a cheque. Mr +Longestaffe found himself to be afraid even to give a hint to Mr +Melmotte about ready money. In speaking of all such matters +Melmotte seemed to imply that everything necessary had been done, +when he had said that it was done. Pickering had been +purchased and the title-deeds made over to Mr Melmotte; but the +£80,000 had not been paid,—had not been absolutely paid, +though of course Mr Melmotte's note assenting to the terms was +security sufficient for any reasonable man. The property had +been mortgaged, though not heavily, and Mr Melmotte had no doubt +satisfied the mortgagee; but there was still a sum of £50,000 +to come, of which Dolly was to have one half and the other was to +be employed in paying off Mr Longestaffe's debts to tradesmen and +debts to the bank. It would have been very pleasant to have +had this at once,—but Mr Longestaffe felt the absurdity of pressing +such a man as Mr Melmotte, and was partly conscious of the gradual +consummation of a new era in money matters. "If your banker +is pressing you, refer him to me," Mr Melmotte had said. As +for many years past we have exchanged paper instead of actual money +for our commodities, so now it seemed that, under the new Melmotte +regime, an exchange of words was to suffice. + +<p>But Dolly wanted his money. Dolly, idle as he was, foolish +as he was, dissipated as he was and generally indifferent to his +debts, liked to have what belonged to him. It had all been +arranged. £5,000 would pay off all his tradesmen's +debts and leave him comfortably possessed of money in hand, while +the other £20,000 would make his own property free. +There was a charm in this which awakened even Dolly, and for the +time almost reconciled him to his father's society. But now a +shade of impatience was coming over him. He had actually gone +down to Caversham to arrange the terms with his father,—and had in +fact made his own terms. His father had been unable to move +him, and had consequently suffered much in spirit. Dolly had +been almost triumphant,—thinking that the money would come on the +next day, or at any rate during the next week. Now he came to +his father early in the morning,—at about two o'clock,—to inquire +what was being done. He had not as yet been made blessed with +a single ten-pound note in his hand, as the result of the sale. + +<p>"Are you going to see Melmotte, sir?" he asked somewhat +abruptly. + +<p>"Yes;—I'm to be with him to-morrow, and he is to introduce me to +the Board." + +<p>"You're going in for that, are you, sir? Do they pay +anything?" + +<p>"I believe not." + +<p>"Nidderdale and young Carbury belong to it. It's a sort of +Beargarden affair." + +<p>"A bear-garden affair, Adolphus. How so?" + +<p>"I mean the club. We had them all there for dinner one +day, and a jolly dinner we gave them. Miles Grendall and old +Alfred belong to it. I don't think they'd go in for it, if +there was no money going. I'd make them fork out something if +I took the trouble of going all that way." + +<p>"I think that perhaps, Adolphus, you hardly understand these +things." + +<p>"No, I don't. I don't understand much about business, I +know. What I want to understand is, when Melmotte is going to +pay up this money." + +<p>"I suppose he'll arrange it with the banks," said the father. + +<p>"I beg that he won't arrange my money with the banks, sir. +You'd better tell him not. A cheque upon his bank which I can +pay in to mine is about the best thing going. You'll be in +the city to-morrow, and you'd better tell him. If you don't +like, you know, I'll get Squercum to do it." Mr Squercum was +a lawyer whom Dolly had employed of late years much to the +annoyance of his parent. Mr Squercum's name was odious to Mr +Longestaffe. + +<p>"I beg you'll do nothing of the kind. It will be very +foolish if you do;—perhaps ruinous." + +<p>"Then he'd better pay up, like anybody else," said Dolly as he +left the room. The father knew the son, and was quite sure +that Squercum would have his finger in the pie unless the money +were paid quickly. When Dolly had taken an idea into his +head, no power on earth,—no power at least of which the father +could avail himself,—would turn him. + +<p>On that same day Melmotte received two visits in the city from +two of his fellow directors. At the time he was very +busy. Though his electioneering speeches were neither long +nor pithy, still he had to think of them beforehand. Members +of his Committee were always trying to see him. Orders as to +the dinner and the preparation of the house could not be given by +Lord Alfred without some reference to him. And then those +gigantic commercial affairs which were enumerated in the last +chapter could not be adjusted without much labour on his +part. His hands were not empty, but still he saw each of +these young men,—for a few minutes. "My dear young friend, +what can I do for you?" he said to Sir Felix, not sitting down, so +that Sir Felix also should remain standing. + +<p>"About that money, Mr Melmotte?" + +<p>"What money, my dear fellow? You see that a good many +money matters pass through my hands." + +<p>"The thousand pounds I gave you for shares. If you don't +mind, and as the shares seem to be a bother, I'll take the money +back." + +<p>"It was only the other day you had £200," said Melmotte, +showing that he could apply his memory to small transactions when +he pleased. + +<p>"Exactly;—and you might as well let me have the £800." + +<p>"I've ordered the shares;—gave the order to my broker the other +day." + +<p>"Then I'd better take the shares," said Sir Felix, feeling that +it might very probably be that day fortnight before he could start +for New York. "Could I get them, Mr Melmotte?" + +<p>"My dear fellow, I really think you hardly calculate the value +of my time when you come to me about such an affair as this." + +<p>"I'd like to have the money or the shares," said Sir Felix, who +was not specially averse to quarrelling with Mr Melmotte now that +he had resolved upon taking that gentleman's daughter to New York +in direct opposition to his written promise. Their quarrel +would be so thoroughly internecine when the departure should be +discovered, that any present anger could hardly increase its +bitterness. What Felix thought of now was simply his money, +and the best means of getting it out of Melmotte's hands. + +<p>"You're a spendthrift," said Melmotte, apparently relenting, +"and I'm afraid a gambler. I suppose I must give you £ +200 more on account." + +<p>Sir Felix could not resist the touch of ready money, and +consented to take the sum offered. As he pocketed the cheque +he asked for the name of the brokers who were employed to buy the +shares. But here Melmotte demurred "No, my friend," said +Melmotte; "you are only entitled to shares for £600 pounds +now. I will see that the thing is put right." So Sir +Felix departed with £200 only. Marie had said that she +could get £200. Perhaps if he bestirred himself and +wrote to some of Miles's big relations he could obtain payment of a +part of that gentleman's debt to him. + +<p>Sir Felix going down the stairs in Abchurch Lane met Paul +Montague coming up. Carbury, on the spur of the moment, +thought that he would "take a rise" as he called it out of +Montague. "What's this I hear about a lady at Islington?" he +asked. + +<p>"Who has told you anything about a lady at Islington?" + +<p>"A little bird. There are always little birds about +telling of ladies. I'm told that I'm to congratulate you on +your coming marriage." + +<p>"Then you've been told an infernal falsehood," said Montague +passing on. He paused a moment and added, "I don't know who +can have told you, but if you hear it again, I'll trouble you to +contradict it." As he was waiting in Melmotte's outer room +while the duke's nephew went in to see whether it was the great +man's pleasure to see him, he remembered whence Carbury must have +heard tidings of Mrs Hurtle. Of course the rumour had come +through Ruby Ruggles. + +<p>Miles Grendall brought out word that the great man would see Mr +Montague; but he added a caution. "He's awfully full of work +just now,—you won't forget that;—will you?" Montague assured +the duke's nephew that he would be concise, and was shown in. + +<p>"I should not have troubled you," said Paul, "only that I +understood that I was to see you before the Board met." + +<p>"Exactly;—of course. It was quite necessary,—only you see I +am a little busy. If this d––––d +dinner were over I shouldn't mind. It's a deal easier to make +a treaty with an Emperor, than to give him a dinner; I can tell you +that. Well;—let me see. Oh;—I was proposing that you +should go out to Pekin?" + +<p>"To Mexico." + +<p>"Yes, yes;—to Mexico. I've so many things running in my +head! Well;—if you'll say when you're ready to start, we'll +draw up something of instructions. You'd know better, +however, than we can tell you, what to do. You'll see Fisker, +of course. You and Fisker will manage it. The chief +thing will be a cheque for the expenses; eh? We must get that +passed at the next Board." + +<p>Mr Melmotte had been so quick that Montague had been unable to +interrupt him. "There need be no trouble about that, Mr +Melmotte, as I have made up my mind that it would not be fit that I +should go." + +<p>"Oh, indeed!" + +<p>There had been a shade of doubt on Montague's mind, till the +tone in which Melmotte had spoken of the embassy grated on his +ears. The reference to the expenses disgusted him +altogether. "No;—even did I see my way to do any good in +America my duties here would not be compatible with the +undertaking." + +<p>"I don't see that at all. What duties have you got +here? What good are you doing the Company? If you do +stay, I hope you'll be unanimous; that's all;—or perhaps you intend +to go out. If that's it, I'll look to your money. I +think I told you that before." + +<p>"That, Mr Melmotte, is what I should prefer." + +<p>"Very well,—very well. I'll arrange it. Sorry to +lose you,—that's all. Miles, isn't Mr Goldsheiner waiting to +see me?" + +<p>"You're a little too quick, Mr Melmotte," said Paul. + +<p>"A man with my business on his hands is bound to be quick, sir." + +<p>"But I must be precise. I cannot tell you as a fact that I +shall withdraw from the Board till I receive the advice of a friend +with whom I am consulting. I hardly yet know what my duty may +be." + +<p>"I'll tell you, sir, what can not be your duty. It cannot +be your duty to make known out of that Board-room any of the +affairs of the Company which you have learned in that +Board-room. It cannot be your duty to divulge the +circumstances of the Company or any differences which may exist +between Directors of the Company, to any gentleman who is a +stranger to the Company. It cannot be your duty." + +<p>"Thank you, Mr Melmotte. On matters such as that I think +that I can see my own way. I have been in fault in coming in +to the Board without understanding what duties I should have to +perform—." + +<p>"Very much in fault, I should say," replied Melmotte, whose +arrogance in the midst of his inflated glory was overcoming him. + +<p>"But in reference to what I may or may not say to any friend, or +how far I should be restricted by the scruples of a gentleman, I do +not want advice from you." + +<p>"Very well;—very well. I can't ask you to stay, because a +partner from the house of Todd, Brehgert, and Goldsheiner is +waiting to see me, about matters which are rather more important +than this of yours." Montague had said what he had to say, +and departed. + +<p>On the following day, three-quarters of an hour before the +meeting of the Board of Directors, old Mr Longestaffe called in +Abchurch Lane. He was received very civilly by Miles +Grendall, and asked to sit down. Mr Melmotte quite expected +him, and would walk with him over to the offices of the railway, +and introduce him to the Board. Mr Longestaffe, with some +shyness, intimated his desire to have a few moments conversation +with the chairman before the Board met. Fearing his son, +especially fearing Squercum, he had made up his mind to suggest +that the little matter about Pickering Park should be +settled. Miles assured him that the opportunity should be +given him, but that at the present moment the chief secretary of +the Russian Legation was with Mr Melmotte. Either the chief +secretary was very tedious with his business, or else other big men +must have come in, for Mr Longestaffe was not relieved till he was +summoned to walk off to the Board five minutes after the hour at +which the Board should have met. He thought that he could +explain his views in the street; but on the stairs they were joined +by Mr Cohenlupe, and in three minutes they were in the Board +room. Mr Longestaffe was then presented, and took the chair +opposite to Miles Grendall. Montague was not there, but had +sent a letter to the secretary explaining that for reasons with +which the chairman was acquainted he should absent himself from the +present meeting. "All right," said Melmotte. "I know +all about it. Go on. I'm not sure but that Mr +Montague's retirement from among us may be an advantage. He +could not be made to understand that unanimity in such an +enterprise as this is essential. I am confident that the new +director whom I have had the pleasure of introducing to you to-day +will not sin in the same direction." Then Mr Melmotte bowed +and smiled very sweetly on Mr Longestaffe. + +<p>Mr Longestaffe was astonished to find how soon the business was +done, and how very little he had been called on to do. Miles +Grendall had read something out of a book which he had been unable +to follow. Then the chairman had read some figures. Mr +Cohenlupe had declared that their prosperity was unprecedented;—and +the Board was over. When Mr Longestaffe explained to Miles +Grendall that he still wished to speak to Mr Melmotte, Miles +explained to him that the chairman had been obliged to run off to a +meeting of gentlemen connected with the interior of Africa, which +was now being held at the Cannon Street Hotel. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="46"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVI. Roger Carbury and His Two Friends</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Roger Carbury, having found Ruby Ruggles, and having ascertained +that she was at any rate living in a respectable house with her +aunt, returned to Carbury. He had given the girl his advice, +and had done so in a manner that was not altogether +ineffectual. He had frightened her, and had also frightened +Mrs Pipkin. He had taught Mrs Pipkin to believe that the new +dispensation was not yet so completely established as to clear her +from all responsibility as to her niece's conduct. Having +done so much, and feeling that there was no more to be done, he +returned home. It was out of the question that he should take +Ruby with him. In the first place she would not have +gone. And then,—had she gone,—he would not have known where +to bestow her. For it was now understood throughout +Bungay,—and the news had spread to Beccles,—that old Farmer +Ruggles had sworn that his granddaughter should never again be +received at Sheep's Acre Farm. The squire on his return home +heard all the news from his own housekeeper. John Crumb had +been at the farm and there had been a fierce quarrel between him +and the old man. The old man had called Ruby by every name +that is most distasteful to a woman, and John had stormed and had +sworn that he would have punched the old man's head but for his +age. He wouldn't believe any harm of Ruby,—or if he did he +was ready to forgive that harm. But as for the +Baro-nite;—the Baro-nite had better look to himself! Old +Ruggles had declared that Ruby should never have a shilling of his +money;—whereupon Crumb had anathematised old Ruggles and his money +too, telling him that he was an old hunx, and that he had driven +the girl away by his cruelty. Roger at once sent over to +Bungay for the dealer in meal, who was with him early on the +following morning. + +<p>"Did ye find her, squoire?" + +<p>"Oh, yes, Mr Crumb, I found her. She's living with her +aunt, Mrs Pipkin, at Islington." + +<p>"Eh, now;—look at that." + +<p>"You knew she had an aunt of that name up in London." + +<p>"Ye-es; I knew'd it, squoire. I a' heard tell of Mrs +Pipkin, but I never see'd her." + +<p>"I wonder it did not occur to you that Ruby would go +there." John Crumb scratched his head, as though +acknowledging the shortcoming of his own intellect. "Of +course if she was to go to London it was the proper thing for her +to do." + +<p>"I knew she'd do the thing as was right. I said that all +along. Darned if I didn't. You ask Mixet, squoire,—him +as is baker down Bardsey Lane. I allays guy' it her that +she'd do the thing as was right. But how about she and the +Baro-nite?" + +<p>Roger did not wish to speak of the Baronet just at +present. "I suppose the old man down here did ill-use her?" + +<p>"Oh, dreadful;—there ain't no manner of doubt o' that. +Dragged her about awful;—as he ought to be took up, only for the +rumpus like. D'ye think she's see'd the Baro-nite since she's +been in Lon'on, Muster Carbury?" + +<p>"I think she's a good girl, if you mean that." + +<p>"I'm sure she be. I don't want none to tell me that, +squoire. Tho', squoire, it's better to me nor a ten pun' note +to hear you say so. I allays had a leaning to you, squoire; +but I'll more nor lean to you, now. I've said all through she +was good, and if e'er a man in Bungay said she warn't—; well, I was +there and ready." + +<p>"I hope nobody has said so." + +<p>"You can't stop them women, squoire. There ain't no +dropping into them. But, Lord love 'ee, she shall come and be +missus of my house to-morrow, and what'll it matter her then what +they say? But, squoire did ye hear if the Baro-nite had been +a' hanging about that place?" + +<p>"About Islington, you mean." + +<p>"He goes a hanging about; he do. He don't come out +straight forrard, and tell a girl as he loves her afore all the +parish. There ain't one in Bungay, nor yet in Mettingham, nor +yet in all the Ilketsals and all the Elmhams, as don't know as I'm +set on Ruby Ruggles. Huggery-Muggery is pi'son to me, +squoire." + +<p>"We all know that when you've made up your mind, you have made +up your mind." + +<p>"I hove. It's made up ever so as to Ruby. What sort +of a one is her aunt now, squoire?" + +<p>"She keeps lodgings;—a very decent sort of a woman I should +say." + +<p>"She won't let the Baro-nite come there?" + +<p>"Certainly not," said Roger, who felt that he was hardly dealing +sincerely with this most sincere of meal-men. Hitherto he had +shuffled off every question that had been asked him about Felix, +though he knew that Ruby had spent many hours with her fashionable +lover. "Mrs Pipkin won't let him come there." + +<p>"If I was to give her a ge'own now,—or a blue cloak;—them +lodging-house women is mostly hard put to it;—or a chest of +drawers like, for her best bedroom, wouldn't that make her more o' +my side, squoire?" + +<p>"I think she'll try to do her duty without that." + +<p>"They do like things the like o' that; any ways I'll go up, +squoire, arter Sax'nam market, and see how things is lying." + +<p>"I wouldn't go just yet, Mr Crumb, if I were you. She +hasn't forgotten the scene at the farm yet." + +<p>"I said nothing as wasn't as kind as kind." + +<p>"But her own perversity runs in her own head. If you had +been unkind she could have forgiven that; but as you were +good-natured and she was cross, she can't forgive that." John +Crumb again scratched his head, and felt that the depths of a +woman's character required more gauging than he had yet given to +it. "And to tell you the truth, my friend, I think that a +little hardship up at Mrs Pipkin's will do her good." + +<p>"Don't she have a bellyful o' vittels?" asked John Crumb, with +intense anxiety. + +<p>"I don't quite mean that. I dare say she has enough to +eat. But of course she has to work for it with her +aunt. She has three or four children to look after." + +<p>"That moight come in handy by-and-by;—moightn't it, squoire?" +said John Crumb grinning. + +<p>"As you say, she'll be learning something that may be useful to +her in another sphere. Of course there is a good deal to do, +and I should not be surprised if she were to think after a bit that +your house in Bungay was more comfortable than Mrs Pipkin's kitchen +in London." + +<p>"My little back parlour;—eh, squoire! And I've got a +four-poster, most as big as any in Bungay." + +<p>"I am sure you have everything comfortable for her, and she +knows it herself. Let her think about all that,—and do you +go and tell her again in a month's time. She'll be more +willing to settle matters then than she is now." + +<p>"But the Baro-nite!" + +<p>"Mrs Pipkin will allow nothing of that." + +<p>"Girls is so 'cute. Ruby is awful 'cute. It makes me +feel as though I had two hun'erdweight o' meal on my stomach, lying +awake o' nights and thinking as how he is, may be,—pulling of her +about! If I thought that she'd let him—; oh! I'd swing +for it, Muster Carbury. They'd have to make an eend o' me at +Bury, if it was that way. They would then." + +<p>Roger assured him again and again that he believed Ruby to be a +good girl, and promised that further steps should be taken to +induce Mrs Pipkin to keep a close watch upon her niece. John +Crumb made no promise that he would abstain from his journey to +London after Saxmundham fair; but left the squire with a conviction +that his purpose of doing so was shaken. He was still however +resolved to send Mrs Pipkin the price of a new blue cloak, and +declared his purpose of getting Mixet to write the letter and +enclose the money order. John Crumb had no delicacy as to +declaring his own deficiency in literary acquirements. He was +able to make out a bill for meal or pollards, but did little beyond +that in the way of writing letters. + +<p>This happened on a Saturday morning, and on that afternoon Roger +Carbury rode over to Lowestoft, to a meeting there on church +matters at which his friend the bishop presided. After the +meeting was over he dined at the inn with half a dozen clergymen +and two or three neighbouring gentlemen, and then walked down by +himself on to the long strand which has made Lowestoft what it +is. It was now just the end of June, and the weather was +delightful;—but people were not as yet flocking to the +sea-shore. Every shopkeeper in every little town through the +country now follows the fashion set by Parliament and abstains from +his annual holiday till August or September. The place +therefore was by no means full. Here and there a few of the +townspeople, who at a bathing place are generally indifferent to +the sea, were strolling about; and another few, indifferent to +fashion, had come out from the lodging-houses and from the hotel, +which had been described as being small and insignificant,—and +making up only a hundred beds. Roger Carbury, whose house was +not many miles distant from Lowestoft, was fond of the sea-shore, +and always came to loiter there for a while when any cause brought +him into the town. Now he was walking close down upon the +marge of the tide,—so that the last little roll of the rising +water should touch his feet,—with his hands joined behind his +back, and his face turned down towards the shore, when he came upon +a couple who were standing with their backs to the land, looking +forth together upon the waves. He was close to them before he +saw them, and before they had seen him. Then he perceived +that the man was his friend Paul Montague. Leaning on Paul's +arm a lady stood, dressed very simply in black, with a dark straw +hat on her head;—very simple in her attire, but yet a woman whom +it would be impossible to pass without notice. The lady of +course was Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>Paul Montague had been a fool to suggest Lowestoft, but his +folly had been natural. It was not the first place he had +named; but when fault had been found with others, he had fallen +back upon the sea sands which were best known to himself. +Lowestoft was just the spot which Mrs Hurtle required. When +she had been shown her room, and taken down out of the hotel on to +the strand, she had declared herself to be charmed. She +acknowledged with many smiles that of course she had had no right +to expect that Mrs Pipkin should understand what sort of place she +needed. But Paul would understand,—and had understood. +"I think the hotel charming," she said. "I don't know what +you mean by your fun about the American hotels, but I think this +quite gorgeous, and the people so civil!" Hotel people always +are civil before the crowds come. Of course it was impossible +that Paul should return to London by the mail train which started +about an hour after his arrival. He would have reached London +at four or five in the morning, and have been very +uncomfortable. The following day was Sunday, and of course he +promised to stay till Monday. Of course he had said nothing +in the train of those stern things which he had resolved to +say. Of course he was not saying them when Roger Carbury came +upon him; but was indulging in some poetical nonsense, some +probably very trite raptures as to the expanse of the ocean, and +the endless ripples which connected shore with shore. Mrs +Hurtle, too, as she leaned with friendly weight upon his arm, +indulged also in moonshine and romance. Though at the back of +the heart of each of them there was a devouring care, still they +enjoyed the hour. We know that the man who is to be hung +likes to have his breakfast well cooked. And so did Paul like +the companionship of Mrs Hurtle because her attire, though simple, +was becoming; because the colour glowed in her dark face; because +of the brightness of her eyes, and the happy sharpness of her +words, and the dangerous smile which played upon her lips. He +liked the warmth of her close vicinity, and the softness of her +arm, and the perfume from her hair,—though he would have given all +that he possessed that she had been removed from him by some +impassable gulf. As he had to be hanged,—and this woman's +continued presence would be as bad as death to him,—he liked to +have his meal well dressed. + +<p>He certainly had been foolish to bring her to Lowestoft, and +the close neighbourhood of Carbury Manor;—and now he felt his +folly. As soon as he saw Roger Carbury he blushed up to his +forehead, and then leaving Mrs Hurtle's arm he came forward, and +shook hands with his friend. "It is Mrs Hurtle," he said, "I +must introduce you," and the introduction was made. Roger +took off his hat and bowed, but he did so with the coldest +ceremony. Mrs Hurtle, who was quick enough at gathering the +minds of people from their looks, was just as cold in her +acknowledgment of the courtesy. In former days she had heard +much of Roger Carbury, and surmised that he was no friend to +her. "I did not know that you were thinking of coming to +Lowestoft," said Roger in a voice that was needlessly +severe. But his mind at the present moment was severe, and he +could not hide his mind. + +<p>"I was not thinking of it. Mrs Hurtle wished to get to the +sea, and as she knew no one else here in England, I brought her." + +<p>"Mr Montague and I have travelled so many miles together before +now," she said, "that a few additional will not make much +difference." + +<p>"Do you stay long?" asked Roger in the same voice. + +<p>"I go back probably on Monday," said Montague. + +<p>"As I shall be here a whole week, and shall not speak a word to +any one after he has left me, he has consented to bestow his +company on me for two days. Will you join us at dinner, Mr +Carbury, this evening?" + +<p>"Thank you, madam;—I have dined." + +<p>"Then, Mr Montague, I will leave you with your friend. My +toilet, though it will be very slight, will take longer than +yours. We dine you know in twenty minutes. I wish you +could get your friend to join us." So saying, Mrs Hurtle +tripped back across the sand towards the hotel. + +<p>"Is this wise?" demanded Roger in a voice that was almost +sepulchral, as soon as the lady was out of hearing. + +<p>"You may well ask that, Carbury. Nobody knows the folly of +it so thoroughly as I do." + +<p>"Then why do you do it? Do you mean to marry her?" + +<p>"No; certainly not." + +<p>"Is it honest then, or like a gentleman, that you should be with +her in this way? Does she think that you intend to marry +her?" + +<p>"I have told her that I would not. I have told +her—." Then he stopped. He was going on to declare +that he had told her that he loved another woman, but he felt that +he could hardly touch that matter in speaking to Roger Carbury. + +<p>"What does she mean then? Has she no regard for her own +character?" + +<p>"I would explain it to you all, Carbury, if I could. But +you would never have the patience to hear me." + +<p>"I am not naturally impatient." + +<p>"But this would drive you mad. I wrote to her assuring her +that it must be all over. Then she came here and sent for +me. Was I not bound to go to her?" + +<p>"Yes;—to go to her and repeat what you had said in your letter." + +<p>"I did do so. I went with that very purpose, and did +repeat it." + +<p>"Then you should have left her." + +<p>"Ah; but you do not understand. She begged that I would +not desert her in her loneliness. We have been so much +together that I could not desert her." + +<p>"I certainly do not understand that, Paul. You have +allowed yourself to be entrapped into a promise of marriage; and +then, for reasons which we will not go into now but which we both +thought to be adequate, you resolved to break your promise, +thinking that you would be justified in doing so. But nothing +can justify you in living with the lady afterwards on such terms as +to induce her to suppose that your old promise holds good." + +<p>"She does not think so. She cannot think so." + +<p>"Then what must she be, to be here with you? And what must +you be, to be here, in public, with such a one as she is? I +don't know why I should trouble you or myself about it. +People live now in a way that I don't comprehend. If this be +your way of living, I have no right to complain." + +<p>"For God's sake, Carbury, do not speak in that way. It +sounds as though you meant to throw me over." + +<p>"I should have said that you had thrown me over. You come +down here to this hotel, where we are both known, with this lady +whom you are not going to marry;—and I meet you, just by +chance. Had I known it, of course I could have turned the +other way. But coming on you by accident, as I did, how am I +not to speak to you? And if I speak, what am I to say? +Of course I think that the lady will succeed in marrying you." + +<p>"Never." + +<p>"And that such a marriage will be your destruction. +Doubtless she is good-looking." + +<p>"Yes, and clever. And you must remember that the manners +of her country are not as the manners of this country." + +<p>"Then if I marry at all," said Roger, with all his prejudice +expressed strongly in his voice, "I trust I may not marry a lady of +her country. She does not think that she is to marry you, and +yet she comes down here and stays with you. Paul, I don't +believe it. I believe you, but I don't believe her. She +is here with you in order that she may marry you. She is +cunning and strong. You are foolish and weak. Believing +as I do that marriage with her would be destruction, I should tell +her my mind,—and leave her." Paul at the moment thought of +the gentleman in Oregon, and of certain difficulties in +leaving. "That's what I should do. You must go in now, +I suppose, and eat your dinner." + +<p>"I may come to the hall as I go back home?" + +<p>"Certainly you may come if you please," said Roger. Then +he bethought himself that his welcome had not been cordial. +"I mean that I shall be delighted to see you," he added, marching +away along the strand. Paul did go into the hotel, and did +eat his dinner. In the meantime Roger Carbury marched far +away along the strand. In all that he had said to Montague he +had spoken the truth, or that which appeared to him to be the +truth. He had not been influenced for a moment by any +reference to his own affairs. And yet he feared, he almost +knew, that this man,—who had promised to marry a strange American +woman and who was at this very moment living in close intercourse +with the woman after he had told her that he would not keep his +promise,—was the chief barrier between himself and the girl that +he loved. As he had listened to John Crumb while John spoke +of Ruby Ruggles, he had told himself that he and John Crumb were +alike. With an honest, true, heartfelt desire they both +panted for the companionship of a fellow-creature whom each had +chosen. And each was to be thwarted by the make-believe +regard of unworthy youth and fatuous good looks! Crumb, by +dogged perseverance and indifference to many things, would probably +be successful at last. But what chance was there of success +for him? Ruby, as soon as want or hardship told upon her, +would return to the strong arm that could be trusted to provide her +with plenty and comparative ease. But Hetta Carbury, if once +her heart had passed from her own dominion into the possession of +another, would never change her love. It was possible, no +doubt,—nay, how probable,—that her heart was still +vacillating. Roger thought that he knew that at any rate she +had not as yet declared her love. If she were now to +know,—if she could now learn,—of what nature was the love of this +other man; if she could be instructed that he was living alone with +a lady whom not long since he had promised to marry,—if she could +be made to understand this whole story of Mrs Hurtle, would not +that open her eyes? Would she not then see where she could +trust her happiness, and where, by so trusting it, she would +certainly be shipwrecked! + +<p>"Never," said Roger to himself, hitting at the stones on the +beach with his stick. "Never." Then he got his horse +and rode back to Carbury Manor. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="47"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVII. Mrs Hurtle at Lowestoft</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When Paul got down into the dining-room Mrs Hurtle was already +there, and the waiter was standing by the side of the table ready +to take the cover off the soup. She was radiant with smiles +and made herself especially pleasant during dinner, but Paul felt +sure that everything was not well with her. Though she +smiled, and talked and laughed, there was something forced in her +manner. He almost knew that she was only waiting till the man +should have left the room to speak in a different strain. And +so it was. As soon as the last lingering dish had been +removed, and when the door was finally shut behind the retreating +waiter, she asked the question which no doubt had been on her mind +since she had walked across the strand to the hotel. "Your +friend was hardly civil; was he, Paul?" + +<p>"Do you mean that he should have come in? I have no doubt +it was true that he had dined." + +<p>"I am quite indifferent about his dinner,—but there are two +ways of declining as there are of accepting. I suppose he is +on very intimate terms with you?" + +<p>"Oh, yes." + +<p>"Then his want of courtesy was the more evidently intended for +me. In point of fact he disapproves of me. Is not that +it?" To this question Montague did not feel himself called +upon to make any immediate answer. "I can well understand +that it should be so. An intimate friend may like or dislike +the friend of his friend, without offence. But unless there +be strong reason he is bound to be civil to his friend's friend, +when accident brings them together. You have told me that Mr +Carbury was your beau ideal of an English gentleman." + +<p>"So he is." + +<p>"Then why didn't he behave as such?" and Mrs Hurtle again +smiled. "Did not you yourself feel that you were rebuked for +coming here with me, when he expressed surprise at your +journey? Has he authority over you?" + +<p>"Of course he has not. What authority could he have?" + +<p>"Nay, I do not know. He may be your guardian. In +this safe-going country young men perhaps are not their own masters +till they are past thirty. I should have said that he was +your guardian, and that he intended to rebuke you for being in bad +company. I dare say he did after I had gone." + +<p>This was so true that Montague did not know how to deny +it. Nor was he sure that it would be well that he should deny +it. The time must come, and why not now as well as at any +future moment? He had to make her understand that he could +not join his lot with her,—chiefly indeed because his heart was +elsewhere, a reason on which he could hardly insist because she +could allege that she had a prior right to his heart;—but also +because her antecedents had been such as to cause all his friends +to warn him against such a marriage. So he plucked up courage +for the battle. "It was nearly that," he said. + +<p>There are many—and probably the greater portion of my readers +will be among the number,—who will declare to themselves that Paul +Montague was a poor creature, in that he felt so great a repugnance +to face this woman with the truth. His folly in falling at +first under the battery of her charms will be forgiven him. +His engagement, unwise as it was, and his subsequent determination +to break his engagement, will be pardoned. Women, and perhaps +some men also, will feel that it was natural that he should have +been charmed, natural that he should have expressed his admiration +in the form which unmarried ladies expect from unmarried men when +any such expression is to be made at all;—natural also that he +should endeavour to escape from the dilemma when he found the +manifold dangers of the step which he had proposed to take. +No woman, I think, will be hard upon him because of his breach of +faith to Mrs Hurtle. But they will be very hard on him on the +score of his cowardice,—as, I think, unjustly. In social +life we hardly stop to consider how much of that daring spirit +which gives mastery comes from hardness of heart rather than from +high purpose, or true courage. The man who succumbs to his +wife, the mother who succumbs to her daughter, the master who +succumbs to his servant, is as often brought to servility by a +continual aversion to the giving of pain, by a softness which +causes the fretfulness of others to be an agony to himself,—as by +any actual fear which the firmness of the imperious one may have +produced. There is an inner softness, a thinness of the +mind's skin, an incapability of seeing or even thinking of the +troubles of others with equanimity, which produces a feeling akin +to fear; but which is compatible not only with courage, but with +absolute firmness of purpose, when the demand for firmness arises +so strongly as to assert itself. With this man it was not +really that. He feared the woman;—or at least such fears did +not prevail upon him to be silent; but he shrank from subjecting +her to the blank misery of utter desertion. After what had +passed between them he could hardly bring himself to tell her that +he wanted her no further and to bid her go. But that was what +he had to do. And for that his answer to her last question +prepared the way. "It was nearly that," he said. + +<p>"Mr Carbury did take it upon himself to rebuke you for showing +yourself on the sands at Lowestoft with such a one as I am?" + +<p>"He knew of the letter which I wrote to you." + +<p>"You have canvassed me between you?" + +<p>"Of course we have. Is that unnatural? Would you +have had me be silent about you to the oldest and the best friend I +have in the world?" + +<p>"No, I would not have had you be silent to your oldest and best +friend. I presume you would declare your purpose. But I +should not have supposed you would have asked his leave. When +I was travelling with you, I thought you were a man capable of +managing your own actions. I had heard that in your country +girls sometimes hold themselves at the disposal of their +friends,—but I did not dream that such could be the case with a +man who had gone out into the world to make his fortune." + +<p>Paul Montague did not like it. The punishment to be +endured was being commenced. "Of course you can say bitter +things," he replied. + +<p>"Is it my nature to say bitter things? Have I usually said +bitter things to you? When I have hung round your neck and +have sworn that you should be my God upon earth, was that +bitter? I am alone and I have to fight my own battles. +A woman's weapon is her tongue. Say but one word to me, Paul, +as you know how to say it, and there will be soon an end to that +bitterness. What shall I care for Mr Carbury, except to make +him the cause of some innocent joke, if you will speak but that one +word? And think what it is I am asking. Do you remember +how urgent were once your own prayers to me;—how you swore that +your happiness could only be secured by one word of mine? +Though I loved you, I doubted. There were considerations of +money, which have now vanished. But I spoke it,—because I +loved you, and because I believed you. Give me that which you +swore you had given before I made my gift to you." + +<p>"I cannot say that word." + +<p>"Do you mean that, after all, I am to be thrown off like an old +glove? I have had many dealings with men and have found them +to be false, cruel, unworthy, and selfish. But I have met +nothing like that. No man has ever dared to treat me like +that. No man shall dare." + +<p>"I wrote to you." + +<p>"Wrote to me;—yes! And I was to take that as +sufficient! No. I think but little of my life and have +but little for which to live. But while I do live I will +travel over the world's surface to face injustice and to expose it, +before I will put up with it. You wrote to me! Heaven +and earth;—I can hardly control myself when I hear such +impudence!" She clenched her fist upon the knife that lay on +the table as she looked at him, and raising it, dropped it again at +a further distance. "Wrote to me! Could any mere letter +of your writing break the bond by which we were bound +together? Had not the distance between us seemed to have made +you safe would you have dared to write that letter? The +letter must be unwritten. It has already been contradicted by +your conduct to me since I have been in this country." + +<p>"I am sorry to hear you say that." + +<p>"Am I not justified in saying it?" + +<p>"I hope not. When I first saw you I told you +everything. If I have been wrong in attending to your wishes +since, I regret it." + +<p>"This comes from your seeing your master for two minutes on the +beach. You are acting now under his orders. No doubt he +came with the purpose. Had you told him you were to be here?" + +<p>"His coming was an accident." + +<p>"It was very opportune at any rate. Well;—what have you +to say to me? Or am I to understand that you suppose yourself +to have said all that is required of you? Perhaps you would +prefer that I should argue the matter out with your—friend, Mr +Carbury." + +<p>"What has to be said, I believe I can say myself." + +<p>"Say it then. Or are you so ashamed of it that the words +stick in your throat?" + +<p>"There is some truth in that. I am ashamed of it. I +must say that which will be painful, and which would not have been +to be said, had I been fairly careful." + +<p>Then he paused. "Don't spare me," she said. "I know +what it all is as well as though it were already told. I know +the lies with which they have crammed you at San Francisco. +You have heard that up in Oregon—I shot a man. That is no +lie. I did. I brought him down dead at my feet." +Then she paused, and rose from her chair, and looked at him. +"Do you wonder that that is a story that a woman should hesitate to +tell? But not from shame. Do you suppose that the sight +of that dying wretch does not haunt me? that I do not daily +hear his drunken screech, and see him bound from the earth, and +then fall in a heap just below my hand? But did they tell you +also that it was thus alone that I could save myself,—and that had +I spared him, I must afterwards have destroyed myself? If I +were wrong, why did they not try me for his murder? Why did +the women flock around me and kiss the very hems of my +garments? In this soft civilization of yours you know nothing +of such necessity. A woman here is protected,—unless it be +from lies." + +<p>"It was not that only," he whispered. + +<p>"No; they told you other things," she continued, still standing +over him. "They told you of quarrels with my husband. I +know the lies, and who made them, and why. Did I conceal from +you the character of my former husband? Did I not tell you +that he was a drunkard and a scoundrel? How should I not +quarrel with such a one? Ah, Paul; you can hardly know what +my life has been." + +<p>"They told me that—you fought him." + +<p>"Psha;—fought him! Yes;—I was always fighting him. +What are you to do but to fight cruelty, and fight falsehood, and +fight fraud and treachery,—when they come upon you and would +overwhelm you but for fighting? You have not been fool enough +to believe that fable about a duel? I did stand once, armed, +and guarded my bedroom door from him, and told him that he should +only enter it over my body. He went away to the tavern and I +did not see him for a week afterwards. That was the +duel. And they have told you that he is not dead." + +<p>"Yes;—they have told me that." + +<p>"Who has seen him alive? I never said to you that I had +seen him dead. How should I?" + +<p>"There would be a certificate." + +<p>"Certificate;—in the back of Texas;—five hundred miles from +Galveston! And what would it matter to you? I was +divorced from him according to the law of the State of +Kansas. Does not the law make a woman free here to marry +again,—and why not with us? I sued for a divorce on the +score of cruelty and drunkenness. He made no appearance, and +the Court granted it me. Am I disgraced by that?" + +<p>"I heard nothing of the divorce." + +<p>"I do not remember. When we were talking of these old days +before, you did not care how short I was in telling my story. +You wanted to hear little or nothing then of Caradoc Hurtle. +Now you have become more particular. I told you that he was +dead,—as I believed myself, and do believe. Whether the +other story was told or not I do not know." + +<p>"It was not told." + +<p>"Then it was your own fault,—because you would not +listen. And they have made you believe I suppose that I have +failed in getting back my property?" + +<p>"I have heard nothing about your property but what you yourself +have said unasked. I have asked no question about your +property." + +<p>"You are welcome. At last I have made it again my +own. And now, sir, what else is there? I think I have +been open with you. Is it because I protected myself from +drunken violence that I am to be rejected? Am I to be cast +aside because I saved my life while in the hands of a reprobate +husband, and escaped from him by means provided by law;—or because +by my own energy I have secured my own property? If I am not +to be condemned for these things, then say why am I condemned." + +<p>She had at any rate saved him the trouble of telling the story, +but in doing so had left him without a word to say. She had +owned to shooting the man. Well; it certainly may be +necessary that a woman should shoot a man—especially in +Oregon. As to the duel with her husband,—she had half denied +and half confessed it. He presumed that she had been armed +with a pistol when she refused Mr Hurtle admittance into the +nuptial chamber. As to the question of Hurtle's death,—she +had confessed that perhaps he was not dead. But then,—as she +had asked,—why should not a divorce for the purpose in hand be +considered as good as a death? He could not say that she had +not washed herself clean;—and yet, from the story as told by +herself, what man would wish to marry her? She had seen so +much of drunkenness, had become so handy with pistols, and had done +so much of a man's work, that any ordinary man might well hesitate +before he assumed to be her master. "I do not condemn you," +he replied. + +<p>"At any rate, Paul, do not lie," she answered. "If you +tell me that you will not be my husband, you do condemn me. +Is it not so?" + +<p>"I will not lie if I can help it. I did ask you to be my +wife—" + +<p>"Well—rather. How often before I consented?" + +<p>"It matters little; at any rate, till you did consent. I +have since satisfied myself that such a marriage would be miserable +for both of us." + +<p>"You have." + +<p>"I have. Of course, you can speak of me as you please and +think of me as you please. I can hardly defend myself." + +<p>"Hardly, I think." + +<p>"But, with whatever result, I know that I shall now be acting +for the best in declaring that I will not become—your husband." + +<p>"You will not?" She was still standing, and stretched out +her right hand as though again to grasp something. + +<p>He also now rose from his chair. "If I speak with +abruptness it is only to avoid a show of indecision. I will +not." + +<p>"Oh, God! what have I done that it should be my lot to meet man +after man false and cruel as this! You tell me to my face +that I am to bear it! Who is the jade that has done it? +Has she money?—or rank? Or is it that you are afraid to +have by your side a woman who can speak for herself,—and even act +for herself if some action be necessary? Perhaps you think +that I am—old." He was looking at her intently as she spoke, +and it did seem to him that many years had been added to her +face. It was full of lines round the mouth, and the light +play of drollery was gone, and the colour was fixed and her eyes +seemed to be deep in her head. "Speak, man,—is it that you +want a younger wife?" + +<p>"You know it is not." + +<p>"Know! How should any one know anything from a liar? +From what you tell me I know nothing. I have to gather what I +can from your character. I see that you are a coward. +It is that man that came to you, and who is your master, that has +forced you to this. Between me and him you tremble, and are a +thing to be pitied. As for knowing what you would be at, from +anything that you would say,—that is impossible. Once again +I have come across a mean wretch. Oh, fool!—that men should +be so vile, and think themselves masters of the world! My +last word to you is, that you are—a liar. Now for the +present you can go. Ten minutes since, had I had a weapon in +my hand I should have shot another man." + +<p>Paul Montague, as he looked round the room for his hat, could +not but think that perhaps Mrs Hurtle might have had some +excuse. It seemed at any rate to be her custom to have a +pistol with her,—though luckily, for his comfort, she had left it +in her bedroom on the present occasion. "I will say good-bye +to you," he said, when he had found his hat. + +<p>"Say no such thing. Tell me that you have triumphed and +got rid of me. Pluck up your spirits, if you have any, and +show me your joy. Tell me that an Englishman has dared to +ill-treat an American woman. You would,—were you not afraid +to indulge yourself." He was now standing in the doorway, and +before he escaped she gave him an imperative command. "I +shall not stay here now," she said—"I shall return on +Monday. I must think of what you have said, and must resolve +what I myself will do. I shall not bear this without seeking +a means of punishing you for your treachery. I shall expect +you to come to me on Monday." + +<p>He closed the door as he answered her. "I do not see that +it will serve any purpose." + +<p>"It is for me, sir, to judge of that. I suppose you are +not so much a coward that you are afraid to come to me. If +so, I shall come to you; and you may be assured that I shall not be +too timid to show myself and to tell my story." He ended by +saying that if she desired it he would wait upon her, but that he +would not at present fix a day. On his return to town he +would write to her. + +<p>When he was gone she went to the door and listened awhile. +Then she closed it, and turning the lock, stood with her back +against the door and with her hands clasped. After a few +moments she ran forward, and falling on her knees, buried her face +in her hands upon the table. Then she gave way to a flood of +tears, and at last lay rolling upon the floor. + +<p>Was this to be the end of it? Should she never know +rest;—never have one draught of cool water between her lips? +Was there to be no end to the storms and turmoils and misery of her +life? In almost all that she had said she had spoken the +truth, though doubtless not all the truth,—as which among us would +in giving the story of his life? She had endured violence, +and had been violent. She had been schemed against, and had +schemed. She had fitted herself to the life which had +befallen her. But in regard to money, she had been honest and +she had been loving of heart. With her heart of hearts she +had loved this young Englishman;—and now, after all her scheming, +all her daring, with all her charms, this was to be the end of +it! Oh, what a journey would this be which she must now make +back to her own country, all alone! + +<p>But the strongest feeling which raged within her bosom was that +of disappointed love. Full as had been the vials of wrath +which she had poured forth over Montague's head, violent as had +been the storm of abuse with which she had assailed him, there had +been after all something counterfeited in her indignation. +But her love was no counterfeit. At any moment if he would +have returned to her and taken her in his arms, she would not only +have forgiven him but have blessed him also for his kindness. +She was in truth sick at heart of violence and rough living and +unfeminine words. When driven by wrongs the old habit came +back upon her. But if she could only escape the wrongs, if +she could find some niche in the world which would be bearable to +her, in which, free from harsh treatment, she could pour forth all +the genuine kindness of her woman's nature,—then, she thought she +could put away violence and be gentle as a young girl. When +she first met this Englishman and found that he took delight in +being near her, she had ventured to hope that a haven would at last +be open to her. But the reek of the gunpowder from that first +pistol shot still clung to her, and she now told herself again, as +she had often told herself before, that it would have been better +for her to have turned the muzzle against her own bosom. + +<p>After receiving his letter she had run over on what she had told +herself was a vain chance. Though angry enough when that +letter first reached her, she had, with that force of character +which marked her, declared to herself that such a resolution on his +part was natural. In marrying her he must give up all his old +allies, all his old haunts. The whole world must be changed +to him. She knew enough of herself, and enough of +Englishwomen, to be sure that when her past life should be known, +as it would be known, she would be avoided in England. With +all the little ridicule she was wont to exercise in speaking of the +old country there was ever mixed, as is so often the case in the +minds of American men and women, an almost envious admiration of +English excellence. To have been allowed to forget the past +and to live the life of an English lady would have been heaven to +her. But she, who was sometimes scorned and sometimes feared +in the eastern cities of her own country, whose name had become +almost a proverb for violence out in the far West,—how could she +dare to hope that her lot should be so changed for her? + +<p>She had reminded Paul that she had required to be asked often +before she had consented to be his wife; but she did not tell him +that that hesitation had arisen from her own conviction of her own +unfitness. But it had been so. Circumstances had made +her what she was. Circumstances had been cruel to her. +But she could not now alter them. Then gradually, as she came +to believe in his love, as she lost herself in love for him, she +told herself that she would be changed. She had, however, +almost known that it could not be so. But this man had +relatives, had business, had property in her own country. +Though she could not be made happy in England, might not a +prosperous life be opened for him in the far West? Then had +risen the offer of that journey to Mexico with much probability +that work of no ordinary kind might detain him there for +years. With what joy would she have accompanied him as his +wife! For that at any rate she would have been fit. + +<p>She was conscious, perhaps too conscious, of her own +beauty. That at any rate, she felt, had not deserted +her. She was hardly aware that time was touching it. +And she knew herself to be clever, capable of causing happiness, +and mirth and comfort. She had the qualities of a good +comrade—which are so much in a woman. She knew all this of +herself. If he and she could be together in some country in +which those stories of her past life would be matter of +indifference, could she not make him happy? But what was she +that a man should give up everything and go away and spend his days +in some half-barbarous country for her alone? She knew it all +and was hardly angry with him in that he had decided against +her. But treated as she had been she must play her game with +such weapons as she possessed. It was consonant with her old +character, it was consonant with her present plans that she should +at any rate seem to be angry. + +<p>Sitting there alone late into the night she made many plans, but +the plan that seemed best to suit the present frame of her mind was +the writing of a letter to Paul bidding him adieu, sending him her +fondest love, and telling him that he was right. She did +write the letter, but wrote it with a conviction that she would not +have the strength to send it to him. The reader may judge +with what feeling she wrote the following words:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR PAUL<br> +<br> + You are right and I am wrong. +Our marriage would not have been fitting. I do not blame +you. I attracted you when we were together; but you have +learned and have learned truly that you should not give up your +life for such attractions. If I have been violent with you, +forgive me. You will acknowledge that I have suffered.<br> +<br> + Always know that there is one woman +who will love you better than any one else. I think too that +you will love me even when some other woman is by your side. +God bless you, and make you happy. Write me the shortest, +shortest word of adieu. Not to do so would make you think +yourself heartless. But do not come to me.<br> +<br> + For ever<br> +<br> + W. H.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>This she wrote on a small slip of paper, and then having read it +twice, she put it into her pocket-book. She told herself that +she ought to send it; but told herself as plainly that she could +not bring herself to do so. It was early in the morning +before she went to bed but she had admitted no one into the room +after Montague had left her. + +<p>Paul, when he escaped from her presence, roamed out on to the +sea-shore, and then took himself to bed, having ordered a +conveyance to take him to Carbury Manor early in the morning. +At breakfast he presented himself to the squire. "I have come +earlier than you expected," he said. + +<p>"Yes, indeed;—much earlier. Are you going back to +Lowestoft?" + +<p>Then he told the whole story. Roger expressed his +satisfaction, recalling however the pledge which he had given as to +his return. "Let her follow you, and bear it," he said. +"Of course you must suffer the effects of your own +imprudence." On that evening Paul Montague returned to London +by the mail train, being sure that he would thus avoid a meeting +with Mrs Hurtle in the railway-carriage. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="48"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII. Ruby a Prisoner</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Ruby had run away from her lover in great dudgeon after the +dance at the Music Hall, and had declared that she never wanted to +see him again. But when reflection came with the morning her +misery was stronger than her wrath. What would life be to her +now without her lover? When she escaped from her +grandfather's house she certainly had not intended to become nurse +and assistant maid-of-all-work at a London lodging-house. The +daily toil she could endure, and the hard life, as long as she was +supported by the prospect of some coming delight. A dance +with Felix at the Music Hall, though it were three days distant +from her, would so occupy her mind that she could wash and dress +all the children without complaint. Mrs Pipkin was forced to +own to herself that Ruby did earn her bread. But when she had +parted with her lover almost on an understanding that they were +never to meet again, things were very different with her. And +perhaps she had been wrong. A gentleman like Sir Felix did +not of course like to be told about marriage. If she gave him +another chance, perhaps he would speak. At any rate she could +not live without another dance. And so she wrote him a +letter. + +<p>Ruby was glib enough with her pen, though what she wrote will +hardly bear repeating. She underscored all her loves to +him. She underscored the expression of her regret if she had +vexed him. She did not want to hurry a gentleman. But +she did want to have another dance at the Music Hall. Would +he be there next Saturday? Sir Felix sent her a very short +reply to say that he would be at the Music Hall on the +Tuesday. As at this time he proposed to leave London on the +Wednesday on his way to New York, he was proposing to devote his +very last night to the companionship of Ruby Ruggles. + +<p>Mrs Pipkin had never interfered with her niece's letters. +It is certainly a part of the new dispensation that young women +shall send and receive letters without inspection. But since +Roger Carbury's visit Mrs Pipkin had watched the postman, and had +also watched her niece. For nearly a week Ruby said not a +word of going out at night. She took the children for an +airing in a broken perambulator, nearly as far as Holloway, with +exemplary care, and washed up the cups and saucers as though her +mind was intent upon them. But Mrs Pipkin's mind was intent +on obeying Mr Carbury's behests. She had already hinted +something as to which Ruby had made no answer. It was her +purpose to tell her and to swear to her most solemnly,—should she +find her preparing herself to leave the house after six in the +evening,—that she should be kept out the whole night, having a +purpose equally clear in her own mind that she would break her oath +should she be unsuccessful in her effort to keep Ruby at +home. But on the Tuesday, when Ruby went up to her room to +deck herself, a bright idea as to a better precaution struck Mrs +Pipkin's mind. Ruby had been careless,—had left her lover's +scrap of a note in an old pocket when she went out with the +children, and Mrs Pipkin knew all about it. It was nine +o'clock when Ruby went upstairs,—and then Mrs Pipkin locked both +the front door and the area gate. Mrs Hurtle had come home on +the previous day. "You won't be wanting to go out +to-night;—will you, Mrs Hurtle?" said Mrs Pipkin, knocking at her +lodger's door. Mrs Hurtle declared her purpose of remaining +at home all the evening. "If you should hear words between me +and my niece, don't you mind, ma'am." + +<p>"I hope there's nothing wrong, Mrs Pipkin?" + +<p>"She'll be wanting to go out, and I won't have it. It +isn't right; is it, ma'am? She's a good girl; but they've got +such a way nowadays of doing just as they pleases, that one doesn't +know what's going to come next." Mrs Pipkin must have feared +downright rebellion when she thus took her lodger into her +confidence. + +<p>Ruby came down in her silk frock, as she had done before, and +made her usual little speech. "I'm just going to step out, +aunt, for a little time to-night. I've got the key, and I'll +let myself in quite quiet." + +<p>"Indeed, Ruby, you won't," said Mrs Pipkin. + +<p>"Won't what, aunt?" + +<p>"Won't let yourself in, if you go out. If you go out +to-night you'll stay out. That's all about it. If you +go out to-night you won't come back here any more. I won't +have it, and it isn't right that I should. You're going after +that young man that they tell me is the greatest scamp in all +England." + +<p>"They tell you lies then, Aunt Pipkin." + +<p>"Very well. No girl is going out any more at nights out of +my house; so that's all about it. If you had told me you was +going before, you needn't have gone up and bedizened +yourself. For now it's all to take off again." + +<p>Ruby could hardly believe it. She had expected some +opposition,—what she would have called a few words; but she had +never imagined that her aunt would threaten to keep her in the +streets all night. It seemed to her that she had bought the +privilege of amusing herself by hard work. Nor did she +believe now that her aunt would be as hard as her threat. +"I've a right to go if I like," she said. + +<p>"That's as you think. You haven't a right to come back +again, any way." + +<p>"Yes, I have. I've worked for you a deal harder than the +girl downstairs, and I don't want no wages. I've a right to +go out, and a right to come back;—and go I shall." + +<p>"You'll be no better than you should be, if you do." + +<p>"Am I to work my very nails off, and push that perambulator +about all day till my legs won't carry me,—and then I ain't to go +out, not once in a week?" + +<p>"Not unless I know more about it, Ruby. I won't have you +go and throw yourself into the gutter;—not while you're with me." + +<p>"Who's throwing themselves into the gutter? I've thrown +myself into no gutter. I know what I'm about." + +<p>"There's two of us that way, Ruby;—for I know what I'm about." + +<p>"I shall just go then." And Ruby walked off towards the +door. + +<p>"You won't get out that way, any way, for the door's +locked;—and the area gate. You'd better be said, Ruby, and +just take your things off." + +<p>Poor Ruby for the moment was struck dumb with +mortification. Mrs Pipkin had given her credit for more +outrageous perseverance than she possessed, and had feared that she +would rattle at the front door, or attempt to climb over the area +gate. She was a little afraid of Ruby, not feeling herself +justified in holding absolute dominion over her as over a +servant. And though she was now determined in her +conduct,—being fully resolved to surrender neither of the keys +which she held in her pocket,—still she feared that she might so +far collapse as to fall away into tears, should Ruby be +violent. But Ruby was crushed. Her lover would be there +to meet her, and the appointment would be broken by her! +"Aunt Pipkin," she said, "let me go just this once." + +<p>"No, Ruby;—it ain't proper." + +<p>"You don't know what you're a doing of, aunt; you don't. +You'll ruin me,—you will. Dear Aunt Pipkin, do, do! +I'll never ask again, if you don't like." + +<p>Mrs Pipkin had not expected this, and was almost willing to +yield. But Mr Carbury had spoken so very plainly! "It +ain't the thing, Ruby; and I won't do it." + +<p>"And I'm to be—a prisoner! What have I done to be—a +prisoner? I don't believe as you've any right to lock me up." + +<p>"I've a right to lock my own doors." + +<p>"Then I shall go away to-morrow." + +<p>"I can't help that, my dear. The door will be open +to-morrow, if you choose to go out." + +<p>"Then why not open it to-night? Where's the +difference?" But Mrs Pipkin was stern, and Ruby, in a flood +of tears, took herself up to her garret. + +<p>Mrs Pipkin knocked at Mrs Hurtle's door again. "She's gone +to bed," she said. + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it. There wasn't any noise about +it;—was there?" + +<p>"Not as I expected, Mrs Hurtle, certainly. But she was put +out a bit. Poor girl! I've been a girl too, and used to +like a bit of outing as well as any one,—and a dance too; only it +was always when mother knew. She ain't got a mother, poor +dear! and as good as no father. And she's got it into +her head that she's that pretty that a great gentleman will marry +her." + +<p>"She is pretty!" + +<p>"But what's beauty, Mrs Hurtle? It's no more nor skin +deep, as the scriptures tell us. And what'd a grand gentleman +see in Ruby to marry her? She says she'll leave to-morrow." + +<p>"And where will she go?" + +<p>"Just nowhere. After this gentleman,—and you know what +that means! You're going to be married yourself, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"We won't mind about that now, Mrs Pipkin." + +<p>"And this'll be your second, and you know how these things are +managed. No gentleman'll marry her because she runs after +him. Girls as knows what they're about should let the +gentlemen run after them. That's my way of looking at it." + +<p>"Don't you think they should be equal in that respect?" + +<p>"Anyways the girls shouldn't let on as they are running after +the gentlemen. A gentlemen goes here and he goes there, and +he speaks up free, of course. In my time, girls usen't to do +that. But then, maybe, I'm old-fashioned," added Mrs Pipkin, +thinking of the new dispensation. + +<p>"I suppose girls do speak for themselves more than they did +formerly." + +<p>"A deal more, Mrs Hurtle; quite different. You hear them +talk of spooning with this fellow, and spooning with that +fellow,—and that before their very fathers and mothers! When +I was young we used to do it, I suppose,—only not like that." + +<p>"You did it on the sly." + +<p>"I think we got married quicker than they do, anyway. When +the gentlemen had to take more trouble they thought more about +it. But if you wouldn't mind speaking to Ruby to-morrow, Mrs +Hurtle, she'd listen to you when she wouldn't mind a word I said to +her. I don't want her to go away from this, out into the +Street, till she knows where she's to go to, decent. As for +going to her young man,—that's just walking the streets." + +<p>Mrs Hurtle promised that she would speak to Ruby, though when +making the promise she could not but think of her unfitness for the +task. She knew nothing of the country. She had not a +single friend in it, but Paul Montague;—and she had run after him +with as little discretion as Ruby Ruggles was showing in running +after her lover. Who was she that she should take upon +herself to give advice to any female? + +<p>She had not sent her letter to Paul, but she still kept it in +her pocket-book. At some moments she thought that she would +send it; and at others she told herself that she would never +surrender this last hope till every stone had been turned. It +might still be possible to shame him into a marriage. She had +returned from Lowestoft on the Monday, and had made some trivial +excuse to Mrs Pipkin in her mildest voice. The place had been +windy, and too cold for her;—and she had not liked the +hotel. Mrs Pipkin was very glad to see her back again. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="49"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIX. Sir Felix Makes Himself Ready</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Sir Felix, when he promised to meet Ruby at the Music Hall on +the Tuesday, was under an engagement to start with Marie Melmotte +for New York on the Thursday following, and to go down to Liverpool +on the Wednesday. There was no reason, he thought, why he +should not enjoy himself to the last, and he would say a parting +word to poor little Ruby. The details of his journey were +settled between him and Marie, with no inconsiderable assistance +from Didon, in the garden of Grosvenor Square, on the previous +Sunday,—where the lovers had again met during the hours of morning +service. Sir Felix had been astonished at the completion of +the preparations which had been made. "Mind you go by the 5 +p.m. train," Marie said. "That will take you into Liverpool +at 10:15. There's an hotel at the railway station. +Didon has got our tickets under the names of Madame and +Mademoiselle Racine. We are to have one cabin between +us. You must get yours to-morrow. She has found out +that there is plenty of room." + +<p>"I'll be all right." + +<p>"Pray don't miss the train that afternoon. Somebody would +be sure to suspect something if we were seen together in the same +train. We leave at 7 a.m. I shan't go to bed all night, +so as to be sure to be in time. Robert,—he's the man,—will +start a little earlier in the cab with my heavy box. What do +you think is in it?" + +<p>"Clothes," suggested Felix. + +<p>"Yes, but what clothes?—my wedding dresses. Think of +that! What a job to get them and nobody to know anything +about it except Didon and Madame Craik at the shop in Mount +Street! They haven't come yet, but I shall be there whether +they come or not. And I shall have all my jewels. I'm +not going to leave them behind. They'll go off in our +cab. We can get the things out behind the house into the +mews. Then Didon and I follow in another cab. Nobody +ever is up before near nine, and I don't think we shall be +interrupted." + +<p>"If the servants were to hear." + +<p>"I don't think they'd tell. But if I was to be brought +back again, I should only tell papa that it was no good. He +can't prevent me marrying." + +<p>"Won't your mother find out?" + +<p>"She never looks after anything. I don't think she'd tell +if she knew. Papa leads her such a life! Felix! I +hope you won't be like that."—And she looked up into his +face, and thought that it would be impossible that he should be. + +<p>"I'm all right," said Felix, feeling very uncomfortable at the +time. This great effort of his life was drawing very +near. There had been a pleasurable excitement in talking of +running away with the great heiress of the day, but now that the +deed had to be executed,—and executed after so novel and +stupendous a fashion, he almost wished that he had not undertaken +it. It must have been much nicer when men ran away with their +heiresses only as far as Gretna Green. And even Goldsheiner +with Lady Julia had nothing of a job in comparison with this which +he was expected to perform. And then if they should be wrong +about the girl's fortune! He almost repented. He did +repent, but he had not the courage to recede. "How about +money though?" he said hoarsely. + +<p>"You have got some?" + +<p>"I have just the two hundred pounds which your father paid me, +and not a shilling more. I don't see why he should keep my +money, and not let me have it back." + +<p>"Look here," said Marie, and she put her hand into her +pocket. "I told you I thought I could get some. There +is a cheque for two hundred and fifty pounds. I had money of +my own enough for the tickets." + +<p>"And whose is this?" said Felix, taking the bit of paper with +much trepidation. + +<p>"It is papa's cheque. Mamma gets ever so many of them to +carry on the house and pay for things. But she gets so +muddled about it that she doesn't know what she pays and what she +doesn't." Felix looked at the cheque and saw that it was +payable to House or Bearer, and that it was signed by Augustus +Melmotte. "If you take it to the bank you'll get the money," +said Marie. "Or shall I send Didon, and give you the money on +board the ship?" + +<p>Felix thought over the matter very anxiously. If he did go +on the journey he would much prefer to have the money in his own +pocket. He liked the feeling of having money in his +pocket. Perhaps if Didon were entrusted with the cheque she +also would like the feeling. But then might it not be +possible that if he presented the cheque himself he might be +arrested for stealing Melmotte's money? "I think Didon had +better get the money," he said, "and bring it to me to-morrow, at +four o'clock in the afternoon, to the club." If the money did +not come he would not go down to Liverpool, nor would he be at the +expense of his ticket for New York. "You see," he said, "I'm +so much in the City that they might know me at the bank." To +this arrangement Marie assented and took back the cheque. +"And then I'll come on board on Thursday morning," he said, +"without looking for you." + +<p>"Oh dear, yes;—without looking for us. And don't know us +even till we are out at sea. Won't it be fun when we shall be +walking about on the deck and not speaking to one another! +And, Felix;—what do you think? Didon has found out that there +is to be an American clergyman on board. I wonder whether +he'd marry us." + +<p>"Of course he will." + +<p>"Won't that be jolly? I wish it was all done. Then, +directly it's done, and when we get to New York, we'll telegraph +and write to papa, and we'll be ever so penitent and good; won't +we? Of course he'll make the best of it." + +<p>"But he's so savage; isn't he?" + +<p>"When there's anything to get;—or just at the moment. But +I don't think he minds afterwards. He's always for making the +best of everything;—misfortunes and all. Things go wrong so +often that if he was to go on thinking of them always they'd be too +many for anybody. It'll be all right in a month's time. +I wonder how Lord Nidderdale will look when he hears that we've +gone off. I should so like to see him. He never can say +that I've behaved bad to him. We were engaged, but it was he +broke it. Do you know, Felix, that though we were engaged to +be married, and everybody knew it, he never once kissed me!" +Felix at this moment almost wished that he had never done so. +As to what the other man had done, he cared nothing at all. + +<p>Then they parted with the understanding that they were not to +see each other again till they met on board the boat. All +arrangements were made. But Felix was determined that he +would not stir in the matter unless Didon brought him the full sum +of £250; and he almost thought, and indeed hoped, that she +would not. Either she would be suspected at the bank and +apprehended, or she would run off with the money on her own account +when she got it;—or the cheque would have been missed and the +payment stopped. Some accident would occur, and then he would +be able to recede from his undertaking. He would do nothing +till after Monday afternoon. + +<p>Should he tell his mother that he was going? His mother +had clearly recommended him to run away with the girl, and must +therefore approve of the measure. His mother would understand +how great would be the expense of such a trip, and might perhaps +add something to his stock of money. He determined that he +could tell his mother;—that is, if Didon should bring him full +change for the cheque. + +<p>He walked into the Beargarden exactly at four o'clock on the +Monday, and there he found Didon standing in the hall. His +heart sank within him as he saw her. Now must he certainly go +to New York. She made him a little curtsey, and without a +word handed him an envelope, soft and fat with rich +enclosures. He bade her wait a moment, and going into a +little waiting-room counted the notes. The money was all +there;—the full sum of £250. He must certainly go to +New York. "C'est tout èn regle?" said Didon in a +whisper as he returned to the hall. Sir Felix nodded his +head, and Didon took her departure. + +<p>Yes; he must go now. He had Melmotte's money in his +pocket, and was therefore bound to run away with Melmotte's +daughter. It was a great trouble to him as he reflected that +Melmotte had more of his money than he had of Melmotte's. And +now how should he dispose of his time before he went? +Gambling was too dangerous. Even he felt that. Where +would he be were he to lose his ready money? He would dine +that night at the club, and in the evening go up to his +mother. On the Tuesday he would take his place for New York +in the City, and would spend the evening with Ruby at the Music +Hall. On the Wednesday, he would start for +Liverpool,—according to his instructions. He felt annoyed +that he had been so fully instructed. But should the affair +turn out well nobody would know that. All the fellows would +give him credit for the audacity with which he had carried off the +heiress to America. + +<p>At ten o'clock he found his mother and Hetta in Welbeck +Street—"What; Felix?" exclaimed Lady Carbury. + +<p>"You're surprised; are you not?" Then he threw himself +into a chair. "Mother," he said, "would you mind coming into +the other room?" Lady Carbury of course went with him. +"I've got something to tell you," he said. + +<p>"Good news?" she asked, clasping her hands together. From +his manner she thought that it was good news. Money had in +some way come into his hands,—or at any rate a prospect of money. + +<p>"That's as may be," he said, and then he paused. + +<p>"Don't keep me in suspense, Felix." + +<p>"The long and the short of it is that I'm going to take Marie +off." + +<p>"Oh, Felix." + +<p>"You said you thought it was the right thing to do;—and +therefore I'm going to do it. The worst of it is that one +wants such a lot of money for this kind of thing." + +<p>"But when?" + +<p>"Immediately. I wouldn't tell you till I had arranged +everything. I've had it in my mind for the last fortnight." + +<p>"And how is it to be? Oh, Felix, I hope it may succeed." + +<p>"It was your own idea, you know. We're going to;—where do +you think?" + +<p>"How can I think?—Boulogne." + +<p>"You say that just because Goldsheiner went there. That +wouldn't have done at all for us. We're going to—New York." + +<p>"To New York! But when will you be married?" + +<p>"There will be a clergyman on board. It's all fixed. +I wouldn't go without telling you." + +<p>"Oh; I wish you hadn't told me." + +<p>"Come now;—that's kind. You don't mean to say it wasn't +you that put me up to it. I've got to get my things ready." + +<p>"Of course, if you tell me that you are going on a journey, I +will have your clothes got ready for you. When do you start?" + +<p>"Wednesday afternoon." + +<p>"For New York! We must get some things ready-made. +Oh, Felix, how will it be if he does not forgive her?" He +attempted to laugh. "When I spoke of such a thing as possible +he had not sworn then that he would never give her a shilling." + +<p>"They always say that." + +<p>"You are going to risk it?" + +<p>"I am going to take your advice." This was dreadful to the +poor mother. "There is money settled on her." + +<p>"Settled on whom?" + +<p>"On Marie;—money which he can't get back again." + +<p>"How much?" + +<p>"She doesn't know,—but a great deal; enough for them all to +live upon if things went amiss with them." + +<p>"But that's only a form, Felix. That money can't be her +own, to give to her husband." + +<p>"Melmotte will find that it is, unless he comes to terms. +That's the pull we've got over him. Marie knows what she's +about. She's a great deal sharper than any one would take her +to be. What can you do for me about money, mother?" + +<p>"I have none, Felix." + +<p>"I thought you'd be sure to help me, as you wanted me so much to +do it." + +<p>"That's not true, Felix. I didn't want you to do it. +Oh, I am so sorry that that word ever passed my mouth! I have +no money. There isn't £20 at the bank altogether." + +<p>"They would let you overdraw for £50 or £60." + +<p>"I will not do it. I will not starve myself and +Hetta. You had ever so much money only lately. I will +get some things for you, and pay for them as I can if you cannot +pay for them after your marriage;—but I have not money to give +you." + +<p>"That's a blue look-out," said he, turning himself in his chair +"just when £60 or £70 might make a fellow for +life! You could borrow it from your friend Broune." + +<p>"I will do no such thing, Felix. £50 or £60 +would make very little difference in the expense of such a trip as +this. I suppose you have some money?" + +<p>"Some;—yes, some. But I'm so short that any little thing +would help me." Before the evening was over she absolutely +did give him a cheque for £30 although she had spoken the +truth in saying that she had not so much at her banker's. + +<p>After this he went back to his club, although he himself +understood the danger. He could not bear the idea of going to +bed, quietly at home at half-past ten. He got into a cab, and +was very soon up in the card-room. He found nobody there, and +went to the smoking-room, where Dolly Longestaffe and Miles +Grendall were sitting silently together, with pipes in their +mouths. "Here's Carbury," said Dolly, waking suddenly into +life. "Now we can have a game at three-handed loo." + +<p><p>"Thank ye; not for me," said Sir Felix. "I hate +three-handed loo." + +<p>"Dummy," suggested Dolly. + +<p>"I don't think I'll play to-night, old fellow. I hate +three fellows sticking down together." Miles sat silent, +smoking his pipe, conscious of the baronet's dislike to play with +him. "By-the-by, Grendall look here." And Sir Felix in +his most friendly tone whispered into his enemy's ear a petition +that some of the I.O.U.'s might be converted into cash. + +<p>"'Pon my word, I must ask you to wait till next week," said +Miles. + +<p>"It's always waiting till next week with you," said Sir Felix, +getting up and standing with his back to the fireplace. There +were other men in the room, and this was said so that every one +should hear it. "I wonder whether any fellow would buy these +for five shillings in the pound?" And he held up the scraps +of paper in his hand. He had been drinking freely before he +went up to Welbeck Street, and had taken a glass of brandy on +re-entering the club. + +<p>"Don't let's have any of that kind of thing down here," said +Dolly. "If there is to be a row about cards, let it be in the +card-room." + +<p>"Of course," said Miles. "I won't say a word about the +matter down here. It isn't the proper thing." + +<p>"Come up into the card-room, then," said Sir Felix, getting up +from his chair. "It seems to me that it makes no difference +to you, what room you're in. Come up, now; and Dolly +Longestaffe shall come and hear what you say." But Miles +Grendall objected to this arrangement. He was not going up +into the card-room that night, as no one was going to play. +He would be there to-morrow, and then if Sir Felix Carbury had +anything to say, he could say it. + +<p>"How I do hate a row!" said Dolly. "One has to have rows +with one's own people, but there ought not to be rows at a club." + +<p>"He likes a row,—Carbury does," said Miles. + +<p>"I should like my money, if I could get it," said Sir Felix, +walking out of the room. + +<p>On the next day he went into the City, and changed his mother's +cheque. This was done after a little hesitation: The money +was given to him, but a gentleman from behind the desks begged him +to remind Lady Carbury that she was overdrawing her account. +"Dear, dear;" said Sir Felix, as he pocketed the notes, "I'm sure +she was unaware of it." Then he paid for his passage from +Liverpool to New York under the name of Walter Jones, and felt as +he did so that the intrigue was becoming very deep. This was +on Tuesday. He dined again at the club, alone, and in the +evening went to the Music Hall. There he remained, from ten +till nearly twelve, very angry at the non-appearance of Ruby +Ruggles. As he smoked and drank in solitude, he almost made +up his mind that he had intended to tell her of his departure for +New York. Of course he would have done no such thing. +But now, should she ever complain on that head he would have his +answer ready. He had devoted his last night in England to the +purpose of telling her, and she had broken her appointment. +Everything would now be her fault. Whatever might happen to +her she could not blame him. + +<p>Having waited till he was sick of the Music Hall,—for a music +hall without ladies' society must be somewhat dull,—he went back +to his club. He was very cross, as brave as brandy could make +him, and well inclined to expose Miles Grendall if he could find an +opportunity. Up in the card-room he found all the accustomed +men,—with the exception of Miles Grendall. Nidderdale, +Grasslough, Dolly, Paul Montague, and one or two others were +there. There was, at any rate, comfort in the idea of playing +without having to encounter the dead weight of Miles +Grendall. Ready money was on the table,—and there was none +of the peculiar Beargarden paper flying about. Indeed the men +at the Beargarden had become sick of paper, and there had been +formed a half-expressed resolution that the play should be somewhat +lower, but the payments punctual. The I.O.U.'s had been +nearly all converted into money,—with the assistance of Herr +Vossner,—excepting those of Miles Grendall. The resolution +mentioned did not refer back to Grendall's former indebtedness, but +was intended to include a clause that he must in future pay ready +money. Nidderdale had communicated to him the determination +of the committee. "Bygones are bygones, old fellow; but you +really must stump up, you know, after this." Miles had +declared that he would "stump up." But on this occasion Miles +was absent. + +<p>At three o'clock in the morning, Sir Felix had lost over a +hundred pounds in ready money. On the following night about +one he had lost a further sum of two hundred pounds. The +reader will remember that he should at that time have been in the +hotel at Liverpool. + +<p>But Sir Felix, as he played on in the almost desperate hope of +recovering the money which he so greatly needed, remembered how +Fisker had played all night, and how he had gone off from the club +to catch the early train for Liverpool, and how he had gone on to +New York without delay. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="50"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER L. The Journey to Liverpool</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Marie Melmotte, as she had promised, sat up all night, as did +also the faithful Didon. I think that to Marie the night was +full of pleasure,—or at any rate of pleasurable excitement. +With her door locked, she packed and unpacked and repacked her +treasures,—having more than once laid out on the bed the dress in +which she purposed to be married. She asked Didon her opinion +whether that American clergyman of whom they had heard would marry +them on board, and whether in that event the dress would be fit for +the occasion. Didon thought that the man, if sufficiently +paid, would marry them, and that the dress would not much +signify. She scolded her young mistress very often during the +night for what she called nonsense; but was true to her, and worked +hard for her. They determined to go without food in the +morning, so that no suspicion should be raised by the use of cups +and plates. They could get refreshment at the +railway-station. + +<p>At six they started. Robert went first with the big boxes, +having his ten pounds already in his pocket,—and Marie and Didon +with smaller luggage followed in a second cab. No one +interfered with them and nothing went wrong. The very civil +man at Euston Square gave them their tickets, and even attempted to +speak to them in French. They had quite determined that not a +word of English was to be spoken by Marie till the ship was out at +sea. At the station they got some very bad tea and almost +uneatable food,—but Marie's restrained excitement was so great +that food was almost unnecessary to her. They took their +seats without any impediment,—and then they were off. + +<p>During a great part of the journey they were alone, and then +Marie gabbled to Didon about her hopes and her future career, and +all the things she would do;—how she had hated Lord +Nidderdale,—especially when, after she had been awed into +accepting him, he had given her no token of love,—"pas un +baiser!" Didon suggested that such was the way with English +lords. She herself had preferred Lord Nidderdale, but had +been willing to join in the present plan,—as she said, from +devoted affection to Marie. Marie went on to say that +Nidderdale was ugly, and that Sir Felix was as beautiful as the +morning. "Bah!" exclaimed Didon, who was really disgusted +that such considerations should prevail. Didon had learned in +some indistinct way that Lord Nidderdale would be a marquis and +would have a castle, whereas Sir Felix would never be more than Sir +Felix, and, of his own, would never have anything at all. She +had striven with her mistress, but her mistress liked to have a +will of her own. Didon no doubt had thought that New York, +with £50 and other perquisites in hand, might offer her a new +career. She had therefore yielded, but even now could hardly +forbear from expressing disgust at the folly of her mistress. +Marie bore it with imperturbable good humour. She was running +away,—and was running to a distant continent,—and her lover would +be with her! She gave Didon to understand that she cared +nothing for marquises. + +<p>As they drew near to Liverpool Didon explained that they must +still be very careful. It would not do for them to declare at +once their destination on the platform,—so that every one about +the station should know that they were going on board the packet +for New York. They had time enough. They must leisurely +look for the big boxes and other things, and need say nothing about +the steam packet till they were in a cab. Marie's big box was +directed simply "Madame Racine, Passenger to Liverpool;"—so also +was directed a second box, nearly as big, which was Didon's +property. Didon declared that her anxiety would not be over +till she found the ship moving under her. Marie was sure that +all their dangers were over,—if only Sir Felix was safe on +board. Poor Marie! Sir Felix was at this moment in +Welbeck Street, striving to find temporary oblivion for his +distressing situation and loss of money, and some alleviation for +his racking temples, beneath the bedclothes. + +<p>When the train ran into the station at Liverpool the two women +sat for a few moments quite quiet. They would not seek remark +by any hurry or noise. The door was opened, and a +well-mannered porter offered to take their luggage. Didon +handed out the various packages, keeping however the jewel-case in +her own hands. She left the carriage first, and then +Marie. But Marie had hardly put her foot on the platform, +before a gentleman addressed her, touching his hat, "You, I think, +are Miss Melmotte." Marie was struck dumb, but said +nothing. Didon immediately became voluble in French. +No; the young lady was not Miss Melmotte; the young lady was +Mademoiselle Racine, her niece. She was Madame Racine. +Melmotte! What was Melmotte? They knew nothing about +Melmottes. Would the gentleman kindly allow them to pass on +to their cab? + +<p>But the gentleman would by no means kindly allow them to pass on +to their cab. With the gentleman was another gentleman,—who +did not seem to be quite so much of a gentleman;—and again, not +far in the distance Didon quickly espied a policeman, who did not +at present connect himself with the affair, but who seemed to have +his time very much at command, and to be quite ready if he were +wanted. Didon at once gave up the game,—as regarded her +mistress. + +<p>"I am afraid I must persist in asserting that you are Miss +Melmotte," said the gentleman, "and that this other—person is your +servant, Elise Didon. You speak English, Miss +Melmotte." Marie declared that she spoke French. "And +English too," said the gentleman. "I think you had better +make up your minds to go back to London. I will accompany +you." + +<p>"Ah, Didon, nous sommes perdues!" exclaimed Marie. Didon, +plucking up her courage for the moment, asserted the legality of +her own position and of that of her mistress. They had both a +right to come to Liverpool. They had both a right to get +into the cab with their luggage. Nobody had a right to stop +them. They had done nothing against the laws. Why were +they to be stopped in this way? What was it to anybody +whether they called themselves Melmotte or Racine? + +<p>The gentleman understood the French oratory, but did not commit +himself to reply in the same language. "You had better trust +yourself to me; you had indeed," said the gentleman. + +<p>"But why?" demanded Marie. + +<p>Then the gentleman spoke in a very low voice. "A cheque +has been changed which you took from your father's house. No +doubt your father will pardon that when you are once with +him. But in order that we may bring you back safely we can +arrest you on the score of the cheque,—if you force us to do +so. We certainly shall not let you go on board. If you +will travel back to London with me, you shall be subjected to no +inconvenience which can be avoided." + +<p>There was certainly no help to be found anywhere. It may +be well doubted whether upon the whole the telegraph has not added +more to the annoyances than to the comforts of life, and whether +the gentlemen who spent all the public money without authority +ought not to have been punished with special severity in that they +had injured humanity, rather than pardoned because of the good they +had produced. Who is benefited by telegrams? The +newspapers are robbed of all their old interest, and the very soul +of intrigue is destroyed. Poor Marie, when she heard her +fate, would certainly have gladly hanged Mr Scudamore. + +<p>When the gentleman had made his speech, she offered no further +opposition. Looking into Didon's face and bursting into +tears, she sat down on one of the boxes. But Didon became +very clamorous on her own behalf,—and her clamour was +successful. "Who was going to stop her? What had she +done? Why should not she go where she pleased. Did +anybody mean to take her up for stealing anybody's money? If +anybody did, that person had better look to himself. She knew +the law. She would go where she pleased." So saying she +began to tug the rope of her box as though she intended to drag it +by her own force out of the station. The gentleman looked at +his telegram,—looked at another document which he now held in his +hand, ready prepared, should it be wanted. Elise Didon had +been accused of nothing that brought her within the law. The +gentleman in imperfect French suggested that Didon had better +return with her mistress. But Didon clamoured only the +more. No; she would go to New York. She would go +wherever she pleased;—all the world over. Nobody should stop +her. Then she addressed herself in what little English she +could command to half-a-dozen cab-men who were standing round and +enjoying the scene. They were to take her trunk at +once. She had money and she could pay. She started off +to the nearest cab, and no one stopped her. "But the box in +her hand is mine," said Marie, not forgetting her trinkets in her +misery. Didon surrendered the jewel-case, and ensconced +herself in the cab without a word of farewell; and her trunk was +hoisted on to the roof. Then she was driven away out of the +station,—and out of our story. She had a first-class cabin +all to herself as far as New York, but what may have been her fate +after that it matters not to us to enquire. + +<p>Poor Marie! We who know how recreant a knight Sir Felix +had proved himself, who are aware that had Miss Melmotte succeeded +in getting on board the ship she would have passed an hour of +miserable suspense, looking everywhere for her lover, and would +then at last have been carried to New York without him, may +congratulate her on her escape. And, indeed, we who know his +character better than she did, may still hope in her behalf that +she may be ultimately saved from so wretched a marriage. But +to her her present position was truly miserable. She would +have to encounter an enraged father; and when,—when should she see +her lover again? Poor, poor Felix! What would be his +feelings when he should find himself on his way to New York without +his love! But in one matter she made up her mind +steadfastly. She would be true to him! They might chop +her in pieces! Yes;—she had said it before, and she would +say it again. There was, however, doubt in her mind from time +to time, whether one course might not be better even than +constancy. If she could contrive to throw herself out of the +carriage and to be killed,—would not that be the best termination +to her present disappointment? Would not that be the best +punishment for her father? But how then would it be with poor +Felix? "After all I don't know that he cares for me," she +said to herself, thinking over it all. + +<p>The gentleman was very kind to her, not treating her at all as +though she were disgraced. As they got near town he ventured +to give her a little advice. "Put a good face on it," he +said, "and don't be cast down." + +<p>"Oh, I won't," she answered. "I don't mean." + +<p>"Your mother will be delighted to have you back again." + +<p>"I don't think that mamma cares. It's papa. I'd do +it again to-morrow if I had the chance." The gentleman looked +at her, not having expected so much determination. "I +would. Why is a girl to be made to marry to please any one +but herself? I won't. And it's very mean saying that I +stole the money. I always take what I want, and papa never +says anything about it." + +<p>"Two hundred and fifty pounds is a large sum, Miss Melmotte." + +<p>"It is nothing in our house. It isn't about the +money. It's because papa wants me to marry another man;—and +I won't. It was downright mean to send and have me taken up +before all the people." + +<p>"You wouldn't have come back if he hadn't done that." + +<p>"Of course I wouldn't," said Marie. + +<p>The gentleman had telegraphed up to Grosvenor Square while on +the journey, and at Euston Square they were met by one of the +Melmotte carriages. Marie was to be taken home in the +carriage, and the box was to follow in a cab;—to follow at some +interval so that Grosvenor Square might not be aware of what had +taken place. Grosvenor Square, of course, very soon knew all +about it. "And are you to come?" Marie asked, speaking to the +gentleman. The gentleman replied that be had been requested +to see Miss Melmotte home. "All the people will wonder who +you are," said Marie laughing. Then the gentleman thought +that Miss Melmotte would be able to get through her troubles +without much suffering. + +<p>When she got home she was hurried up at once to her mother's +room,—and there she found her father, alone. "This is your +game, is it?" said he, looking down at her. + +<p>"Well, papa;—yes. You made me do it." + +<p>"You fool you! You were going to New York,—were +you?" To this she vouchsafed no reply. "As if I hadn't +found out all about it. Who was going with you?" + +<p>"If you have found out all about it, you know, papa." + +<p>"Of course I know;—but you don't know all about it, you little +idiot." + +<p>"No doubt I'm a fool and an idiot. You always say so." + +<p>"Where do you suppose Sir Felix Carbury is now?" Then she +opened her eyes and looked at him. "An hour ago he was in bed +at his mother's house in Welbeck Street." + +<p>"I don't believe it, papa." + +<p>"You don't, don't you? You'll find it true. If you +had gone to New York, you'd have gone alone. If I'd known at +first that he had stayed behind, I think I'd have let you go." + +<p>"I'm sure he didn't stay behind." + +<p>"If you contradict me, I'll box your ears, you jade. He is +in London at this moment. What has become of the woman that +went with you?" + +<p>"She's gone on board the ship." + +<p>"And where is the money you took from your mother?" Marie +was silent. "Who got the cheque changed?" + +<p>"Didon did." + +<p>"And has she got the money?" + +<p>"No, papa." + +<p>"Have you got it?" + +<p>"No, papa." + +<p>"Did you give it to Sir Felix Carbury?" + +<p>"Yes, papa." + +<p>"Then I'll be hanged if I don't prosecute him for stealing it." + +<p>"Oh, papa, don't do that;—pray don't do that. He didn't +steal it. I only gave it him to take care of for us. +He'll give it you back again." + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if he lost it at cards, and therefore didn't +go to Liverpool. Will you give me your word that you'll never +attempt to marry him again if I don't prosecute him?" Marie +considered. "Unless you do that I shall go to a magistrate at +once." + +<p>"I don't believe you can do anything to him. He didn't +steal it. I gave it to him." + +<p>"Will you promise me?" + +<p>"No, papa, I won't. What's the good of promising when I +should only break it. Why can't you let me have the man I +love? What's the good of all the money if people don't have +what they like?" + +<p>"All the money!—What do you know about the money? +Look here," and he took her by the arm. "I've been very good +to you. You've had your share of everything that has been +going;—carriages and horses, bracelets and brooches, silks and +gloves, and every thing else." He held her very hard and +shook her as he spoke. + +<p>"Let me go, papa; you hurt me. I never asked for such +things. I don't care a straw about bracelets and brooches." + +<p>"What do you care for?" + +<p>"Only for somebody to love me," said Marie, looking down. + +<p>"You'll soon have nobody to love you if you go on this +fashion. You've had everything done for you, and if you don't +do something for me in return, by G––––, +you shall have a hard time of it. If you weren't such a fool +you'd believe me when I say that I know more than you do." + +<p>"You can't know better than me what'll make me happy." + +<p>"Do you think only of yourself? If you'll marry Lord +Nidderdale you'll have a position in the world which nothing can +take from you." + +<p>"Then I won't," said Marie firmly. Upon this he shook her +till she cried, and calling for Madame Melmotte desired his wife +not to let the girl for one minute out of her presence. + +<p>The condition of Sir Felix was I think worse than that of the +lady with whom he was to have run away. He had played at the +Beargarden till four in the morning and had then left the club, on +the breaking-up of the card-table, intoxicated and almost +penniless. During the last half hour he had made himself very +unpleasant at the club, saying all manner of harsh things of Miles +Grendall;—of whom, indeed, it was almost impossible to say things +too hard, had they been said in a proper form and at a proper +time. He declared that Grendall would not pay his debts, that +he had cheated when playing loo,—as to which Sir Felix appealed to +Dolly Longestaffe; and he ended by asserting that Grendall ought to +be turned out of the club. They had a desperate row. +Dolly of course had said that he knew nothing about it, and Lord +Grasslough had expressed an opinion that perhaps more than one +person ought to be turned out. At four o'clock the party was +broken up and Sir Felix wandered forth into the streets, with +nothing more than the change of a ten pound note in his +pocket. All his luggage was lying in the hall of the club, +and there he left it. + +<p>There could hardly have been a more miserable wretch than Sir +Felix wandering about the streets of London that night. +Though he was nearly drunk, he was not drunk enough to forget the +condition of his affairs. There is an intoxication that makes +merry in the midst of affliction,—and there is an intoxication +that banishes affliction by producing oblivion. But again +there is an intoxication which is conscious of itself though it +makes the feet unsteady, and the voice thick, and the brain +foolish; and which brings neither mirth nor oblivion. Sir +Felix trying to make his way to Welbeck Street and losing it at +every turn, feeling himself to be an object of ridicule to every +wanderer, and of dangerous suspicion to every policeman, got no +good at all out of his intoxication. What had he better do +with himself? He fumbled in his pocket, and managed to get +hold of his ticket for New York. Should he still make the +journey? Then he thought of his luggage, and could not +remember where it was. At last, as he steadied himself +against a letter-post, he was able to call to mind that his +portmanteaus were at the club. By this time he had wandered +into Marylebone Lane, but did not in the least know where he +was. But he made an attempt to get back to his club, and +stumbled half down Bond Street. Then a policeman enquired +into his purposes, and when he said that he lived in Welbeck +Street, walked back with him as far as Oxford Street. Having +once mentioned the place where he lived, he had not strength of +will left to go back to his purpose of getting his luggage and +starting for Liverpool. + +<p>Between six and seven he was knocking at the door in Welbeck +Street. He had tried his latch-key, but had found it +inefficient. As he was supposed to be at Liverpool, the door +had in fact been locked. At last it was opened by Lady +Carbury herself. He had fallen more than once, and was soiled +with the gutter. Most of my readers will not probably know +how a man looks when he comes home drunk at six in the morning; but +they who have seen the thing will acknowledge that a sorrier sight +cannot meet a mother's eye than that of a son in such a +condition. "Oh, Felix!" she exclaimed. + +<p>"It'sh all up," he said, stumbling in. + +<p>"What has happened, Felix?" + +<p>"Discovered, and be d–––– to it! +The old shap'sh stopped ush." Drunk as he was, he was able to +lie. At that moment the "old shap" was fast asleep in +Grosvenor Square, altogether ignorant of the plot; and Marie, +joyful with excitement, was getting into the cab in the mews. +"Bettersh go to bed." And so he stumbled upstairs by +daylight, the wretched mother helping him. She took off his +clothes for him and his boots, and having left him already asleep, +she went down to her own room, a miserable woman. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="51"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LI. Which Shall It Be?</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Paul Montague reached London on his return from Suffolk early on +the Monday morning, and on the following day he wrote to Mrs +Hurtle. As he sat in his lodgings, thinking of his condition, +he almost wished that he had taken Melmotte's offer and gone to +Mexico. He might at any rate have endeavoured to promote the +railway earnestly, and then have abandoned it if he found the whole +thing false. In such case of course he would never have seen +Hetta Carbury again; but, as things were, of what use to him was +his love,—of what use to him or to her? The kind of life of +which he dreamed, such a life in England as was that of Roger +Carbury, or, as such life would be, if Roger had a wife whom he +loved, seemed to be far beyond his reach. Nobody was like +Roger Carbury! Would it not be well that he should go away, +and, as he went, write to Hetta and bid her marry the best man that +ever lived in the world? + +<p>But the journey to Mexico was no longer open to him. He +had repudiated the proposition and had quarrelled with +Melmotte. It was necessary that he should immediately take +some further step in regard to Mrs Hurtle. Twice lately he +had gone to Islington determined that he would see that lady for +the last time. Then he had taken her to Lowestoft, and had +been equally firm in his resolution that he would there put an end +to his present bonds. Now he had promised to go again to +Islington;—and was aware that if he failed to keep his promise, +she would come to him. In this way there would never be an +end to it. + +<p>He would certainly go again, as he had promised,—if she should +still require it; but he would first try what a letter would do,—a +plain unvarnished tale. Might it still be possible that a +plain tale sent by post should have sufficient efficacy? This +was his plain tale as he now told it. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +Tuesday, 2nd July, 1873.<br> +<br> +MY DEAR MRS HURTLE,—<br> +<br> + I promised that I would go to you +again in Islington, and so I will, if you still require it. +But I think that such a meeting can be of no service to either of +us. What is to be gained? I do not for a moment mean to +justify my own conduct. It is not to be justified. When +I met you on our journey hither from San Francisco, I was charmed +with your genius, your beauty, and your character. They are +now what I found them to be then. But circumstances have made +our lives and temperaments so far different, that I am certain +that, were we married, we should not make each other happy. +Of course the fault was mine; but it is better to own that fault, +and to take all the blame,—and the evil consequences, let them be +what they may</i> [to be shot, for instance, like the gentleman in +Oregon] <i>than to be married with the consciousness that even at +the very moment of the ceremony, such marriage will be a matter of +sorrow and repentance. As soon as my mind was made up on this +I wrote to you. I can not,—I dare not,—blame you for the +step you have since taken. But I can only adhere to the +resolution I then expressed.<br> +<br> + The first day I saw you here in +London you asked me whether I was attached to another woman. +I could answer you only by the truth. But I should not of my +own accord have spoken to you of altered affections. It was +after I had resolved to break my engagement with you that I first +knew this girl. It was not because I had come to love her +that I broke it. I have no grounds whatever for hoping that +my love will lead to any results.<br> +<br> + I have now told you as exactly as I +can the condition of my mind. If it were possible for me in +any way to compensate the injury I have done you,—or even to +undergo retribution for it,—I would do so. But what +compensation can be given, or what retribution can you exact? +I think that our further meeting can avail nothing. But if, +after this, you wish me to come again, I will come for the last +time,—because I have promised.<br> +<br> + Your most sincere friend,<br> +<br> + PAUL MONTAGUE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Mrs Hurtle, as she read this, was torn in two ways. All +that Paul had written was in accordance with the words written by +herself on a scrap of paper which she still kept in her own +pocket. Those words, fairly transcribed on a sheet of +note-paper, would be the most generous and the fittest answer she +could give. And she longed to be generous. She had all +a woman's natural desire to sacrifice herself. But the +sacrifice which would have been most to her taste would have been +of another kind. Had she found him ruined and penniless she +would have delighted to share with him all that she +possessed. Had she found him a cripple, or blind, or +miserably struck with some disease, she would have stayed by him +and have nursed him and given him comfort. Even had he been +disgraced she would have fled with him to some far country and have +pardoned all his faults. No sacrifice would have been too +much for her that would have been accompanied by a feeling that he +appreciated all that she was doing for him, and that she was loved +in return. But to sacrifice herself by going away and never +more being heard of, was too much for her! What woman can +endure such sacrifice as that? To give up not only her love, +but her wrath also;—that was too much for her! The idea of +being tame was terrible to her. Her life had not been very +prosperous, but she was what she was because she had dared to +protect herself by her own spirit. Now, at last, should she +succumb and be trodden on like a worm? Should she be weaker +even than an English girl? Should she allow him to have +amused himself with her love, to have had "a good time," and then +to roam away like a bee, while she was so dreadfully scorched, so +mutilated and punished! Had not her whole life been opposed +to the theory of such passive endurance? She took out the +scrap of paper and read it; and, in spite of all, she felt that +there was a feminine softness in it that gratified her. + +<p>But no;—she could not send it. She could not even copy +the words. And so she gave play to all her strongest feelings +on the other side,—being in truth torn in two directions. +Then she sat herself down to her desk, and with rapid words, and +flashing thoughts, wrote as follows:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +PAUL MONTAGUE,—<br> +<br> + I have suffered many injuries, but of +all injuries this is the worst and most unpardonable,—and the most +unmanly. Surely there never was such a coward, never so false +a liar. The poor wretch that I destroyed was mad with liquor +and was only acting after his kind. Even Caradoc Hurtle never +premeditated such wrong as this. What you are to bind +yourself to me by the most solemn obligation that can join a man +and a woman together, and then tell me,—when they have affected my +whole life,—that they are to go for nothing, because they do not +suit your view of things? On thinking over it, you find that +an American wife would not make you so comfortable as some English +girl;—and therefore it is all to go for nothing! I have no +brother, no man near me;—or you would not dare to do this. +You can not but be a coward.<br> +<br> + You talk of compensation! Do +you mean money? You do not dare to say so, but you must mean +it. It is an insult the more. But as to retribution; +yes. You shall suffer retribution. I desire you to come +to me,—according to your promise,—and you will find me with a +horsewhip in my hand. I will whip you till I have not a +breath in my body. And then I will see what you will dare to +do;—whether you will drag me into a court of law for the +assault.<br> +<br> + Yes; come. You shall +come. And now you know the welcome you shall find. I +will buy the whip while this is reaching you, and you shall find +that I know how to choose such a weapon. I call upon you so +come. But should you be afraid and break your promise, I will +come to you. I will make London too hot to hold you;—and if +I do not find you I will go with my story to every friend you +have.<br> +<br> + I have now told you as exactly as I +can the condition of my mind.<br> +<br> + WINIFRED HURTLE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Having written this she again read the short note, and again +gave way to violent tears. But on that day she sent no +letter. On the following morning she wrote a third, and sent +that. This was the third letter:— + +<p>"Yes. Come.<br> + W. H." + +<p>This letter duly reached Paul Montague at his lodgings. He +started immediately for Islington. He had now no desire to +delay the meeting. He had at any rate taught her that his +gentleness towards her, his going to the play with her, and +drinking tea with her at Mrs Pipkin's, and his journey with her to +the sea, were not to be taken as evidence that he was gradually +being conquered. He had declared his purpose plainly enough +at Lowestoft,—and plainly enough in his last letter. She +had told him, down at the hotel, that had she by chance have been +armed at the moment, she would have shot him. She could arm +herself now if she pleased;—but his real fear had not lain in that +direction. The pang consisted in having to assure her that he +was resolved to do her wrong. The worst of that was now over. + +<p>The door was opened for him by Ruby, who by no means greeted him +with a happy countenance. It was the second morning after the +night of her imprisonment; and nothing had occurred to alleviate +her woe. At this very moment her lover should have been in +Liverpool, but he was, in fact, abed in Welbeck Street. "Yes, +sir; she's at home," said Ruby, with a baby in her arms and a +little child hanging on to her dress. "Don't pull so, +Sally. Please, sir, is Sir Felix still in London?" Ruby +had written to Sir Felix the very night of her imprisonment, but +had not as yet received any reply. Paul, whose mind was +altogether intent on his own troubles, declared that at present he +knew nothing about Sir Felix, and was then shown into Mrs Hurtle's +room. + +<p>"So you have come," she said, without rising from her chair. + +<p>"Of course I came, when you desired it." + +<p>"I don't know why you should. My wishes do not seem to +affect you much. Will you sit down there?" she said, pointing +to a seat at some distance from herself. "So you think it +would be best that you and I should never see each other +again?" She was very calm; but it seemed to him that the +quietness was assumed, and that at any moment it might be converted +into violence. He thought that there was that in her eye +which seemed to foretell the spring of the wild-cat. + +<p>"I did think so certainly. What more can I say?" + +<p>"Oh, nothing; clearly nothing." Her voice was very +low. "Why should a gentleman trouble himself to say any more +than that he has changed his mind? Why make a fuss about such +little things as a woman's life, or a woman's heart?" Then +she paused. "And having come, in consequence of my +unreasonable request, of course you are wise to hold your peace." + +<p>"I came because I promised." + +<p>"But you did not promise to speak;—did you?" + +<p>"What would you have me say?" + +<p>"Ah what! Am I to be so weak as to tell you now what I +would have you say? Suppose you were to say, 'I am a +gentleman, and a man of my word, and I repent me of my intended +perfidy,' do you not think you might get your release that +way? Might it not be possible that I should reply that as +your heart was gone from me, your hand might go after it;—that I +scorned to be the wife of a man who did not want me?" As she +asked this she gradually raised her voice, and half lifted herself +in her seat, stretching herself towards him. + +<p>"You might indeed," he replied, not well knowing what to say. + +<p>"But I should not. I at least will be true. I should +take you, Paul,—still take you; with a confidence that I should +yet win you to me by my devotion. I have still some kindness +of feeling towards you,—none to that woman who is I suppose +younger than I, and gentler, and a maid." She still looked as +though she expected a reply, but there was nothing to be said in +answer to this. "Now that you are going to leave me, Paul, is +there any advice you can give me, as to what I shall do next? +I have given up every friend in the world for you. I have no +home. Mrs Pipkin's room here is more my home than any other +spot on the earth. I have all the world to choose from, but +no reason whatever for a choice. I have my property. +What shall I do with it, Paul? If I could die and be no more +heard of, you should be welcome to it." There was no answer +possible to all this. The questions were asked because there +was no answer possible. "You might at any rate advise +me. Paul, you are in some degree responsible,—are you +not,—for my loneliness?" + +<p>"I am. But you know that I cannot answer your questions." + +<p>"You cannot wonder that I should be somewhat in doubt as to my +future life. As far as I can see, I had better remain +here. I do good at any rate to Mrs Pipkin. She went +into hysterics yesterday when I spoke of leaving her. That +woman, Paul, would starve in our country, and I shall be desolate +in this." Then she paused, and there was absolute silence for +a minute. "You thought my letter very short; did you not?" + +<p>"It said, I suppose, all you had to say." + +<p>"No, indeed. I did have much more to say. That was +the third letter I wrote. Now you shall see the other +two. I wrote three, and had to choose which I would send +you. I fancy that yours to me was easier written than either +one of mine. You had no doubts, you know. I had many +doubts. I could not send them all by post, together. +But you may see them all now. There is one. You may +read that first. While I was writing it, I was determined +that that should go." Then she handed him the sheet of paper +which contained the threat of the horsewhip. + +<p>"I am glad you did not send that," he said. + +<p>"I meant it." + +<p>"But you have changed your mind?" + +<p>"Is there anything in it that seems to you to be +unreasonable? Speak out and tell me." + +<p>"I am thinking of you, not of myself." + +<p>"Think of me, then. Is there anything said there which the +usage to which I have been subjected does not justify?" + +<p>"You ask me questions which I cannot answer. I do not +think that under any provocation a woman should use a horsewhip." + +<p>"It is certainly more comfortable for gentlemen,—who amuse +themselves,—that women should have that opinion. But, upon +my word, I don't know what to say about that. As long as +there are men to fight for women, it may be well to leave the +fighting to the men. But when a woman has no one to help her, +is she to bear everything without turning upon those who ill-use +her? Shall a woman be flayed alive because it is unfeminine +in her to fight for her own skin? What is the good of +being—feminine, as you call it? Have you asked yourself +that? That men may be attracted, I should say. But if a +woman finds that men only take advantage of her assumed weakness, +shall she not throw it off? If she be treated as prey, shall +she not fight as a beast of prey? Oh, no;—it is so +unfeminine! I also, Paul, had thought of that. The +charm of womanly weakness presented itself to my mind in a soft +moment,—and then I wrote this other letter. You may as well +see them all." And so she handed him the scrap which had been +written at Lowestoft, and he read that also. + +<p>He could hardly finish it, because of the tears which filled his +eyes. But, having mastered its contents, he came across the +room and threw himself on his knees at her feet, sobbing. "I +have not sent it, you know," she said. "I only show it you +that you may see how my mind has been at work" + +<p>"It hurts me more than the other," he replied. + +<p>"Nay, I would not hurt you,—not at this moment. Sometimes +I feel that I could tear you limb from limb, so great is my +disappointment, so ungovernable my rage! Why,—why should I +be such a victim? Why should life be an utter blank to me, +while you have everything before you? There, you have seen +them all. Which will you have?" + +<p>"I cannot now take that other as the expression of your mind." + +<p>"But it will be when you have left me;—and was when you were +with me at the sea-side. And it was so I felt when I got your +first letter in San Francisco. Why should you kneel +there? You do not love me. A man should kneel to a +woman for love, not for pardon." But though she spoke thus, +she put her hand upon his forehead, and pushed back his hair, and +looked into his face. "I wonder whether that other woman +loves you. I do not want an answer, Paul. I suppose you +had better go." She took his hand and pressed it to her +breast. "Tell me one thing. When you spoke +of—compensation, did you mean—money?" + +<p>"No; indeed no." + +<p>"I hope not,—I hope not that. Well, there;—go. You +shall be troubled no more with Winifred Hurtle." She took the +sheet of paper which contained the threat of the horsewhip and tore +it into scraps. + +<p>"And am I to keep the other?" he asked. + +<p>"No. For what purpose would you have it? To prove my +weakness? That also shall be destroyed." But she took +it and restored it to her pocket-book. + +<p>"Good-bye, my friend," he said. + +<p>"Nay! This parting will not bear a farewell. Go, and +let there be no other word spoken." And so he went. + +<p>As soon as the front door was closed behind him she rang the +bell and begged Ruby to ask Mrs Pipkin to come to her. "Mrs +Pipkin," she said, as soon as the woman had entered the room; +"everything is over between me and Mr Montague." She was +standing upright in the middle of the room, and as she spoke there +was a smile on her face. + +<p>"Lord 'a mercy," said Mrs Pipkin, holding up both her hands. + +<p>"As I have told you that I was to be married to him, I think it +right now to tell you that I'm not going to be married to him." + +<p>"And why not?—and he such a nice young man,—and quiet too." + +<p>"As to the why not, I don't know that I am prepared to speak +about that. But it is so. I was engaged to him." + +<p>"I'm well sure of that, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"And now I'm no longer engaged to him. That's all." + +<p>"Dearie me! and you going down to Lowestoft with him, and +all." Mrs Pipkin could not bear to think that she should hear +no more of such an interesting story. + +<p>"We did go down to Lowestoft together, and we both came back +not together. And there's an end of it." + +<p>"I'm sure it's not your fault, Mrs Hurtle. When a marriage +is to be, and doesn't come off, it never is the lady's fault." + +<p>"There's an end of it, Mrs Pipkin. If you please, we won't +say anything more about it." + +<p>"And are you going to leave, ma'am?" said Mrs Pipkin, prepared +to have her apron up to her eyes at a moment's notice. Where +should she get such another lodger as Mrs Hurtle,—a lady who not +only did not inquire about victuals, but who was always suggesting +that the children should eat this pudding or finish that pie, and +who had never questioned an item in a bill since she had been in +the house! + +<p>"We'll say nothing about that yet, Mrs Pipkin." Then Mrs +Pipkin gave utterance to so many assurances of sympathy and help +that it almost seemed that she was prepared to guarantee to her +lodger another lover in lieu of the one who was now dismissed. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="52"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LII. The Results of Love and Wine</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Two, three, four, and even five o'clock still found Sir Felix +Carbury in bed on that fatal Thursday. More than once or +twice his mother crept up to his room, but on each occasion he +feigned to be fast asleep and made no reply to her gentle +words. But his condition was one which only admits of short +snatches of uneasy slumber. From head to foot, he was sick +and ill and sore, and could find no comfort anywhere. To lie +where he was, trying by absolute quiescence to soothe the agony of +his brows and to remember that as long as he lay there he would be +safe from attack by the outer world, was all the solace within his +reach. Lady Carbury sent the page up to him, and to the page +he was awake. The boy brought him tea. He asked for +soda and brandy; but there was none to be had, and in his present +condition he did not dare to hector about it till it was procured +for him. + +<p>The world surely was now all over to him. He had made +arrangements for running away with the great heiress of the day, +and had absolutely allowed the young lady to run away without +him. The details of their arrangement had been such that she +absolutely would start upon her long journey across the ocean +before she could find out that he had failed to keep his +appointment. Melmotte's hostility would be incurred by the +attempt, and hers by the failure. Then he had lost all his +money,—and hers. He had induced his poor mother to assist in +raising a fund for him,—and even that was gone. He was so +cowed that he was afraid even of his mother. And he could +remember something, but no details, of some row at the club,—but +still with a conviction on his mind that he had made the row. +Ah,—when would he summon courage to enter the club again? +When could he show himself again anywhere? All the world +would know that Marie Melmotte had attempted to run off with him, +and that at the last moment he had failed her. What lie could +he invent to cover his disgrace? And his clothes! All +his things were at the club;—or he thought that they were, not +being quite certain whether he had not made some attempt to carry +them off to the Railway Station. He had heard of +suicide. If ever it could be well that a man should cut his +own throat, surely the time had come for him now. But as this +idea presented itself to him he simply gathered the clothes around +him and tried to sleep. The death of Cato would hardly have +for him persuasive charms. + +<p>Between five and six his mother again came up to him, and when +he appeared to sleep, stood with her hand upon his shoulder. +There must be some end to this. He must at any rate be +fed. She, wretched woman, had been sitting all day,—thinking +of it. As regarded her son himself; his condition told his +story with sufficient accuracy. What might be the fate of the +girl she could not stop to inquire. She had not heard all the +details of the proposed scheme; but she had known that Felix had +proposed to be at Liverpool on the Wednesday night, and to start on +Thursday for New York with the young lady; and with the view of +aiding him in his object she had helped him with money. She +had bought clothes for him, and had been busy with Hetta for two +days preparing for his long journey,—having told some lie to her +own daughter as to the cause of her brother's intended +journey. He had not gone, but had come, drunk and degraded, +back to the house. She had searched his pockets with less +scruple than she had ever before felt, and had found his ticket for +the vessel and the few sovereigns which were left to him. +About him she could read the riddle plainly. He had stayed at +his club till he was drunk, and had gambled away all his +money. When she had first seen him she had asked herself what +further lie she should now tell to her daughter. At breakfast +there was instant need for some story. "Mary says that Felix +came back this morning, and that he has not gone at all," Hetta +exclaimed. The poor woman could not bring herself to expose +the vices of the son to her daughter. She could not say that +he had stumbled into the house drunk at six o'clock. Hetta no +doubt had her own suspicions. "Yes; he has come back," said +Lady Carbury, broken-hearted by her troubles. "It was some +plan about the Mexican railway I believe, and has broken +through. He is very unhappy and not well. I will see to +him." After that Hetta had said nothing during the whole +day. And now, about an hour before dinner, Lady Carbury was +standing by her son's bedside, determined that he should speak to +her. + +<p>"Felix," she said,—"speak to me, Felix.—I know that you are +awake." He groaned, and turned himself away from her, burying +himself further under the bedclothes. "You must get up for +your dinner. It is near six o'clock." + +<p>"All right," he said at last. + +<p>"What is the meaning of this, Felix? You must tell +me. It must be told sooner or later. I know you are +unhappy. You had better trust your mother." + +<p>"I am so sick, mother." + +<p>"You will be better up. What were you doing last +night? What has come of it all? Where are your things?" + +<p>"At the club.—You had better leave me now, and let Sam +come up to me." Sam was the page. + +<p>"I will leave you presently; but, Felix, you must tell me about +this. What has been done?" + +<p>"It hasn't come off." + +<p>"But how has it not come off?" + +<p>"I didn't get away. What's the good of asking?" + +<p>"You said this morning when you came in, that Mr Melmotte had +discovered it." + +<p>"Did I? Then I suppose he has. Oh, mother, I wish I +could die. I don't see what's the use of anything. I +won't get up to dinner. I'd rather stay here." + +<p>"You must have something to eat, Felix." + +<p>"Sam can bring it me. Do let him get me some brandy and +water. I'm so faint and sick with all this that I can hardly +bear myself. I can't talk now. If he'll get me a bottle +of soda water and some brandy, I'll tell you all about it then." + +<p>"Where is the money, Felix?" + +<p>"I paid it for the ticket," said he, with both his hands up to +his head. + +<p>Then his mother again left him with the understanding that he +was to be allowed to remain in bed till the next morning; but that +he was to give her some further explanation when he had been +refreshed and invigorated after his own prescription. The boy +went out and got him soda water and brandy, and meat was carried up +to him, and then he did succeed for a while in finding oblivion +from his misery in sleep. + +<p>"Is he ill, mamma?" Hetta asked. + +<p>"Yes, my dear." + +<p>"Had you not better send for a doctor?" + +<p>"No, my dear. He will be better to-morrow." + +<p>"Mamma, I think you would be happier if you would tell me +everything." + +<p>"I can't," said Lady Carbury, bursting out into tears. +"Don't ask. What's the good of asking? It is all misery +and wretchedness. There is nothing to tell,—except that I am +ruined." + +<p>"Has he done anything, mamma?" + +<p>"No. What should he have done? How am I to know what +he does? He tells me nothing. Don't talk about it any +more. Oh, God,—how much better it would be to be childless!" + +<p>"Oh, mamma, do you mean me?" said Hetta, rushing across the +room, and throwing herself close to her mother's side on the +sofa. "Mamma, say that you do not mean me." + +<p>"It concerns you as well as me and him. I wish I were +childless." + +<p>"Oh, mamma, do not be cruel to me! Am I not good to +you? Do I not try to be a comfort to you?" + +<p>"Then marry your cousin, Roger Carbury, who is a good man, and +who can protect you. You can, at any rate, find a home for +yourself, and a friend for us. You are not like Felix. +You do not get drunk and gamble,—because you are a woman. +But you are stiff-necked, and will not help me in my trouble." + +<p>"Shall I marry him, mamma, without loving him?" + +<p>"Love! Have I been able to love? Do you see much of +what you call love around you? Why should you not love +him? He is a gentleman, and a good man,—soft-hearted, of a +sweet nature, whose life would be one effort to make yours +happy. You think that Felix is very bad." + +<p>"I have never said so." + +<p>"But ask yourself whether you do not give as much pain, seeing +what you could do for us if you would. But it never occurs to +you to sacrifice even a fantasy for the advantage of others." + +<p>Hetta retired from her seat on the sofa, and when her mother +again went upstairs she turned it all over in her mind. Could +it be right that she should marry one man when she loved +another? Could it be right that she should marry at all, for +the sake of doing good to her family? This man, whom she +might marry if she would,—who did in truth worship the ground on +which she trod,—was, she well knew, all that her mother had +said. And he was more than that. Her mother had spoken +of his soft heart, and his sweet nature. But Hetta knew also +that he was a man of high honour and a noble courage. In such +a condition as was hers now he was the very friend whose advice she +could have asked,—had he not been the very lover who was desirous +of making her his wife. Hetta felt that she could sacrifice +much for her mother. Money, if she had it, she could have +given, though she left herself penniless. Her time, her +inclinations, her very heart's treasure, and, as she thought, her +life, she could give. She could doom herself to poverty, and +loneliness, and heart-rending regrets for her mother's sake. +But she did not know how she could give herself into the arms of a +man she did not love. + +<p>"I don't know what there is to explain," said Felix to his +mother. She had asked him why he had not gone to Liverpool, +whether he had been interrupted by Melmotte himself, whether news +had reached him from Marie that she had been stopped, or +whether,—as might have been possible,—Marie had changed her own +mind. But he could not bring himself to tell the truth, or +any story bordering on the truth. "It didn't come off," he +said, "and of course that knocked me off my legs. Well; +yes. I did take some champagne when I found how it was. +A fellow does get cut up by that kind of thing. Oh, I heard +it at the club,—that the whole thing was off. I can't +explain anything more. And then I was so mad, I can't tell +what I was after. I did get the ticket. There it +is. That shows I was in earnest. I spent the £30 +in getting it. I suppose the change is there. Don't +take it, for I haven't another shilling in the world." Of +course he said nothing of Marie's money, or of that which he had +himself received from Melmotte. And as his mother had heard +nothing of these sums she could not contradict what he said. +She got from him no further statement, but she was sure that there +was a story to be told which would reach her ears sooner or later. + +<p>That evening, about nine o'clock, Mr Broune called in Welbeck +Street. He very often did call now, coming up in a cab, +staying for a cup of tea, and going back in the same cab to the +office of his newspaper. Since Lady Carbury had, so +devotedly, abstained from accepting his offer, Mr Broune had become +almost sincerely attached to her. There was certainly between +them now more of the intimacy of real friendship than had ever +existed in earlier days. He spoke to her more freely about +his own affairs, and even she would speak to him with some attempt +at truth. There was never between them now even a shade of +love-making. She did not look into his eyes, nor did he hold +her hand. As for kissing her,—he thought no more of it than +of kissing the maid-servant. But he spoke to her of the +things that worried him,—the unreasonable exactions of +proprietors, and the perilous inaccuracy of contributors. He +told her of the exceeding weight upon his shoulders, under which an +Atlas would have succumbed. And he told her something too of +his triumphs;—how he had had this fellow bowled over in punishment +for some contradiction, and that man snuffed out for daring to be +an enemy. And he expatiated on his own virtues, his justice +and clemency. Ah,—if men and women only knew his good nature +and his patriotism;—how he had spared the rod here, how he had +made the fortune of a man there, how he had saved the country +millions by the steadiness of his adherence to some grand +truth! Lady Carbury delighted in all this and repaid him by +flattery, and little confidences of her own. Under his +teaching she had almost made up her mind to give up Mr Alf. +Of nothing was Mr Broune more certain than that Mr Alf was making a +fool of himself in regard to the Westminster election and those +attacks on Melmotte. "The world of London generally knows +what it is about," said Mr Broune, "and the London world believes +Mr Melmotte to be sound. I don't pretend to say that he has +never done anything that he ought not to do. I am not going +into his antecedents. But he is a man of wealth, power, and +genius, and Alf will get the worst of it." Under such +teaching as this, Lady Carbury was almost obliged to give up Mr +Alf. + +<p>Sometimes they would sit in the front room with Hetta, to whom +also Mr Broune had become attached; but sometimes Lady Carbury +would be in her own sanctum. On this evening she received him +there, and at once poured forth all her troubles about Felix. +On this occasion she told him everything, and almost told him +everything truly. He had already heard the story. "The +young lady went down to Liverpool, and Sir Felix was not there." + +<p>"He could not have been there. He has been in bed in this +house all day. Did she go?" + +<p>"So I am told;—and was met at the station by the senior officer +of the police at Liverpool, who brought her back to London without +letting her go down to the ship at all. She must have thought +that her lover was on board;—probably thinks so now. I pity +her." + +<p>"How much worse it would have been, had she been allowed to +start," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Yes; that would have been bad. She would have had a sad +journey to New York, and a sadder journey back. Has your son +told you anything about money?" + +<p>"What money?" + +<p>"They say that the girl entrusted him with a large sum which she +had taken from her father. If that be so he certainly ought +to lose no time in restoring it. It might be done through +some friend. I would do it, for that matter. If it be +so,—to avoid unpleasantness,—it should be sent back at +once. It will be for his credit." This Mr Broune said +with a clear intimation of the importance of his advice. + +<p>It was dreadful to Lady Carbury. She had no money to give +back, nor, as she was well aware, had her son. She had heard +nothing of any money. What did Mr Broune mean by a large +sum? "That would be dreadful," she said. + +<p>"Had you not better ask him about it?" + +<p>Lady Carbury was again in tears. She knew that she could +not hope to get a word of truth from her son. "What do you +mean by a large sum?" + +<p>"Two or three hundred pounds, perhaps." + +<p>"I have not a shilling in the world, Mr Broune." Then it +all came out,—the whole story of her poverty, as it had been +brought about by her son's misconduct. She told him every +detail of her money affairs from the death of her husband, and his +will, up to the present moment. + +<p>"He is eating you up, Lady Carbury." Lady Carbury thought +that she was nearly eaten up already, but she said nothing. +"You must put a stop to this." + +<p>"But how?" + +<p>"You must rid yourself of him. It is dreadful to say so, +but it must be done. You must not see your daughter +ruined. Find out what money he got from Miss Melmotte and I +will see that it is repaid. That must be done;—and we will +then try to get him to go abroad. No;—do not contradict +me. We can talk of the money another time. I must be +off now, as I have stayed too long. Do as I bid you. +Make him tell you, and send me word down to the office. If +you could do it early to-morrow, that would be best. God +bless you." And so he hurried off. + +<p>Early on the following morning a letter from Lady Carbury was +put into Mr Broune's hands, giving the story of the money as far as +she had been able to extract it from Sir Felix. Sir Felix +declared that Mr Melmotte had owed him £600, and that he had +received £250 out of this from Miss Melmotte,—so that there +was still a large balance due to him. Lady Carbury went on to +say that her son had at last confessed that he had lost this money +at play. The story was fairly true; but Lady Carbury in her +letter acknowledged that she was not justified in believing it +because it was told to her by her son. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="53"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LIII. A Day in the City</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Melmotte had got back his daughter, and was half inclined to let +the matter rest there. He would probably have done so had he +not known that all his own household were aware that she had gone +off to meet Sir Felix Carbury, and had he not also received the +condolence of certain friends in the city. It seemed that +about two o'clock in the day the matter was known to +everybody. Of course Lord Nidderdale would hear of it, and if +so all the trouble that he had taken in that direction would have +been taken in vain. Stupid fool of a girl to throw away her +chance,—nay, to throw away the certainty of a brilliant career, in +that way! But his anger against Sir Felix was infinitely more +bitter than his anger against his daughter. The man had +pledged himself to abstain from any step of this kind,—had given a +written pledge,—had renounced under his own signature his +intention of marrying Marie! Melmotte had of course learned +all the details of the cheque for £250,—how the money had +been paid at the bank to Didon, and how Didon had given it to Sir +Felix. Marie herself acknowledged that Sir Felix had received +the money. If possible he would prosecute the baronet for +stealing his money. + +<p>Had Melmotte been altogether a prudent man he would probably +have been satisfied with getting back his daughter and would have +allowed the money to go without further trouble. At this +especial point in his career ready money was very valuable to him, +but his concerns were of such magnitude that £250 could make +but little difference. But there had grown upon the man +during the last few months an arrogance, a self-confidence inspired +in him by the worship of other men, which clouded his intellect, +and robbed him of much of that power of calculation which +undoubtedly he naturally possessed. He remembered perfectly +his various little transactions with Sir Felix. Indeed it was +one of his gifts to remember with accuracy all money transactions, +whether great or small, and to keep an account book in his head, +which was always totted up and balanced with accuracy. He +knew exactly how he stood, even with the crossing-sweeper to whom +he had given a penny last Tuesday, as with the Longestaffes, father +and son, to whom he had not as yet made any payment on behalf of +the purchase of Pickering. But Sir Felix's money had been +consigned into his hands for the purchase of shares,—and that +consignment did not justify Six Felix in taking another sum of +money from his daughter. In such a matter he thought that an +English magistrate, and an English jury, would all be on his +side,— especially as he was Augustus Melmotte, the man about to be +chosen for Westminster, the man about to entertain the Emperor of +China! + +<p>The next day was Friday,—the day of the Railway Board. +Early in the morning he sent a note to Lord Nidderdale. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +MY DEAR NIDDERDALE,—<br> +<br> + Pray come to the Board to-day;—or at +any rate come to me in the city. I specially want to speak to +you.<br> +<br> + Yours,<br> +<br> + A. M.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>This he wrote, having made up his mind that it would be wise to +make a clear breast of it with his hoped-for son-in-law. If +there was still a chance of keeping the young lord to his guns that +chance would be best supported by perfect openness on his +part. The young lord would of course know what Marie had +done. But the young lord had for some weeks past been aware +that there had been a difficulty in regard to Sir Felix Carbury, +and had not on that account relaxed his suit. It might be +possible to persuade the young lord that as the young lady had now +tried to elope and tried in vain, his own chance might on the whole +be rather improved than injured. + +<p>Mr Melmotte on that morning had many visitors, among whom one of +the earliest and most unfortunate was Mr Longestaffe. At that +time there had been arranged at the offices in Abchurch Lane a mode +of double ingress and egress,—a front stairs and a back stairs +approach and exit, as is always necessary with very great men,—in +reference to which arrangement the honour and dignity attached to +each is exactly contrary to that which generally prevails in the +world; the front stairs being intended for everybody, and being +both slow and uncertain, whereas the back stairs are quick and +sure, and are used only for those who are favoured. Miles +Grendall had the command of the stairs, and found that he had +plenty to do in keeping people in their right courses. Mr +Longestaffe reached Abchurch Lane before one,—having altogether +failed in getting a moment's private conversation with the big man +on that other Friday, when he had come later. He fell at once +into Miles's hands, and was ushered through the front stairs +passage and into the front stairs waiting-room, with much external +courtesy. Miles Grendall was very voluble. Did Mr +Longestaffe want to see Mr Melmotte? Oh;—Mr Longestaffe +wanted to see Mr Melmotte as soon as possible! Of course Mr +Longestaffe should see Mr Melmotte. He, Miles, knew that Mr +Melmotte was particularly desirous of seeing Mr Longestaffe. +Mr Melmotte had mentioned Mr Longestaffe's name twice during the +last three days. Would Mr Longestaffe sit down for a few +minutes? Had Mr Longestaffe seen the "Morning Breakfast +Table"? Mr Melmotte undoubtedly was very much engaged. +At this moment a deputation from the Canadian Government was with +him;—and Sir Gregory Gribe was in the office waiting for a few +words. But Miles thought that the Canadian Government would +not be long,—and as for Sir Gregory, perhaps his business might be +postponed. Miles would do his very best to get an interview +for Mr Longestaffe,—more especially as Mr Melmotte was so very +desirous himself of seeing his friend. It was astonishing +that such a one as Miles Grendall should have learned his business +so well and should have made himself so handy! We will leave +Mr Longestaffe with the "Morning Breakfast Table" in his hands, in +the front waiting-room, merely notifying the fact that there he +remained for something over two hours. + +<p>In the meantime both Mr Broune and Lord Nidderdale came to the +office, and both were received without delay. Mr Broune was +the first. Miles knew who he was, and made no attempt to seat +him in the same room with Mr Longestaffe. "I'll just send him +a note," said Mr Broune, and he scrawled a few words at the office +counter. "I'm commissioned to pay you some money on behalf of +Miss Melmotte." Those were the words, and they at once +procured him admission to the sanctum. The Canadian +Deputation must have taken its leave, and Sir Gregory could hardly +have as yet arrived. Lord Nidderdale, who had presented +himself almost at the same moment with the Editor, was shown into a +little private room which was, indeed, Miles Grendall's own +retreat. "What's up with the Governor?" asked the young lord. + +<p>"Anything particular do you mean?" said Miles. "There are +always so many things up here." + +<p>"He has sent for me." + +<p>"Yes,—you'll go in directly. There's that fellow who does +the "Breakfast Table" in with him. I don't know what he's +come about. You know what he has sent for you for?" + +<p>Lord Nidderdale answered this question by another. "I +suppose all this about Miss Melmotte is true?" + +<p>"She did go off yesterday morning," said Miles, in a whisper. + +<p>"But Carbury wasn't with her." + +<p>"Well, no;—I suppose not. He seems to have mulled +it. He's such a d–––– brute, he'd be +sure to go wrong whatever he had in hand." + +<p>"You don't like him, of course, Miles. For that matter +I've no reason to love him. He couldn't have gone. He +staggered out of the club yesterday morning at four o'clock as +drunk as Cloe. He'd lost a pot of money, and had been kicking +up a row about you for the last hour." + +<p>"Brute!" exclaimed Miles, with honest indignation. + +<p>"I dare say. But though he was able to make a row, I'm +sure he couldn't get himself down to Liverpool. And I saw all +his things lying about the club hall late last night;—no end of +portmanteaux and bags; just what a fellow would take to New +York. By George! Fancy taking a girl to New York! +It was plucky." + +<p>"It was all her doing," said Miles, who was of course intimate +with Mr Melmotte's whole establishment, and had had means therefore +of hearing the true story. + +<p>"What a fiasco!" said the young lord. "I wonder what the +old boy means to say to me about it." Then there was heard +the clear tingle of a little silver bell, and Miles told Lord +Nidderdale that his time had come. + +<p>Mr Broune had of late been very serviceable to Mr Melmotte, and +Melmotte was correspondingly gracious. On seeing the Editor +he immediately began to make a speech of thanks in respect of the +support given by the "Breakfast Table" to his candidature. +But Mr Broune cut him short. "I never talk about the +'Breakfast Table,'" said he. "We endeavour to get along as +right as we can, and the less said the soonest mended." +Melmotte bowed. "I have come now about quite another matter, +and perhaps, the less said the sooner mended about that also. +Sir Felix Carbury on a late occasion received a sum of money in +trust from your daughter. Circumstances have prevented its +use in the intended manner, and, therefore, as Sir Felix's friend, +I have called to return the money to you." Mr Broune did not +like calling himself the friend of Sir Felix, but he did even that +for the lady who had been good enough to him not to marry him. + +<p>"Oh, indeed," said Mr Melmotte, with a scowl on his face, which +he would have repressed if he could. + +<p>"No doubt you understand all about it." + +<p>"Yes;—I understand. D–––– +scoundrel!" + +<p>"We won't discuss that, Mr Melmotte. I've drawn a cheque +myself payable to your order,—to make the matter all +straight. The sum was £250, I think." And Mr +Broune put a cheque for that amount down upon the table. + +<p>"I dare say it's all right," said Mr Melmotte. "But, +remember, I don't think that this absolves him. He has been a +scoundrel." + +<p>"At any rate he has paid back the money, which chance put into +his hands, to the only person entitled to receive it on the young +lady's behalf. Good morning." Mr Melmotte did put out +his hand in token of amity. Then Mr Broune departed and +Melmotte tinkled his bell. As Nidderdale was shown in he +crumpled up the cheque, and put it into his pocket. He was at +once clever enough to perceive that any idea which he might have +had of prosecuting Sir Felix must be abandoned. "Well, my +Lord, and how are you?" said he with his pleasantest smile. +Nidderdale declared himself to be as fresh as paint. "You +don't look down in the mouth, my Lord." + +<p>Then Lord Nidderdale,—who no doubt felt that it behoved him to +show a good face before his late intended father-in-law,—sang the +refrain of an old song, which it is trusted my readers may +remember. + +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<blockquote> +<i> + Cheer up, Sam;<br> + Don't let your spirits go down.<br> + There's many a girl that I know well,<br> + Is waiting for you in the town.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Ha, ha, ha," laughed Melmotte, "very good. I've no doubt +there is,—many a one. But you won't let this stupid nonsense +stand in your way with Marie." + +<p>"Upon my word, sir, I don't know about that. Miss Melmotte +has given the most convincing proof of her partiality for another +gentleman, and of her indifference to me." + +<p>"A foolish baggage! A silly little romantic baggage! +She's been reading novels till she has learned to think she +couldn't settle down quietly till she had run off with somebody." + +<p>"She doesn't seem to have succeeded on this occasion, Mr +Melmotte." + +<p>"No;—of course we had her back again from Liverpool." + +<p>"But they say that she got further than the gentleman." + +<p>"He is a dishonest, drunken scoundrel. My girl knows very +well what he is now. She'll never try that game again. +Of course, my Lord, I'm very sorry. You know that I've been +on the square with you always. She's my only child, and +sooner or later she must have all that I possess. What she +will have at once will make any man wealthy,—that is, if she +marries with my sanction; and in a year or two I expect that I +shall be able to double what I give her now, without touching my +capital. Of course you understand that I desire to see her +occupying high rank. I think that, in this country, that is a +noble object of ambition. Had she married that sweep I should +have broken my heart. Now, my Lord, I want you to say that +this shall make no difference to you. I am very honest with +you. I do not try to hide anything. The thing of course +has been a misfortune. Girls will be romantic. But you +may be sure that this little accident will assist rather than +impede your views. After this she will not be very fond of +Sir Felix Carbury." + +<p>"I dare say not. Though, by Jove, girls will forgive +anything." + +<p>"She won't forgive him. By George, she shan't. She +shall hear the whole story. You'll come and see her just the +same as ever!" + +<p>"I don't know about that, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"Why not? You're not so weak as to surrender all your +settled projects for such a piece of folly as that! He didn't +even see her all the time." + +<p>"That wasn't her fault." + +<p>"The money will all be there, Lord Nidderdale." + +<p>"The money's all right, I've no doubt. And there isn't a +man in all London would be better pleased to settle down with a +good income than I would. But, by Jove, it's a rather strong +order when a girl has just run away with another man. +Everybody knows it." + +<p>"In three months' time everybody will have forgotten it." + +<p>"To tell you the truth, sir, I think Miss Melmotte has got a +will of her own stronger than you give her credit for. She +has never given me the slightest encouragement. Ever so long +ago, about Christmas, she did once say that she would do as you +bade her. But she is very much changed since then. The +thing was off." + +<p>"She had nothing to do with that." + +<p>"No;—but she has taken advantage of it, and I have no right to +complain." + +<p>"You just come to the house, and ask her again to-morrow. +Or come on Sunday morning. Don't let us be done out of all +our settled arrangements by the folly of an idle girl. Will +you come on Sunday morning about noon?" Lord Nidderdale +thought of his position for a few moments and then said that +perhaps he would come on Sunday morning. After that Melmotte +proposed that they two should go and "get a bit of lunch" at a +certain Conservative club in the City. There would be time +before the meeting of the Railway Board. Nidderdale had no +objection to the lunch, but expressed a strong opinion that the +Board was "rot". "That's all very well for you, young man," +said the chairman, "but I must go there in order that you may be +able to enjoy a splendid fortune." Then he touched the young +man on the shoulder and drew him back as he was passing out by the +front stairs. "Come this way, Nidderdale;—come this +way. I must get out without being seen. There are +people waiting for me there who think that a man can attend to +business from morning to night without ever having a bit in his +mouth." And so they escaped by the back stairs. + +<p>At the club, the City Conservative world,—which always lunches +well,—welcomed Mr Melmotte very warmly. The election was +coming on, and there was much to be said. He played the part +of the big City man to perfection, standing about the room with his +hat on, and talking loudly to a dozen men at once. And he was +glad to show the club that Lord Nidderdale had come there with +him. The club of course knew that Lord Nidderdale was the +accepted suitor of the rich man's daughter,—accepted, that is, by +the rich man himself,—and the club knew also that the rich man's +daughter had tried but had failed to run away with Sir Felix +Carbury. There is nothing like wiping out a misfortune and +having done with it. The presence of Lord Nidderdale was +almost an assurance to the club that the misfortune had been wiped +out, and, as it were, abolished. A little before three Mr +Melmotte returned to Abchurch Lane, intending to regain his room by +the back way; while Lord Nidderdale went westward, considering +within his own mind whether it was expedient that he should +continue to show himself as a suitor for Miss Melmotte's +hand. He had an idea that a few years ago a man could not +have done such a thing—that he would be held to show a poor spirit +should he attempt it; but that now it did not much matter what a +man did,—if only he were successful. "After all, it's only +an affair of money," he said to himself. + +<p>Mr Longestaffe in the meantime had progressed from weariness to +impatience, from impatience to ill-humour, and from ill-humour to +indignation. More than once he saw Miles Grendall, but Miles +Grendall was always ready with an answer. That Canadian +Deputation was determined to settle the whole business this +morning, and would not take itself away. And Sir Gregory +Gribe had been obstinate, beyond the ordinary obstinacy of a bank +director. The rate of discount at the bank could not be +settled for to-morrow without communication with Mr Melmotte, and +that was a matter on which the details were always most +oppressive. At first Mr Longestaffe was somewhat stunned by +the Deputation and Sir Gregory Gribe; but as he waxed wroth the +potency of those institutions dwindled away, and as, at last, he +waxed hungry, they became as nothing to him. Was he not Mr +Longestaffe of Caversham, a Deputy-Lieutenant of his County, and +accustomed to lunch punctually at two o'clock? When he had +been in that waiting-room for two hours, it occurred to him that he +only wanted his own, and that he would not remain there to be +starved for any Mr Melmotte in Europe. It occurred to him +also that that thorn in his side, Squercum, would certainly get a +finger into the pie to his infinite annoyance. Then he walked +forth, and attempted to see Grendall for the fourth time. But +Miles Grendall also liked his lunch, and was therefore declared by +one of the junior clerks to be engaged at that moment on most +important business with Mr Melmotte. "Then say that I can't +wait any longer," said Mr Longestaffe, stamping out of the room +with angry feet. + +<p>At the very door he met Mr Melmotte. "Ah, Mr Longestaffe," +said the great financier, seizing him by the hand, "you are the +very man I am desirous of seeing." + +<p>"I have been waiting two hours up in your place," said the +Squire of Caversham. + +<p>"Tut, tut, tut;—and they never told me!" + +<p>"I spoke to Mr Grendall half a dozen times." + +<p>"Yes,—yes. And he did put a slip with your name on it on my +desk. I do remember. My dear sir, I have so many things +on my brain, that I hardly know how to get along with them. +You are coming to the Board? It's just the time now." + +<p>"No;"—said Mr Longestaffe. "I can stay no longer in the +City." It was cruel that a man so hungry should be asked to +go to a Board by a chairman who had just lunched at his club. + +<p>"I was carried away to the Bank of England and could not help +myself," said Melmotte. "And when they get me there I can +never get away again." + +<p>"My son is very anxious to have the payments made about +Pickering," said Mr Longestaffe, absolutely holding Melmotte by the +collar of his coat. + +<p>"Payments for Pickering!" said Melmotte, assuming an air of +unimportant doubt,—of doubt as though the thing were of no real +moment. "Haven't they been made?" + +<p>"Certainly not," said Mr Longestaffe, "unless made this +morning." + +<p>"There was something about it, but I cannot just remember +what. My second cashier, Mr Smith, manages all my private +affairs, and they go clean out of my head. I'm afraid he's in +Grosvenor Square at this moment. Let me +see;—Pickering! Wasn't there some question of a +mortgage? I'm sure there was something about a mortgage." + +<p>"There was a mortgage, of course,—but that only made three +payments necessary instead of two." + +<p>"But there was some unavoidable delay about the +papers;—something occasioned by the mortgagee. I know there +was. But you shan't be inconvenienced, Mr Longestaffe." + +<p>"It's my son, Mr Melmotte. He's got a lawyer of his own." + +<p>"I never knew a young man that wasn't in a hurry for his money," +said Melmotte laughing. "Oh, yes;—there were three payments +to be made; one to you, one to your son, and one to the +mortgagee. I will speak to Mr Smith myself to-morrow—and you +may tell your son that he really need not trouble his lawyer. +He will only be losing his money, for lawyers are expensive. +What! you won't come to the Board? I am sorry for +that." Mr Longestaffe, having after a fashion said what he +had to say, declined to go to the Board. A painful rumour had +reached him the day before, which had been communicated to him in a +very quiet way by a very old friend,—by a member of a private firm +of bankers whom he was accustomed to regard as the wisest and most +eminent man of his acquaintance,—that Pickering had been already +mortgaged to its full value by its new owner. "Mind, I know +nothing," said the banker. "The report has reached me, and if +it be true, it shows that Mr Melmotte must be much pressed for +money. It does not concern you at all if you have got your +price. But it seems to be rather a quick transaction. I +suppose you have, or he wouldn't have the title-deeds." Mr +Longestaffe thanked his friend, and acknowledged that there had +been something remiss on his part. Therefore, as he went +westward, he was low in spirits. But nevertheless he had been +reassured by Melmotte's manner. + +<p>Sir Felix Carbury of course did not attend the Board; nor did +Paul Montague, for reasons with which the reader has been made +acquainted. Lord Nidderdale had declined, having had enough +of the City for that day, and Mr Longestaffe had been banished by +hunger. The chairman was therefore supported only by Lord +Alfred and Mr Cohenlupe. But they were such excellent +colleagues that the work was got through as well as though those +absentees had all attended. When the Board was over Mr +Melmotte and Mr Cohenlupe retired together. + +<p>"I must get that money for Longestaffe," said Melmotte to his +friend. + +<p>"What, eighty thousand pounds! You can't do it this +week,—nor yet before this day week." + +<p>"It isn't eighty thousand pounds. I've renewed the +mortgage, and that makes it only fifty. If I can manage the +half of that which goes to the son, I can put the father off." + +<p>"You must raise what you can on the whole property." + +<p>"I've done that already," said Melmotte hoarsely. + +<p>"And where's the money gone?" + +<p>"Brehgert has had £40,000. I was obliged to keep it +up with them. You can manage £25,000 for me by +Monday?" Mr Cohenlupe said that he would try, but intimated +his opinion that there would be considerable difficulty in the +operation. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="54"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LIV. The India Office</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>The Conservative party at this particular period was putting its +shoulder to the wheel,—not to push the coach up any hill, but to +prevent its being hurried along at a pace which was not only +dangerous, but manifestly destructive. The Conservative party +now and then does put its shoulder to the wheel, ostensibly with +the great national object above named; but also actuated by a +natural desire to keep its own head well above water and be +generally doing something, so that other parties may not suppose +that it is moribund. There are, no doubt, members of it who +really think that when some object has been achieved,—when, for +instance, a good old Tory has been squeezed into Parliament for the +borough of Porcorum, which for the last three parliaments has been +represented by a Liberal,—the coach has been really stopped. +To them, in their delightful faith, there comes at these triumphant +moments a conviction that after all the people as a people have not +been really in earnest in their efforts to take something from the +greatness of the great, and to add something to the lowliness of +the lowly. The handle of the windlass has been broken, the +wheel is turning fast the reverse way, and the rope of Radical +progress is running back. Who knows what may not be regained +if the Conservative party will only put its shoulder to the wheel +and take care that the handle of the windlass be not mended! +Sticinthemud, which has ever been a doubtful little borough, has +just been carried by a majority of fifteen! A long pull, a +strong pull, and a pull altogether,—and the old day will come back +again. Venerable patriarchs think of Lord Liverpool and other +heroes, and dream dreams of Conservative bishops, Conservative +lord-lieutenants, and of a Conservative ministry that shall remain +in for a generation. + +<p>Such a time was now present. Porcorum and Sticinthemud had +done their duty valiantly,—with much management. But +Westminster! If this special seat for Westminster could be +carried, the country then could hardly any longer have a doubt on +the matter. If only Mr Melmotte could be got in for +Westminster, it would be manifest that the people were sound at +heart, and that all the great changes which had been effected +during the last forty years,—from the first reform in Parliament +down to the Ballot,—had been managed by the cunning and treachery +of a few ambitious men. Not, however, that the Ballot was +just now regarded by the party as an unmitigated evil, though it +was the last triumph of Radical wickedness. The Ballot was on +the whole popular with the party. A short time since, no +doubt it was regarded by the party as being one and the same as +national ruin and national disgrace. But it had answered well +at Porcorum, and with due manipulation had been found to be +favourable at Sticinthemud. The Ballot might perhaps help the +long pull and the strong pull,—and, in spite of the ruin and +disgrace, was thought by some just now to be a highly Conservative +measure. It was considered that the Ballot might assist +Melmotte at Westminster very materially. + +<p>Any one reading the Conservative papers of the time, and hearing +the Conservative speeches in the borough,—any one at least who +lived so remote as not to have learned what these things really +mean,—would have thought that England's welfare depended on +Melmotte's return. In the enthusiasm of the moment, the +attacks made on his character were answered by eulogy as loud as +the censure was bitter. The chief crime laid to his charge +was connected with the ruin of some great continental assurance +company, as to which it was said that he had so managed it as to +leave it utterly stranded, with an enormous fortune of his +own. It was declared that every shilling which he had brought +to England with him had consisted of plunder stolen from the +shareholders in the company. Now the "Evening Pulpit," in its +endeavour to make the facts of this transaction known, had placed +what it called the domicile of this company in Paris, whereas it +was ascertained that its official head-quarters had in truth been +placed at Vienna. Was not such a blunder as this sufficient +to show that no merchant of higher honour than Mr Melmotte had ever +adorned the Exchanges of modern capitals? And then two +different newspapers of the time, both of them antagonistic to +Melmotte, failed to be in accord on a material point. One +declared that Mr Melmotte was not in truth possessed of any +wealth. The other said that he had derived his wealth from +those unfortunate shareholders. Could anything betray so bad +a cause as contradictions such as these? Could anything be so +false, so weak, so malignant, so useless, so wicked, so +self-condemned,—in fact, so "Liberal" as a course of action such +as this? The belief naturally to be deduced from such +statements, nay, the unavoidable conviction on the minds—of, at +any rate, the Conservative newspapers—was that Mr Melmotte had +accumulated an immense fortune, and that he had never robbed any +shareholder of a shilling. + +<p>The friends of Melmotte had moreover a basis of hope, and were +enabled to sound premonitory notes of triumph, arising from causes +quite external to their party. The "Breakfast Table" +supported Melmotte, but the "Breakfast Table" was not a +Conservative organ. This support was given, not to the great +man's political opinions, as to which a well-known writer in that +paper suggested that the great man had probably not as yet given +very much attention to the party questions which divided the +country,—but to his commercial position. It was generally +acknowledged that few men living,—perhaps no man alive,—had so +acute an insight into the great commercial questions of the age as +Mr Augustus Melmotte. In whatever part of the world he might +have acquired his commercial experience,—for it had been said +repeatedly that Melmotte was not an Englishman,—he now made London +his home and Great Britain his country, and it would be for the +welfare of the country that such a man should sit in the British +Parliament. Such were the arguments used by the "Breakfast +Table" in supporting Mr Melmotte. This was, of course, an +assistance;—and not the less so because it was asserted in other +papers that the country would be absolutely disgraced by his +presence in Parliament. The hotter the opposition the keener +will be the support. Honest good men, men who really loved +their country, fine gentlemen, who had received unsullied names +from great ancestors, shed their money right and left, and grew hot +in personally energetic struggles to have this man returned to +Parliament as the head of the great Conservative mercantile +interests of Great Britain! + +<p>There was one man who thoroughly believed that the thing at the +present moment most essentially necessary to England's glory was +the return of Mr Melmotte for Westminster. This man was +undoubtedly a very ignorant man. He knew nothing of any one +political question which had vexed England for the last half +century,—nothing whatever of the political history which had made +England what it was at the beginning of that half century. Of +such names as Hampden, Somers, and Pitt he had hardly ever +heard. He had probably never read a book in his life. +He knew nothing of the working of parliament, nothing of +nationality,—had no preference whatever for one form of government +over another, never having given his mind a moment's trouble on the +subject. He had not even reflected how a despotic monarch or +a federal republic might affect himself, and possibly did not +comprehend the meaning of those terms. But yet he was fully +confident that England did demand and ought to demand that Mr +Melmotte should be returned for Westminster. This man was Mr +Melmotte himself. + +<p>In this conjunction of his affairs Mr Melmotte certainly lost +his head. He had audacity almost sufficient for the very +dangerous game which he was playing; but, as crisis heaped itself +upon crisis, he became deficient in prudence. He did not +hesitate to speak of himself as the man who ought to represent +Westminster, and of those who opposed him as little malignant +beings who had mean interests of their own to serve. He went +about in his open carriage, with Lord Alfred at his left hand, with +a look on his face which seemed to imply that Westminster was not +good enough for him. He even hinted to certain political +friends that at the next general election he should try the +City. Six months since he had been a humble man to a +Lord,—but now he scolded Earls and snubbed Dukes, and yet did it +in a manner which showed how proud he was of connecting himself +with their social pre-eminence, and how ignorant of the manner in +which such pre-eminence affects English gentlemen generally. +The more arrogant he became the more vulgar he was, till even Lord +Alfred would almost be tempted to rush away to impecuniosity and +freedom. Perhaps there were some with whom this conduct had a +salutary effect. No doubt arrogance will produce submission; +and there are men who take other men at the price those other men +put upon themselves. Such persons could not refrain from +thinking Melmotte to be mighty because he swaggered; and gave their +hinder parts to be kicked merely because he put up his toe. +We all know men of this calibre,—and how they seem to grow in +number. But the net result of his personal demeanour was +injurious; and it was debated among some of the warmest of his +supporters whether a hint should not be given him. "Couldn't +Lord Alfred say a word to him?" said the Honourable Beauchamp +Beauclerk, who, himself in Parliament, a leading man in his party, +thoroughly well acquainted with the borough, wealthy and connected +by blood with half the great Conservative families in the kingdom, +had been moving heaven and earth on behalf of the great financial +king, and working like a slave for his success. + +<p>"Alfred's more than half afraid of him," said Lionel Lupton, a +young aristocrat, also in Parliament, who had been inoculated with +the idea that the interests of the party demanded Melmotte in +Parliament, but who would have given up his Scotch shooting rather +than have undergone Melmotte's company for a day. + +<p>"Something really must be done, Mr Beauclerk," said Mr Jones, +who was the leading member of a very wealthy firm of builders in +the borough, who had become a Conservative politician, who had +thoughts of the House for himself, but who never forgot his own +position. "He is making a great many personal enemies." + +<p>"He's the finest old turkey cock out," said Lionel Lupton. + +<p>Then it was decided that Mr Beauclerk should speak a word to +Lord Alfred. The rich man and the poor man were cousins, and +had always been intimate. "Alfred," said the chosen mentor at +the club one afternoon, "I wonder whether you couldn't say +something to Melmotte about his manner." Lord Alfred turned +sharp round and looked into his companion's face. "They tell +me he is giving offence. Of course he doesn't mean it. +Couldn't he draw it a little milder?" + +<p>Lord Alfred made his reply almost in a whisper. "If you +ask me, I don't think he could. If you got him down and +trampled on him, you might make him mild. I don't think +there's any other way." + +<p>"You couldn't speak to him, then?" + +<p>"Not unless I did it with a horsewhip." + +<p>This, coming from Lord Alfred, who was absolutely dependent on +the man, was very strong. Lord Alfred had been much afflicted +that morning. He had spent some hours with his friend, either +going about the borough in the open carriage, or standing just +behind him at meetings, or sitting close to him in +committee-rooms,—and had been nauseated with Melmotte. When +spoken to about his friend he could not restrain himself. +Lord Alfred had been born and bred a gentleman, and found the +position in which he was now earning his bread to be almost +insupportable. It had gone against the grain with him at +first, when he was called Alfred; but now that he was told "just to +open the door," and "just to give that message," he almost +meditated revenge. Lord Nidderdale, who was quick at +observation, had seen something of this in Grosvenor Square, and +declared that Lord Alfred had invested part of his recent savings +in a cutting whip. Mr Beauclerk, when he had got his answer, +whistled and withdrew. But he was true to his party. +Melmotte was not the first vulgar man whom the Conservatives had +taken by the hand, and patted on the back, and told that he was a +god. + +<p>The Emperor of China was now in England, and was to be +entertained one night at the India Office. The Secretary of +State for the second great Asiatic Empire was to entertain the +ruler of the first. This was on Saturday the 6th of July, and +Melmotte's dinner was to take place on the following Monday. +Very great interest was made by the London world generally to +obtain admission to the India Office,—the making of such interest +consisting in the most abject begging for tickets of admission, +addressed to the Secretary of State, to all the under secretaries, +to assistant secretaries, secretaries of departments, chief clerks, +and to head-messengers and their wives. If a petitioner could +not be admitted as a guest into the splendour of the reception +rooms, might not he,—or she,—be allowed to stand in some passage +whence the Emperor's back might perhaps be seen,—so that, if +possible, the petitioner's name might be printed in the list of +guests which would be published on the next morning? Now Mr +Melmotte with his family was, of course, supplied with +tickets. He, who was to spend a fortune in giving the Emperor +a dinner, was of course entitled to be present at other places to +which the Emperor would be brought to be shown. Melmotte had +already seen the Emperor at a breakfast in Windsor Park, and at a +ball in royal halls. But hitherto he had not been presented +to the Emperor. Presentations have to be restricted,—if only +on the score of time; and it had been thought that as Mr Melmotte +would of course have some communication with the hardworked Emperor +at his own house, that would suffice. But he had felt himself +to be ill-used and was offended. He spoke with bitterness to +some of his supporters of the Royal Family generally, because he +had not been brought to the front rank either at the breakfast or +at the ball,—and now, at the India Office, was determined to have +his due. But he was not on the list of those whom the +Secretary of State intended on this occasion to present to the +Brother of the Sun. + +<p>He had dined freely. At this period of his career he had +taken to dining freely,—which was in itself imprudent, as he had +need at all hours of his best intelligence. Let it not be +understood that he was tipsy. He was a man whom wine did not +often affect after that fashion. But it made him, who was +arrogant before, tower in his arrogance till he was almost sure to +totter. It was probably at some moment after dinner that Lord +Alfred decided upon buying the cutting whip of which he had +spoken. Melmotte went with his wife and daughter to the India +Office, and soon left them far in the background with a +request,—we may say an order,—to Lord Alfred to take care of +them. It may be observed here that Marie Melmotte was almost +as great a curiosity as the Emperor himself, and was much noticed +as the girl who had attempted to run away to New York, but had gone +without her lover. Melmotte entertained some foolish idea +that as the India Office was in Westminster, he had a peculiar +right to demand an introduction on this occasion because of his +candidature. He did succeed in getting hold of an unfortunate +under secretary of state, a studious and invaluable young peer, +known as Earl De Griffin. He was a shy man, of enormous +wealth, of mediocre intellect, and no great physical ability, who +never amused himself; but worked hard night and day, and read +everything that anybody could write, and more than any other person +could read, about India. Had Mr Melmotte wanted to know the +exact dietary of the peasants in Orissa, or the revenue of the +Punjaub, or the amount of crime in Bombay, Lord De Griffin would +have informed him without a pause. But in this matter of +managing the Emperor, the under secretary had nothing to do, and +would have been the last man to be engaged in such a service. +He was, however, second in command at the India Office, and of his +official rank Melmotte was unfortunately made aware. "My +Lord," said he, by no means hiding his demand in a whisper, "I am +desirous of being presented to his Imperial Majesty." Lord De +Griffin looked at him in despair, not knowing the great,—man being +one of the few men in that room who did not know him. + +<p>"This is Mr Melmotte," said Lord Alfred, who had deserted the +ladies and still stuck to his master. "Lord De Griffin, let +me introduce you to Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"Oh—oh—oh," said Lord De Griffin, just putting out his +hand. "I am delighted;—ah, yes," and pretending to see +somebody, he made a weak and quite ineffectual attempt to escape. + +<p>Melmotte stood directly in his way, and with unabashed audacity +repeated his demand. "I am desirous of being presented to his +Imperial Majesty. Will you do me the honour of making my +request known to Mr Wilson?" Mr Wilson was the Secretary of +State, who was as busy as a Secretary of State is sure to be on +such an occasion. + +<p>"I hardly know," said Lord De Griffin. "I'm afraid it's +all arranged. I don't know anything about it myself." + +<p>"You can introduce me to Mr Wilson." + +<p>"He's up there, Mr Melmotte; and I couldn't get at him. +Really you must excuse me. I'm very sorry. If I see him +I'll tell him." And the poor under secretary again +endeavoured to escape. + +<p>Mr Melmotte put up his hand and stopped him. "I'm not +going to stand this kind of thing," he said. The old Marquis +of Auld Reekie was close at hand, the father of Lord Nidderdale, +and therefore the proposed father-in-law of Melmotte's daughter, +and he poked his thumb heavily into Lord Alfred's ribs. "It +is generally understood, I believe," continued Melmotte, "that the +Emperor is to do me the honour of dining at my poor house on +Monday. He don't dine there unless I'm made acquainted with +him before he comes. I mean what I say. I ain't going +to entertain even an Emperor unless I'm good enough to be presented +to him. Perhaps you'd better let Mr Wilson know, as a good +many people intend to come." + +<p>"Here's a row," said the old Marquis. "I wish he'd be as +good as his word." + +<p>"He has taken a little wine," whispered Lord Alfred. +"Melmotte," he said, still whispering; "upon my word it isn't the +thing. They're only Indian chaps and Eastern swells who are +presented here,—not a fellow among 'em all who hasn't been in +India or China, or isn't a Secretary of State, or something of that +kind." + +<p>"Then they should have done it at Windsor, or at the ball," said +Melmotte, pulling down his waistcoat. "By George, +Alfred! I'm in earnest, and somebody had better look to +it. If I'm not presented to his Imperial Majesty to-night, by +G––––, there shall be no dinner in +Grosvenor Square on Monday. I'm master enough of my own +house, I suppose, to be able to manage that." + +<p>Here was a row, as the Marquis had said! Lord De Griffin +was frightened, and Lord Alfred felt that something ought to be +done. "There's no knowing how far the pig-headed brute may go +in his obstinacy," Lord Alfred said to Mr Lupton, who was +there. It no doubt might have been wise to have allowed the +merchant prince to return home with the resolution that his dinner +should be abandoned. He would have repented probably before +the next morning; and had he continued obdurate it would not have +been difficult to explain to Celestial Majesty that something +preferable had been found for that particular evening even to a +banquet at the house of British commerce. The Government +would probably have gained the seat for Westminster, as Melmotte +would at once have become very unpopular with the great body of his +supporters. But Lord De Griffin was not the man to see +this. He did make his way up to Mr Wilson, and explained to +the Amphytrion of the night the demand which was made on his +hospitality. A thoroughly well-established and experienced +political Minister of State always feels that if he can make a +friend or appease an enemy without paying a heavy price he will be +doing a good stroke of business. "Bring him up," said Mr +Wilson. "He's going to do something out in the East, isn't +he?" "Nothing in India," said Lord De Griffin. "The +submarine telegraph is quite impossible." Mr Wilson, +instructing some satellite to find out in what way he might +properly connect Mr Melmotte with China, sent Lord De Griffin away +with his commission. + +<p>"My dear Alfred, just allow me to manage these things myself;" +Mr Melmotte was saying when the under secretary returned. "I +know my own position and how to keep it. There shall be no +dinner. I'll be d–––– if any of the +lot shall dine in Grosvenor Square on Monday." Lord Alfred +was so astounded that he was thinking of making his way to the +Prime Minister, a man whom he abhorred and didn't know, and of +acquainting him with the terrible calamity which was +threatened. But the arrival of the under secretary saved him +the trouble. + +<p>"If you will come with me," whispered Lord De Griffin, "it shall +be managed. It isn't just the thing, but as you wish it, it +shall be done." + +<p>"I do wish it," said Melmotte aloud. He was one of those +men whom success never mollified, whose enjoyment of a point gained +always demanded some hoarse note of triumph from his own trumpet. + +<p>"If you will be so kind as to follow me," said Lord De +Griffin. And so the thing was done. Melmotte, as he was +taken up to the imperial footstool, was resolved upon making a +little speech, forgetful at the moment of interpreters,—of the +double interpreters whom the Majesty of China required; but the +awful, quiescent solemnity of the celestial one quelled even him, +and he shuffled by without saying a word even of his own banquet. + +<p>But he had gained his point, and, as he was taken home to poor +Mr Longestaffe's house in Bruton Street, was intolerable. +Lord Alfred tried to escape after putting Madame Melmotte and her +daughter into the carriage, but Melmotte insisted on his +presence. "You might as well come, Alfred;—there are two or +three things I must settle before I go to bed." + +<p>"I'm about knocked up," said the unfortunate man. + +<p>"Knocked up, nonsense! Think what I've been through. +I've been all day at the hardest work a man can do." Had he +as usual got in first, leaving his man-of-all-work to follow, the +man-of-all-work would have escaped. Melmotte, fearing such +defection, put his hand on Lord Alfred's shoulder, and the poor +fellow was beaten. As they were taken home a continual sound +of cock-crowing was audible, but as the words were not +distinguished they required no painful attention; but when the soda +water and brandy and cigars made their appearance in Mr +Longestaffe's own back room, then the trumpet was sounded with a +full blast. "I mean to let the fellows know what's what," +said Melmotte, walking about the room. Lord Alfred had thrown +himself into an arm-chair, and was consoling himself as best he +might with tobacco. "Give and take is a very good +motto. If I scratch their back, I mean them to scratch +mine. They won't find many people to spend ten thousand +pounds in entertaining a guest of the country's as a private +enterprise. I don't know of any other man of business who +could do it, or would do it. It's not much any of them can do +for me. Thank God, I don't want 'em. But if +consideration is to be shown to anybody, I intend to be +considered. The Prince treated me very scurvily, Alfred, and +I shall take an opportunity of telling him so on Monday. I +suppose a man may be allowed to speak to his own guests." + +<p>"You might turn the election against you if you said anything +the Prince didn't like." + +<p>"D–––– the election, sir. I stand +before the electors of Westminster as a man of business, not as a +courtier,—as a man who understands commercial enterprise, not as +one of the Prince's toadies. Some of you fellows in England +don't realize the matter yet; but I can tell you that I think +myself quite as great a man as any Prince." Lord Alfred +looked at him, with strong reminiscences of the old ducal home, and +shuddered. "I'll teach them a lesson before long. +Didn't I teach 'em a lesson to-night,—eh? They tell me that +Lord De Griffin has sixty thousand a-year to spend. What's +sixty thousand a year? Didn't I make him go on my +business? And didn't I make 'em do as I chose? You want +to tell me this and that, but I can tell you that I know more of +men and women than some of you fellows do, who think you know a +great deal." + +<p>This went on through the whole of a long cigar; and afterwards, +as Lord Alfred slowly paced his way back to his lodgings in Mount +Street, he thought deeply whether there might not be means of +escaping from his present servitude. "Beast! +Brute! Pig!" he said to himself over and over again as he +slowly went to Mount Street. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="55"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LV. Clerical Charities</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Melmotte's success, and Melmotte's wealth, and Melmotte's +antecedents were much discussed down in Suffolk at this time. +He had been seen there in the flesh, and there is no believing like +that which comes from sight. He had been staying at +Caversham, and many in those parts knew that Miss Longestaffe was +now living in his house in London. The purchase of the +Pickering estate had also been noticed in all the Suffolk and +Norfolk newspapers. Rumours, therefore, of his past frauds, +rumour also as to the instability of his presumed fortune, were as +current as those which declared him to be by far the richest man in +England. Miss Melmotte's little attempt had also been +communicated in the papers; and Sir Felix, though he was not +recognized as being "real Suffolk" himself, was so far connected +with Suffolk by name as to add something to this feeling of reality +respecting the Melmottes generally. Suffolk is very +old-fashioned. Suffolk, taken as a whole, did not like the +Melmotte fashion. Suffolk, which is, I fear, persistently and +irrecoverably Conservative, did not believe in Melmotte as a +Conservative Member of Parliament. Suffolk on this occasion +was rather ashamed of the Longestaffes, and took occasion to +remember that it was barely the other day, as Suffolk counts days, +since the original Longestaffe was in trade. This selling of +Pickering, and especially the selling of it to Melmotte, was a mean +thing. Suffolk, as a whole, thoroughly believed that Melmotte +had picked the very bones of every shareholder in that +Franco-Austrian Assurance Company. + +<p>Mr Hepworth was over with Roger one morning, and they were +talking about him,—or talking rather of the attempted +elopement. "I know nothing about it," said Roger, "and I do +not intend to ask. Of course I did know when they were down +here that he hoped to marry her, and I did believe that she was +willing to marry him. But whether the father had consented or +not I never inquired." + +<p>"It seems he did not consent." + +<p>"Nothing could have been more unfortunate for either of them +than such a marriage. Melmotte will probably be in the +"Gazette" before long, and my cousin not only has not a shilling, +but could not keep one if he had it." + +<p>"You think Melmotte will turn out a failure." + +<p>"A failure! Of course he's a failure, whether rich or +poor;—a miserable imposition, a hollow vulgar fraud from beginning +to end,—too insignificant for you and me to talk of, were it not +that his position is a sign of the degeneracy of the age. +What are we coming to when such as he is an honoured guest at our +tables?" + +<p>"At just a table here and there," suggested his friend. + +<p>"No;—it is not that. You can keep your house free from +him, and so can I mine. But we set no example to the nation +at large. They who do set the example go to his feasts, and +of course he is seen at theirs in return. And yet these +leaders of the fashion know,—at any rate they believe,—that he is +what he is because he has been a swindler greater than other +swindlers. What follows as a natural consequence? Men +reconcile themselves to swindling. Though they themselves +mean to be honest, dishonesty of itself is no longer odious to +them. Then there comes the jealousy that others should be +growing rich with the approval of all the world,—and the natural +aptitude to do what all the world approves. It seems to me +that the existence of a Melmotte is not compatible with a wholesome +state of things in general." + +<p>Roger dined with the Bishop of Elmham that evening, and the same +hero was discussed under a different heading. "He has given +£200," said the Bishop, "to the Curates' Aid Society. I +don't know that a man could spend his money much better than that." + +<p>"Clap-trap!" said Roger, who in his present mood was very +bitter. + +<p>"The money is not clap-trap, my friend. I presume that the +money is really paid." + +<p>"I don't feel at all sure of that." + +<p>"Our collectors for clerical charities are usually stern +men,—very ready to make known defalcations on the part of +promising subscribers. I think they would take care to get +the money during the election." + +<p>"And you think that money got in that way redounds to his +credit?" + +<p>"Such a gift shows him to be a useful member of society,—and I +am always for encouraging useful men." + +<p>"Even though their own objects may be vile and pernicious?" + +<p>"There you beg ever so many questions, Mr Carbury. Mr +Melmotte wishes to get into Parliament, and if there would vote on +the side which you at any rate approve. I do not know that +his object in that respect is pernicious. And as a seat in +Parliament has been a matter of ambition to the best of our +countrymen for centuries, I do not know why we should say that it +is vile in this man." Roger frowned and shook his head. +"Of course Mr Melmotte is not the sort of gentleman whom you have +been accustomed to regard as a fitting member for a Conservative +constituency. But the country is changing." + +<p>"It's going to the dogs, I think;—about as fast as it can go." + +<p>"We build churches much faster than we used to do." + +<p>"Do we say our prayers in them when we have built them?" asked +the Squire. + +<p>"It is very hard to see into the minds of men," said the Bishop; +"but we can see the results of their minds' work. I think +that men on the whole do live better lives than they did a hundred +years ago. There is a wider spirit of justice abroad, more of +mercy from one to another, a more lively charity, and if less of +religious enthusiasm, less also of superstition. Men will +hardly go to heaven, Mr Carbury, by following forms only because +their fathers followed the same forms before them." + +<p>"I suppose men will go to heaven, my Lord, by doing as they +would be done by." + +<p>"There can be no safer lesson. But we must hope that some +may be saved even if they have not practised at all times that +grand self-denial. Who comes up to that teaching? Do +you not wish for, nay, almost demand, instant pardon for any +trespass that you may commit,—of temper, or manner, for +instance? and are you always ready to forgive in that way +yourself? Do you not writhe with indignation at being wrongly +judged by others who condemn you without knowing your actions or +the causes of them; and do you never judge others after that +fashion?" + +<p>"I do not put myself forward as an example." + +<p>"I apologise for the personal form of my appeal. A +clergyman is apt to forget that he is not in the pulpit. Of +course I speak of men in general. Taking society as a whole, +the big and the little, the rich and the poor, I think that it +grows better from year to year, and not worse. I think, too, +that they who grumble at the times, as Horace did, and declare that +each age is worse than its forerunner, look only at the small +things beneath their eyes, and ignore the course of the world at +large." + +<p>"But Roman freedom and Roman manners were going to the dogs when +Horace wrote." + +<p>"But Christ was about to be born, and men were already being +made fit by wider intelligence for Christ's teaching. And as +for freedom, has not freedom grown, almost every year, from that to +this?" + +<p>"In Rome they were worshipping just such men as this +Melmotte. Do you remember the man who sat upon the seats of +the knights and scoured the Via Sacra with his toga, though he had +been scourged from pillar to post for his villainies? I +always think of that man when I hear Melmotte's name +mentioned. Hoc, hoc tribuno militum! Is this the man to +be Conservative member for Westminster?" + +<p><p>"Do you know of the scourges, as a fact?" + +<p>"I think I know that they are deserved." + +<p>"That is hardly doing to others as you would be done by. +If the man is what you say, he will surely be found out at last, +and the day of his punishment will come. Your friend in the +ode probably had a bad time of it, in spite of his farms and his +horses. The world perhaps is managed more justly than you +think, Mr Carbury." + +<p>"My Lord, I believe you're a Radical at heart," said Roger, as +he took his leave. + +<p>"Very likely,—very likely. Only don't say so to the Prime +Minister, or I shall never get any of the better things which may +be going." + +<p>The Bishop was not hopelessly in love with a young lady, and was +therefore less inclined to take a melancholy view of things in +general than Roger Carbury. To Roger everything seemed to be +out of joint. He had that morning received a letter from Lady +Carbury, reminding him of the promise of a loan, should a time come +to her of great need. It had come very quickly. Roger +Carbury did not in the least begrudge the hundred pounds which he +had already sent to his cousin; but he did begrudge any furtherance +afforded to the iniquitous schemes of Sir Felix. He felt all +but sure that the foolish mother had given her son money for his +abortive attempt, and that therefore this appeal had been made to +him. He alluded to no such fear in his letter. He +simply enclosed the cheque, and expressed a hope that the amount +might suffice for the present emergency. But he was +disheartened and disgusted by all the circumstances of the Carbury +family. There was Paul Montague, bringing a woman such as Mrs +Hurtle down to Lowestoft, declaring his purpose of continuing his +visits to her, and, as Roger thought, utterly unable to free +himself from his toils,—and yet, on this man's account, Hetta was +cold and hard to him. He was conscious of the honesty of his +own love, sure that he could make her happy,—confident, not in +himself, but in the fashion and ways of his own life. What +would be Hetta's lot if her heart was really given to Paul +Montague? + +<p>When he got home, he found Father Barham sitting in his +library. An accident had lately happened at Father Barham's +own establishment. The wind had blown the roof off his +cottage; and Roger Carbury, though his affection for the priest was +waning, had offered him shelter while the damage was being +repaired. Shelter at Carbury Manor was very much more +comfortable than the priest's own establishment, even with the roof +on, and Father Barham was in clover. Father Barham was +reading his own favourite newspaper, "The Surplice," when Roger +entered the room. "Have you seen this, Mr Carbury?" he said. + +<p>"What's this? I am not likely to have seen anything that +belongs peculiarly to 'The Surplice.'" + +<p>"That's the prejudice of what you are pleased to call the +Anglican Church. Mr Melmotte is a convert to our faith. +He is a great man, and will perhaps be one of the greatest known on +the face of the globe." + +<p>"Melmotte a convert to Romanism! I'll make you a present +of him, and thank you to take him; but I don't believe that we've +any such good riddance." + +<p>Then Father Barham read a paragraph out of "The Surplice." +"Mr Augustus Melmotte, the great financier and capitalist, has +presented a hundred guineas towards the erection of an altar for +the new church of St Fabricius, in Tothill Fields. The +donation was accompanied by a letter from Mr Melmotte's secretary, +which leaves but little doubt that the new member for Westminster +will be a member, and no inconsiderable member, of the Catholic +party in the House, during the next session." + +<p>"That's another dodge, is it?" said Carbury. + +<p>"What do you mean by a dodge, Mr Carbury? Because money is +given for a pious object of which you do not happen to approve, +must it be a dodge?" + +<p>"But, my dear Father Barham, the day before the same great man +gave £200 to the Protestant Curates' Aid Society. I +have just left the Bishop exulting in this great act of charity." + +<p>"I don't believe a word of it;—or it may be a parting gift to +the Church to which he belonged in his darkness." + +<p>"And you would be really proud of Mr Melmotte as a convert?" + +<p>"I would be proud of the lowest human being that has a soul," +said the priest; "but of course we are glad to welcome the wealthy +and the great." + +<p>"The great! Oh dear!" + +<p>"A man is great who has made for himself such a position as that +of Mr Melmotte. And when such a one leaves your Church and +joins our own, it is a great sign to us that the Truth is +prevailing." Roger Carbury, without another word, took his +candle and went to bed. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="56"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LVI. Father Barham Visits London</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It was considered to be a great thing to catch the Roman +Catholic vote in Westminster. For many years it has been +considered a great thing both in the House and out of the House to +"catch" Roman Catholic votes. There are two modes of catching +these votes. This or that individual Roman Catholic may be +promoted to place, so that he personally may be made secure; or the +right hand of fellowship may be extended to the people of the Pope +generally, so that the people of the Pope may be taught to think +that a general step is being made towards the reconversion of the +nation. The first measure is the easier, but the effect is +but slight and soon passes away. The promoted one, though as +far as his prayers go he may remain as good a Catholic as ever, +soon ceases to be one of the party to be conciliated, and is apt +after a while to be regarded by them as an enemy. But the +other mode, if a step be well taken, may be very efficacious. +It has now and then occurred that every Roman Catholic in Ireland +and England has been brought to believe that the nation is coming +round to them;—and in this or that borough the same conviction has +been made to grow. To catch the Protestant,—that is the +peculiarly Protestant,—vote and the Roman Catholic vote at the +same instant is a feat difficult of accomplishment; but it has been +attempted before, and was attempted now by Mr Melmotte and his +friends. It was perhaps thought by his friends that the +Protestants would not notice the £100 given for the altar to +St Fabricius; but Mr Alf was wide awake, and took care that Mr +Melmotte's religious opinions should be a matter of interest to the +world at large. During all that period of newspaper +excitement there was perhaps no article that created so much +general interest as that which appeared in the "Evening Pulpit," +with a special question asked at the head of it, "For Priest or +Parson?" In this article, which was more than usually +delightful as being pungent from the beginning to the end and as +being unalloyed with any dry didactic wisdom, Mr Alf's man, who did +that business, declared that it was really important that the +nation at large and especially the electors of Westminster should +know what was the nature of Mr Melmotte's faith. That he was +a man of a highly religious temperament was most certain by his +munificent charities on behalf of religion. Two noble +donations, which by chance had been made just at this crisis, were +doubtless no more than the regular continuation of his ordinary +flow of Christian benevolence. The "Evening Pulpit" by no +means insinuated that the gifts were intended to have any reference +to the approaching election. Far be it from the "Evening +Pulpit" to imagine that so great a man as Mr Melmotte looked for +any return in this world from his charitable generosity. But +still, as Protestants naturally desired to be represented in +Parliament by a Protestant member, and as Roman Catholics as +naturally desired to be represented by a Roman Catholic, perhaps Mr +Melmotte would not object to declare his creed. + +<p>This was biting, and of course did mischief; but Mr Melmotte and +his manager were not foolish enough to allow it to actuate them in +any way. He had thrown his bread upon the waters, assisting +St Fabricius with one hand and the Protestant curates with the +other, and must leave the results to take care of themselves. +If the Protestants chose to believe that he was hyper-protestant, +and the Catholics that he was tending towards papacy, so much the +better for him. Any enthusiastic religionists wishing to +enjoy such convictions would not allow themselves to be enlightened +by the manifestly interested malignity of Mr Alf's newspaper. + +<p>It may be doubted whether the donation to the Curates' Aid +Society did have much effect. It may perhaps have induced a +resolution in some few to go to the poll whose minds were active in +regard to religion and torpid as to politics. But the +donation to St Fabricius certainly had results. It was taken +up and made much of by the Roman Catholic party generally, till a +report got itself spread abroad and almost believed that Mr +Melmotte was going to join the Church of Rome. These +manoeuvres require most delicate handling, or evil may follow +instead of good. On the second afternoon after the question +had been asked in the "Evening Pulpit," an answer to it appeared, +"For Priest and not for Parson." Therein various assertions +made by Roman Catholic organs and repeated in Roman Catholic +speeches were brought together, so as to show that Mr Melmotte +really had at last made up his mind on this important +question. All the world knew now, said Mr Alf's writer, that +with that keen sense of honesty which was the Great Financier's +peculiar characteristic,—the Great Financier was the name which Mr +Alf had specially invented for Mr Melmotte,—he had doubted, till +the truth was absolutely borne in upon him, whether he could serve +the nation best as a Liberal or as a Conservative. He had +solved that doubt with wisdom. And now this other doubt had +passed through the crucible, and by the aid of fire a golden +certainty had been produced. The world of Westminster at last +knew that Mr Melmotte was a Roman Catholic. Now nothing was +clearer than this,—that though catching the Catholic vote would +greatly help a candidate, no real Roman Catholic could hope to be +returned. This last article vexed Mr Melmotte, and he +proposed to his friends to send a letter to the "Breakfast Table" +asserting that he adhered to the Protestant faith of his +ancestors. But, as it was suspected by many, and was now +being whispered to the world at large, that Melmotte had been born +a Jew, this assurance would perhaps have been too strong. "Do +nothing of the kind," said Mr Beauchamp Beauclerk. "If any +one asks you a question at any meeting, say that you are a +Protestant. But it isn't likely, as we have none but our own +people. Don't go writing letters." + +<p>But unfortunately the gift of an altar to St Fabricius was such +a godsend that sundry priests about the country were determined to +cling to the good man who had bestowed his money so well. I +think that many of them did believe that this was a great sign of a +beauteous stirring of people's minds in favour of Rome. The +fervent Romanists have always this point in their favour, that they +are ready to believe. And they have a desire for the +conversion of men which is honest in an exactly inverse ratio to +the dishonesty of the means which they employ to produce it. +Father Barham was ready to sacrifice anything personal to himself +in the good cause,—his time, his health, his money when he had +any, and his life. Much as he liked the comfort of Carbury +Hall, he would never for a moment condescend to ensure its +continued enjoyment by reticence as to his religion. Roger +Carbury was hard of heart. He could see that. But the +dropping of water might hollow the stone. If the dropping +should be put an end to by outward circumstances before the stone +had been impressed that would not be his fault. He at any +rate would do his duty. In that fixed resolution Father +Barham was admirable. But he had no scruple whatsoever as to +the nature of the arguments he would use,—or as to the facts which +he would proclaim. With the mingled ignorance of his life and +the positiveness of his faith he had at once made up his mind that +Melmotte was a great man, and that he might be made a great +instrument on behalf of the Pope. He believed in the enormous +proportions of the man's wealth,—believed that he was powerful in +all quarters of the globe,—and believed, because he was so told by +"The Surplice," that the man was at heart a Catholic. That a +man should be at heart a Catholic, and live in the world professing +the Protestant religion, was not to Father Barham either improbable +or distressing. Kings who had done so were to him objects of +veneration. By such subterfuges and falsehood of life had +they been best able to keep alive the spark of heavenly fire. +There was a mystery and religious intrigue in this which +recommended itself to the young priest's mind. But it was +clear to him that this was a peculiar time,—in which it behoved an +earnest man to be doing something. He had for some weeks been +preparing himself for a trip to London in order that he might spend +a week in retreat with kindred souls who from time to time betook +themselves to the cells of St Fabricius. And so, just at this +season of the Westminster election, Father Barham made a journey to +London. + +<p>He had conceived the great idea of having a word or two with Mr +Melmotte himself. He thought that he might be convinced by a +word or two as to the man's faith. And he thought, also, that +it might be a happiness to him hereafter to have had intercourse +with a man who was perhaps destined to be the means of restoring +the true faith to his country. On Saturday night,—that +Saturday night on which Mr Melmotte had so successfully exercised +his greatness at the India Office,—he took up his quarters in the +cloisters of St Fabricius; he spent a goodly festive Sunday among +the various Romanist church services of the metropolis; and on the +Monday morning he sallied forth in quest of Mr Melmotte. +Having obtained that address from some circular, he went first to +Abchurch Lane. But on this day, and on the next, which would +be the day of the election, Mr Melmotte was not expected in the +City, and the priest was referred to his present private residence +in Bruton Street. There he was told that the great man might +probably be found in Grosvenor Square, and at the house in the +square Father Barham was at last successful. Mr Melmotte was +there superintending the arrangements for the entertainment of the +Emperor. + +<p>The servants, or more probably the workmen, must have been at +fault in giving the priest admittance. But in truth the house +was in great confusion. The wreaths of flowers and green +boughs were being suspended, last daubs of heavy gilding were being +given to the wooden capitals of mock pilasters, incense was being +burned to kill the smell of the paint, tables were being fixed and +chairs were being moved; and an enormous set of open presses were +being nailed together for the accommodation of hats and +cloaks. The hall was chaos, and poor Father Barham, who had +heard a good deal of the Westminster election, but not a word of +the intended entertainment of the Emperor, was at a loss to +conceive for what purpose these operations were carried on. +But through the chaos he made his way, and did soon find himself in +the presence of Mr Melmotte in the banqueting hall. + +<p>Mr Melmotte was attended both by Lord Alfred and his son. +He was standing in front of the chair which had been arranged for +the Emperor, with his hat on one side of his head, and he was very +angry indeed. He had been given to understand when the dinner +was first planned, that he was to sit opposite to his august +guest;—by which he had conceived that he was to have a seat +immediately in face of the Emperor of Emperors, of the Brother of +the Sun, of the Celestial One himself. It was now explained +to him that this could not be done. In face of the Emperor +there must be a wide space, so that his Majesty might be able to +look down the hall; and the royal princesses who sat next to the +Emperor, and the royal princes who sat next to the princesses, must +also be so indulged. And in this way Mr Melmotte's own seat +became really quite obscure. Lord Alfred was having a very +bad time of it. "It's that fellow from 'The Herald' office +did it, not me," he said, almost in a passion. "I don't know +how people ought to sit. But that's the reason." + +<p>"I'm d–––– if I'm going to be treated in +this way in my own house," were the first words which the priest +heard. And as Father Barham walked up the room and came close +to the scene of action, unperceived by either of the Grendalls, Mr +Melmotte was trying, but trying in vain, to move his own seat +nearer to Imperial Majesty. A bar had been put up of such a +nature that Melmotte, sitting in the seat prepared for him, would +absolutely be barred out from the centre of his own hall. +"Who the d–––– are you?" he asked, when the +priest appeared close before his eyes on the inner or more imperial +side of the bar. It was not the habit of Father Barham's life +to appear in sleek apparel. He was ever clothed in the very +rustiest brown black that age can produce. In Beccles where +he was known it signified little, but in the halls of the great one +in Grosvenor Square, perhaps the stranger's welcome was cut to the +measure of his outer man. A comely priest in glossy black +might have been received with better grace. + +<p>Father Barham stood humbly with his hat off. He was a man +of infinite pluck; but outward humility—at any rate at the +commencement of an enterprise,—was the rule of his life. "I +am the Rev. Mr Barham," said the visitor. "I am the priest of +Beccles in Suffolk. I believe I am speaking to Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"That's my name, sir. And what may you want? I don't +know whether you are aware that you have found your way into my +private dining-room without any introduction. Where the +mischief are the fellows, Alfred, who ought to have seen about +this? I wish you'd look to it, Miles. Can anybody who +pleases walk into my hall?" + +<p>"I came on a mission which I hope may be pleaded as my excuse," +said the priest. Although he was bold, he found it difficult +to explain his mission. Had not Lord Alfred been there he +could have done it better, in spite of the very repulsive manner of +the great man himself. + +<p>"Is it business?" asked Lord Alfred. + +<p>"Certainly it is business," said Father Barham with a smile. + +<p>"Then you had better call at the office in Abchurch Lane,—in +the City," said his lordship. + +<p>"My business is not of that nature. I am a poor servant of +the Cross, who is anxious to know from the lips of Mr Melmotte +himself that his heart is inclined to the true Faith." + +<p>"Some lunatic," said Melmotte. "See that there ain't any +knives about, Alfred." + +<p>"No otherwise mad, sir, than they have ever been accounted mad +who are enthusiastic in their desire for the souls of others." + +<p>"Just get a policeman, Alfred. Or send somebody; you'd +better not go away." + +<p>"You will hardly need a policeman, Mr Melmotte," continued the +priest. "If I might speak to you alone for a few minutes—" + +<p>"Certainly not;—certainly not. I am very busy, and if you +will not go away you'll have to be taken away. I wonder +whether anybody knows him." + +<p>"Mr Carbury, of Carbury Hall, is my friend." + +<p>"Carbury! D–––– the +Carburys! Did any of the Carburys send you here? A set +of beggars! Why don't you do something, Alfred, to get rid of +him?" + +<p>"You'd better go," said Lord Alfred. "Don't make a rumpus, +there's a good fellow;—but just go." + +<p>"There shall be no rumpus," said the priest, waxing +wrathful. "I asked for you at the door, and was told to come +in by your own servants. Have I been uncivil that you should +treat me in this fashion?" + +<p>"You're in the way," said Lord Alfred. + +<p>"It's a piece of gross impertinence," said Melmotte. "Go +away." + +<p>"Will you not tell me before I go whether I shall pray for you +as one whose steps in the right path should be made sure and firm; +or as one still in error and in darkness?" + +<p>"What the mischief does he mean?" asked Melmotte. + +<p>"He wants to know whether you're a papist," said Lord Alfred. + +<p>"What the deuce is it to him?" almost screamed +Melmotte;—whereupon Father Barham bowed and took his leave. + +<p>"That's a remarkable thing," said Melmotte,—"very +remarkable." Even this poor priest's mad visit added to his +inflation. "I suppose he was in earnest." + +<p>"Mad as a hatter," said Lord Alfred. + +<p>"But why did he come to me in his madness—to me +especially? That's what I want to know. I'll tell you +what it is. There isn't a man in all England at this moment +thought of so much as—your humble servant. I wonder whether +the "Morning Pulpit" people sent him here now to find out really +what is my religion." + +<p>"Mad as a hatter," said Lord Alfred again;—"just that and no +more." + +<p>"My dear fellow, I don't think you've the gift of seeing very +far. The truth is they don't know what to make of me;—and I +don't intend that they shall. I'm playing my game, and there +isn't one of 'em understands it except myself. It's no good +my sitting here, you know. I shan't be able to move. +How am I to get at you if I want anything?" + +<p>"What can you want? There'll be lots of servants about." + +<p>"I'll have this bar down, at any rate." And he did succeed +in having removed the bar which had been specially put up to +prevent his intrusion on his own guests in his own house. "I +look upon that fellow's coming here as a very singular sign of the +times," he went on to say. "They'll want before long to know +where I have my clothes made, and who measures me for my +boots!" Perhaps the most remarkable circumstance in the +career of this remarkable man was the fact that he came almost to +believe in himself. + +<p>Father Barham went away certainly disgusted; and yet not +altogether disheartened. The man had not declared that he was +not a Roman Catholic. He had shown himself to be a +brute. He had blasphemed and cursed. He had been +outrageously uncivil to a man whom he must have known to be a +minister of God. He had manifested himself to this priest, +who had been born an English gentleman, as being no +gentleman. But, not the less might he be a good Catholic,—or +good enough at any rate to be influential on the right side. +To his eyes Melmotte, with all his insolent vulgarity, was +infinitely a more hopeful man than Roger Carbury. "He +insulted me," said Father Barham to a brother religionist that +evening within the cloisters of St Fabricius. + +<p>"Did he intend to insult you?" + +<p>"Certainly he did. But what of that? It is not by +the hands of polished men, nor even of the courteous, that this +work has to be done. He was preparing for some great +festival, and his mind was intent upon that." + +<p>"He entertains the Emperor of China this very day," said the +brother priest, who, as a resident in London, heard from time to +time what was being done. + +<p>"The Emperor of China! Ah, that accounts for it. I +do think that he is on our side, even though he gave me but little +encouragement for saying so. Will they vote for him, here at +Westminster?" + +<p>"Our people will. They think that he is rich and can help +them." + +<p>"There is no doubt of his wealth, I suppose," said Father +Barham. + +<p>"Some people do doubt;—but others say he is the richest man in +the world." + +<p>"He looked like it,—and spoke like it," said Father +Barham. "Think what such a man might do, if he be really the +wealthiest man in the world! And if he had been against us +would he not have said so? Though he was uncivil, I am glad +that I saw him." Father Barham, with a simplicity that was +singularly mingled with his religious cunning, made himself believe +before he returned to Beccles that Mr Melmotte was certainly a +Roman Catholic. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="57"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LVII. Lord Nidderdale Tries His Hand Again</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lord Nidderdale had half consented to renew his suit to Marie +Melmotte. He had at any rate half promised to call at +Melmotte's house on the Sunday with the object of so doing. +As far as that promise had been given it was broken, for on the +Sunday he was not seen in Bruton Street. Though not much +given to severe thinking, he did feel that on this occasion there +was need for thought. His father's property was not very +large. His father and his grandfather had both been +extravagant men, and he himself had done something towards adding +to the family embarrassments. It had been an understood +thing, since he had commenced life, that he was to marry an +heiress. In such families as his, when such results have been +achieved, it is generally understood that matters shall be put +right by an heiress. It has become an institution, like +primogeniture, and is almost as serviceable for maintaining the +proper order of things. Rank squanders money; trade makes +it;—and then trade purchases rank by re-gilding its +splendour. The arrangement, as it affects the aristocracy +generally, is well understood, and was quite approved of by the old +marquis—so that he had felt himself to be justified in eating up +the property, which his son's future marriage would renew as a +matter of course. Nidderdale himself had never dissented, had +entertained no fanciful theory opposed to this view, had never +alarmed his father by any liaison tending towards matrimony with +any undowered beauty;—but had claimed his right to "have his +fling" before he devoted himself to the reintegration of the +family property. His father had felt that it would be wrong +and might probably be foolish to oppose so natural a desire. +He had regarded all the circumstances of "the fling" with indulgent +eyes. But there arose some little difference as to the +duration of the fling, and the father had at last found himself +compelled to inform his son that if the fling were carried on much +longer it must be done with internecine war between himself and his +heir. Nidderdale, whose sense and temper were alike good, saw +the thing quite in the proper light. He assured his father +that he had no intention of "cutting up rough," declared that he +was ready for the heiress as soon as the heiress should be put in +his way, and set himself honestly about the task imposed on +him. This had all been arranged at Auld Reekie Castle during +the last winter, and the reader knows the result. + +<p>But the affair had assumed abnormal difficulties. Perhaps +the Marquis had been wrong in flying at wealth which was reputed to +be almost unlimited, but which was not absolutely fixed. A +couple of hundred thousand pounds down might have been secured with +greater ease. But here there had been a prospect of endless +money,—of an inheritance which might not improbably make the Auld +Reekie family conspicuous for its wealth even among the most +wealthy of the nobility. The old man had fallen into the +temptation, and abnormal difficulties had been the result. +Some of these the reader knows. Latterly two difficulties had +culminated above the others. The young lady preferred another +gentleman, and disagreeable stories were afloat, not only as to the +way in which the money had been made, but even as to its very +existence. + +<p>The Marquis, however, was a man who hated to be beaten. As +far as he could learn from inquiry, the money would be there or, at +least, so much money as had been promised. A considerable +sum, sufficient to secure the bridegroom from absolute +shipwreck,—though by no means enough to make a brilliant +marriage,—had in truth been already settled on Marie, and was, +indeed, in her possession. As to that, her father had armed +himself with a power of attorney for drawing the income,—but had +made over the property to his daughter, so that in the event of +unforeseen accidents on 'Change, he might retire to obscure +comfort, and have the means perhaps of beginning again with +whitewashed cleanliness. When doing this, he had doubtless +not anticipated the grandeur to which he would soon rise, or the +fact that he was about to embark on seas so dangerous that this +little harbour of refuge would hardly offer security to his +vessel. Marie had been quite correct in her story to her +favoured lover. And the Marquis's lawyer had ascertained that +if Marie ever married before she herself had restored this money to +her father, her husband would be so far safe,—with this as a +certainty and the immense remainder in prospect. The Marquis +had determined to persevere. Pickering was to be added. +Mr Melmotte had been asked to depone the title-deeds, and had +promised to do so as soon as the day of the wedding should have +been fixed with the consent of all the parties. The Marquis's +lawyer had ventured to express a doubt; but the Marquis had +determined to persevere. The reader will, I trust, remember +that those dreadful misgivings, which are I trust agitating his own +mind, have been borne in upon him by information which had not as +yet reached the Marquis in all its details. + +<p>But Nidderdale had his doubts. That absurd elopement, +which Melmotte declared really to mean nothing,—the romance of a +girl who wanted to have one little fling of her own before she +settled down for life,—was perhaps his strongest objection. +Sir Felix, no doubt, had not gone with her; but then one doesn't +wish to have one's intended wife even attempt to run off with any +one but oneself. "She'll be sick of him by this time, I +should say," his father said to him. "What does it matter, if +the money's there?" The Marquis seemed to think that the +escapade had simply been the girl's revenge against his son for +having made his arrangements so exclusively with Melmotte, instead +of devoting himself to her. Nidderdale acknowledged to +himself that he had been remiss. He told himself that she was +possessed of more spirit than he had thought. By the Sunday +evening he had determined that he would try again. He had +expected that the plum would fall into his mouth. He would +now stretch out his hand to pick it. + +<p>On the Monday he went to the house in Bruton Street, at lunch +time. Melmotte and the two Grendalls had just come over from +their work in the square, and the financier was full of the +priest's visit to him. Madame Melmotte was there, and Miss +Longestaffe, who was to be sent for by her friend Lady Monogram +that afternoon,—and, after they had sat down, Marie came in. +Nidderdale got up and shook hands with her,—of course as though +nothing had happened. Marie, putting a brave face upon it, +struggling hard in the midst of very real difficulties, succeeded +in saying an ordinary word or two. Her position was +uncomfortable. A girl who has run away with her lover and has +been brought back again by her friends, must for a time find it +difficult to appear in society with ease. But when a girl has +run away without her lover,—has run away expecting her lover to go +with her, and has then been brought back, her lover not having +stirred, her state of mind must be peculiarly harassing. But +Marie's courage was good, and she ate her lunch even though she sat +next to Lord Nidderdale. + +<p>Melmotte was very gracious to the young lord. "Did you +ever hear anything like that, Nidderdale?" he said, speaking of the +priest's visit. + +<p>"Mad as a hatter," said Lord Alfred. + +<p>"I don't know much about his madness. I shouldn't wonder +if he had been sent by the Archbishop of Westminster. Why +don't we have an Archbishop of Westminster when they've got +one? I shall have to see to that when I'm in the House. +I suppose there is a bishop, isn't there, Alfred?" Alfred +shook his head. "There's a Dean, I know, for I called on +him. He told me flat he wouldn't vote for me. I thought +all those parsons were Conservatives. It didn't occur to me +that the fellow had come from the Archbishop, or I would have been +more civil to him." + +<p>"Mad as a hatter;—nothing else," said Lord Alfred. + +<p>"You should have seen him, Nidderdale. It would have been +as good as a play to you." + +<p>"I suppose you didn't ask him to the dinner, sir." + +<p>"D–––– the dinner, I'm sick of it," said +Melmotte, frowning. "We must go back again, Alfred. +Those fellows will never get along if they are not looked +after. Come, Miles. Ladies, I shall expect you to be +ready at exactly a quarter before eight. His Imperial Majesty +is to arrive at eight precisely, and I must be there to receive +him. You, Madame, will have to receive your guests in the +drawing-room." The ladies went upstairs, and Lord Nidderdale +followed them. Miss Longestaffe took her departure, alleging +that she couldn't keep her dear friend Lady Monogram waiting for +her. Then there fell upon Madame Melmotte the duty of leaving +the young people together, a duty which she found a great +difficulty in performing. After all that had happened, she +did not know how to get up and go out of the room. As +regarded herself, the troubles of these troublous times were +becoming almost too much for her. She had no pleasure from +her grandeur,—and probably no belief in her husband's +achievements. It was her present duty to assist in getting +Marie married to this young man, and that duty she could only do by +going away. But she did not know how to get out of her +chair. She expressed in fluent French her abhorrence of the +Emperor, and her wish that she might be allowed to remain in bed +during the whole evening. She liked Nidderdale better than +any one else who came there, and wondered at Marie's preference for +Sir Felix. Lord Nidderdale assured her that nothing was so +easy as kings and emperors, because no one was expected to say +anything. She sighed and shook her head, and wished again +that she might be allowed to go to bed. Marie, who was by +degrees plucking up her courage, declared that though kings and +emperors were horrors as a rule, she thought an Emperor of China +would be good fun. Then Madame Melmotte also plucked up her +courage, rose from her chair, and made straight for the door. +"Mamma, where are you going?" said Marie, also rising. Madame +Melmotte, putting her handkerchief up to her face, declared that +she was being absolutely destroyed by a toothache. "I must +see if I can't do something for her," said Marie, hurrying to the +door. But Lord Nidderdale was too quick for her, and stood +with his back to it. "That's a shame," said Marie. + +<p>"Your mother has gone on purpose that I may speak to you," said +his lordship. "Why should you grudge me the opportunity?" + +<p>Marie returned to her chair and again seated herself. She +also had thought much of her own position since her return from +Liverpool. Why had Sir Felix not been there? Why had he +not come since her return, and, at any rate, endeavoured to see +her? Why had he made no attempt to write to her? Had it +been her part to do so, she would have found a hundred ways of +getting at him. She absolutely had walked inside the garden +of the square on Sunday morning, and had contrived to leave a gate +open on each side. But he had made no sign. Her father +had told her that he had not gone to Liverpool—and had assured her +that he had never intended to go. Melmotte had been very +savage with her about the money, and had loudly accused Sir Felix +of stealing it. The repayment he never mentioned,—a piece of +honesty, indeed, which had showed no virtue on the part of Sir +Felix. But even if he had spent the money, why was he not man +enough to come and say so? Marie could have forgiven that +fault,—could have forgiven even the gambling and the drunkenness +which had caused the failure of the enterprise on his side, if he +had had the courage to come and confess to her. What she +could not forgive was continued indifference,—or the cowardice +which forbade him to show himself. She had more than once +almost doubted his love, though as a lover he had been better than +Nidderdale. But now, as far as she could see, he was ready to +consent that the thing should be considered as over between +them. No doubt she could write to him. She had more +than once almost determined to do so. But then she had +reflected that if he really loved her he would come to her. +She was quite ready to run away with a lover, if her lover loved +her; but she would not fling herself at a man's head. +Therefore she had done nothing beyond leaving the garden gates open +on the Sunday morning. + +<p>But what was she to do with herself? She also felt, she +knew not why, that the present turmoil of her father's life might +be brought to an end by some dreadful convulsion. No girl +could be more anxious to be married and taken away from her +home. If Sir Felix did not appear again, what should she +do? She had seen enough of life to be aware that suitors +would come,—would come as long as that convulsion was staved +off. She did not suppose that her journey to Liverpool would +frighten all the men away. But she had thought that it would +put an end to Lord Nidderdale's courtship; and when her father had +commanded her, shaking her by the shoulders, to accept Lord +Nidderdale when he should come on Sunday, she had replied by +expressing her assurance that Lord Nidderdale would never be seen +at that house any more. On the Sunday he had not come; but +here he was now, standing with his back to the drawing-room door, +and cutting off her retreat with the evident intention of renewing +his suit. She was determined at any rate that she would speak +up. "I don't know what you should have to say to me, Lord +Nidderdale." + +<p>"Why shouldn't I have something to say to you?" + +<p>"Because—. Oh, you know why. Besides, I've told you +ever so often, my lord. I thought a gentleman would never go +on with a lady when the lady has told him that she liked somebody +else better." + +<p>"Perhaps I don't believe you when you tell me." + +<p>"Well; that is impudent! You may believe it then. I +think I've given you reason to believe it, at any rate." + +<p>"You can't be very fond of him now, I should think." + +<p>"That's all you know about it, my lord. Why shouldn't I be +fond of him? Accidents will happen, you know." + +<p>"I don't want to make any allusion to anything that's +unpleasant, Miss Melmotte." + +<p>"You may say just what you please. All the world knows +about it. Of course I went to Liverpool, and of course papa +had me brought back again." + +<p>"Why did not Sir Felix go?" + +<p>"I don't think, my lord, that that can be any business of +yours." + +<p>"But I think that it is, and I'll tell you why. You might +as well let me say what I've got to say,—out at once." + +<p>"You may say what you like, but it can't make any difference." + +<p>"You knew me before you knew him, you know." + +<p>"What does that matter? If it comes to that, I knew ever +so many people before I knew you." + +<p>"And you were engaged to me." + +<p>"You broke it off." + +<p>"Listen to me for a moment or two. I know I did. Or, +rather, your father and my father broke it off for us." + +<p>"If we had cared for each other they couldn't have broken it +off. Nobody in the world could break me off as long as I felt +that he really loved me;—not if they were to cut me in +pieces. But you didn't care, not a bit. You did it just +because your father told you. And so did I. But I know +better than that now. You never cared for me a bit more than +for the old woman at the crossing. You thought I didn't +understand;—but I did. And now you've come again because +your father has told you again. And you'd better go away." + +<p>"There's a great deal of truth in what you say." + +<p>"It's all true, my lord. Every word of it." + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't call me my lord." + +<p>"I suppose you are a lord, and therefore I shall call you +so. I never called you anything else when they pretended that +we were to be married, and you never asked me. I never even +knew what your name was till I looked it out in the book after I +had consented." + +<p>"There is truth in what you say;—but it isn't true now. +How was I to love you when I had seen so little of you? I do +love you now." + +<p>"Then you needn't;—for it isn't any good." + +<p>"I do love you now, and I think you'd find that I should be +truer to you than that fellow who wouldn't take the trouble to go +down to Liverpool with you." + +<p>"You don't know why he didn't go." + +<p>"Well;—perhaps I do. But I did not come here to say +anything about that." + +<p>"Why didn't he go, Lord Nidderdale?" She asked the +question with an altered tone and an altered face. "If you +really know, you might as well tell me." + +<p>"No, Marie;—that's just what I ought not to do. But he +ought to tell you. Do you really in your heart believe that +he means to come back to you?" + +<p>"I don't know," she said, sobbing. "I do love him;—I do +indeed. I know that you are good-natured. You are more +good-natured than he is. But he did like me. You never +did;—no; not a bit. It isn't true. I ain't a +fool. I know. No;—go away. I won't let you +now. I don't care what he is; I'll be true to him. Go +away, Lord Nidderdale. You oughtn't to go on like that +because papa and mamma let you come here. I didn't let you +come. I don't want you to come. No;—I won't say any +kind word to you. I love Sir Felix Carbury better—than any +person—in all the world. There! I don't know whether +you call that kind, but it's true." + +<p>"Say good-bye to me, Marie." + +<p>"Oh, I don't mind saying good-bye. Good-bye, my lord; and +don't come any more." + +<p>"Yes, I shall. Good-bye, Marie. You'll find the +difference between me and him yet." So he took his leave, and +as he sauntered away he thought that upon the whole he had +prospered, considering the extreme difficulties under which he had +laboured in carrying on his suit. "She's quite a different +sort of girl from what I took her to be," he said to himself "Upon +my word, she's awfully jolly." + +<p>Marie, when the interview was over, walked about the room almost +in dismay. It was borne in upon her by degrees that Sir Felix +Carbury was not at all points quite as nice as she had thought +him. Of his beauty there was no doubt; but then she could +trust him for no other good quality. Why did he not come to +her? Why did he not show some pluck? Why did he not +tell her the truth? She had quite believed Lord Nidderdale +when he said that he knew the cause that had kept Sir Felix from +going to Liverpool. And she had believed him, too, when he +said that it was not his business to tell her. But the +reason, let it be what it might, must, if known, be prejudicial to +her love. Lord Nidderdale was, she thought, not at all +beautiful. He had a commonplace, rough face, with a turn-up +nose, high cheek bones, no especial complexion, sandy-coloured +whiskers, and bright laughing eyes,—not at all an Adonis such as +her imagination had painted. But if he had only made love at +first as he had attempted to do it now, she thought that she would +have submitted herself to be cut in pieces for him. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="58"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LVIII. Mr Squercum Is Employed</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>While these things were being done in Bruton Street and +Grosvenor Square horrid rumours were prevailing in the City and +spreading from the City westwards to the House of Commons, which +was sitting this Monday afternoon with a prospect of an adjournment +at seven o'clock in consequence of the banquet to be given to the +Emperor. It is difficult to explain the exact nature of this +rumour, as it was not thoroughly understood by those who propagated +it. But it is certainly the case that the word forgery was +whispered by more than one pair of lips. + +<p>Many of Melmotte's staunchest supporters thought that he was +very wrong not to show himself that day in the City. What +good could he do pottering about among the chairs and benches in +the banqueting room? There were people to manage that kind of +thing. In such an affair it was his business to do simply as +he was told, and to pay the bill. It was not as though he +were giving a little dinner to a friend, and had to see himself +that the wine was brought up in good order. His work was in +the City; and at such a time as this and in such a crisis as this, +he should have been in the City. Men will whisper forgery +behind a man's back who would not dare even to think it before his +face. + +<p>Of this particular rumour our young friend Dolly Longestaffe was +the parent. With unhesitating resolution, nothing awed by his +father, Dolly had gone to his attorney, Mr Squercum, immediately +after that Friday on which Mr Longestaffe first took his seat at +the Railway Board. Dolly was possessed of fine qualities, but +it must be owned that veneration was not one of them. "I +don't know why Mr Melmotte is to be different from anybody else," +he had said to his father. "When I buy a thing and don't pay +for it, it is because I haven't got the tin, and I suppose it's +about the same with him. It's all right, no doubt, but I +don't see why he should have got hold of the place till the money +was paid down." + +<p>"Of course it's all right," said the father. "You think +you understand everything, when you really understand nothing at +all." + +<p>"Of course I'm slow," said Dolly. "I don't comprehend +these things. But then Squercum does. When a fellow is +stupid himself, he ought to have a sharp fellow to look after his +business." + +<p>"You'll ruin me and yourself too, if you go to such a man as +that. Why can't you trust Mr Bideawhile? Slow and +Bideawhile have been the family lawyers for a century." Dolly +made some remark as to the old family advisers which was by no +means pleasing to the father's ears, and went his way. The +father knew his boy, and knew that his boy would go to +Squercum. All he could himself do was to press Mr Melmotte +for the money with what importunity he could assume. He wrote +a timid letter to Mr Melmotte, which had no result; and then, on +the next Friday, again went into the City and there encountered +perturbation of spirit and sheer loss of time,—as the reader has +already learned. + +<p>Squercum was a thorn in the side of all the Bideawhiles. +Mr Slow had been gathered to his fathers, but of the Bideawhiles +there were three in the business, a father and two sons, to whom +Squercum was a pest and a musquito, a running sore and a skeleton +in the cupboard. It was not only in reference to Mr +Longestaffe's affairs that they knew Squercum. The +Bideawhiles piqued themselves on the decorous and orderly +transaction of their business. It had grown to be a rule in +the house that anything done quickly must be done badly. They +never were in a hurry for money, and they expected their clients +never to be in a hurry for work. Squercum was the very +opposite to this. He had established himself, without +predecessors and without a partner, and we may add without capital, +at a little office in Fetter Lane, and had there made a character +for getting things done after a marvellous and new fashion. +And it was said of him that he was fairly honest, though it must be +owned that among the Bideawhiles of the profession this was not the +character which he bore. He did sharp things no doubt, and +had no hesitation in supporting the interests of sons against those +of their fathers. In more than one case he had computed for a +young heir the exact value of his share in a property as compared +to that of his father, and had come into hostile contact with many +family Bideawhiles. He had been closely watched. There +were some who, no doubt, would have liked to crush a man who was at +once so clever, and so pestilential. But he had not as yet +been crushed, and had become quite in vogue with elder sons. +Some three years since his name had been mentioned to Dolly by a +friend who had for years been at war with his father, and Squercum +had been quite a comfort to Dolly. + +<p>He was a mean-looking little man, not yet above forty, who +always wore a stiff light-coloured cotton cravat, an old dress +coat, a coloured dingy waistcoat, and light trousers of some hue +different from his waistcoat. He generally had on dirty shoes +and gaiters. He was light-haired, with light whiskers, with +putty-formed features, a squat nose, a large mouth, and very bright +blue eyes. He looked as unlike the normal Bideawhile of the +profession as a man could be; and it must be owned, though an +attorney, would hardly have been taken for a gentleman from his +personal appearance. He was very quick, and active in his +motions, absolutely doing his law work himself, and trusting to his +three or four juvenile clerks for little more than scrivener's +labour. He seldom or never came to his office on a Saturday, +and many among his enemies said that he was a Jew. What evil +will not a rival say to stop the flow of grist to the mill of the +hated one? But this report Squercum rather liked, and +assisted. They who knew the inner life of the little man +declared that he kept a horse and hunted down in Essex on Saturday, +doing a bit of gardening in the summer months;—and they said also +that he made up for this by working hard all Sunday. Such was +Mr Squercum,—a sign, in his way, that the old things are being +changed. + +<p>Squercum sat at a desk, covered with papers in chaotic +confusion, on a chair which moved on a pivot. His desk was +against the wall, and when clients came to him, he turned himself +sharp round, sticking out his dirty shoes, throwing himself back +till his body was an inclined plane, with his hands thrust into his +pockets. In this attitude he would listen to his client's +story, and would himself speak as little as possible. It was +by his instructions that Dolly had insisted on getting his share of +the purchase money for Pickering into his own hands, so that the +incumbrance on his own property might be paid off. He now +listened as Dolly told him of the delay in the payment. +"Melmotte's at Pickering?" asked the attorney. Then Dolly +informed him how the tradesmen of the great financier had already +half knocked down the house. Squercum still listened, and +promised to look to it. He did ask what authority Dolly had +given for the surrender of the title-deeds. Dolly declared +that he had given authority for the sale, but none for the +surrender. His father, some time since, had put before him, +for his signature, a letter, prepared in Mr Bideawhile's office, +which Dolly said that he had refused even to read, and certainly +had not signed. Squercum again said that he'd look to it, and +bowed Dolly out of his room. "They've got him to sign +something when he was tight," said Squercum to himself, knowing +something of the habits of his client. "I wonder whether his +father did it, or old Bideawhile, or Melmotte himself?" Mr +Squercum was inclined to think that Bideawhile would not have done +it, that Melmotte could have had no opportunity, and that the +father must have been the practitioner. "It's not the trick +of a pompous old fool either," said Mr Squercum, in his +soliloquy. He went to work, however, making himself +detestably odious among the very respectable clerks in Mr +Bideawhile's office,—men who considered themselves to be +altogether superior to Squercum himself in professional standing. + +<p>And now there came this rumour which was so far particular in +its details that it inferred the forgery, of which it accused Mr +Melmotte, to his mode of acquiring the Pickering property. +The nature of the forgery was of course described in various +ways,—as was also the signature said to have been forged. +But there were many who believed, or almost believed, that +something wrong had been done,—that some great fraud had been +committed; and in connection with this it was ascertained,—by some +as a matter of certainty,—that the Pickering estate had been +already mortgaged by Melmotte to its full value at an assurance +office. In such a transaction there would be nothing +dishonest; but as this place had been bought for the great man's +own family use, and not as a speculation, even this report of the +mortgage tended to injure his credit. And then, as the day +went on, other tidings were told as to other properties. +Houses in the East-end of London were said to have been bought and +sold, without payment of the purchase money as to the buying, and +with receipt of the purchase money as to the selling. + +<p>It was certainly true that Squercum himself had seen the letter +in Mr Bideawhile's office which conveyed to the father's lawyer the +son's sanction for the surrender of the title-deeds, and that that +letter, prepared in Mr Bideawhile's office, purported to have +Dolly's signature. Squercum said but little, remembering that +his client was not always clear in the morning as to anything he +had done on the preceding evening. But the signature, though +it was scrawled as Dolly always scrawled it, was not like the +scrawl of a drunken man. + +<p>The letter was said to have been sent to Mr Bideawhile's office +with other letters and papers, direct from old Mr +Longestaffe. Such was the statement made at first to Mr +Squercum by the Bideawhile party, who at that moment had no doubt +of the genuineness of the letter or of the accuracy of their +statement. Then Squercum saw his client again, and returned +to the charge at Bideawhile's office, with the positive assurance +that the signature was a forgery. Dolly, when questioned by +Squercum, quite admitted his propensity to be "tight". +He had no reticence, no feeling of disgrace on such matters. +But he had signed no letter when he was tight. "Never did +such a thing in my life, and nothing could make me," said +Dolly. "I'm never tight except at the club, and the letter +couldn't have been there. I'll be drawn and quartered if I +ever signed it. That's flat." Dolly was intent on going +to his father at once, on going to Melmotte at once, on going to +Bideawhile's at once, and making there "no end of a row,"—but +Squercum stopped him. "We'll just ferret this thing out +quietly," said Squercum, who perhaps thought that there would be +high honour in discovering the peccadillos of so great a man as Mr +Melmotte. Mr Longestaffe, the father, had heard nothing of +the matter till the Saturday after his last interview with Melmotte +in the City. He had then called at Bideawhile's office in +Lincoln's Inn Fields, and had been shown the letter. He +declared at once that he had never sent the letter to Mr +Bideawhile. He had begged his son to sign the letter and his +son had refused. He did not at that moment distinctly +remember what he had done with the letter unsigned. He +believed he had left it with the other papers; but it was possible +that his son might have taken it away. He acknowledged that +at the time he had been both angry and unhappy. He didn't +think that he could have sent the letter back unsigned,—but he was +not sure. He had more than once been in his own study in +Bruton Street since Mr Melmotte had occupied the house,—by that +gentleman's leave,—having left various papers there under his own +lock and key. Indeed it had been matter of agreement that he +should have access to his own study when he let the house. He +thought it probable that he would have kept back the unsigned +letter, and have kept it under lock and key, when he sent away the +other papers. Then reference was made to Mr Longestaffe's own +letter to the lawyer, and it was found that he had not even alluded +to that which his son had been asked to sign; but that he had said, +in his own usually pompous style, that Mr Longestaffe, junior, was +still prone to create unsubstantial difficulties. Mr +Bideawhile was obliged to confess that there had been a want of +caution among his own people. This allusion to the creation +of difficulties by Dolly, accompanied, as it was supposed to have +been, by Dolly's letter doing away with all difficulties, should +have attracted notice. Dolly's letter must have come in a +separate envelope; but such envelope could not be found, and the +circumstance was not remembered by the clerk. The clerk who +had prepared the letter for Dolly's signature represented himself +as having been quite satisfied when the letter came again beneath +his notice with Dolly's well-known signature. + +<p>Such were the facts as far as they were known at Messrs. Slow +and Bideawhile's office,—from whom no slightest rumour emanated; +and as they had been in part collected by Squercum, who was +probably less prudent. The Bideawhiles were still perfectly +sure that Dolly had signed the letter, believing the young man to +be quite incapable of knowing on any day what he had done on the +day before. + +<p>Squercum was quite sure that his client had not signed it. +And it must be owned on Dolly's behalf that his manner on this +occasion was qualified to convince. "Yes," he said to +Squercum; "it's easy saying that I'm lack-a-daisical. But I +know when I'm lack-a-daisical and when I'm not. Awake or +asleep, drunk or sober, I never signed that letter." And Mr +Squercum believed him. + +<p>It would be hard to say how the rumour first got into the City +on this Monday morning. Though the elder Longestaffe had +first heard of the matter only on the previous Saturday, Mr +Squercum had been at work for above a week. Mr Squercum's +little matter alone might hardly have attracted the attention which +certainly was given on this day to Mr Melmotte's private +affairs;—but other facts coming to light assisted Squercum's +views. A great many shares of the South Central Pacific and +Mexican Railway had been thrown upon the market, all of which had +passed through the hands of Mr Cohenlupe;—and Mr Cohenlupe in the +City had been all to Mr Melmotte as Lord Alfred had been at the +West End. Then there was the mortgage of this Pickering +property, for which the money certainly had not been paid; and +there was the traffic with half a street of houses near the +Commercial Road, by which a large sum of money had come into Mr +Melmotte's hands. It might, no doubt, all be right. +There were many who thought that it would all be right. There +were not a few who expressed the most thorough contempt for these +rumours. But it was felt to be a pity that Mr Melmotte was +not in the City. + +<p>This was the day of the dinner. The Lord Mayor had even +made up his mind that he would not go to the dinner. What one +of his brother aldermen said to him about leaving others in the +lurch might be quite true; but, as his lordship remarked, Melmotte +was a commercial man, and as these were commercial transactions it +behoved the Lord Mayor of London to be more careful than other +men. He had always had his doubts, and he would not go. +Others of the chosen few of the City who had been honoured with +commands to meet the Emperor resolved upon absenting themselves +unless the Lord Mayor went. The affair was very much +discussed, and there were no less than six declared City +defaulters. At the last moment a seventh was taken ill and +sent a note to Miles Grendall excusing himself, which was thrust +into the secretary's hands just as the Emperor arrived. + +<p>But a reverse worse than this took place;—a defalcation more +injurious to the Melmotte interests generally even than that which +was caused either by the prudence or by the cowardice of the City +Magnates. The House of Commons, at its meeting, had heard the +tidings in an exaggerated form. It was whispered about that +Melmotte had been detected in forging the deed of conveyance of a +large property, and that he had already been visited by +policemen. By some it was believed that the Great Financier +would lie in the hands of the Philistines while the Emperor of +China was being fed at his house. In the third edition of the +"Evening Pulpit" came out a mysterious paragraph which nobody could +understand but they who had known all about it before. "A +rumour is prevalent that frauds to an enormous extent have been +committed by a gentleman whose name we are particularly unwilling +to mention. If it be so it is indeed remarkable that they +should have come to light at the present moment. We cannot +trust ourselves to say more than this." No one wishes to dine +with a swindler. No one likes even to have dined with a +swindler,—especially to have dined with him at a time when his +swindling was known or suspected. The Emperor of China no +doubt was going to dine with this man. The motions of +Emperors are managed with such ponderous care that it was held to +be impossible now to save the country from what would doubtless be +felt to be a disgrace if it should hereafter turn out that a forger +had been solicited to entertain the imperial guest of the +country. Nor was the thing as yet so far certain as to +justify such a charge, were it possible. But many men were +unhappy in their minds. How would the story be told hereafter +if Melmotte should be allowed to play out his game of host to the +Emperor, and be arrested for forgery as soon as the Eastern Monarch +should have left his house? How would the brother of the Sun +like the remembrance of the banquet which he had been instructed to +honour with his presence? How would it tell in all the +foreign newspapers, in New York, in Paris, and Vienna, that this +man who had been cast forth from the United States, from France, +and from Austria had been selected as the great and honourable type +of British Commerce? There were those in the House who +thought that the absolute consummation of the disgrace might yet be +avoided, and who were of opinion that the dinner should be +"postponed." The leader of the Opposition had a few words on +the subject with the Prime Minister. "It is the merest +rumour," said the Prime Minister. "I have inquired, and there +is nothing to justify me in thinking that the charges can be +substantiated." + +<p>"They say that the story is believed in the City." + +<p>"I should not feel myself justified in acting upon such a +report. The Prince might probably find it impossible not to +go. Where should we be if Mr Melmotte to-morrow were able to +prove the whole to be a calumny, and to show that the thing had +been got up with a view of influencing the election at +Westminster? The dinner must certainly go on." + +<p>"And you will go yourself?" + +<p>"Most assuredly," said the Prime Minister. "And I hope +that you will keep me in countenance." His political +antagonist declared with a smile that at such a crisis he would not +desert his honourable friend;—but he could not answer for his +followers. There was, he admitted, a strong feeling among the +leaders of the Conservative party of distrust in Melmotte. He +considered it probable that among his friends who had been invited +there would be some who would be unwilling to meet even the Emperor +of China on the existing terms. "They should remember," said +the Prime Minister, "that they are also to meet their own Prince, +and that empty seats on such an occasion will be a dishonour to +him." + +<p>"Just at present I can only answer for myself" said the leader +of the Opposition.—At that moment even the Prime Minister was +much disturbed in his mind; but in such emergencies a Prime +Minister can only choose the least of two evils. To have +taken the Emperor to dine with a swindler would be very bad; but to +desert him, and to stop the coming of the Emperor and all the +Princes on a false rumour, would be worse. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="59"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LIX. The Dinner</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It does sometimes occur in life that an unambitious man, who is +in no degree given to enterprises, who would fain be safe, is +driven by the cruelty of circumstances into a position in which he +must choose a side, and in which, though he has no certain guide as +to which side he should choose, he is aware that he will be +disgraced if he should take the wrong side. This was felt as +a hardship by many who were quite suddenly forced to make up their +mind whether they would go to Melmotte's dinner, or join themselves +to the faction of those who had determined to stay away although +they had accepted invitations. Some there were not without a +suspicion that the story against Melmotte had been got up simply as +an electioneering trick,—so that Mr Alf might carry the borough on +the next day. As a dodge for an election this might be very +well, but any who might be deterred by such a manoeuvre from +meeting the Emperor and supporting the Prince would surely be +marked men. And none of the wives, when they were consulted, +seemed to care a straw whether Melmotte was a swindler or +not. Would the Emperor and the Princes and Princesses be +there? This was the only question which concerned them. +They did not care whether Melmotte was arrested at the dinner or +after the dinner, so long as they, with others, could show their +diamonds in the presence of eastern and western royalty. But +yet,—what a fiasco would it be, if at this very instant of time +the host should be apprehended for common forgery! The great +thing was to ascertain whether others were going. If a +hundred or more out of the two hundred were to be absent how +dreadful would be the position of those who were present! And +how would the thing go if at the last moment the Emperor should be +kept away? The Prime Minister had decided that the Emperor +and the Prince should remain altogether in ignorance of the charges +which were preferred against the man; but of that these doubters +were unaware. There was but little time for a man to go about +town and pick up the truth from those who were really informed; and +questions were asked in an uncomfortable and restless manner. +"Is your Grace going?" said Lionel Lupton to the Duchess of +Stevenage,—having left the House and gone into the park between +six and seven to pick up some hints among those who were known to +have been invited. The Duchess was Lord Alfred's sister, and +of course she was going. "I usually keep engagements when I +make them, Mr Lupton," said the Duchess. She had been assured +by Lord Alfred not a quarter of an hour before that everything was +as straight as a die. Lord Alfred had not then even heard of +the rumour. But ultimately both Lionel Lupton and Beauchamp +Beauclerk attended the dinner. They had received special +tickets as supporters of Mr Melmotte at the election,—out of the +scanty number allotted to that gentleman himself,—and they thought +themselves bound in honour to be there. But they, with their +leader, and one other influential member of the party, were all who +at last came as the political friends of the candidate for +Westminster. The existing ministers were bound to attend to +the Emperor and the Prince. But members of the Opposition, by +their presence, would support the man and the politician, and both +as a man and as a politician they were ashamed of him. + +<p>When Melmotte arrived at his own door with his wife and daughter +he had heard nothing of the matter. That a man so vexed with +affairs of money, so laden with cares, encompassed by such dangers, +should be free from suspicion and fear it is impossible to +imagine. That such burdens should be borne at all is a wonder +to those whose shoulders have never been broadened for such +work;—as is the strength of the blacksmith's arm to men who have +never wielded a hammer. Surely his whole life must have been +a life of terrors! But of any special peril to which he was +at that moment subject, or of any embarrassment which might affect +the work of the evening, he knew nothing. He placed his wife +in the drawing-room and himself in the hall, and arranged his +immediate satellites around him,—among whom were included the two +Grendalls, young Nidderdale, and Mr Cohenlupe,—with a feeling of +gratified glory. Nidderdale down at the House had heard the +rumour, but had determined that he would not as yet fly from his +colours. Cohenlupe had also come up from the House, where no +one had spoken to him. Though grievously frightened during +the last fortnight, he had not dared to be on the wing as +yet. And, indeed, to what clime could such a bird as he fly +in safety? He had not only heard,—but also knew very much, +and was not prepared to enjoy the feast. Since they had been +in the hall Miles had spoken dreadful words to his father. +"You've heard about it; haven't you?" whispered Miles. Lord +Alfred, remembering his sister's question, became almost pale, but +declared that he had heard nothing. "They're saying all +manner of things in the City;—forgery and heaven knows what. +The Lord Mayor is not coming." Lord Alfred made no +reply. It was the philosophy of his life that misfortunes +when they came should be allowed to settle themselves. But he +was unhappy. + +<p>The grand arrivals were fairly punctual, and the very grand +people all came. The unfortunate Emperor,—we must consider a +man to be unfortunate who is compelled to go through such work as +this,—with impassible and awful dignity, was marshalled into the +room on the ground floor, whence he and other royalties were to be +marshalled back into the banqueting hall. Melmotte, bowing to +the ground, walked backwards before him, and was probably taken by +the Emperor for some Court Master of the Ceremonies especially +selected to walk backwards on this occasion. The Princes had +all shaken hands with their host, and the Princesses had bowed +graciously. Nothing of the rumour had as yet been whispered +in royal palaces. Besides royalty the company allowed to +enter the room downstairs was very select. The Prime +Minister, one archbishop, two duchesses, and an ex-governor of +India with whose features the Emperor was supposed to be peculiarly +familiar, were alone there. The remainder of the company, +under the superintendence of Lord Alfred, were received in the +drawing-room above. Everything was going on well, and they +who had come and had thought of not coming were proud of their +wisdom. + +<p>But when the company was seated at dinner the deficiencies were +visible enough, and were unfortunate. Who does not know the +effect made by the absence of one or two from a table intended for +ten or twelve,—how grievous are the empty places, how destructive +of the outward harmony and grace which the hostess has endeavoured +to preserve are these interstices, how the lady in her wrath +declares to herself that those guilty ones shall never have another +opportunity of filling a seat at her table? Some twenty, most +of whom had been asked to bring their wives, had slunk from their +engagements, and the empty spaces were sufficient to declare a +united purpose. A week since it had been understood that +admission for the evening could not be had for love or money, and +that a seat at the dinner-table was as a seat at some banquet of +the gods! Now it looked as though the room were but +half-filled. There were six absences from the City. +Another six of Mr Melmotte's own political party were away. +The archbishops and the bishop were there, because bishops never +hear worldly tidings till after other people;—but that very Master +of the Buckhounds for whom so much pressure had been made did not +come. Two or three peers were absent, and so also was that +editor who had been chosen to fill Mr Alf's place. One poet, +two painters, and a philosopher had received timely notice at their +clubs, and had gone home. The three independent members of +the House of Commons for once agreed in their policy, and would not +lend the encouragement of their presence to a man suspected of +forgery. Nearly forty places were vacant when the business of +the dinner commenced. + +<p>Melmotte had insisted that Lord Alfred should sit next to +himself at the big table, and having had the objectionable bar +removed, and his own chair shoved one step nearer to the centre, +had carried his point. With the anxiety natural to such an +occasion, he glanced repeatedly round the hall, and of course +became aware that many were absent. "How is it that there are +so many places empty?" he said to his faithful Achates. + +<p>"Don't know," said Achates, shaking his head, steadfastly +refusing to look round upon the hall. + +<p>Melmotte waited awhile, then looked round again, and asked the +question in another shape: "Hasn't there been some mistake about +the numbers? There's room for ever so many more." + +<p>"Don't know," said Lord Alfred, who was unhappy in his mind, and +repenting himself that he had ever seen Mr Melmotte. + +<p>"What the deuce do you mean?" whispered Melmotte. "You've +been at it from the beginning and ought to know. When I +wanted to ask Brehgert, you swore that you couldn't squeeze a +place." + +<p>"Can't say anything about it," said Lord Alfred, with his eyes +fixed upon his plate. + +<p>"I'll be d–––– if I don't find out," +said Melmotte. "There's either some horrible blunder, or else +there's been imposition. I don't see quite clearly. +Where's Sir Gregory Gribe?" + +<p>"Hasn't come, I suppose." + +<p>"And where's the Lord Mayor?" Melmotte, in spite of +royalty, was now sitting with his face turned round upon the +hall. "I know all their places, and I know where they were +put. Have you seen the Lord Mayor?" + +<p>"No; I haven't seen him at all." + +<p>"But he was to come. What's the meaning of it, Alfred?" + +<p>"Don't know anything about it." He shook his head but +would not, for even a moment, look round upon the room. + +<p>"And where's Mr Killegrew,—and Sir David Boss?" Mr +Killegrew and Sir David were gentlemen of high standing, and +destined for important offices in the Conservative party. +"There are ever so many people not here. Why, there's not +above half of them down the room. What's up, Alfred? I +must know." + +<p>"I tell you I know nothing. I could not make them +come." Lord Alfred's answers were made not only with a surly +voice, but also with a surly heart. He was keenly alive to +the failure, and alive also to the feeling that the failure would +partly be attached to himself. At the present moment he was +anxious to avoid observation, and it seemed to him that Melmotte, +by the frequency and impetuosity of his questions, was drawing +special attention to him. "If you go on making a row," he +said, "I shall go away." Melmotte looked at him with all his +eyes. "Just sit quiet and let the thing go on. You'll +know all about it soon enough." This was hardly the way to +give Mr Melmotte peace of mind. For a few minutes he did sit +quiet. Then he got up and moved down the hall behind the +guests. + +<p>In the meantime, Imperial Majesty and Royalties of various +denominations ate their dinner, without probably observing those +Banquo's seats. As the Emperor talked Manchoo only, and as +there was no one present who could even interpret Manchoo into +English,—the imperial interpreter condescending only to interpret +Manchoo into ordinary Chinese which had to be reinterpreted,—it +was not within his Imperial Majesty's power to have much +conversation with his neighbours. And as his neighbours on +each side of him were all cousins and husbands, and brothers and +wives, who saw each constantly under, let us presume, more +comfortable circumstances, they had not very much to say to each +other. Like most of us, they had their duties to do, and, +like most of us, probably found their duties irksome. The +brothers and sisters and cousins were used to it; but that awful +Emperor, solid, solemn, and silent, must, if the spirit of an +Eastern Emperor be at all like that of a Western man, have had a +weary time of it. He sat there for more than two hours, +awful, solid, solemn, and silent, not eating very much,—for this +was not his manner of eating; nor drinking very much,—for this was +not his manner of drinking; but wondering, no doubt, within his own +awful bosom, at the changes which were coming when an Emperor of +China was forced, by outward circumstances, to sit and hear this +buzz of voices and this clatter of knives and forks. "And +this," he must have said to himself, "is what they call royalty in +the West!" If a prince of our own was forced, for the good of +the country, to go among some far-distant outlandish people, and +there to be poked in the ribs, and slapped on the back all round, +the change to him could hardly be so great. + +<p>"Where's Sir Gregory?" said Melmotte, in a hoarse whisper, +bending over the chair of a City friend. It was old Todd, the +senior partner of Todd, Brehgert, and Goldsheiner. Mr Todd +was a very wealthy man, and had a considerable following in the +City. + +<p>"Ain't he here?" said Todd,—knowing very well who had come from +the City and who had declined. + +<p>"No;—and the Lord Mayor's not come;—nor Postlethwaite, nor +Bunter. What's the meaning of it?" + +<p>Todd looked first at one neighbour and then at another before he +answered. "I'm here, that's all I can say, Mr Melmotte; and +I've had a very good dinner. They who haven't come, have lost +a very good dinner." + +<p>There was a weight upon Melmotte's mind of which he could not +rid himself. He knew from the old man's manner, and he knew +also from Lord Alfred's manner, that there was something which each +of them could tell him if he would. But he was unable to make +the men open their mouths. And yet it might be so important +to him that he should know! "It's very odd," he said, "that +gentlemen should promise to come and then stay away. There +were hundreds anxious to be present whom I should have been glad to +welcome, if I had known that there would be room. I think it +is very odd." + +<p>"It is odd," said Mr Todd, turning his attention to the plate +before him. + +<p>Melmotte had lately seen much of Beaucharnp Beauclerk, in +reference to the coming election. Passing back up the table, +he found the gentleman with a vacant seat on one side of him. +There were many vacant seats in this part of the room, as the +places for the Conservative gentlemen had been set apart +together. There Mr Melmotte seated himself for a minute, +thinking that he might get the truth from his new ally. +Prudence should have kept him silent. Let the cause of these +desertions have been what it might, it ought to have been clear to +him that he could apply no remedy to it now. But he was +bewildered and dismayed, and his mind within him was changing at +every moment. He was now striving to trust to his arrogance +and declaring that nothing should cow him. And then again he +was so cowed that he was ready to creep to any one for +assistance. Personally, Mr Beauclerk had disliked the man +greatly. Among the vulgar, loud upstarts whom he had known, +Melmotte was the vulgarest, the loudest, and the most +arrogant. But he had taken the business of Melmotte's +election in hand, and considered himself bound to stand by Melmotte +till that was over; and he was now the guest of the man in his own +house, and was therefore constrained to courtesy. His wife +was sitting by him, and he at once introduced her to Mr +Melmotte. "You have a wonderful assemblage here, Mr +Melmotte," said the lady, looking up at the royal table. + +<p>"Yes, ma'am, yes. His Majesty the Emperor has been pleased +to intimate that he has been much gratified."—Had the Emperor +in truth said so, no one who looked at him could have believed his +imperial word.—"Can you tell me, Mr Beauchamp, why those +other gentlemen are not here? It looks very odd; does it +not?" + +<p>"Ah; you mean Killegrew." + +<p>"Yes; Mr Killegrew and Sir David Boss, and the whole lot. +I made a particular point of their coming. I said I wouldn't +have the dinner at all unless they were to be asked. They +were going to make it a Government thing; but I said no. I +insisted on the leaders of our own party; and now they're not +here. I know the cards were sent and, by George, I have their +answers, saying they'd come." + +<p>"I suppose some of them are engaged," said Mr Beauchamp. + +<p>"Engaged! What business has a man to accept one engagement +and then take another? And, if so, why shouldn't he write and +make his excuses? No, Mr Beauchamp, that won't go down." + +<p>"I'm here, at any rate," said Beauchamp, making the very answer +that had occurred to Mr Todd. + +<p>"Oh, yes, you're here. You're all right. But what is +it, Mr Beauchamp? There's something up, and you must have +heard." And so it was clear to Mr Beauchamp that the man knew +nothing about it himself. If there was anything wrong, +Melmotte was not aware that the wrong had been discovered. +"Is it anything about the election to-morrow?" + +<p>"One never can tell what is actuating people," said Mr +Beauchamp. + +<p>"If you know anything about the matter I think you ought to tell +me." + +<p>"I know nothing except that the ballot will be taken +to-morrow. You and I have got nothing more to do in the +matter except to wait the result." + +<p>"Well; I suppose it's all right," said Melmotte, rising and +going back to his seat. But he knew that things were not all +right. Had his political friends only been absent, he might +have attributed their absence to some political cause which would +not have touched him deeply. But the treachery of the Lord +Mayor and of Sir Gregory Gribe was a blow. For another hour +after he had returned to his place, the Emperor sat solemn in his +chair; and then, at some signal given by some one, he was +withdrawn. The ladies had already left the room about half an +hour. According to the programme arranged for the evening, +the royal guests were to return to the smaller room for a cup of +coffee, and were then to be paraded upstairs before the multitude +who would by that time have arrived, and to remain there long +enough to justify the invited ones in saying that they had spent +the evening with the Emperor and the Princes and the +Princesses. The plan was carried out perfectly. At +half-past ten the Emperor was made to walk upstairs, and for half +an hour sat awful and composed in an arm-chair that had been +prepared for him. How one would wish to see the inside of the +mind of the Emperor as it worked on that occasion! + +<p>Melmotte, when his guests ascended his stairs, went back into +the banqueting-room and through to the hall, and wandered about +till he found Miles Grendall. + +<p>"Miles," he said, "tell me what the row is." + +<p>"How row?" asked Miles. + +<p>"There's something wrong, and you know all about it. Why +didn't the people come?" Miles, looking guilty, did not even +attempt to deny his knowledge. "Come; what is it? We +might as well know all about it at once." Miles looked down +on the ground, and grunted something. "Is it about the +election?" + +<p>"No, it's not that," said Miles. + +<p>"Then what is it?" + +<p>"They got hold of something to-day in the City—about Pickering." + +<p>"They did, did they? And what were they saying about +Pickering? Come; you might as well out with it. You +don't suppose that I care what lies they tell." + +<p>"They say there's been something—forged. Title-deeds, I +think they say." + +<p>"Title-deeds! that I have forged title-deeds. Well; +that's beginning well. And his lordship has stayed away from +my house after accepting my invitation because he has heard that +story! All right, Miles; that will do." And the Great +Financier went upstairs into his own drawing-room. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="60"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LX. Miss Longestaffe's Lover</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>A few days before that period in our story which we have now +reached, Miss Longestaffe was seated in Lady Monogram's back +drawing-room, discussing the terms on which the two tickets for +Madame Melmotte's grand reception had been transferred to Lady +Monogram,—the place on the cards for the names of the friends whom +Madame Melmotte had the honour of inviting to meet the Emperor and +the Princes, having been left blank; and the terms also on which +Miss Longestaffe had been asked to spend two or three days with her +dear friend Lady Monogram. Each lady was disposed to get as +much and to give as little as possible,—in which desire the ladies +carried out the ordinary practice of all parties to a +bargain. It had of course been settled that Lady Monogram was +to have the two tickets,—for herself and her husband,—such +tickets at that moment standing very high in the market. In +payment for these valuable considerations, Lady Monogram was to +undertake to chaperon Miss Longestaffe at the entertainment, to +take Miss Longestaffe as a visitor for three days, and to have one +party at her own house during the time, so that it might be seen +that Miss Longestaffe had other friends in London besides the +Melmottes on whom to depend for her London gaieties. At this +moment Miss Longestaffe felt herself justified in treating the +matter as though she were hardly receiving a fair equivalent. +The Melmotte tickets were certainly ruling very high. They +had just culminated. They fell a little soon afterwards, and +at ten p.m. on the night of the entertainment were hardly worth +anything. At the moment which we have now in hand, there was +a rush for them. Lady Monogram had already secured the +tickets. They were in her desk. But, as will sometimes +be the case in a bargain, the seller was complaining that as she +had parted with her goods too cheap, some make-weight should be +added to the stipulated price. + +<p>"As for that, my dear," said Miss Longestaffe, who, since the +rise in Melmotte stock generally, had endeavoured to resume +something of her old manners, "I don't see what you mean at +all. You meet Lady Julia Goldsheiner everywhere, and her +father-in-law is Mr Brehgert's junior partner." + +<p>"Lady Julia is Lady Julia, my dear, and young Mr Goldsheiner +has, in some sort of way, got himself in. He hunts, and +Damask says that he is one of the best shots at Hurlingham. I +never met old Mr Goldsheiner anywhere." + +<p>"I have." + +<p>"Oh, yes, I dare say. Mr Melmotte, of course, entertains +all the City people. I don't think Sir Damask would like me +to ask Mr Brehgert to dine here." Lady Monogram managed +everything herself with reference to her own parties; invited all +her own guests, and never troubled Sir Damask,—who, again, on his +side, had his own set of friends; but she was very clever in the +use which she made of her husband. There were some aspirants +who really were taught to think that Sir Damask was very particular +as to the guests whom he welcomed to his own house. + +<p>"May I speak to Sir Damask about it?" asked Miss Longestaffe, +who was very urgent on the occasion. + +<p>"Well, my dear, I really don't think you ought to do that. +There are little things which a man and his wife must manage +together without interference." + +<p>"Nobody can ever say that I interfered in any family. But +really, Julia, when you tell me that Sir Damask cannot receive Mr +Brehgert, it does sound odd. As for City people, you know as +well as I do, that that kind of thing is all over now. City +people are just as good as West End people." + +<p>"A great deal better, I dare say. I'm not arguing about +that. I don't make the lines; but there they are; and one +gets to know in a sort of way what they are. I don't pretend +to be a bit better than my neighbours. I like to see people +come here whom other people who come here will like to meet. +I'm big enough to hold my own, and so is Sir Damask. But we +ain't big enough to introduce newcomers. I don't suppose +there's anybody in London understands it better than you do, +Georgiana, and therefore it's absurd my pretending to teach +you. I go pretty well everywhere, as you are aware; and I +shouldn't know Mr Brehgert if I were to see him." + +<p>"You'll meet him at the Melmottes', and, in spite of all you +said once, you're glad enough to go there." + +<p>"Quite true, my dear. I don't think that you are just the +person to throw that in my teeth; but never mind that. +There's the butcher round the corner in Bond Street, or the man who +comes to do my hair. I don't at all think of asking them to +my house. But if they were suddenly to turn out wonderful +men, and go everywhere, no doubt I should be glad to have them +here. That's the way we live, and you are as well used to it +as I am. Mr Brehgert at present to me is like the butcher +round the corner." Lady Monogram had the tickets safe under +lock and key, or I think she would hardly have said this. + +<p>"He is not a bit like a butcher," said Miss Longestaffe, blazing +up in real wrath. + +<p>"I did not say that he was." + +<p>"Yes, you did; and it was the unkindest thing you could possibly +say. It was meant to be unkind. It was monstrous. +How would you like it if I said that Sir Damask was like a +hair-dresser?" + +<p>"You can say so if you please. Sir Damask drives four in +hand, rides as though he meant to break his neck every winter, is +one of the best shots going, and is supposed to understand a yacht +as well as any other gentleman out. And I'm rather afraid +that before he was married he used to box with all the +prize-fighters, and to be a little too free behind the +scenes. If that makes a man like a hair-dresser, well, there +he is." + +<p>"How proud you are of his vices." + +<p>"He's very good-natured, my dear, and as he does not interfere +with me, I don't interfere with him. I hope you'll do as +well. I dare say Mr Brehgert is good-natured." + +<p>"He's an excellent man of business, and is making a very large +fortune." + +<p>"And has five or six grown-up children, who, no doubt, will be a +comfort." + +<p>"If I don't mind them, why need you? You have none at all, +and you find it lonely enough." + +<p>"Not at all lonely. I have everything that I desire. +How hard you are trying to be ill-natured, Georgiana." + +<p>"Why did you say that he was a—butcher?" + +<p>"I said nothing of the kind. I didn't even say that he was +like a butcher. What I did say was this,—that I don't feel +inclined to risk my own reputation on the appearance of new people +at my table. Of course, I go in for what you call +fashion. Some people can dare to ask anybody they meet in the +streets. I can't. I've my own line, and I mean to +follow it. It's hard work, I can tell you; and it would be +harder still if I wasn't particular. If you like Mr Brehgert +to come here on Tuesday evening, when the rooms will be full, you +can ask him; but as for having him to dinner, +I—won't—do—it." So the matter was at last settled. +Miss Longestaffe did ask Mr Brehgert for the Tuesday evening, and +the two ladies were again friends. + +<p>Perhaps Lady Monogram, when she illustrated her position by an +allusion to a butcher and a hair-dresser, had been unaware that Mr +Brehgert had some resemblance to the form which men in that trade +are supposed to bear. Let us at least hope that she was +so. He was a fat, greasy man, good-looking in a certain +degree, about fifty, with hair dyed black, and beard and moustache +dyed a dark purple colour. The charm of his face consisted in +a pair of very bright black eyes, which were, however, set too near +together in his face for the general delight of Christians. +He was stout;—fat all over rather than corpulent,—and had that +look of command in his face which has become common to +master-butchers, probably by long intercourse with sheep and +oxen. But Mr Brehgert was considered to be a very good man of +business, and was now regarded as being, in a commercial point of +view, the leading member of the great financial firm of which he +was the second partner. Mr Todd's day was nearly done. +He walked about constantly between Lombard Street, the Exchange, +and the Bank, and talked much to merchants; he had an opinion too +of his own on particular cases; but the business had almost got +beyond him, and Mr Brehgert was now supposed to be the moving +spirit of the firm. He was a widower, living in a luxurious +villa at Fulham with a family, not indeed grown up, as Lady +Monogram had ill-naturedly said, but which would be grown up +before long, varying from an eldest son of eighteen, who had just +been placed at a desk in the office, to the youngest girl of +twelve, who was at school at Brighton. He was a man who +always asked for what he wanted; and having made up his mind that +he wanted a second wife, had asked Miss Georgiana Longestaffe to +fill that situation. He had met her at the Melmottes', had +entertained her, with Madame Melmotte and Marie, at Beaudesert, as +he called his villa, had then proposed in the square, and two days +after had received an assenting answer in Bruton Street. + +<p>Poor Miss Longestaffe! Although she had acknowledged the +fact to Lady Monogram in her desire to pave the way for the +reception of herself into society as a married woman, she had not +as yet found courage to tell her family. The man was +absolutely a Jew;—not a Jew that had been, as to whom there might +possibly be a doubt whether he or his father or his grandfather had +been the last Jew of the family; but a Jew that was. So was +Goldsheiner a Jew, whom Lady Julia Start had married,—or at any +rate had been one a very short time before he ran away with that +lady. She counted up ever so many instances on her fingers of +"decent people" who had married Jews or Jewesses. Lord +Frederic Framlinghame had married a girl of the Berrenhoffers; and +Mr Hart had married a Miss Chute. She did not know much of +Miss Chute, but was certain that she was a Christian. Lord +Frederic's wife and Lady Julia Goldsheiner were seen +everywhere. Though she hardly knew how to explain the matter +even to herself, she was sure that there was at present a general +heaving-up of society on this matter, and a change in progress +which would soon make it a matter of indifference whether anybody +was Jew or Christian. For herself she regarded the matter not +at all, except as far as it might be regarded by the world in which +she wished to live. She was herself above all personal +prejudices of that kind. Jew, Turk, or infidel was nothing to +her. She had seen enough of the world to be aware that her +happiness did not lie in that direction, and could not depend in +the least on the religion of her husband. Of course she would +go to church herself. She always went to church. It was +the proper thing to do. As to her husband, though she did not +suppose that she could ever get him to church,—nor perhaps would +it be desirable,—she thought that she might induce him to go +nowhere, so that she might be able to pass him off as a +Christian. She knew that such was the Christianity of young +Goldsheiner, of which the Starts were now boasting. + +<p>Had she been alone in the world she thought that she could have +looked forward to her destiny with complacency; but she was afraid +of her father and mother. Lady Pomona was distressingly +old-fashioned, and had so often spoken with horror even of the +approach of a Jew,—and had been so loud in denouncing the iniquity +of Christians who allowed such people into their houses! +Unfortunately, too, Georgiana in her earlier days had re-echoed all +her mother's sentiments. And then her father,—if he had ever +earned for himself the right to be called a Conservative politician +by holding a real opinion of his own,—it had been on that matter +of admitting the Jews into parliament. When that had been +done he was certain that the glory of England was sunk for +ever. And since that time, whenever creditors were more than +ordinarily importunate, when Slow and Bideawhile could do nothing +for him, he would refer to that fatal measure as though it was the +cause of every embarrassment which had harassed him. How +could she tell parents such as these that she was engaged to marry +a man who at the present moment went to synagogue on a Saturday and +carried out every other filthy abomination common to the despised +people? + +<p>That Mr Brehgert was a fat, greasy man of fifty, conspicuous for +hair-dye, was in itself distressing:—but this minor distress was +swallowed up in the greater. Miss Longestaffe was a girl +possessing considerable discrimination, and was able to weigh her +own possessions in just scales. She had begun life with very +high aspirations, believing in her own beauty, in her mother's +fashion, and her father's fortune. She had now been ten years +at the work, and was aware that she had always flown a little too +high for her mark at the time. At nineteen and twenty and +twenty-one she had thought that all the world was before her. +With her commanding figure, regular long features, and bright +complexion, she had regarded herself as one of the beauties of the +day, and had considered herself entitled to demand wealth and a +Coronet. At twenty-two, twenty-three, and twenty-four any +young peer, or peer's eldest son, with a house in town and in the +country, might have sufficed. Twenty-five and six had been +the years for baronets and squires; and even a leading fashionable +lawyer or two had been marked by her as sufficient since that +time. But now she was aware that hitherto she had always +fixed her price a little too high. On three things she was +still determined,—that she would not be poor, that she would not +be banished from London, and that she would not be an old +maid. "Mamma," she had often said, "there's one thing +certain. I shall never do to be poor." Lady Pomona had +expressed full concurrence with her child. "And, mamma, to do +as Sophia is doing would kill me. Fancy having to live at +Toodlam all one's life with George Whitstable!" Lady Pomona +had agreed to this also, though she thought that Toodlam Hall was a +very nice home for her elder daughter. "And, mamma, I should +drive you and papa mad if I were to stay at home always. And +what would become of me when Dolly was master of everything?" +Lady Pomona, looking forward as well as she was able to the time at +which she should herself have departed, when her dower and +dower-house would have reverted to Dolly, acknowledged that +Georgiana should provide herself with a home of her own before that +time. + +<p>And how was this to be done? Lovers with all the glories +and all the graces are supposed to be plentiful as blackberries by +girls of nineteen, but have been proved to be rare hothouse fruits +by girls of twenty-nine. Brehgert was rich, would live in +London, and would be a husband. People did such odd things +now and "lived them down," that she could see no reason why she +should not do this and live this down. Courage was the one +thing necessary,—that and perseverance. She must teach +herself to talk about Brehgert as Lady Monogram did of Sir +Damask. She had plucked up so much courage as had enabled her +to declare her fate to her old friend,—remembering as she did so +how in days long past she and her friend Julia Triplex had +scattered their scorn upon some poor girl who had married a man +with a Jewish name,—whose grandfather had possibly been a +Jew. "Dear me," said Lady Monogram. "Todd, Brehgert, +and Goldsheiner! Mr Todd is—one of us, I suppose." + +<p>"Yes," said Georgiana boldly, "and Mr Brehgert is a Jew. +His name is Ezekiel Brehgert, and he is a Jew. You can say +what you like about it." + +<p>"I don't say anything about it, my dear." + +<p>"And you can think anything you like. Things are changed +since you and I were younger." + +<p>"Very much changed, it appears," said Lady Monogram. Sir +Damask's religion had never been doubted, though except on the +occasion of his marriage no acquaintance of his had probably ever +seen him in church. + +<p>But to tell her father and mother required a higher spirit than +she had shown even in her communication to Lady Monogram, and that +spirit had not as yet come to her. On the morning before she +left the Melmottes in Bruton Street, her lover had been with +her. The Melmottes of course knew of the engagement and quite +approved of it. Madame Melmotte rather aspired to credit for +having had so happy an affair arranged under her auspices. It +was some set-off against Marie's unfortunate escapade. Mr +Brehgert, therefore, had been allowed to come and go as he pleased, +and on that morning he had pleased to come. They were sitting +alone in some back room, and Brehgert was pressing for an early +day. "I don't think we need talk of that yet, Mr Brehgert," +she said. + +<p>"You might as well get over the difficulty and call me Ezekiel +at once," he remarked. Georgiana frowned, and made no soft +little attempt at the name as ladies in such circumstances are wont +to do. "Mrs Brehgert"—he alluded of course to the mother of +his children—"used to call me Ezzy." + +<p>"Perhaps I shall do so some day," said Miss Longestaffe, looking +at her lover, and asking herself why she should not have been able +to have the house and the money and the name of the wife without +the troubles appertaining. She did not think it possible that +she should ever call him Ezzy. + +<p>"And ven shall it be? I should say as early in August as +possible." + +<p>"In August!" she almost screamed. It was already July. + +<p>"Vy not, my dear? Ve would have our little holiday in +Germany at Vienna. I have business there, and know many +friends." Then he pressed her hard to fix some day in the +next month. It would be expedient that they should be married +from the Melmottes' house, and the Melmottes would leave town some +time in August. There was truth in this. Unless married +from the Melmottes' house, she must go down to Caversham for the +occasion,—which would be intolerable. No,—she must separate +herself altogether from father and mother, and become one with the +Melmottes and the Brehgerts,—till she could live it down and make +a position for herself. If the spending of money could do it, +it should be done. + +<p>"I must at any rate ask mamma about it," said Georgiana. +Mr Brehgert, with the customary good-humour of his people, was +satisfied with the answer, and went away promising that he would +meet his love at the great Melmotte reception. Then she sat +silent, thinking how she should declare the matter to her +family. Would it not be better for her to say to them at once +that there must be a division among them,—an absolute breaking off +of all old ties, so that it should be tacitly acknowledged that +she, Georgiana, had gone out from among the Longestaffes +altogether, and had become one with the Melmottes, Brehgerts, and +Goldsheiners? +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="61"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXI. Lady Monogram Prepares for the Party</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When the little conversation took place between Lady Monogram +and Miss Longestaffe, as recorded in the last chapter, Mr Melmotte +was in all his glory, and tickets for the entertainment were very +precious. Gradually their value subsided. Lady Monogram +had paid very dear for hers,—especially as the reception of Mr +Brehgert must be considered. But high prices were then being +paid. A lady offered to take Marie Melmotte into the country +with her for a week; but this was before the elopement. Mr +Cohenlupe was asked out to dinner to meet two peers and a +countess. Lord Alfred received various presents. A +young lady gave a lock of her hair to Lord Nidderdale, although it +was known that he was to marry Marie Melmotte. And Miles +Grendall got back an I.O.U. of considerable nominal value +from Lord Grasslough, who was anxious to accommodate two country +cousins who were in London. Gradually the prices fell;—not +at first from any doubt in Melmotte, but through that customary +reaction which may be expected on such occasions. But at +eight or nine o'clock on the evening of the party the tickets were +worth nothing. The rumour had then spread itself through the +whole town from Pimlico to Marylebone. Men coming home from +clubs had told their wives. Ladies who had been in the park +had heard it. Even the hairdressers had it, and ladies' maids +had been instructed by the footmen and grooms who had been holding +horses and seated on the coach-boxes. It had got into the +air, and had floated round dining-rooms and over toilet-tables. + +<p>I doubt whether Sir Damask would have said a word about it to +his wife as he was dressing for dinner, had he calculated what +might be the result to himself. But he came home open-mouthed, and +made no calculation. "Have you heard what's up, Ju?" he said, +rushing half-dressed into his wife's room. + +<p>"What is up?" + +<p>"Haven't you been out?" + +<p>"I was shopping, and that kind of thing. I don't want to +take that girl into the Park. I've made a mistake in having +her here, but I mean to be seen with her as little as I can." + +<p>"Be good-natured, Ju, whatever you are." + +<p>"Oh, bother! I know what I'm about. What is it you +mean?" + +<p>"They say Melmotte's been found out." + +<p>"Found out!" exclaimed Lady Monogram, stopping her maid in some +arrangement which would not need to be continued in the event of +her not going to the reception. "What do you mean by found +out?" + +<p>"I don't know exactly. There are a dozen stories +told. It's something about that place he bought of old +Longestaffe." + +<p>"Are the Longestaffes mixed up in it? I won't have her +here a day longer if there is anything against them." + +<p>"Don't be an ass, Ju. There's nothing against him except +that the poor old fellow hasn't got a shilling of his money." + +<p>"Then he's ruined,—and there's an end of them." + +<p>"Perhaps he will get it now. Some say that Melmotte has +forged a receipt, others a letter. Some declare that he has +manufactured a whole set of title-deeds. You remember Dolly?" + +<p>"Of course I know Dolly Longestaffe," said Lady Monogram, who +had thought at one time that an alliance with Dolly might be +convenient. + +<p>"They say he has found it all out. There was always +something about Dolly more than fellows gave him credit for. +At any rate, everybody says that Melmotte will be in quod before +long." + +<p>"Not to-night, Damask!" + +<p>"Nobody seems to know. Lupton was saying that the +policemen would wait about in the room like servants till the +Emperor and the Princes had gone away." + +<p>"Is Mr Lupton going?" + +<p>"He was to have been at the dinner, but hadn't made up his mind +whether he'd go or not when I saw him. Nobody seems to be +quite certain whether the Emperor will go. Somebody said that +a Cabinet Council was to be called to know what to do." + +<p>"A Cabinet Council!" + +<p>"Why, you see it's rather an awkward thing, letting the Prince +go to dine with a man who perhaps may have been arrested and taken +to gaol before dinnertime. That's the worst part of it. +Nobody knows." + +<p>Lady Monogram waved her attendant away. She piqued herself +upon having a French maid who could not speak a word of English, +and was therefore quite careless what she said in the woman's +presence. But, of course, everything she did say was repeated +downstairs in some language that had become intelligible to the +servants generally. Lady Monogram sat motionless for some +time, while her husband, retreating to his own domain, finished his +operations. "Damask," she said, when he reappeared, "one +thing is certain;—we can't go." + +<p>"After you've made such a fuss about it!" + +<p>"It is a pity,—having that girl here in the house. You +know, don't you, she's going to marry one of these people?" + +<p>"I heard about her marriage yesterday. But Brehgert isn't +one of Melmotte's set. They tell me that Brehgert isn't a bad +fellow. A vulgar cad, and all that, but nothing wrong about +him." + +<p>"He's a Jew,—and he's seventy years old, and makes up +horribly." + +<p>"What does it matter to you if he's eighty? You are +determined, then, you won't go?" + +<p>But Lady Monogram had by no means determined that she wouldn't +go. She had paid her price, and with that economy which +sticks to a woman always in the midst of her extravagances, she +could not bear to lose the thing that she had bought. She +cared nothing for Melmotte's villainy, as regarded herself. +That he was enriching himself by the daily plunder of the innocent +she had taken for granted since she had first heard of him. +She had but a confused idea of any difference between commerce and +fraud. But it would grieve her greatly to become known as one +of an awkward squad of people who had driven to the door, and +perhaps been admitted to some wretched gathering of wretched +people,—and not, after all, to have met the Emperor and the +Prince. But then, should she hear on the next morning that +the Emperor and the Princes, that the Princesses, and the +Duchesses, with the Ambassadors, Cabinet Ministers, and proper sort +of world generally, had all been there,—that the world, in short, +had ignored Melmotte's villainy,—then would her grief be still +greater. She sat down to dinner with her husband and Miss +Longestaffe, and could not talk freely on the matter. Miss +Longestaffe was still a guest of the Melmottes, although she had +transferred herself to the Monograms for a day or two. And a +horrible idea crossed Lady Monogram's mind. What should she +do with her friend Georgiana if the whole Melmotte establishment +were suddenly broken up? Of course, Madame Melmotte would +refuse to take the girl back if her husband were sent to +gaol. "I suppose you'll go," said Sir Damask as the ladies +left the room. + +<p>"Of course we shall,—in about an hour," said Lady Monogram as +she left the room, looking round at him and rebuking him for his +imprudence. + +<p>"Because, you know—" and then he called her back. "If you +want me I'll stay, of course; but if you don't, I'll go down to the +club." + +<p>"How can I say, yet? You needn't mind the club to-night." + +<p>"All right;—only it's a bore being here alone." + +<p>Then Miss Longestaffe asked what "was up." "Is there any +doubt about our going to-night?" + +<p>"I can't say. I'm so harassed that I don't know what I'm +about. There seems to be a report that the Emperor won't be +there." + +<p>"Impossible!" + +<p>"It's all very well to say impossible, my dear," said Lady +Monogram; "but still that's what people are saying. You see +Mr Melmotte is a very great man, but perhaps—something else has +turned up, so that he may be thrown over. Things of that kind +do happen. You had better finish dressing. I +shall. But I shan't make sure of going till I hear that the +Emperor is there." Then she descended to her husband, whom +she found forlornly consoling himself with a cigar. "Damask," +she said, "you must find out." + +<p>"Find out what?" + +<p>"Whether the Prince and the Emperor are there." + +<p>"Send John to ask," suggested the husband. + +<p>"He would be sure to make a blunder about it. If you'd go +yourself you'd learn the truth in a minute. Have a cab,—just +go into the hall and you'll soon know how it all is;—I'd do it in +a minute if I were you." Sir Damask was the most good-natured +man in the world, but he did not like the job. "What can be +the objection?" asked his wife. + +<p>"Go to a man's house and find out whether a man's guests are +come before you go yourself! I don't just see it, Ju." + +<p>"Guests! What nonsense! The Emperor and all the +Royal Family! As if it were like any other party. Such +a thing, probably, never happened before, and never will happen +again. If you don't go, Damask, I must; and I will." +Sir Damask, after groaning and smoking for half a minute, said that +he would go. He made many remonstrances. It was a +confounded bore. He hated emperors and he hated +princes. He hated the whole box and dice of that sort of +thing! He "wished to goodness" that he had dined at his club +and sent word up home that the affair was to be off. But at +last he submitted and allowed his wife to leave the room with the +intention of sending for a cab. The cab was sent for and +announced, but Sir Damask would not stir till he had finished his +big cigar. + +<p>It was past ten when he left his own house. On arriving in +Grosvenor Square he could at once see that the party was going +on. The house was illuminated. There was a concourse of +servants round the door, and half the square was already blocked up +with carriages. + +<p>It was not without delay that he got to the door, and when there +he saw the royal liveries. There was no doubt about the +party. The Emperor and the Princes and the Princesses were +all there. As far as Sir Damask could then perceive, the +dinner had been quite a success. But again there was a delay +in getting away, and it was nearly eleven before he could reach +home. "It's all right," said he to his wife. "They're +there, safe enough." + +<p>"You are sure that the Emperor is there." + +<p>"As sure as a man can be without having seen him." + +<p>Miss Longestaffe was present at this moment, and could not but +resent what appeared to be a most unseemly slur cast upon her +friends. "I don't understand it at all," she said. "Of +course the Emperor is there. Everybody has known for the last +month that he was coming. What is the meaning of it, Julia?" + +<p>"My dear, you must allow me to manage my own little affairs my +own way. I dare say I am absurd. But I have my +reason. Now, Damask, if the carriage is there we had better +start." The carriage was there, and they did start, and with +a delay which seemed unprecedented, even to Lady Monogram, who was +accustomed to these things, they reached the door. There was +a great crush in the hall, and people were coming downstairs. +But at last they made their way into the room above, and found that +the Emperor of China and all the Royalties had been there,—but had +taken their departure. + +<p>Sir Damask put the ladies into the carriage and went at once to +his club. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="62"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXII. The Party</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lady Monogram retired from Mr Melmotte's house in disgust as +soon as she was able to escape; but we must return to it for a +short time. When the guests were once in the drawing-room the +immediate sense of failure passed away. The crowd never +became so thick as had been anticipated. They who were +knowing in such matters had declared that the people would not be +able to get themselves out of the room till three or four o'clock +in the morning, and that the carriages would not get themselves out +of the Square till breakfast time. With a view to this kind +of thing Mr Melmotte had been told that he must provide a private +means of escape for his illustrious guests, and with a considerable +sacrifice of walls and general house arrangements this had been +done. No such gathering as was expected took place; but still +the rooms became fairly full, and Mr Melmotte was able to console +himself with the feeling that nothing certainly fatal had as yet +occurred. + +<p>There can be no doubt that the greater part of the people +assembled did believe that their host had committed some great +fraud which might probably bring him under the arm of the +law. When such rumours are spread abroad, they are always +believed. There is an excitement and a pleasure in believing +them. Reasonable hesitation at such a moment is dull and +phlegmatic. If the accused one be near enough to ourselves to +make the accusation a matter of personal pain, of course we +disbelieve. But, if the distance be beyond this, we are +almost ready to think that anything may be true of anybody. +In this case nobody really loved Melmotte and everybody did +believe. It was so probable that such a man should have done +something horrible! It was only hoped that the fraud might be +great and horrible enough. + +<p>Melmotte himself during that part of the evening which was +passed upstairs kept himself in the close vicinity of +royalty. He behaved certainly very much better than he would +have done had he had no weight at his heart. He made few +attempts at beginning any conversation, and answered, at any rate +with brevity, when he was addressed. With scrupulous care he +ticked off on his memory the names of those who had come and whom +he knew, thinking that their presence indicated a verdict of +acquittal from them on the evidence already before them. +Seeing the members of the Government all there, he wished that he +had come forward in Westminster as a Liberal. And he freely +forgave those omissions of Royalty as to which he had been so angry +at the India Office, seeing that not a Prince or Princess was +lacking of those who were expected. He could turn his mind to +all this, although he knew how great was his danger. Many +things occurred to him as he stood, striving to smile as a host +should smile. It might be the case that half-a-dozen +detectives were already stationed in his own hall perhaps one or +two, well dressed, in the very presence of royalty,—ready to +arrest him as soon as the guests were gone, watching him now lest +he should escape. But he bore the burden,—and smiled. +He had always lived with the consciousness that such a burden was +on him and might crush him at any time. He had known that he +had to run these risks. He had told himself a thousand times +that when the dangers came, dangers alone should never cow +him. He had always endeavoured to go as near the wind as he +could, to avoid the heavy hand of the criminal law of whatever +country he inhabited. He had studied the criminal laws, so +that he might be sure in his reckonings; but he had always felt +that he might be carried by circumstances into deeper waters than +he intended to enter. As the soldier who leads a forlorn +hope, or as the diver who goes down for pearls, or as the searcher +for wealth on fever-breeding coasts, knows that as his gains may be +great, so are his perils, Melmotte had been aware that in his life, +as it opened itself out to him, he might come to terrible +destruction. He had not always thought, or even hoped, that +he would be as he was now, so exalted as to be allowed to entertain +the very biggest ones of the earth; but the greatness had grown +upon him,—and so had the danger. He could not now be as +exact as he had been. He was prepared himself to bear all +mere ignominy with a tranquil mind,—to disregard any shouts of +reprobation which might be uttered, and to console himself when the +bad quarter of an hour should come with the remembrance that he had +garnered up a store sufficient for future wants and placed it +beyond the reach of his enemies. But as his intellect opened +up to him new schemes, and as his ambition got the better of his +prudence, he gradually fell from the security which he had +preconceived, and became aware that he might have to bear worse +than ignominy. + +<p>Perhaps never in his life had he studied his own character and +his own conduct more accurately, or made sterner resolves, than he +did as he stood there smiling, bowing, and acting without +impropriety the part of host to an Emperor. No;—he could not +run away. He soon made himself sure of that. He had +risen too high to be a successful fugitive, even should he succeed +in getting off before hands were laid upon him. He must bide +his ground, if only that he might not at once confess his own guilt +by flight; and he would do so with courage. Looking back at +the hour or two that had just passed he was aware that he had +allowed himself not only to be frightened in the dinner-room,—but +also to seem to be frightened. The thing had come upon him +unawares and he had been untrue to himself. He acknowledged +that. He should not have asked those questions of Mr Todd and +Mr Beauclerk, and should have been more good-humoured than usual +with Lord Alfred in discussing those empty seats. But for +spilt milk there is no remedy. The blow had come upon him too +suddenly, and he had faltered. But he would not falter +again. Nothing should cow him,—no touch from a policeman, no +warrant from a magistrate, no defalcation of friends, no scorn in +the City, no solitude in the West End. He would go down among +the electors to-morrow and would stand his ground, as though all +with him were right. Men should know at any rate that he had +a heart within his bosom. And he confessed also to himself +that he had sinned in that matter of arrogance. He could see +it now,—as so many of us do see the faults which we have +committed, which we strive, but in vain, to discontinue, and which +we never confess except to our own bosoms. The task which he +had imposed on himself, and to which circumstances had added +weight, had been very hard to bear. He should have been +good-humoured to these great ones whose society he had +gained. He should have bound these people to him by a feeling +of kindness as well as by his money. He could see it all +now. And he could see too that there was no help for spilt +milk. I think he took some pride in his own confidence as to +his own courage, as he stood there turning it all over in his +mind. Very much might be suspected. Something might be +found out. But the task of unravelling it all would not be +easy. It is the small vermin and the little birds that are +trapped at once. But wolves and vultures can fight hard +before they are caught. With the means which would still be +at his command, let the worst come to the worst, he could make a +strong fight. When a man's frauds have been enormous there is +a certain safety in their very diversity and proportions. +Might it not be that the fact that these great ones of the earth +had been his guests should speak in his favour? A man who had +in very truth had the real brother of the Sun dining at his table +could hardly be sent into the dock and then sent out of it like a +common felon. + +<p>Madame Melmotte during the evening stood at the top of her own +stairs with a chair behind her on which she could rest herself for +a moment when any pause took place in the arrivals. She had +of course dined at the table,—or rather sat there;—but had been +so placed that no duty had devolved upon her. She had heard +no word of the rumours, and would probably be the last person in +that house to hear them. It never occurred to her to see +whether the places down the table were full or empty. She sat +with her large eyes fixed on the Majesty of China and must have +wondered at her own destiny at finding herself with an Emperor and +Princes to look at. From the dining-room she had gone when +she was told to go, up to the drawing-room, and had there performed +her task, longing only for the comfort of her bedroom. She, I +think, had but small sympathy with her husband in all his work, and +but little understanding of the position in which she had been +placed. Money she liked, and comfort, and perhaps diamonds +and fine dresses, but she can hardly have taken pleasure in +duchesses or have enjoyed the company of the Emperor. From +the beginning of the Melmotte era it had been an understood thing +that no one spoke to Madame Melmotte. + +<p>Marie Melmotte had declined a seat at the dinner-table. +This at first had been cause of quarrel between her and her father, +as he desired to have seen her next to young Lord Nidderdale as +being acknowledged to be betrothed to him. But since the +journey to Liverpool he had said nothing on the subject. He +still pressed the engagement, but thought now that less publicity +might be expedient. She was, however, in the drawing-room +standing at first by Madame Melmotte, and afterwards retreating +among the crowd. To some ladies she was a person of interest +as the young woman who had lately run away under such strange +circumstances; but no one spoke to her till she saw a girl whom she +herself knew, and whom she addressed, plucking up all her courage +for the occasion. This was Hetta Carbury who had been brought +hither by her mother. + +<p>The tickets for Lady Carbury and Hetta had of course been sent +before the elopement;—and also, as a matter of course, no +reference had been made to them by the Melmotte family after the +elopement. Lady Carbury herself was anxious that that affair +should not be considered as having given cause for any personal +quarrel between herself and Mr Melmotte, and in her difficulty had +consulted Mr Broune. Mr Broune was the staff on which she +leant at present in all her difficulties. Mr Broune was going +to the dinner. All this of course took place while Melmotte's +name was as yet unsullied as snow. Mr Broune saw no reason +why Lady Carbury should not take advantage of her tickets. +These invitations were simply tickets to see the Emperor surrounded +by the Princes. The young lady's elopement is "no affair of +yours," Mr Broune had said. "I should go, if it were only for +the sake of showing that you did not consider yourself to be +implicated in the matter." Lady Carbury did as she was +advised, and took her daughter with her. "Nonsense," said the +mother, when Hetta objected; "Mr Broune sees it quite in the right +light. This is a grand demonstration in honour of the +Emperor, rather than a private party;—and we have done nothing to +offend the Melmottes. You know you wish to see the +Emperor." A few minutes before they started from Welbeck +Street a note came from Mr Broune, written in pencil and sent from +Melmotte's house by a Commissioner. "Don't mind what you +hear; but come. I am here and as far as I can see it is all +right. The E. is beautiful, and P.'s are as thick as +blackberries." Lady Carbury, who had not been in the way of +hearing the reports, understood nothing of this; but of course she +went. And Hetta went with her. + +<p>Hetta was standing alone in a corner, near to her mother, who +was talking to Mr Booker, with her eyes fixed on the awful +tranquillity of the Emperor's countenance, when Marie Melmotte +timidly crept up to her and asked her how she was. Hetta, +probably, was not very cordial to the poor girl, being afraid of +her, partly as the daughter of the great Melmotte and partly as the +girl with whom her brother had failed to run away; but Marie was +not rebuked by this. "I hope you won't be angry with me for +speaking to you." Hetta smiled more graciously. She +could not be angry with the girl for speaking to her, feeling that +she was there as the guest of the girl's mother. "I suppose +you know about your brother," said Marie, whispering with her eyes +turned to the ground. + +<p>"I have heard about it," said Hetta. "He never told me +himself." + +<p>"Oh, I do so wish that I knew the truth. I know +nothing. Of course, Miss Carbury, I love him. I do love +him so dearly! I hope you don't think I would have done it if +I hadn't loved him better than anybody in the world. Don't +you think that if a girl loves a man,—really loves him,—that +ought to go before everything?" + +<p>This was a question that Hetta was hardly prepared to +answer. She felt quite certain that under no circumstances +would she run away with a man. "I don't quite know. It +is so hard to say," she replied. + +<p>"I do. What's the good of anything if you're to be +broken-hearted? I don't care what they say of me, or what +they do to me, if he would only be true to me. Why doesn't +he—let me know—something about it?" This also was a +question difficult to be answered. Since that horrid morning +on which Sir Felix had stumbled home drunk,—which was now four +days since,—he had not left the house in Welbeck Street till this +evening. He had gone out a few minutes before Lady Carbury +had started, but up to that time he had almost kept his bed. +He would not get up till dinner-time, would come down after some +half-dressed fashion, and then get back to his bedroom, where he +would smoke and drink brandy-and-water and complain of +headache. The theory was that he was ill;—but he was in +fact utterly cowed and did not dare to show himself at his usual +haunts. He was aware that he had quarrelled at the club, +aware that all the world knew of his intended journey to Liverpool, +aware that he had tumbled about the streets intoxicated. He +had not dared to show himself, and the feeling had grown upon him +from day to day. Now, fairly worn out by his confinement, he +had crept out intending, if possible, to find consolation with Ruby +Ruggles. "Do tell me. Where is he?" pleaded Marie. + +<p>"He has not been very well lately." + +<p>"Is he ill? Oh, Miss Carbury, do tell me. You can +understand what it is to love him as I do—can't you?" + +<p>"He has been ill. I think he is better now." + +<p>"Why does he not come to me, or send to me; or let me know +something? It is cruel, is it not? Tell me,—you must +know,—does he really care for me?" + +<p>Hetta was exceedingly perplexed. The real feeling betrayed +by the girl recommended her. Hetta could not but sympathize +with the affection manifested for her own brother, though she could +hardly understand the want of reticence displayed by Marie in thus +speaking of her love to one who was almost a stranger. "Felix +hardly ever talks about himself to me," she said. + +<p>"If he doesn't care for me, there shall be an end of it," Marie +said very gravely. "If I only knew! If I thought that +he loved me, I'd go through,—oh,—all the world for him. +Nothing that papa could say should stop me. That's my feeling +about it. I have never talked to any one but you about +it. Isn't that strange? I haven't a person to talk +to. That's my feeling, and I'm not a bit ashamed of it. +There's no disgrace in being in love. But it's very bad to +get married without being in love. That's what I think." + +<p>"It is bad," said Hetta, thinking of Roger Carbury. + +<p>"But if Felix doesn't care for me!" continued Marie, sinking her +voice to a low whisper, but still making her words quite audible to +her companion. Now Hetta was strongly of opinion that her +brother did not in the least "care for" Marie Melmotte, and that it +would be very much for the best that Marie Melmotte should know the +truth. But she had not that sort of strength which would have +enabled her to tell it. "Tell me just what you think," said +Marie. Hetta was still silent. "Ah,—I see. Then +I must give him up? Eh?" + +<p>"What can I say, Miss Melmotte? Felix never tells +me. He is my brother,—and of course I love you for loving +him." This was almost more than Hetta meant; but she felt +herself constrained to say some gracious word. + +<p>"Do you? Oh! I wish you did. I should so like +to be loved by you. Nobody loves me, I think. That man +there wants to marry me. Do you know him? He is Lord +Nidderdale. He is very nice; but he does not love me any more +than he loves you. That's the way with men. It isn't +the way with me. I would go with Felix and slave for him if +he were poor. Is it all to be over then? You will give +him a message from me?" Hetta, doubting as to the propriety +of the promise, promised that she would. "Just tell him I +want to know; that's all. I want to know. You'll +understand. I want to know the real truth. I suppose I +do know it now. Then I shall not care what happens to +me. It will be all the same. I suppose I shall marry +that young man, though it will be very bad. I shall just be +as if I hadn't any self of my own at all. But he ought to +send me word after all that has passed. Do not you think he +ought to send me word?" + +<p>"Yes, indeed." + +<p>"You tell him, then," said Marie, nodding her head as she crept +away. + +<p>Nidderdale had been observing her while she had been talking to +Miss Carbury. He had heard the rumour, and of course felt +that it behoved him to be on his guard more specially than any one +else. But he had not believed what he had heard. That +men should be thoroughly immoral, that they should gamble, get +drunk, run into debt, and make love to other men's wives, was to +him a matter of everyday life. Nothing of that kind shocked +him at all. But he was not as yet quite old enough to believe +in swindling. It had been impossible to convince him that +Miles Grendall had cheated at cards, and the idea that Mr Melmotte +had forged was as improbable and shocking to him as that an officer +should run away in battle. Common soldiers, he thought, might +do that sort of thing. He had almost fallen in love with +Marie when he saw her last, and was inclined to feel the more +kindly to her now because of the hard things that were being said +about her father. And yet he knew that he must be +careful. If "he came a cropper" in this matter, it would be +such an awful cropper! "How do you like the party?" he said +to Marie. + +<p>"I don't like it at all, my lord. How do you like it?" + +<p>"Very much, indeed. I think the Emperor is the greatest +fun I ever saw. Prince Frederic,"—one of the German princes +who was staying at the time among his English cousins,—"Prince +Frederic says that he's stuffed with hay, and that he's made up +fresh every morning at a shop in the Haymarket." + +<p>"I've seen him talk." + +<p>"He opens his mouth, of course. There is machinery as well +as hay. I think he's the grandest old buffer out, and I'm +awfully glad that I've dined with him. I couldn't make out +whether he really put anything to eat into his jolly old mouth." + +<p>"Of course he did." + +<p>"Have you been thinking about what we were talking about the +other day?" + +<p>"No, my lord,—I haven't thought about it since. Why +should I?" + +<p>"Well;—it's a sort of thing that people do think about, you +know." + +<p>"You don't think about it." + +<p>"Don't I? I've been thinking about nothing else the last +three months." + +<p>"You've been thinking whether you'd get married or not." + +<p>"That's what I mean," said Lord Nidderdale. + +<p>"It isn't what I mean, then." + +<p>"I'll be shot if I can understand you." + +<p>"Perhaps not. And you never will understand me. Oh, +goodness they're all going, and we must get out of the way. +Is that Prince Frederic, who told you about the hay? He is +handsome; isn't he? And who is that in the violet dress with +all the pearls?" + +<p>"That's the Princess Dwarza." + +<p>"Dear me;—isn't it odd, having a lot of people in one's own +house, and not being able to speak a word to them? I don't +think it's at all nice. Good night, my lord. I'm glad +you like the Emperor." + +<p>And then the people went, and when they had all gone Melmotte +put his wife and daughter into his own carriage, telling them that +he would follow them on foot to Bruton Street when he had given +some last directions to the people who were putting out the lights, +and extinguishing generally the embers of the entertainment. +He had looked round for Lord Alfred, taking care to avoid the +appearance of searching; but Lord Alfred had gone. Lord +Alfred was one of those who knew when to leave a falling +house. Melmotte at the moment thought of all that he had done +for Lord Alfred, and it was something of the real venom of +ingratitude that stung him at the moment rather than this +additional sign of coming evil. He was more than ordinarily +gracious as he put his wife into the carriage, and remarked that, +considering all things, the party had gone off very well. "I +only wish it could have been done a little cheaper," he said +laughing. Then he went back into the house, and up into the +drawing-rooms which were now utterly deserted. Some of the +lights had been put out, but the men were busy in the rooms below, +and he threw himself into the chair in which the Emperor had +sat. It was wonderful that he should come to such a fate as +this;—that he, the boy out of the gutter, should entertain at his +own house, in London, a Chinese Emperor and English and German +Royalty,—and that he should do so almost with a rope round his +neck. Even if this were to be the end of it all, men would at +any rate remember him. The grand dinner which he had given +before he was put into prison would live in history. And it +would be remembered, too, that he had been the Conservative +candidate for the great borough of Westminster,—perhaps, even, the +elected member. He, too, in his manner, assured himself that +a great part of him would escape Oblivion. "Non omnis +moriar," in some language of his own, was chanted by him within his +own breast, as he sat there looking out on his own magnificent +suite of rooms from the armchair which had been consecrated by the +use of an Emperor. + +<p>No policemen had come to trouble him yet. No hint that he +would be "wanted" had been made to him. There was no tangible +sign that things were not to go on as they went before. +Things would be exactly as they were before, but for the absence of +those guests from the dinner-table, and for the words which Miles +Grendall had spoken. Had he not allowed himself to be +terrified by shadows? Of course he had known that there must +be such shadows. His life had been made dark by similar +clouds before now, and he had lived through the storms which had +followed them. He was thoroughly ashamed of the weakness +which had overcome him at the dinner-table, and of that palsy of +fear which he had allowed himself to exhibit. There should be +no more shrinking such as that. When people talked of him +they should say that he was at least a man. + +<p>As this was passing through his mind a head was pushed in +through one of the doors, and immediately withdrawn. It was +his Secretary. "Is that you, Miles?" he said. "Come +in. I'm just going home, and came up here to see how the +empty rooms would look after they were all gone. What became +of your father?" + +<p>"I suppose he went away." + +<p>"I suppose he did," said Melmotte, unable to hinder himself from +throwing a certain tone of scorn into his voice,—as though +proclaiming the fate of his own house and the consequent running +away of the rat. "It went off very well, I think." + +<p>"Very well," said Miles, still standing at the door. There +had been a few words of consultation between him and his +father,—only a very few words. "You'd better see it out +to-night, as you've had a regular salary, and all that. I +shall hook it. I sha'n't go near him to-morrow till I find +out how things are going. By G––––, +I've had about enough of him." But hardly enough of his money +or it may be presumed that Lord Alfred would have "hooked it" +sooner. + +<p>"Why don't you come in, and not stand there?" said +Melmotte. "There's no Emperor here now for you to be afraid +of." + +<p>"I'm afraid of nobody," said Miles, walking into the middle of +the room. + +<p>"Nor am I. What's one man that another man should be +afraid of him? We've got to die, and there'll be an end of +it, I suppose." + +<p>"That's about it," said Miles, hardly following the working of +his master's mind. + +<p>"I shouldn't care how soon. When a man has worked as I +have done, he gets about tired at my age. I suppose I'd +better be down at the committee-room about ten to-morrow?" + +<p>"That's the best, I should say." + +<p>"You'll be there by that time?" Miles Grendall assented +slowly, and with imperfect assent. "And tell your father he +might as well be there as early as convenient." + +<p>"All right," said Miles as he took his departure. + +<p>"Curs!" said Melmotte almost aloud. "They neither of them +will be there. If any evil can be done to me by treachery and +desertion, they will do it." Then it occurred to him to think +whether the Grendall article had been worth all the money that he +had paid for it. "Curs!" he said again. He walked down +into the hall, and through the banqueting-room, and stood at the +place where he himself had sat. What a scene it had been, and +how frightfully low his heart had sunk within him! It had +been the defection of the Lord Mayor that had hit him +hardest. "What cowards they are!" The men went on with +their work, not noticing him, and probably not knowing him. +The dinner had been done by contract, and the contractor's foreman +was there. The care of the house and the alterations had been +confided to another contractor, and his foreman was waiting to see +the place locked up. A confidential clerk, who had been with +Melmotte for years, and who knew his ways, was there also to guard +the property. "Good night, Croll," he said to the man in +German. Croll touched his hat and bade him good night. +Melmotte listened anxiously to the tone of the man's voice, trying +to catch from it some indication of the mind within. Did +Croll know of these rumours, and if so, what did he think of +them? Croll had known him in some perilous circumstances +before, and had helped him through them. He paused a moment +as though he would ask a question, but resolved at last that +silence would be safest. "You'll see everything safe, eh, +Croll?" Croll said that he would see everything safe, and +Melmotte passed out into the Square. + +<p>He had not far to go, round through Berkeley Square into Bruton +Street, but he stood for a few moments looking up at the bright +stars. If he could be there, in one of those unknown distant +worlds, with all his present intellect and none of his present +burdens, he would, he thought, do better than he had done here on +earth. If he could even now put himself down nameless, +fameless, and without possessions in some distant corner of the +world, he could, he thought, do better. But he was Augustus +Melmotte, and he must bear his burdens, whatever they were, to the +end. He could reach no place so distant but that he would be +known and traced. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="63"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIII. Mr Melmotte on the Day of the Election</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>No election of a Member of Parliament by ballot in a borough so +large as that of Westminster had as yet been achieved in England +since the ballot had been established by law. Men who +heretofore had known, or thought that they knew, how elections +would go, who counted up promises, told off professed enemies, and +weighed the doubtful ones, now confessed themselves to be in the +dark. Three days since the odds had been considerably in +Melmotte's favour; but this had come from the reputation attached +to his name, rather than from any calculation as to the politics of +the voters. Then Sunday had intervened. On the Monday +Melmotte's name had continued to go down in the betting from +morning to evening. Early in the day his supporters had +thought little of this, attributing the fall to that vacillation +which is customary in such matters; but towards the latter part of +the afternoon the tidings from the City had been in everybody's +mouth, and Melmotte's committee-room had been almost +deserted. At six o'clock there were some who suggested that +his name should be withdrawn. No such suggestion, however, +was made to him,—perhaps, because no one dared to make it. +On the Monday evening all work and strategy for the election, as +regarded Melmotte and his party, died away; and the interest of the +hour was turned to the dinner. + +<p>But Mr Alf's supporters were very busy. There had been a +close consultation among a few of them as to what should be done by +their Committee as to these charges against the opposite +candidate. In the "Pulpit" of that evening an allusion had +been made to the affair, which was of course sufficiently +intelligible to those who were immediately concerned in the matter, +but which had given no name and mentioned no details. Mr Alf +explained that this had been put in by the sub-editor, and that it +only afforded such news as the paper was bound to give to the +public. He himself pointed out the fact that no note of +triumph had been sounded, and that the rumour had not been +connected with the election. + +<p>One old gentleman was of opinion that they were bound to make +the most of it. "It's no more than we've all believed all +along," said the old gentleman, "and why are we to let a fellow +like that get the seat if we can keep him out?" He was of +opinion that everything should be done to make the rumour with all +its exaggerations as public as possible,—so that there should be +no opening for an indictment for libel; and the clever old +gentleman was full of devices by which this might be +effected. But the Committee generally was averse to fight in +this manner. Public opinion has its Bar as well as the Law +Courts. If, after all, Melmotte had committed no fraud,—or, +as was much more probable, should not be convicted of fraud,—then +it would be said that the accusation had been forged for purely +electioneering purposes, and there might be a rebound which would +pretty well crush all those who had been concerned. +Individual gentlemen could, of course, say what they pleased to +individual voters; but it was agreed at last that no overt use +should be made of the rumours by Mr Alf's Committee. In +regard to other matters, they who worked under the Committee were +busy enough. The dinner to the Emperor was turned into +ridicule, and the electors were asked whether they felt themselves +bound to return a gentleman out of the City to Parliament because +he had offered to spend a fortune on entertaining all the royalties +then assembled in London. There was very much said on +placards and published in newspapers to the discredit of Melmotte, +but nothing was so printed which would not have appeared with equal +venom had the recent rumours never been sent out from the +City. At twelve o'clock at night, when Mr Alf's +committee-room was being closed, and when Melmotte was walking home +to bed, the general opinion at the clubs was very much in favour of +Mr Alf. + +<p>On the next morning Melmotte was up before eight. As yet +no policeman had called for him, nor had any official intimation +reached him that an accusation was to be brought against him. +On coming down from his bedroom he at once went into the +back-parlour on the ground floor, which Mr Longestaffe called his +study, and which Mr Melmotte had used since he had been in Mr +Longestaffe's house for the work which he did at home. He +would be there often early in the morning, and often late at night +after Lord Alfred had left him. There were two heavy +desk-tables in the room, furnished with drawers down to the +ground. One of these the owner of the house had kept locked +for his own purposes. When the bargain for the temporary +letting of the house had been made, Mr Melmotte and Mr Longestaffe +were close friends. Terms for the purchase of Pickering had +just been made, and no cause for suspicion had as yet arisen. +Everything between the two gentlemen had been managed with the +greatest ease. Oh dear, yes! Mr Longestaffe could come +whenever he pleased. He, Melmotte, always left the house at +ten and never returned till six. The ladies would never enter +that room. The servants were to regard Mr Longestaffe quite +as master of the house as far as that room was concerned. If +Mr Longestaffe could spare it, Mr Melmotte would take the key of +one of the tables. The matter was arranged very pleasantly. + +<p>Mr Melmotte on entering the room bolted the door, and then, +sitting at his own table, took certain papers out of the +drawers,—a bundle of letters and another of small documents. +From these, with very little examination, he took three or +four,—two or three perhaps from each. These he tore into +very small fragments and burned the bits,—holding them over a +gas-burner and letting the ashes fall into a large china +plate. Then he blew the ashes into the yard through the open +window. This he did to all these documents but one. +This one he put bit by bit into his mouth, chewing the paper into a +pulp till he swallowed it. When he had done this, and had +re-locked his own drawers, he walked across to the other table, Mr +Longestaffe's table, and pulled the handle of one of the +drawers. It opened;—and then, without touching the contents, +he again closed it. He then knelt down and examined the lock, +and the hole above into which the bolt of the lock ran. +Having done this he again closed the drawer, drew back the bolt of +the door, and, seating himself at his own desk, rang the bell which +was close to hand. The servant found him writing letters +after his usual hurried fashion, and was told that he was ready for +breakfast. He always breakfasted alone with a heap of +newspapers around him, and so he did on this day. He soon +found the paragraph alluding to himself in the "Pulpit," and read +it without a quiver in his face or the slightest change in his +colour. There was no one to see him now,—but he was acting +under a resolve that at no moment, either when alone, or in a +crowd, or when suddenly called upon for words,—not even when the +policemen with their first hints of arrest should come upon +him,—would he betray himself by the working of a single muscle, or +the loss of a drop of blood from his heart. He would go +through it, always armed, without a sign of shrinking. It had +to be done, and he would do it. + +<p>At ten he walked down to the central committee-room at Whitehall +Place. He thought that he would face the world better by +walking than if he were taken in his own brougham. He gave +orders that the carriage should be at the committee-room at eleven, +and wait an hour for him if he was not there. He went along +Bond Street and Piccadilly, Regent Street and through Pall Mall to +Charing Cross, with the blandly triumphant smile of a man who had +successfully entertained the great guest of the day. As he +got near the club he met two or three men whom he knew, and bowed +to them. They returned his bow graciously enough, but not one +of them stopped to speak to him. Of one he knew that he would +have stopped, had it not been for the rumour. Even after the +man had passed on he was careful to show no displeasure on his +face. He would take it all as it would come and still be the +blandly triumphant Merchant Prince,—as long as the police would +allow him. He probably was not aware how very different was +the part he was now playing from that which he had assumed at the +India Office. + +<p>At the committee-room he only found a few understrappers, and +was informed that everything was going on regularly. The +electors were balloting; but with the ballot,—so said the leader +of the understrappers,—there never was any excitement. The +men looked half-frightened,—as though they did not quite know +whether they ought to seize their candidate, and hold him till the +constable came. They certainly had not expected to see him +there. "Has Lord Alfred been here?" Melmotte asked, standing +in the inner room with his back to the empty grate. No,—Lord +Alfred had not been there. "Nor Mr Grendall?" The +senior understrapper knew that Melmotte would have asked for "his +Secretary," and not for Mr Grendall, but for the rumours. It +is so hard not to tumble into Scylla when you are avoiding +Charybdis. Mr Grendall had not been there. Indeed, +nobody had been there. "In fact, there is nothing more to be +done, I suppose?" said Mr Melmotte. The senior understrapper +thought that there was nothing more to be done. He left word +that his brougham should be sent away, and strolled out again on +foot. + +<p>He went up into Covent Garden, where there was a polling +booth. The place seemed to him, as one of the chief centres +for a contested election, to be wonderfully quiet. He was +determined to face everybody and everything, and he went close up +to the booth. Here he was recognised by various men, +mechanics chiefly, who came forward and shook hands with him. +He remained there for an hour conversing with people, and at last +made a speech to a little knot around him. He did not allude +to the rumour of yesterday, nor to the paragraph in the "Pulpit" to +which his name had not been attached; but he spoke freely enough of +the general accusations that had been brought against him +previously. He wished the electors to understand that nothing +which had been said against him made him ashamed to meet them here +or elsewhere. He was proud of his position, and proud that +the electors of Westminster should recognise it. He did not, +he was glad to say, know much of the law, but he was told that the +law would protect him from such aspersions as had been unfairly +thrown upon him. He flattered himself that he was too good an +Englishman to regard the ordinary political attacks to which +candidates were, as a matter of course, subject at elections;—and +he could stretch his back to bear perhaps a little more than these, +particularly as he looked forward to a triumphant return. But +things had been said, and published, which the excitement of an +election could not justify, and as to these things he must have +recourse to the law. Then he made some allusion to the +Princes and the Emperor, and concluded by observing that it was the +proudest boast of his life to be an Englishman and a Londoner. + +<p>It was asserted afterwards that this was the only good speech he +had ever been known to make; and it was certainly successful, as he +was applauded throughout Covent Garden. A reporter for the +"Breakfast-Table" who was on duty at the place, looking for +paragraphs as to the conduct of electors, gave an account of the +speech in that paper, and made more of it, perhaps, than it +deserved. It was asserted afterwards, and given as a great +proof of Melmotte's cleverness, that he had planned the thing and +gone to Covent Garden all alone having considered that in that way +could he best regain a step in reputation; but in truth the affair +had not been pre-concerted. It was while in Whitehall Place +that he had first thought of going to Covent Garden, and he had had +no idea of making a speech till the people had gathered round him. + +<p>It was then noon, and he had to determine what he should do +next. He was half inclined to go round to all the booths and +make speeches. His success at Covent Garden had been very +pleasant to him. But he feared that he might not be so +successful elsewhere. He had shown that he was not afraid of +the electors. Then an idea struck him that he would go boldly +into the City,—to his own offices in Abchurch Lane. He had +determined to be absent on this day, and would not be +expected. But his appearance there could not on that account +be taken amiss. Whatever enmities there might be, or whatever +perils, he would face them. He got a cab therefore and had +himself driven to Abchurch Lane. + +<p>The clerks were hanging about doing nothing, as though it were a +holiday. The dinner, the election, and the rumour together +had altogether demoralized them. But some of them at least +were there, and they showed no signs of absolute +insubordination. "Mr Grendall has not been here?" he +asked. No; Mr Grendall had not been there; but Mr Cohenlupe +was in Mr Grendall's room. At this moment he hardly desired +to see Mr Cohenlupe. That gentleman was privy to many of his +transactions, but was by no means privy to them all. Mr +Cohenlupe knew that the estate at Pickering had been purchased, and +knew that it had been mortgaged. He knew also what had become +of the money which had so been raised. But he knew nothing of +the circumstances of the purchase, although he probably surmised +that Melmotte had succeeded in getting the title-deeds on credit, +without paying the money. He was afraid that he could hardly +see Cohenlupe and hold his tongue, and that he could not speak to +him without danger. He and Cohenlupe might have to stand in a +dock together; and Cohenlupe had none of his spirit. But the +clerks would think, and would talk, were he to leave the office +without seeing his old friend. He went therefore into his own +room, and called to Cohenlupe as he did so. + +<p>"Ve didn't expect you here to-day," said the member for Staines. + +<p>"Nor did I expect to come. But there isn't much to do at +Westminster while the ballot is going on; so I came up, just to +look at the letters. The dinner went off pretty well +yesterday, eh?" + +<p>"Uncommon;—nothing better. Vy did the Lord Mayor stay +away, Melmotte?" + +<p>"Because he's an ass and a cur," said Mr Melmotte with an +assumed air of indignation. "Alf and his people had got hold +of him. There was ever so much fuss about it at +first,—whether he would accept the invitation. I say it was +an insult to the City to take it and not to come. I shall be +even with him some of these days." + +<p>"Things will go on just the same as usual, Melmotte?" + +<p>"Go on. Of course they'll go. What's to hinder +them?" + +<p>"There's ever so much been said," whispered Cohenlupe. + +<p>"Said;—yes," ejaculated Melmotte very loudly. "You're not +such a fool, I hope, as to believe every word you hear. +You'll have enough to believe, if you do." + +<p>"There's no knowing vat anybody does know, and vat anybody does +not know," said Cohenlupe. + +<p>"Look you here, Cohenlupe,"—and now Melmotte also sank his +voice to a whisper,—"keep your tongue in your mouth; go about just +as usual, and say nothing. It's all right. There has +been some heavy pulls upon us." + +<p>"Oh dear, there has indeed!" + +<p>"But any paper with my name to it will come right." + +<p>"That's nothing;—nothing at all," said Cohenlupe. + +<p>"And there is nothing;—nothing at all! I've bought some +property and have paid for it; and I have bought some, and have not +yet paid for it. There's no fraud in that." + +<p>"No, no,—nothing in that." + +<p>"You hold your tongue, and go about your business. I'm +going to the bank now." Cohenlupe had been very low in +spirits, and was still low in spirits; but he was somewhat better +after the visit of the great man to the City. + +<p>Mr Melmotte was as good as his word and walked straight to the +bank. He kept two accounts at different banks, one for his +business, and one for his private affairs. The one he now +entered was that which kept what we may call his domestic +account. He walked straight through, after his old fashion, +to the room behind the bank in which sat the manager and the +manager's one clerk, and stood upon the rug before the fireplace +just as though nothing had happened,—or as nearly as though +nothing had happened as was within the compass of his powers. +He could not quite do it. In keeping up an appearance +intended to be natural he was obliged to be somewhat milder than +his wont. The manager did not behave nearly as well as he +did, and the clerks manifestly betrayed their emotion. +Melmotte saw that it was so;—but he had expected it, and had come +there on purpose to "put it down." + +<p>"We hardly expected to see you in the City to-day, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"And I didn't expect to see myself here. But it always +happens that when one expects that there's most to be done, there's +nothing to be done at all. They're all at work down at +Westminster, balloting; but as I can't go on voting for myself, I'm +of no use. I've been at Covent Garden this morning, making a +stump speech, and if all that they say there is true, I haven't +much to be afraid of." + +<p>"And the dinner went off pretty well?" asked the manager. + +<p>"Very well, indeed. They say the Emperor liked it better +than anything that has been done for him yet." This was a +brilliant flash of imagination. "For a friend to dine with me +every day, you know, I should prefer somebody who had a little more +to say for himself. But then, perhaps, you know, if you or I +were in China we shouldn't have much to say for +ourselves;—eh?" The manager acceded to this +proposition. "We had one awful disappointment. His +lordship from over the way didn't come." + +<p>"The Lord Mayor, you mean." + +<p>"The Lord Mayor didn't come! He was frightened at the last +moment;—took it into his head that his authority in the City was +somehow compromised. But the wonder was that the dinner went +on without him." Then Melmotte referred to the purport of his +call there that day. He would have to draw large cheques for +his private wants. "You don't give a dinner to an Emperor of +China for nothing, you know." He had been in the habit of +overdrawing on his private account,—making arrangements with the +manager. But now, in the manager's presence, he drew a +regular cheque on his business account for a large sum, and then, +as a sort of afterthought, paid in the £250 which he had +received from Mr Broune on account of the money which Sir Felix had +taken from Marie. + +<p>"There don't seem much the matter with him," said the manager, +when Melmotte had left the room. + +<p>"He brazens it out, don't he?" said the senior clerk. But +the feeling of the room after full discussion inclined to the +opinion that the rumours had been a political manoeuvre. +Nevertheless, Mr Melmotte would not now have been allowed to +overdraw at the present moment. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="64"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIV. The Election</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Mr Alf's central committee-room was in Great George Street, and +there the battle was kept alive all the day. It had been +decided, as the reader has been told, that no direct advantage +should be taken of that loud blast of accusation which had been +heard throughout the town on the previous afternoon. There +had not been sufficient time for inquiry as to the truth of that +blast. If there were just ground for the things that had been +said, Mr Melmotte would no doubt soon be in gaol, or would +be—wanted. Many had thought that he would escape as soon as +the dinner was over, and had been disappointed when they heard that +he had been seen walking down towards his own committee-room on the +following morning. Others had been told that at the last +moment his name would be withdrawn,—and a question arose as to +whether he had the legal power to withdraw his name after a certain +hour on the day before the ballot. An effort was made to +convince a portion of the electors that he had withdrawn, or would +have withdrawn, or should have withdrawn. When Melmotte was +at Covent Garden, a large throng of men went to Whitehall Place +with the view of ascertaining the truth. He certainly had +made no attempt at withdrawal. They who propagated this +report certainly damaged Mr Alf's cause. A second reaction +set in, and there grew a feeling that Mr Melmotte was being +ill-used. Those evil things had been said of him,—many at +least so declared,—not from any true motive, but simply to secure +Mr Alf's return. Tidings of the speech in Covent Garden were +spread about at the various polling places, and did good service to +the so-called Conservative cause. Mr Alf's friends, hearing +all this, instigated him also to make a speech. Something +should be said, if only that it might be reported in the +newspapers, to show that they had behaved with generosity, instead +of having injured their enemy by false attacks. Whatever Mr +Alf might say, he might at any rate be sure of a favourable +reporter. + +<p>About two o'clock in the day, Mr Alf did make a speech,—and a +very good speech it was, if correctly reported in the "Evening +Pulpit." Mr Alf was a clever man, ready at all points, with +all his powers immediately at command, and, no doubt, he did make a +good speech. But in this speech, in which we may presume that +it would be his intention to convince the electors that they ought +to return him to Parliament, because, of the two candidates, he was +the fittest to represent their views, he did not say a word as to +his own political ideas, not, indeed, a word that could be accepted +as manifesting his own fitness for the place which it was his +ambition to fill. He contented himself with endeavouring to +show that the other man was not fit;—and that he and his friends, +though solicitous of proving to the electors that Mr Melmotte was +about the most unfit man in the world, had been guilty of nothing +shabby in their manner of doing so. "Mr Melmotte," he said, +"comes before you as a Conservative, and has told us, by the mouths +of his friends,—for he has not favoured us with many words of his +own,—that he is supported by the whole Conservative party. +That party is not my party, but I respect it. Where, however, +are these Conservative supporters? We have heard, till we are +sick of it, of the banquet which Mr Melmotte gave yesterday. +I am told that very few of those whom he calls his Conservative +friends could be induced to attend that banquet. It is +equally notorious that the leading merchants of the City refused to +grace the table of this great commercial prince. I say that +the leaders of the Conservative party have at last found their +candidate out, have repudiated him;—and are seeking now to free +themselves from the individual shame of having supported the +candidature of such a man by remaining in their own houses instead +of clustering round the polling booths. Go to Mr Melmotte's +committee-room and inquire if those leading Conservatives be +there. Look about, and see whether they are walking with him +in the streets, or standing with him in public places, or taking +the air with him in the parks. I respect the leaders of the +Conservative party; but they have made a mistake in this matter, +and they know it." Then he ended by alluding to the rumours +of yesterday. "I scorn," said he, "to say anything against +the personal character of a political opponent, which I am not in a +position to prove. I make no allusion, and have made no +allusion, to reports which were circulated yesterday about him, and +which I believe were originated in the City. They may be +false or they may be true. As I know nothing of the matter, I +prefer to regard them as false, and I recommend you to do the +same. But I declared to you long before these reports were in +men's mouths, that Mr Melmotte was not entitled by his character to +represent you in parliament, and I repeat that assertion. A +great British merchant, indeed! How long, do you think, +should a man be known in this city before that title be accorded to +him? Who knew aught of this man two years since,—unless, +indeed, it be some one who had burnt his wings in trafficking with +him in some continental city? Ask the character of this great +British merchant in Hamburg and Vienna; ask it in Paris;—ask those +whose business here has connected them with the assurance companies +of foreign countries, and you will be told whether this is a fit +man to represent Westminster in the British parliament!" +There was much more yet; but such was the tone of the speech which +Mr Alf made with the object of inducing the electors to vote for +himself. + +<p>At two or three o'clock in the day, nobody knew how the matter +was going. It was supposed that the working-classes were in +favour of Melmotte, partly from their love of a man who spends a +great deal of money, partly from the belief that he was being +ill-used,—partly, no doubt, from that occult sympathy which is +felt for crime, when the crime committed is injurious to the upper +classes. Masses of men will almost feel that a certain amount +of injustice ought to be inflicted on their betters, so as to make +things even, and will persuade themselves that a criminal should be +declared to be innocent, because the crime committed has had a +tendency to oppress the rich and pull down the mighty from their +seats. Some few years since, the basest calumnies that were +ever published in this country, uttered by one of the basest men +that ever disgraced the country, levelled, for the most part, at +men of whose characters and services the country was proud, were +received with a certain amount of sympathy by men not themselves +dishonest, because they who were thus slandered had received so +many good things from Fortune, that a few evil things were thought +to be due to them. There had not as yet been time for the +formation of such a feeling generally, in respect of Mr +Melmotte. But there was a commencement of it. It had +been asserted that Melmotte was a public robber. Whom had he +robbed? Not the poor. There was not a man in London who +caused the payment of a larger sum in weekly wages than Mr +Melmotte. + +<p>About three o'clock, the editor of the "Morning Breakfast-Table" +called on Lady Carbury. "What is it all about?" she +asked, as soon as her friend was seated. There had been no +time for him to explain anything at Madame Melmotte's reception, +and Lady Carbury had as yet failed in learning any certain news of +what was going on. + +<p>"I don't know what to make of it," said Mr Broune. "There +is a story abroad that Mr Melmotte has forged some document with +reference to a purchase he made,—and hanging on to that story are +other stories as to moneys that he has raised. I should say +that it was simply an electioneering trick, and a very unfair +trick, were it not that all his own side seem to believe it." + +<p>"Do you believe it?" + +<p>"Ah,—I could answer almost any question sooner than that." + +<p>"Then he can't be rich at all." + +<p>"Even that would not follow. He has such large concerns in +hand that he might be very much pressed for funds, and yet be +possessed of immense wealth. Everybody says that he pays all +his bills." + +<p>"Will he be returned?" she asked. + +<p>"From what we hear, we think not; I shall know more about it in +an hour or two. At present I should not like to have to +publish an opinion; but were I forced to bet, I would bet against +him. Nobody is doing anything for him. There can be no +doubt that his own party are ashamed of him. As things used +to be, this would have been fatal to him at the day of election; +but now, with the ballot, it won't matter so much. If I were +a candidate, at present, I think I would go to bed on the last day, +and beg all my committee to do the same as soon as they had put in +their voting papers." + +<p>"I am glad Felix did not go to Liverpool," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"It would not have made much difference. She would have +been brought back all the same. They say Lord Nidderdale +still means to marry her." + +<p>"I saw him talking to her last night." + +<p>"There must be an immense amount of property somewhere. No +one doubts that he was rich when he came to England two years ago, +and they say everything has prospered that he has put his hand to +since. The Mexican Railway shares had fallen this morning, +but they were at £15 premium yesterday morning. He must +have made an enormous deal out of that." But Mr Broune's +eloquence on this occasion was chiefly displayed in regard to the +presumption of Mr Alf. "I shouldn't think him such a fool if +he had announced his resignation of the editorship when he came +before the world as a candidate for parliament. But a man +must be mad who imagines that he can sit for Westminster and edit a +London daily paper at the same time." + +<p>"Has it never been done?" + +<p>"Never, I think;—that is, by the editor of such a paper as the +'Pulpit.' How is a man who sits in parliament himself +ever to pretend to discuss the doings of parliament with +impartiality? But Alf believes that he can do more than +anybody else ever did, and he'll come to the ground. Where's +Felix now?" + +<p>"Do not ask me," said the poor mother. + +<p>"Is he doing anything?" + +<p>"He lies in bed all day, and is out all night." + +<p>"But that wants money." She only shook her head. +"You do not give him any?" + +<p>"I have none to give." + +<p>"I should simply take the key of the house from him,—or bolt +the door if he will not give it up." + +<p>"And be in bed, and listen while he knocks,—knowing that he +must wander in the streets if I refuse to let him in? A +mother cannot do that, Mr Broune. A child has such a hold +upon his mother. When her reason has bade her to condemn him, +her heart will not let her carry out the sentence." Mr Broune +never now thought of kissing Lady Carbury; but when she spoke thus, +he got up and took her hand, and she, as she pressed his hand, had +no fear that she would be kissed. The feeling between them +was changed. + +<p>Melmotte dined at home that evening with no company but that of +his wife and daughter. Latterly one of the Grendalls had +almost always joined their party when they did not dine out. +Indeed, it was an understood thing, that Miles Grendall should dine +there always, unless he explained his absence by some +engagement,—so that his presence there had come to be considered +as a part of his duty. Not infrequently "Alfred" and Miles +would both come, as Melmotte's dinners and wines were good, and +occasionally the father would take the son's place,—but on this +day they were both absent. Madame Melmotte had not as yet +said a word to any one indicating her own apprehension of any +evil. But not a person had called to-day, the day after the +great party,—and even she, though she was naturally callous in +such matters, had begun to think that she was deserted. She +had, too, become so used to the presence of the Grendalls, that she +now missed their company. She thought that on this day, of +all days, when the world was balloting for her husband at +Westminster, they would both have been with him to discuss the work +of the day. "Is not Mr Grendall coming?" she asked, as she +took her seat at the table. + +<p>"No, he is not," said Melmotte. + +<p>"Nor Lord Alfred?" + +<p>"Nor Lord Alfred." Melmotte had returned home much +comforted by the day's proceedings. No one had dared to say a +harsh word to his face. Nothing further had reached his +ears. After leaving the bank he had gone back to his office, +and had written letters,—just as if nothing had happened; and, as +far as he could judge, his clerks had plucked up courage. One +of them, about five o'clock, came into him with news from the west, +and with second editions of the evening papers. The clerk +expressed his opinion that the election was going well. Mr +Melmotte, judging from the papers, one of which was supposed to be +on his side and the other of course against him, thought that his +affairs altogether were looking well. The Westminster +election had not the foremost place in his thoughts; but he took +what was said on that subject as indicating the minds of men upon +the other matter. He read Alf's speech, and consoled himself +with thinking that Mr Alf had not dared to make new accusations +against him. All that about Hamburg and Vienna and Paris was +as old as the hills, and availed nothing. His whole +candidature had been carried in the face of that. "I think we +shall do pretty well," he said to the clerk. His very +presence in Abchurch Lane of course gave confidence. And +thus, when he came home, something of the old arrogance had come +back upon him, and he could swagger at any rate before his wife and +servants. "Nor Lord Alfred," he said with scorn. Then +he added more. "The father and son are two +d–––– curs." This of course +frightened Madame Melmotte, and she joined this desertion of the +Grendalls to her own solitude all the day. + +<p>"Is there anything wrong, Melmotte?" she said afterwards, +creeping up to him in the back parlour, and speaking in French. + +<p>"What do you call wrong?" + +<p>"I don't know;—but I seem to be afraid of something." + +<p>"I should have thought you were used to that kind of feeling by +this time." + +<p>"Then there is something." + +<p>"Don't be a fool. There is always something. There +is always much. You don't suppose that this kind of thing can +be carried on as smoothly as the life of an old maid with +£400 a year paid quarterly in advance." + +<p>"Shall we have to move again?" she asked. + +<p>"How am I to tell? You haven't much to do when we move, +and may get plenty to eat and drink wherever you go. Does +that girl mean to marry Lord Nidderdale?" Madame Melmotte +shook her head. "What a poor creature you must be when you +can't talk her out of a fancy for such a reprobate as young +Carbury. If she throws me over, I'll throw her over. +I'll flog her within an inch of her life if she disobeys me. +You tell her that I say so." + +<p>"Then he may flog me," said Marie, when so much of the +conversation was repeated to her that evening. "Papa does not +know me if he thinks that I'm to be made to marry a man by +flogging." No such attempt was at any rate made that night, +for the father and husband did not again see his wife or daughter. + +<p>Early the next day a report was current that Mr Alf had been +returned. The numbers had not as yet been counted, or the +books made up;—but that was the opinion expressed. All the +morning newspapers, including the "Breakfast-Table," repeated this +report,—but each gave it as the general opinion on the +matter. The truth would not be known till seven or eight +o'clock in the evening. The Conservative papers did not +scruple to say that the presumed election of Mr Alf was owing to a +sudden declension in the confidence originally felt in Mr +Melmotte. The "Breakfast-Table," which had supported Mr +Melmotte's candidature, gave no reason, and expressed more doubt on +the result than the other papers. "We know not how such an +opinion forms itself," the writer said,—"but it seems to have been +formed. As nothing as yet is really known, or can be known, +we express no opinion of our own upon the matter." + +<p>Mr Melmotte again went into the City, and found that things +seemed to have returned very much into their usual grooves. +The Mexican Railway shares were low, and Mr Cohenlupe was depressed +in spirits and unhappy;—but nothing dreadful had occurred or +seemed to be threatened. If nothing dreadful did occur, the +railway shares would probably recover, or nearly recover, their +position. In the course of the day, Melmotte received a +letter from Messrs Slow and Bideawhile, which, of itself, certainly +contained no comfort;—but there was comfort to be drawn even from +that letter, by reason of what it did not contain. The letter +was unfriendly in its tone and peremptory. It had come +evidently from a hostile party. It had none of the feeling +which had hitherto prevailed in the intercourse between these two +well-known Conservative gentlemen, Mr Adolphus Longestaffe and Mr +Augustus Melmotte. But there was no allusion in it to +forgery; no question of criminal proceedings; no hint at aught +beyond the not unnatural desire of Mr Longestaffe and Mr +Longestaffe's son to be paid for the property at Pickering which Mr +Melmotte had purchased. + +<p>"We have to remind you," said the letter, in continuation of +paragraphs which had contained simply demands for the money, "that +the title-deeds were delivered to you on receipt by us of authority +to that effect from the Messrs Longestaffe, father and son, on the +understanding that the purchase-money was to be paid to us by +you. We are informed that the property has been since +mortgaged by you. We do not state this as a fact. But +the information, whether true or untrue, forces upon us the +necessity of demanding that you should at once pay to us the +purchase-money,—£80,000,— or else return to us the +title-deeds of the estate." + +<p>This letter, which was signed Slow and Bideawhile, declared +positively that the title-deeds had been given up on authority +received by them from both the Longestaffes,—father and son. +Now the accusation brought against Melmotte, as far as he could as +yet understand it, was that he had forged the signature to the +young Mr Longestaffe's letter. Messrs Slow and Bideawhile +were therefore on his side. As to the simple debt, he cared +little comparatively about that. Many fine men were walking +about London who owed large sums of money which they could not pay. + +<p>As he was sitting at his solitary dinner this evening,—for both +his wife and daughter had declined to join him, saying that they +had dined early,—news was brought to him that he had been elected +for Westminster. He had beaten Mr Alf by something not much +less than a thousand votes. + +<p>It was very much to be member for Westminster. So much had +at any rate been achieved by him who had begun the world without a +shilling and without a friend,—almost without education! +Much as he loved money, and much as he loved the spending of money, +and much as he had made and much as he had spent, no triumph of his +life had been so great to him as this. Brought into the world +in a gutter, without father or mother, with no good thing ever done +for him, he was now a member of the British Parliament, and member +for one of the first cities in the empire. Ignorant as he was +he understood the magnitude of the achievement, and dismayed as he +was as to his present position, still at this moment he enjoyed +keenly a certain amount of elation. Of course he had +committed forgery,—of course he had committed robbery. That, +indeed, was nothing, for he had been cheating and forging and +stealing all his life. Of course he was in danger of almost +immediate detection and punishment. He hardly hoped that the +evil day would be very much longer protracted, and yet he enjoyed +his triumph. Whatever they might do, quick as they might be, +they could hardly prevent his taking his seat in the House of +Commons. Then if they sent him to penal servitude for life, +they would have to say that they had so treated the member for +Westminster! + +<p>He drank a bottle of claret, and then got some +brandy-and-water. In such troubles as were coming upon him +now, he would hardly get sufficient support from wine. He +knew that he had better not drink;—that is, he had better not +drink, supposing the world to be free to him for his own work and +his own enjoyment. But if the world were no longer free to +him, if he were really coming to penal servitude and +annihilation,—then why should he not drink while the time +lasted? An hour of triumphant joy might be an eternity to a +man, if the man's imagination were strong enough so make him so +regard his hour. He therefore took his brandy-and-water +freely, and as he took it he was able to throw his fears behind +him, and to assure himself that, after all, he might even yet +escape from his bondages. No;—he would drink no more. +This he said to himself as he filled another beaker. He would +work instead. He would put his shoulder to the wheel, and +would yet conquer his enemies. It would not be so easy to +convict a member for Westminster,—especially if money were spent +freely. Was he not the man who, at his own cost, had +entertained the Emperor of China? Would not that be +remembered in his favour? Would not men be unwilling to +punish the man who had received at his own table all the Princes of +the land, and the Prime Minister, and all the Ministers? To +convict him would be a national disgrace. He fully realized +all this as he lifted the glass to his mouth, and puffed out the +smoke in large volumes through his lips. But money must be +spent! Yes;—money must be had! Cohenlupe certainly had +money. Though he squeezed it out of the coward's veins he +would have it. At any rate, he would not despair. There +was a fight to be fought yet, and he would fight it to the +end. Then he took a deep drink, and slowly, with careful and +almost solemn steps, be made his way up to his bed. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="65"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXV. Miss Longestaffe Writes Home</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lady Monogram, when she left Madame Melmotte's house after that +entertainment of Imperial Majesty which had been to her of so very +little avail, was not in a good humour. Sir Damask, who had +himself affected to laugh at the whole thing, but who had been in +truth as anxious as his wife to see the Emperor in private society, +put her ladyship and Miss Longestaffe into the carriage without a +word, and rushed off to his club in disgust. The affair from +beginning to end, including the final failure, had been his wife's +doing. He had been made to work like a slave, and had been +taken against his will to Melmotte's house, and had seen no Emperor +and shaken hands with no Prince! "They may fight it out +between them now like the Kilkenny cats." That was his idea +as he closed the carriage-door on the two ladies,—thinking that if +a larger remnant were left of one cat than of the other that larger +remnant would belong to his wife. + +<p>"What a horrid affair!" said Lady Monogram. "Did anybody +ever see anything so vulgar?" This was at any rate +unreasonable, for whatever vulgarity there may have been, Lady +Monogram had seen none of it. + +<p>"I don't know why you were so late," said Georgiana. + +<p>"Late! Why it's not yet twelve. I don't suppose it +was eleven when we got into the Square. Anywhere else it +would have been early." + +<p>"You knew they did not mean to stay long. It was +particularly said so. I really think it was your own fault." + +<p>"My own fault. Yes;—I don't doubt that. I know it +was my own fault, my dear, to have had anything to do with +it. And now I have got to pay for it." + +<p>"What do you mean by paying for it, Julia?" + +<p>"You know what I mean very well. Is your friend going to +do us the honour of coming to us to-morrow night?" She could +not have declared in plainer language how very high she thought the +price to be which she had consented to give for those ineffective +tickets. + +<p>"If you mean Mr Brehgert, he is coming. You desired me to +ask him, and I did so." + +<p>"Desired you! The truth is, Georgiana, when people get +into different sets, they'd better stay where they are. It's +no good trying to mix things." Lady Monogram was so angry +that she could not control her tongue. + +<p>Miss Longestaffe was ready to tear herself with +indignation. That she should have been brought to hear +insolence such as this from Julia Triplex,—she, the daughter of +Adolphus Longestaffe of Caversham and Lady Pomona; she, who was +considered to have lived in quite the first London circle! +But she could hardly get hold of fit words for a reply. She +was almost in tears, and was yet anxious to fight rather than +weep. But she was in her friend's carriage, and was being +taken to her friend's house, was to be entertained by her friend +all the next day, and was to see her lover among her friend's +guests. "I wonder what has made you so ill-natured," she said +at last. "You didn't use to be like that." + +<p>"It's no good abusing me," said Lady Monogram. "Here we +are, and I suppose we had better get,—out unless you want the +carriage to take you anywhere else." Then Lady Monogram got +out and marched into the house, and taking a candle went direct to +her own room. Miss Longestaffe followed slowly to her own +chamber, and having half undressed herself, dismissed her maid and +prepared to write to her mother. + +<p>The letter to her mother must be written. Mr Brehgert had +twice proposed that he should, in the usual way, go to Mr +Longestaffe, who had been backwards and forwards in London, and was +there at the present moment. Of course it was proper that Mr +Brehgert should see her father,—but, as she had told him, she +preferred that he should postpone his visit for a day or two. +She was now agonized by many doubts. Those few words about +"various sets" and the "mixing of things" had stabbed her to the +very heart,—as had been intended. Mr Brehgert was +rich. That was a certainty. But she already repented of +what she had done. If it were necessary that she should +really go down into another and a much lower world, a world +composed altogether of Brehgerts, Melmottes, and Cohenlupes, would +it avail her much to be the mistress of a gorgeous house? She +had known, and understood, and had revelled in the exclusiveness of +county position. Caversham had been dull, and there had +always been there a dearth of young men of the proper sort; but it +had been a place to talk of, and to feel satisfied with as a home +to be acknowledged before the world. Her mother was dull, and +her father pompous and often cross; but they were in the right +set,—miles removed from the Brehgerts and Melmottes,—until her +father himself had suggested to her that she should go to the house +in Grosvenor Square. She would write one letter to-night; but +there was a question in her mind whether the letter should be +written to her mother telling her the horrid truth,—or to Mr +Brehgert begging that the match should be broken off. I think +she would have decided on the latter had it not been that so many +people had already heard of the match. The Monograms knew it, +and had of course talked far and wide. The Melmottes knew it, +and she was aware that Lord Nidderdale had heard it. It was +already so far known that it was sure to be public before the end +of the season. Each morning lately she had feared that a +letter from home would call upon her to explain the meaning of some +frightful rumours reaching Caversham, or that her father would come +to her and with horror on his face demand to know whether it was +indeed true that she had given her sanction to so abominable a +report. + +<p>And there were other troubles. She had just spoken to +Madame Melmotte this evening, having met her late hostess as she +entered the drawing-room, and had felt from the manner of her +reception that she was not wanted back again. She had told +her father that she was going to transfer herself to the Monograms +for a time, not mentioning the proposed duration of her visit, and +Mr Longestaffe, in his ambiguous way, had expressed himself glad +that she was leaving the Melmottes. She did not think that +she could go back to Grosvenor Square, although Mr Brehgert desired +it. Since the expression of Mr Brehgert's wishes she had +perceived that ill-will had grown up between her father and Mr +Melmotte. She must return to Caversham. They could not +refuse to take her in, though she had betrothed herself to a Jew! + +<p>If she decided that the story should be told to her mother it +would be easier to tell it by letter than by spoken words, face to +face. But then if she wrote the letter there would be no +retreat;—and how should she face her family after such a +declaration? She had always given herself credit for courage, +and now she wondered at her own cowardice. Even Lady +Monogram, her old friend Julia Triplex, had trampled upon +her. Was it not the business of her life, in these days, to +do the best she could for herself, and would she allow paltry +considerations as to the feelings of others to stand in her way and +become bugbears to affright her? Who sent her to Melmotte's +house? Was it not her own father? Then she sat herself +square at the table, and wrote to her mother,—as follows,—dating +her letter for the following morning:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +Hill Street, 9th July, 187—.<br> +<br> +MY DEAR MAMMA,<br> +<br> + I am afraid you will be very much +astonished by this letter, and perhaps disappointed. I have +engaged myself to Mr Brehgert, a member of a very wealthy firm in +the City, called Todd, Brehgert, and Goldsheiner. I may as +well tell you the worst at once. Mr Brehgert is a Jew. +</i>[This last word she wrote very rapidly, but largely, determined +that there should be no lack of courage apparent in the +letter.] <i>He is a very wealthy man, and his business is +about banking and what he calls finance. I understand they +are among the most leading people in the City. He lives at +present at a very handsome house at Fulham. I don't know that +I ever saw a place more beautifully fitted up. I have said +nothing to papa, nor has he; but he says he will be willing to +satisfy papa perfectly as to settlements. He has offered to +have a house in London if I like,—and also to keep the villa at +Fulham or else to have a place somewhere in the country. Or I +may have the villa at Fulham and a house in the country. No +man can be more generous than he is. He has been married +before, and has a family, and now I think I have told you all.<br> +<br> + I suppose you and papa will be very +much dissatisfied. I hope papa won't refuse his +consent. It can do no good. I am not going to remain as +I am now all my life, and there is no use waiting any longer. +It was papa who made me go to the Melmottes, who are not nearly so +well placed as Mr Brehgert. Everybody knows that Madame +Melmotte is a Jewess, and nobody knows what Mr Melmotte is. +It is no good going on with the old thing when everything seems to +be upset and at sixes and sevens. If papa has got to be so +poor that he is obliged to let the house in town, one must of +course expect to be different from what we were.<br> +<br> + I hope you won't mind having me back +the day after to-morrow,—that is to-morrow, Wednesday. There +is a party here to-night, and Mr Brehgert is coming. But I +can't stay longer with Julia, who doesn't make herself nice, and I +do not at all want to go back to the Melmottes. I fancy that +there is something wrong between papa and Mr Melmotte.<br> +<br> + Send the carriage to meet me by the +2.30 train from London,—and pray, mamma, don't scold when you see +me, or have hysterics, or anything of that sort. Of course it +isn't all nice, but things have got so that they never will be nice +again. I shall tell Mr Brehgert to go to papa on Wednesday. +<br> +<br> + Your affectionate daughter,<br> +<br> + G.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>When the morning came she desired the servant to take the letter +away and have it posted, so that the temptation to stop it might no +longer be in her way. + +<p>About one o'clock on that day Mr Longestaffe called at Lady +Monogram's. The two ladies had breakfasted upstairs, and had +only just met in the drawing-room when he came in. Georgiana +trembled at first, but soon perceived that her father had as yet +heard nothing of Mr Brehgert. She immediately told him that +she proposed returning home on the following day. "I am sick +of the Melmottes," she said. + +<p>"And so am I," said Mr Longestaffe, with a serious countenance. + +<p>"We should have been delighted to have had Georgiana to stay +with us a little longer," said Lady Monogram; "but we have but the +one spare bedroom, and another friend is coming." Georgiana, +who knew both these statements to be false, declared that she +wouldn't think of such a thing. "We have a few friends +corning to-night, Mr Longestaffe, and I hope you'll come in and see +Georgiana." Mr Longestaffe hummed and hawed and muttered +something, as old gentlemen always do when they are asked to go out +to parties after dinner. "Mr Brehgert will be here," +continued Lady Monogram with a peculiar smile. + +<p>"Mr who?" The name was not at first familiar to Mr +Longestaffe. + +<p>"Mr Brehgert." Lady Monogram looked at her friend. +"I hope I'm not revealing any secret." + +<p>"I don't understand anything about it," said Mr +Longestaffe. "Georgiana, who is Mr Brehgert?" He had +understood very much. He had been quite certain from Lady +Monogram's manner and words, and also from his daughter's face, +that Mr Brehgert was mentioned as an accepted lover. Lady +Monogram had meant that it should be so, and any father would have +understood her tone. As she said afterwards to Sir Damask, +she was not going to have that Jew there at her house as Georgiana +Longestaffe's accepted lover without Mr Longestaffe's knowledge. + +<p>"My dear Georgiana," she said, "I supposed your father knew all +about it." + +<p>"I know nothing. Georgiana, I hate a mystery. I +insist upon knowing. Who is Mr Brehgert, Lady Monogram?" + +<p>"Mr Brehgert is a—very wealthy gentleman. That is all I +know of him. Perhaps, Georgiana, you will be glad to be alone +with your father." And Lady Monogram left the room. + +<p>Was there ever cruelty equal to this! But now the poor +girl was forced to speak,—though she could not speak as boldly as +she had written. "Papa, I wrote to mamma this morning, and Mr +Brehgert was to come to you to-morrow." + +<p>"Do you mean that you are engaged to marry him?" + +<p>"Yes, papa." + +<p>"What Mr Brehgert is he?" + +<p>"He is a merchant." + +<p>"You can't mean the fat Jew whom I've met with Mr Melmotte;—a +man old enough to be your father!" The poor girl's condition +now was certainly lamentable. The fat Jew, old enough to be +her father, was the very man she did mean. She thought that +she would try to brazen it out with her father. But at the +present moment she had been so cowed by the manner in which the +subject had been introduced that she did not know how to begin to +be bold. She only looked at him as though imploring him to +spare her. "Is the man a Jew?" demanded Mr Longestaffe, with +as much thunder as he knew how to throw into his voice. + +<p>"Yes, papa," she said. + +<p>"He is that fat man?" + +<p>"Yes, papa." + +<p>"And nearly as old as I am?" + +"No, papa,—not nearly as old as you are. He is fifty." + +<p>"And a Jew?" He again asked the horrid question, and again +threw in the thunder. On this occasion she condescended to +make no further reply. "If you do, you shall do it as an +alien from my house. I certainly will never see him. +Tell him not to come to me, for I certainly will not speak to +him. You are degraded and disgraced; but you shall not +degrade and disgrace me and your mother and sister." + +<p>"It was you, papa, who told me to go to the Melmottes." + +<p>"That is not true. I wanted you to stay at +Caversham. A Jew! an old fat Jew! Heavens and earth! +that it should be possible that you should think of it! +You;— my daughter,—that used to take such pride in +yourself! Have you written to your mother?" + +<p>"I have." + +<p>"It will kill her. It will simply kill her. And you +are going home to-morrow?" + +<p>"I wrote to say so." + +<p>"And there you must remain. I suppose I had better see the +man and explain to him that it is utterly impossible. Heavens +on earth;—a Jew! An old fat Jew! My daughter! I +will take you down home myself to-morrow. What have I done +that I should be punished by my children in this way?" The +poor man had had rather a stormy interview with Dolly that +morning. "You had better leave this house to-day, and come to +my hotel in Jermyn Street." + +<p>"Oh, papa, I can't do that." + +<p>"Why can't you do it? You can do it, and you shall do +it. I will not have you see him again. I will see +him. If you do not promise me to come, I will send for Lady +Monogram and tell her that I will not permit you to meet Mr +Brehgert at her house. I do wonder at her. A Jew! +An old fat Jew!" Mr Longestaffe, putting up both his hands, +walked about the room in despair. + +<p>She did consent, knowing that her father and Lady Monogram +between them would be too strong for her. She had her things +packed up, and in the course of the afternoon allowed herself to be +carried away. She said one word to Lady Monogram before she +went. "Tell him that I was called away suddenly." + +<p>"I will, my dear. I thought your papa would not like +it." The poor girl had not spirit sufficient to upbraid her +friend; nor did it suit her now to acerbate an enemy. For the +moment, at least, she must yield to everybody and everything. +She spent a lonely evening with her father in a dull sitting-room +in the hotel, hardly speaking or spoken to, and the following day +she was taken down to Caversham. She believed that her father +had seen Mr Brehgert in the morning of that day;—but he said no +word to her, nor did she ask him any question. + +<p>That was on the day after Lady Monogram's party. Early in +the evening, just as the gentlemen were coming up from the +dining-room, Mr Brehgert, apparelled with much elegance, made his +appearance. Lady Monogram received him with a sweet +smile. "Miss Longestaffe," she said, "has left me and gone to +her father." + +<p>"Oh, indeed." + +<p>"Yes," said Lady Monogram, bowing her head, and then attending +to other persons as they arrived. Nor did she condescend to +speak another word to Mr Brehgert, or to introduce him even to her +husband. He stood for about ten minutes inside the +drawing-room, leaning against the wall, and then he departed. +No one had spoken a word to him. But he was an even-tempered, +good-humoured man. When Miss Longestaffe was his wife things +would no doubt be different;—or else she would probably change her +acquaintance. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="66"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVI. "So Shall Be My Enmity"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"You shall be troubled no more with Winifred Hurtle." So +Mrs Hurtle had said, speaking in perfect good faith to the man whom +she had come to England with the view of marrying. And then +when he had said good-bye to her, putting out his hand to take hers +for the last time, she declined that. "Nay," she had said; +"this parting will bear no farewell." + +<p>Having left her after that fashion Paul Montague could not +return home with very high spirits. Had she insisted on his +taking that letter with the threat of the horsewhip as the letter +which she intended to write to him,—that letter which she had +shown him, owning it to be the ebullition of her uncontrolled +passion, and had then destroyed,—he might at any rate have +consoled himself with thinking that, however badly he might have +behaved, her conduct had been worse than his. He could have +made himself warm and comfortable with anger, and could have +assured himself that under any circumstances he must be right to +escape from the clutches of a wildcat such as that. But at +the last moment she had shown that she was no wild cat to +him. She had melted, and become soft and womanly. In +her softness she had been exquisitely beautiful; and as he returned +home he was sad and dissatisfied with himself. He had +destroyed her life for her,—or, at least, had created a miserable +episode in it which could hardly be obliterated. She had said +that she was all alone, and had given up everything to follow +him,—and he had believed her. Was he to do nothing for her +now? She had allowed him to go, and after her fashion had +pardoned him the wrong he had done her. But was that to be +sufficient for him,—so that he might now feel inwardly satisfied +at leaving her, and make no further inquiry as to her fate? +Could he pass on and let her be as the wine that has been +drunk,—as the hour that has been enjoyed as the day that is past? + +<p>But what could he do? He had made good his own +escape. He had resolved that, let her be woman or wild cat, +he would not marry her, and in that he knew he had been +right. Her antecedents, as now declared by herself, unfitted +her for such a marriage. Were he to return to her he would be +again thrusting his hand into the fire. But his own selfish +coldness was hateful to him when he thought that there was nothing +to be done but to leave her desolate and lonely in Mrs Pipkin's +lodgings. + +<p>During the next three or four days, while the preparations for +the dinner and the election were going on, he was busy in respect +to the American railway. He again went down to Liverpool, and +at Mr Ramsbottom's advice prepared a letter to the board of +directors, in which he resigned his seat, and gave his reasons for +resigning it; adding that he should reserve to himself the liberty +of publishing his letter, should at any time the circumstances of +the railway company seem to him to make such a course +desirable. He also wrote a letter to Mr Fisker, begging that +gentleman to come to England, and expressing his own wish to retire +altogether from the firm of Fisker, Montague, and Montague upon +receiving the balance of money due to him,—a payment which must, +he said, be a matter of small moment to his two partners, if, as he +had been informed, they had enriched themselves by the success of +the railway company in San Francisco. When he wrote these +letters at Liverpool the great rumour about Melmotte had not yet +sprung up. He returned to London on the day of the festival, +and first heard of the report at the Beargarden. There he +found that the old set had for the moment broken itself up. +Sir Felix Carbury had not been heard of for the last four or five +days,—and then the whole story of Miss Melmotte's journey, of +which he had read something in the newspapers, was told to +him. "We think that Carbury has drowned himself" said Lord +Grasslough, "and I haven't heard of anybody being heartbroken about +it." Lord Nidderdale had hardly been seen at the club. +"He's taken up the running with the girl," said Lord +Grasslough. "What he'll do now, nobody knows. If I was +at it, I'd have the money down in hard cash before I went into the +church. He was there at the party yesterday, talking to the +girl all the night;—a sort of thing he never did before. +Nidderdale is the best fellow going, but he was always an +ass." Nor had Miles Grendall been seen in the club for three +days. "We've got into a way of play the poor fellow doesn't +like," said Lord Grasslough; "and then Melmotte won't let him out +of his sight. He has taken to dine there every day." +This was said during the election,—on the very day on which Miles +deserted his patron; and on that evening he did dine at the +club. Paul Montague also dined there, and would fain have +heard something from Grendall as to Melmotte's condition; but the +secretary, if not faithful in all things, was faithful at any rate +in his silence. Though Grasslough talked openly enough about +Melmotte in the smoking-room Miles Grendall said never a word. + +<p>On the next day, early in the afternoon, almost without a fixed +purpose, Montague strolled up to Welbeck Street, and found Hetta +alone. "Mamma has gone to her publisher's," she said. +"She is writing so much now that she is always going there. +Who has been elected, Mr Montague?" Paul knew nothing about +the election, and cared very little. At that time, however, +the election had not been decided. "I suppose it will make no +difference to you whether your chairman be in Parliament or +not?" Paul said that Melmotte was no longer a chairman of +his. "Are you out of it altogether, Mr Montague?" +Yes;—as far as it lay within his power to be out of it, he was out +of it. He did not like Mr Melmotte, nor believe in him. +Then with considerable warmth he repudiated all connection with the +Melmotte party, expressing deep regret that circumstances had +driven him for a time into that alliance. "Then you think +that Mr Melmotte is—?" + +<p>"Just a scoundrel;—that's all." + +<p>"You heard about Felix?" + +<p>"Of course I heard that he was to marry the girl, and that he +tried to run off with her. I don't know much about it. +They say that Lord Nidderdale is to marry her now." + +<p>"I think not, Mr Montague." + +<p>"I hope not, for his sake. At any rate, your brother is +well out of it." + +<p>"Do you know that she loves Felix? There is no pretence +about that. I do think she is good. The other night at +the party she spoke to me." + +<p>"You went to the party, then?" + +<p>"Yes;—I could not refuse to go when mamma chose to take +me. And when I was there she spoke to me about Felix. I +don't think she will marry Lord Nidderdale. Poor girl;—I do +pity her. Think what a downfall it will be if anything +happens." + +<p>But Paul Montague had certainly not come there with the +intention of discussing Melmotte's affairs, nor could he afford to +lose the opportunity which chance had given him. He was off +with one love, and now he thought that he might be on with the +other. "Hetta," he said, "I am thinking more of myself than +of her,—or even of Felix." + +<p>"I suppose we all do think more of ourselves than of other +people," said Hetta, who knew from his voice at once what it was in +his mind to do. + +<p>"Yes;—but I am not thinking of myself only. I am thinking +of myself, and you. In all my thoughts of myself I am +thinking of you too." + +<p>"I do not know why you should do that." + +<p>"Hetta, you must know that I love you." + +<p>"Do you?" she said. Of course she knew it. And of +course she thought that he was equally sure of her love. Had +he chosen to read signs that ought to have been plain enough to +him, could he have doubted her love after the few words that had +been spoken on that night when Lady Carbury had come in with Roger +and interrupted them? She could not remember exactly what had +been said; but she did remember that he had spoken of leaving +England for ever in a certain event, and that she had not rebuked +him;—and she remembered also how she had confessed her own love to +her mother. He, of course, had known nothing of that +confession; but he must have known that he had her heart! + +<p>So at least she thought. She had been working some morsel +of lace, as ladies do when ladies wish to be not quite doing +nothing. She had endeavoured to ply her needle, very idly, +while he was speaking to her, but now she allowed her hands to fall +into her lap. She would have continued to work at the lace +had she been able, but there are times when the eyes will not see +clearly, and when the hands will hardly act mechanically. + +<p>"Yes,—I do. Hetta, say a word to me. Can it be +so? Look at me for one moment so as to let me know." +Her eyes had turned downwards after her work. "If Roger is +dearer to you than I am, I will go at once." + +<p>"Roger is very dear to me." + +<p>"Do you love him as I would have you love me?" + +<p>She paused for a time, knowing that his eyes were fixed upon +her, and then she answered the question in a low voice, but very +clearly. "No," she said,—"not like that." + +<p>"Can you love me like that?" He put out both his arms as +though to take her to his breast should the answer be such as he +longed to hear. She raised her hand towards him, as if to +keep him back, and left it with him when he seized it. "Is it +mine?" he said. + +<p>"If you want it." + +<p>Then he was at her feet in a moment, kissing her hand, and her +dress, looking up into her face with his eyes full of tears, +ecstatic with joy as though he had really never ventured to hope +for such success. "Want it!" he said. "Hetta, I have +never wanted anything but that with real desire. Oh, Hetta, +my own. Since I first saw you this has been my only dream of +happiness. And now it is my own." + +<p>She was very quiet, but full of joy. Now that she had told +him the truth she did not coy her love. Having once spoken +the word she did not care how often she repeated it. She did +not think that she could ever have loved anybody but him,—even if +he had not been fond of her. As to Roger,—dear Roger, +dearest Roger,—no; it was not the same thing. "He is as good +as gold," she said,—"ever so much better than you are, Paul," +stroking his hair with her hand and looking into his eyes. + +<p>"Better than anybody I have ever known," said Montague with all +his energy. + +<p>"I think he is;—but, ah, that is not everything. I +suppose we ought to love the best people best; but I don't, Paul." + +<p>"I do," said he. + +<p>"No,—you don't. You must love me best, but I won't be +called good. I do not know why it has been so. Do you +know, Paul, I have sometimes thought I would do as he would have +me, out of sheer gratitude. I did not know how to refuse such +a trifling thing to one who ought to have everything that he +wants." + +<p>"Where should I have been?" + +<p>"Oh, you! Somebody else would have made you happy. +But do you know, Paul, I think he will never love any one +else. I ought not to say so, because it seems to be making so +much of myself. But I feel it. He is not so young a +man, and yet I think that he never was in love before. He +almost told me so once, and what he says is true. There is an +unchanging way with him that is awful to think of. He said +that he never could be happy unless I would do as he would have +me,—and he made me almost believe even that. He speaks as +though every word he says must come true in the end. Oh, +Paul, I love you so dearly,—but I almost think that I ought to +have obeyed him." Paul Montague of course had very much to +say in answer to this. Among the holy things which did exist +to gild this every-day unholy world, love was the holiest. It +should be soiled by no falsehood, should know nothing of +compromises, should admit no excuses, should make itself subject to +no external circumstances. If Fortune had been so kind to him +as to give him her heart, poor as his claim might be, she could +have no right to refuse him the assurance of her love. And +though his rival were an angel, he could have no shadow of a claim +upon her,—seeing that he had failed to win her heart. It was +very well said,—at least so Hetta thought,—and she made no +attempt at argument against him. But what was to be done in +reference to poor Roger? She had spoken the word now, and, +whether for good or bad, she had given herself to Paul +Montague. Even though Roger should have to walk disconsolate +to the grave, it could not now be helped. But would it not be +right that it should be told? "Do you know I almost feel that +he is like a father to me," said Hetta, leaning on her lover's +shoulder. + +<p>Paul thought it over for a few minutes, and then said that he +would himself write to Roger. "Hetta, do you know, I doubt +whether he will ever speak to me again." + +<p>"I cannot believe that." + +<p>"There is a sternness about him which it is very hard to +understand. He has taught himself to think that as I met you +in his house, and as he then wished you to be his wife, I should +not have ventured to love you. How could I have known?" + +<p>"That would be unreasonable." + +<p>"He is unreasonable—about that. It is not reason with +him. He always goes by his feelings. Had you been +engaged to him—" + +<p>"Oh, then, you never could have spoken to me like this." + +<p>"But he will never look at it in that way;—and he will tell me +that I have been untrue to him and ungrateful." + +<p>"If you think, Paul—" + +<p>"Nay; listen to me. If it be so I must bear it. It +will be a great sorrow, but it will be as nothing to that other +sorrow, had that come upon me. I will write to him, and his +answer will be all scorn and wrath. Then you must write to +him afterwards. I think he will forgive you, but he will +never forgive me." Then they parted, she having promised that +she would tell her mother directly Lady Carbury came home, and Paul +undertaking to write to Roger that evening. + +<p>And he did, with infinite difficulty, and much trembling of the +spirit. Here is his letter:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +MY DEAR ROGER,—<br> +<br> + I think it right to tell you at once +what has occurred to-day. I have proposed to Miss Carbury and +she has accepted me. You have long known what my feelings +were, and I have also known yours. I have known, too, that +Miss Carbury has more than once declined to take your offer. +Under these circumstances I cannot think that I have been untrue to +friendship in what I have done, or that I have proved myself +ungrateful for the affectionate kindness which you have always +shown me. I am authorised by Hetta to say that, had I never +spoken to her, it must have been the same to you. +</i>[This was hardly a fair representation of what had been +said, but the writer, looking back upon his interview with the +lady, thought that it had been implied.]<i><br> +<br> + I should not say so much by way of +excusing myself, but that you once said, that should such a thing +occur there must be a division between us ever after. If I +thought that you would adhere to that threat, I should be very +unhappy and Hetta would be miserable. Surely, if a man loves +he is bound to tell his love, and to take the chance. You +would hardly have thought it manly in me if I had abstained. +Dear friend, take a day or two before you answer this, and do not +banish us from your heart if you can help it.<br> +<br> + Your affectionate friend,<br> +<br> + PAUL MONTAGUE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Roger Carbury did not take a single day,—or a single hour to +answer the letter. He received it at breakfast, and after +rushing out on the terrace and walking there for a few minutes, he +hurried to his desk and wrote his reply. As he did so, his +whole face was red with wrath, and his eyes were glowing with +indignation. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> + There is an old French saying that he +who makes excuses is his own accuser. You would not have +written as you have done, had you not felt yourself to be false and +ungrateful. You knew where my heart was, and there you went +and undermined my treasure, and stole it away. You have +destroyed my life, and I will never forgive you.<br> +<br> + You tell me not to banish you both +from my heart. How dare you join yourself with her in +speaking of my feelings! She will never be banished from my +heart. She will be there morning, noon, and night, and as is +and will be my love to her, so shall be my enmity to you.<br> +<br> + ROGER CARBURY.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>It was hardly a letter for a Christian to write; and, yet, in +those parts Roger Carbury had the reputation of being a good +Christian. + +<p>Henrietta told her mother that morning, immediately on her +return. "Mamma, Mr Paul Montague has been here." + +<p>"He always comes here when I am away," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"That has been an accident. He could not have known that +you were going to Messrs. Leadham and Loiter's." + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that, Hetta." + +<p>"Then, mamma, you must have told him yourself, and I don't think +you knew till just before you were going. But, mamma, what +does it matter? He has been here, and I have told him—" + +<p>"You have not accepted him?" + +<p>"Yes, mamma." + +<p>"Without even asking me?" + +<p>"Mamma, you knew. I will not marry him without asking +you. How was I not to tell him when he asked me whether +I—loved him—" + +<p>"Marry him! How is it possible you should marry him? +Whatever he had got was in that affair of Melmotte's, and that has +gone to the dogs. He is a ruined man, and for aught I know +may be compromised in all Melmotte's wickedness." + +<p>"Oh, mamma, do not say that!" + +<p>"But I do say it. It is hard upon me. I did think +that you would try to comfort me after all this trouble with +Felix. But you are as bad as he is;—or worse, for you have +not been thrown into temptation like that poor boy! And you +will break your cousin's heart. Poor Roger! I feel for +him;—he that has been so true to us! But you think nothing +of that." + +<p>"I think very much of my cousin Roger." + +<p>"And how do you show it;—or your love for me? There would +have been a home for us all. Now we must starve, I +suppose. Hetta, you have been worse to me even than +Felix." Then Lady Carbury, in her passion, burst out of the +room, and took herself to her own chamber. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="67"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVII. Sir Felix Protects His Sister</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Up to this period of his life Sir Felix Carbury had probably +felt but little of the punishment due to his very numerous +shortcomings. He had spent all his fortune; he had lost his +commission in the army; he had incurred the contempt of everybody +that had known him; he had forfeited the friendship of those who +were his natural friends, and had attached to him none others in +their place; he had pretty nearly ruined his mother and sister; +but, to use his own language, he had always contrived "to carry on +the game." He had eaten and drunk, had gambled, hunted, and +diverted himself generally after the fashion considered to be +appropriate to young men about town. He had kept up till +now. But now there seemed to him to have come an end to all +things. When he was lying in bed in his mother's house he +counted up all his wealth. He had a few pounds in ready +money, he still had a little roll of Mr Miles Grendall's notes of +hand, amounting perhaps to a couple of hundred pounds,—and Mr +Melmotte owed him £600. But where was he to turn, and +what was he to do with himself? Gradually he learned the +whole story of the journey to Liverpool,—how Marie had gone there +and had been sent back by the police, how Marie's money had been +repaid to Mr Melmotte by Mr Broune, and how his failure to make the +journey to Liverpool had become known. He was ashamed to go +to his club. He could not go to Melmotte's house. He +was ashamed even to show himself in the streets by day. + +<p>He was becoming almost afraid even of his mother. Now that +the brilliant marriage had broken down, and seemed to be altogether +beyond hope, now that he had to depend on her household for all his +comforts, he was no longer able to treat her with absolute +scorn,—nor was she willing to yield as she had yielded. + +<p>One thing only was clear to him. He must realize his +possessions. With this view he wrote both to Miles Grendall +and to Melmotte. To the former he said he was going out of +town,—probably for some time, and he must really ask for a cheque +for the amount due. He went on to remark that he could hardly +suppose that a nephew of the Duke of Albury was unable to pay debts +of honour to the amount of £200;—but that if such was the +case he would have no alternative but to apply to the Duke +himself. The reader need hardly be told that to this letter +Mr Grendall vouchsafed no answer whatever. In his letter to +Mr Melmotte he confined himself to one matter of business in +hand. He made no allusion whatever to Marie, or to the great +man's anger, or to his seat at the board. He simply reminded +Mr Melmotte that there was a sum of £600 still due to him, +and requested that a cheque might be sent to him for that +amount. Melmotte's answer to this was not altogether +unsatisfactory, though it was not exactly what Sir Felix had +wished. A clerk from Mr Melmotte's office called at the house +in Welbeck Street, and handed to Felix railway scrip in the South +Central Pacific and Mexican Railway to the amount of the sum +claimed,—insisting on a full receipt for the money before he +parted with the scrip. The clerk went on to explain, on +behalf of his employer, that the money had been left in Mr +Melmotte's hands for the purpose of buying these shares. Sir +Felix, who was glad to get anything, signed the receipt and took +the scrip. This took place on the day after the balloting at +Westminster, when the result was not yet known,—and when the +shares in the railway were very low indeed. Sir Felix had +asked as to the value of the shares at the time. The clerk +professed himself unable to quote the price,—but there were the +shares if Sir Felix liked to take them. Of course he took +them;—and hurrying off into the City found that they might perhaps +be worth about half the money due to him. The broker to whom +he showed them could not quite answer for anything. Yes;—the +scrip had been very high; but there was a panic. They might +recover,—or, more probably, they might go to nothing. Sir +Felix cursed the Great Financier aloud, and left the scrip for +sale. That was the first time that he had been out of the +house before dark since his little accident. + +<p>But he was chiefly tormented in these days by the want of +amusement. He had so spent his life hitherto that he did not +know how to get through a day in which no excitement was provided +for him. He never read. Thinking was altogether beyond +him. And he had never done a day's work in his life. He +could lie in bed. He could eat and drink. He could +smoke and sit idle. He could play cards; and could amuse +himself with women,—the lower the culture of the women, the better +the amusement. Beyond these things the world had nothing for +him. Therefore he again took himself to the pursuit of Ruby +Ruggles. + +<p>Poor Ruby had endured a very painful incarceration at her aunt's +house. She had been wrathful and had stormed, swearing that +she would be free to come and go as she pleased. Free to go, +Mrs Pipkin told her that she was;—but not free to return if she +went out otherwise than as she, Mrs Pipkin, chose. "Am I to +be a slave?" Ruby asked, and almost upset the perambulator which +she had just dragged in at the hall door. Then Mrs Hurtle had +taken upon herself to talk to her, and poor Ruby had been quelled +by the superior strength of the American lady. But she was +very unhappy, finding that it did not suit her to be nursemaid to +her aunt. After all John Crumb couldn't have cared for her a +bit, or he would have come to look after her. While she was +in this condition Sir Felix came to Mrs Pipkin's house, and asked +for her at the door, it happened that Mrs Pipkin herself had opened +the door,—and, in her fright and dismay at the presence of so +pernicious a young man in her own passage, had denied that Ruby was +in the house. But Ruby had heard her lover's voice, and had +rushed up and thrown herself into his arms. Then there had +been a great scene. Ruby had sworn that she didn't care for +her aunt, didn't care for her grandfather, or for Mrs Hurtle, or +for John Crumb,—or for any person or anything. She cared +only for her lover. Then Mrs Hurtle had asked the young man +his intentions. Did he mean to marry Ruby? Sir Felix +had said that he supposed he might as well some day. "There," +said Ruby, "there!"—shouting in triumph as though an offer had +been made to her with the completest ceremony of which such an +event admits. Mrs Pipkin had been very weak. Instead of +calling in the assistance of her strong-minded lodger, she had +allowed the lovers to remain together for half an hour in the +dining-room. I do not know that Sir Felix in any way repeated +his promise during that time, but Ruby was probably too blessed +with the word that had been spoken to ask for such renewal. +"There must be an end of this," said Mrs Pipkin, coming in when the +half-hour was over. Then Sir Felix had gone, promising to +come again on the following evening. "You must not come here, +Sir Felix," said Mrs Pipkin, "unless you puts it in writing." +To this, of course, Sir Felix made no answer. As he went home +he congratulated himself on the success of his adventure. +Perhaps the best thing he could do when he had realized the money +for the shares would be to take Ruby for a tour abroad. The +money would last for three or four months,—and three or four +months ahead was almost an eternity. + +<p>That afternoon before dinner he found his sister alone in the +drawing-room. Lady Carbury had gone to her own room after +hearing the distressing story of Paul Montague's love, and had not +seen Hetta since. Hetta was melancholy, thinking of her +mother's hard words,—thinking perhaps of Paul's poverty as +declared by her mother, and of the ages which might have to wear +themselves out before she could become his wife; but still tinting +all her thoughts with a rosy hue because of the love which had been +declared to her. She could not but be happy if he really +loved her. And she,—as she had told him that she loved +him,—would be true to him through everything! In her present +mood she could not speak of herself to her brother, but she took +the opportunity of making good the promise which Marie Melmotte had +extracted from her. She gave him some short account of the +party, and told him that she had talked with Marie. "I +promised to give you a message," she said. + +<p>"It's all of no use now," said Felix. + +<p>"But I must tell you what she said. I think, you know, +that she really loves you." + +<p>"But what's the good of it? A man can't marry a girl when +all the policemen in the country are dodging her." + +<p>"She wants you to let her know what,—what you intend to +do. If you mean to give her up, I think you should tell her." + +<p>"How can I tell her? I don't suppose they would let her +receive a letter." + +<p>"Shall I write to her;—or shall I see her?" + +<p>"Just as you like. I don't care." + +<p>"Felix, you are very heartless." + +<p>"I don't suppose I'm much worse than other men;—or for the +matter of that, worse than a great many women either. You all +of you here put me up to marry her." + +<p>"I never put you up to it." + +<p>"Mother did. And now because it did not go off all serene, +I am to hear nothing but reproaches. Of course I never cared +so very much about her." + +<p>"Oh, Felix, that is so shocking!" + +<p>"Awfully shocking, I dare say. You think I am as black as +the very mischief, and that sugar wouldn't melt in other men's +mouths. Other men are just as bad as I am,—and a good deal +worse too. You believe that there is nobody on earth like +Paul Montague." Hetta blushed, but said nothing. She +was not yet in a condition to boast of her lover before her +brother, but she did, in very truth, believe that but few young men +were as true-hearted as Paul Montague. "I suppose you'd be +surprised to hear that Master Paul is engaged to marry an American +widow living at Islington." + +<p>"Mr Montague—engaged—to marry—an American widow! I +don't believe it." + +<p>"You'd better believe it if it's any concern of yours, for it's +true. And it's true too that he travelled about with her for +ever so long in the United States, and that he had her down with +him at the hotel at Lowestoft about a fortnight ago. There's +no mistake about it." + +<p>"I don't believe it," repeated Hetta, feeling that to say even +as much as that was some relief to her. It could not be +true. It was impossible that the man should have come to her +with such a lie in his mouth as that. Though the words +astounded her, though she felt faint, almost as though she would +fall in a swoon, yet in her heart of hearts she did not believe +it. Surely it was some horrid joke,—or perhaps some trick to +divide her from the man she loved. "Felix, how dare you say +things so wicked as that to me?" + +<p>"What is there wicked in it? If you have been fool enough +to become fond of the man, it is only right you should be +told. He is engaged to marry Mrs Hurtle, and she is lodging +with one Mrs Pipkin in Islington. I know the house, and could +take you there to-morrow, and show you the woman. There," +said he, "that's where she is;"—and he wrote Mrs Hurtle's name +down on a scrap of paper. + +<p>"It is not true," said Hetta, rising from her seat, and standing +upright. "I am engaged to Mr Montague, and I am sure he would +not treat me in that way." + +<p>"Then, by heaven, he shall answer it to me," said Felix, jumping +up. "If he has done that, it is time that I should +interfere. As true as I stand here, he is engaged to marry a +woman called Mrs Hurtle whom he constantly visits at that place in +Islington." + +<p>"I do not believe it," said Hetta, repeating the only defence +for her lover which was applicable at the moment. + +<p>"By George, this is beyond a joke. Will you believe it if +Roger Carbury says it's true? I know you'd believe anything +fast enough against me, if he told you." + +<p>"Roger Carbury will not say so?" + +<p>"Have you the courage to ask him? I say he will say +so. He knows all about it,—and has seen the woman." + +<p>"How can you know? Has Roger told you?" + +<p>"I do know, and that's enough. I will make this square +with Master Paul. By heaven, yes! He shall answer to +me. But my mother must manage you. She will not scruple +to ask Roger, and she will believe what Roger tells her." + +<p>"I do not believe a word of it," said Hetta, leaving the +room. But when she was alone she was very wretched. +There must be some foundation for such a tale. Why should +Felix have referred to Roger Carbury? And she did feel that +there was something in her brother's manner which forbade her to +reject the whole story as being altogether baseless. So she +sat upon her bed and cried, and thought of all the tales she had +heard of faithless lovers. And yet why should the man have +come to her, not only with soft words of love, but asking her hand +in marriage, if it really were true that he was in daily +communication with another woman whom he had promised to make his +wife? + +<p>Nothing on the subject was said at dinner. Hetta with +difficulty to herself sat at the table, and did not speak. +Lady Carbury and her son were nearly as silent. Soon after +dinner Felix slunk away to some music hall or theatre in quest +probably of some other Ruby Ruggles. Then Lady Carbury, who +had now been told as much as her son knew, again attacked her +daughter. Very much of the story Felix had learned from +Ruby. Ruby had of course learned that Paul was engaged to Mrs +Hurtle. Mrs Hurtle had at once declared the fact to Mrs +Pipkin, and Mrs Pipkin had been proud of the position of her +lodger. Ruby had herself seen Paul Montague at the house, and +had known that he had taken Mrs Hurtle to Lowestoft. And it +had also become known to the two women, the aunt and her niece, +that Mrs Hurtle had seen Roger Carbury on the sands at +Lowestoft. Thus the whole story with most of its +details,—not quite with all,—had come round to Lady Carbury's +ears. "What he has told you, my dear, is true. Much as +I disapprove of Mr Montague, you do not suppose that I would +deceive you." + +<p>"How can he know, mamma?" + +<p>"He does know. I cannot explain to you how. He has +been at the same house." + +<p>"Has he seen her?" + +<p>"I do not know that he has, but Roger Carbury has seen +her. If I write to him you will believe what he says?" + +<p>"Don't do that, mamma. Don't write to him." + +<p>"But I shall. Why should I not write if he can tell +me? If this other man is a villain am I not bound to protect +you? Of course Felix is not steady. If it came only +from him you might not credit it. And he has not seen +her. If your cousin Roger tells you that it is true,—tells +me that he knows the man is engaged to marry this woman, then I +suppose you will be contented." + +<p>"Contented, mamma!" + +<p>"Satisfied that what we tell you is true." + +<p>"I shall never be contented again. If that is true, I will +never believe anything. It can't be true. I suppose +there is something, but it can't be that." + +<p>The story was not altogether displeasing to Lady Carbury, though +it pained her to see the agony which her daughter suffered. +But she had no wish that Paul Montague should be her son-in-law, +and she still thought that if Roger would persevere he might +succeed. On that very night before she went to bed she wrote +to Roger, and told him the whole story. "If," she said, "you +know that there is such a person as Mrs Hurtle, and if you know +also that Mr Montague has promised to make her his wife, of course +you will tell me." Then she declared her own wishes, thinking +that by doing so she could induce Roger Carbury to give such real +assistance in this matter that Paul Montague would certainly be +driven away. Who could feel so much interest in doing this as +Roger, or who be so closely acquainted with all the circumstances +of Montague's life? "You know," she said, "what my wishes are +about Hetta, and how utterly opposed I am to Mr Montague's +interference. If it is true, as Felix says, that he is at the +present moment entangled with another woman, he is guilty of gross +insolence; and if you know all the circumstances you can surely +protect us,—and also yourself." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="68"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVIII. Miss Melmotte Declares Her Purpose</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Poor Hetta passed a very bad night. The story she had +heard seemed to be almost too awful to be true,—even about any one +else. The man had come to her, and had asked her to be his +wife,—and yet at that very moment was living in habits of daily +intercourse with another woman whom he had promised to marry! +And then, too, his courtship with her had been so graceful, so +soft, so modest, and yet so long continued! Though he had +been slow in speech, she had known since their first meeting how he +regarded her! The whole state of his mind had, she had +thought, been visible to her,—had been intelligible, gentle, and +affectionate. He had been aware of her friends' feeling, and +had therefore hesitated. He had kept himself from her because +he had owed so much to friendship. And yet his love had not +been the less true, and had not been less dear to poor Hetta. +She had waited, sure that it would come,—having absolute +confidence in his honour and love. And now she was told that +this man had been playing a game so base, and at the same time so +foolish, that she could find not only no excuse but no possible +cause for it. It was not like any story she had heard before +of man's faithlessness. Though she was wretched and sore at +heart she swore to herself that she would not believe it. She +knew that her mother would write to Roger Carbury,—but she knew +also that nothing more would be said about the letter till the +answer should come. Nor could she turn anywhere else for +comfort. She did not dare to appeal to Paul himself. As +regarded him, for the present she could only rely on the assurance, +which she continued to give herself, that she would not believe a +word of the story that had been told her. + +<p>But there was other wretchedness besides her own. She had +undertaken to give Marie Melmotte's message to her brother. +She had done so, and she must now let Marie have her brother's +reply. That might be told in a very few words—"Everything is +over!" But it had to be told. + +<p>"I want to call upon Miss Melmotte, if you'll let me," she said +to her mother at breakfast. + +<p>"Why should you want to see Miss Melmotte? I thought you +hated the Melmottes?" + +<p>"I don't hate them, mamma. I certainly don't hate +her. I have a message to take to her,—from Felix." + +<p>"A message—from Felix." + +<p>"It is an answer from him. She wanted to know if all that +was over. Of course it is over. Whether he said so or +not, it would be so. They could never be married now, could +they, mamma?" + +<p>The marriage, in Lady Carbury's mind, was no longer even +desirable. She, too, was beginning to disbelieve in the +Melmotte wealth, and did quite disbelieve that that wealth would +come to her son, even should he succeed in marrying the +daughter. It was impossible that Melmotte should forgive such +offence as had now been committed. "It is out of the +question," she said. "That, like everything else with us, has +been a wretched failure. You can go, if you please. +Felix is under no obligation to them, and has taken nothing from +them. I should much doubt whether the girl will get anybody +to take her now. You can't go alone, you know," Lady Carbury +added. But Hetta said that she did not at all object to going +alone as far as that. It was only just over Oxford Street. + +<p>So she went out and made her way into Grosvenor Square. +She had heard, but at the time remembered nothing, of the temporary +migration of the Melmottes to Bruton Street. Seeing, as she +approached the house, that there was a confusion there of carts and +workmen, she hesitated. But she went on, and rang the bell at +the door, which was wide open. Within the hall the pilasters +and trophies, the wreaths and the banners, which three or four days +since had been built up with so much trouble, were now being pulled +down and hauled away. And amidst the ruins Melmotte himself +was standing. He was now a member of Parliament, and was to +take his place that night in the House. Nothing, at any rate, +should prevent that. It might be but for a short time;—but +it should be written in the history of his life that he had sat in +the British House of Commons as member for Westminster. At +the present moment he was careful to show himself everywhere. +It was now noon, and he had already been into the City. At +this moment he was talking to the contractor for the work,—having +just propitiated that man by a payment which would hardly have been +made so soon but for the necessity which these wretched stories had +entailed upon him of keeping up his credit for the possession of +money. Hetta timidly asked one of the workmen whether Miss +Melmotte was there. "Do you want my daughter?" said Melmotte +coming forward, and just touching his hat. "She is not living +here at present." + +<p>"Oh,—I remember now," said Hetta. + +<p>"May I be allowed to tell her who was asking after her?" +At the present moment Melmotte was not unreasonably suspicious +about his daughter. + +<p>"I am Miss Carbury," said Hetta in a very low voice. + +<p>"Oh, indeed;—Miss Carbury!—the sister of Sir Felix +Carbury?" There was something in the tone of the man's voice +which grated painfully on Hetta's ears,—but she answered the +question. "Oh;—Sir Felix's sister! May I be permitted +to ask whether—you have any business with my daughter?" The +story was a hard one to tell, with all the workmen around her, in +the midst of the lumber, with the coarse face of the suspicious man +looking down upon her; but she did tell it very simply. She +had come with a message from her brother. There had been +something between her brother and Miss Melmotte, and her brother +had felt that it would be best that he should acknowledge that it +must be all over. "I wonder whether that is true," said +Melmotte, looking at her out of his great coarse eyes, with his +eyebrows knit, with his hat on his head and his hands in his +pockets. Hetta, not knowing how, at the moment, to repudiate +the suspicion expressed, was silent. "Because, you know, +there has been a deal of falsehood and double dealing. Sir +Felix has behaved infamously; yes,—by +G––––, infamously. A day or two +before my daughter started, he gave me a written assurance that the +whole thing was over, and now he sends you here. How am I to +know what you are really after?" + +<p>"I have come because I thought I could do some good," she said, +trembling with anger and fear. "I was speaking to your +daughter at your party." + +<p>"Oh, you were there;—were you? It may be as you say, but +how is one to tell? When one has been deceived like that, one +is apt to be suspicious, Miss Carbury." Here was one who had +spent his life in lying to the world, and who was in his very heart +shocked at the atrocity of a man who had lied to him! "You +are not plotting another journey to Liverpool;—are you?" To +this Hetta could make no answer. The insult was too much, but +alone, unsupported, she did not know how to give him back scorn for +scorn. At last he proposed to take her across to Bruton +Street himself and at his bidding she walked by his side. +"May I hear what you say to her?" he asked. + +<p>"If you suspect me, Mr Melmotte, I had better not see her at +all. It is only that there may no longer be any doubt." + +<p>"You can say it all before me." + +<p>"No;—I could not do that. But I have told you, and you +can say it for me. If you please, I think I will go home +now." + +<p>But Melmotte knew that his daughter would not believe him on +such a subject. This girl she probably would believe. +And though Melmotte himself found it difficult to trust anybody, he +thought that there was more possible good than evil to be expected +from the proposed interview. "Oh, you shall see her," he +said. "I don't suppose she's such a fool as to try that kind +of thing again." Then the door in Bruton Street was opened, +and Hetta, repenting her mission, found herself almost pushed into +the hall. She was bidden to follow Melmotte upstairs, and was +left alone in the drawing-room, as she thought, for a long +time. Then the door was slowly opened and Marie crept into +the room. "Miss Carbury," she said, "this is so good of +you,—so good of you! I do so love you for coming to +me! You said you would love me. You will; will you +not?" and Marie, sitting down by the stranger, took her hand and +encircled her waist. + +<p>"Mr Melmotte has told you why I have come." + +<p>"Yes;—that is, I don't know. I never believe what papa +says to me." To poor Hetta such an announcement as this was +horrible. "We are at daggers drawn. He thinks I ought +to do just what he tells me, as though my very soul were not my +own. I won't agree to that;—would you?" Hetta had not +come there to preach disobedience, but could not fail to remember +at the moment that she was not disposed to obey her mother in an +affair of the same kind. "What does he say, dear?" + +<p>Hetta's message was to be conveyed in three words, and when +those were told, there was nothing more to be said. "It must +all be over, Miss Melmotte." + +<p>"Is that his message, Miss Carbury?" Hetta nodded her +head. "Is that all?" + +<p>"What more can I say? The other night you told me to bid +him send you word. And I thought he ought to do so. I +gave him your message, and I have brought back the answer. My +brother, you know, has no income of his own;—nothing at all." + +<p>"But I have," said Marie with eagerness. + +<p>"But your father—" + +<p>"It does not depend upon papa. If papa treats me badly, I +can give it to my husband. I know I can. If I can +venture, cannot he?" + +<p>"I think it is impossible." + +<p>"Impossible! Nothing should be impossible. All the +people that one hears of that are really true to their loves never +find anything impossible. Does he love me, Miss +Carbury? It all depends on that. That's what I want to +know." She paused, but Hetta could not answer the +question. "You must know about your brother. Don't you +know whether he does love me? If you know I think you ought +to tell me." Hetta was still silent. "Have you nothing +to say?" + +<p>"Miss Melmotte-" began poor Hetta very slowly. + +<p>"Call me Marie. You said you would love me, did you +not? I don't even know what your name is." + +<p>"My name is Hetta." + +<p>"Hetta;—that's short for something. But it's very +pretty. I have no brother, no sister. And I'll tell +you, though you must not tell anybody again;—I have no real +mother. Madame Melmotte is not my mamma, though papa chooses +that it should be thought so." All this she whispered, with +rapid words, almost into Hetta's ear. "And papa is so cruel +to me! He beats me sometimes." The new friend, round +whom Marie still had her arm, shuddered as she heard this. +"But I never will yield a bit for that. When he boxes and +thumps me I always turn and gnash my teeth at him. Can you +wonder that I want to have a friend? Can you be surprised +that I should be always thinking of my lover? But,—if he +doesn't love me, what am I to do then?" + +<p>"I don't know what I am to say," ejaculated Hetta amidst her +sobs. Whether the girl was good or bad, to be sought or to be +avoided, there was so much tragedy in her position that Hetta's +heart was melted with sympathy. + +<p>"I wonder whether you love anybody, and whether he loves you," +said Marie. Hetta certainly had not come there to talk of her +own affairs, and made no reply to this. "I suppose you won't +tell me about yourself." + +<p>"I wish I could tell you something for your own comfort." + +<p>"He will not try again, you think?" + +<p>"I am sure he will not." + +<p>"I wonder what he fears. I should fear +nothing,—nothing. Why should not we walk out of the house, +and be married any way? Nobody has a right to stop me. +Papa could only turn me out of his house. I will venture if +he will." + +<p>It seemed to Hetta that even listening to such a proposition +amounted to falsehood,—to that guilt of which Mr Melmotte had +dared to suppose that she could be capable. "I cannot listen +to it. Indeed I cannot listen to it. My brother is sure +that he cannot—cannot—" + +<p>"Cannot love me, Hetta! Say it out, if it is true." + +<p>"It is true," said Hetta. There came over the face of the +other girl a stern hard look, as though she had resolved at the +moment to throw away from her all soft womanly things. And +she relaxed her hold on Hetta's waist. "Oh, my dear, I do not +mean to be cruel, but you ask me for the truth." + +<p>"Yes; I did." + +<p>"Men are not, I think, like girls." + +<p>"I suppose not," said Marie slowly. "What liars they are, +what brutes;—what wretches! Why should he tell me lies like +that? Why should he break my heart? That other man +never said that he loved me. Did he never love me,—once?" + +<p>Hetta could hardly say that her brother was incapable of such +love as Marie expected, but she knew that it was so. "It is +better that you should think of him no more." + +<p>"Are you like that? If you had loved a man and told him of +it, and agreed to be his wife and done as I have, could you bear to +be told to think of him no more,—just as though you had got rid of +a servant or a horse? I won't love him. No;—I'll hate +him. But I must think of him. I'll marry that other man +to spite him, and then, when he finds that we are rich, he'll be +broken-hearted." + +<p>"You should try to forgive him, Marie." + +<p>"Never. Do not tell him that I forgive him. I +command you not to tell him that. Tell him,—tell him, that I +hate him, and that if I ever meet him, I will look at him so that +he shall never forget it. I could,—oh!—you do not know what +I could do. Tell me;—did he tell you to say that he did not +love me?" + +<p>"I wish I had not come," said Hetta. + +<p>"I am glad you have come. It was very kind. I don't +hate you. Of course I ought to know. But did he say +that I was to be told that he did not love me?" + +<p>"No;—he did not say that." + +<p>"Then how do you know? What did he say?" + +<p>"That it was all over." + +<p>"Because he is afraid of papa. Are you sure he does not +love me?" + +<p>"I am sure." + +<p>"Then he is a brute. Tell him that I say that he is a +false-hearted liar, and that I trample him under my foot." +Marie as she said this thrust her foot upon the ground as though +that false one were in truth beneath it,—and spoke aloud, as +though regardless who might hear her. "I despise +him;—despise him. They are all bad, but he is the worst of +all. Papa beats me, but I can bear that. Mamma reviles +me and I can bear that. He might have beaten me and reviled +me, and I could have borne it. But to think that he was a +liar all the time;—that I can't bear." Then she burst into +tears. Hetta kissed her, tried to comfort her, and left her +sobbing on the sofa. + +<p>Later in the day, two or three hours after Miss Carbury had +gone, Marie Melmotte, who had not shown herself at luncheon, walked +into Madame Melmotte's room, and thus declared her purpose. +"You can tell papa that I will marry Lord Nidderdale whenever he +pleases." She spoke in French and very rapidly. + +<p>On hearing this Madame Melmotte expressed herself to be +delighted. "Your papa," said she, "will be very glad to hear +that you have thought better of this at last. Lord Nidderdale +is, I am sure, a very good young man." + +<p>"Yes," continued Marie, boiling over with passion as she +spoke. "I'll marry Lord Nidderdale, or that horrid Mr +Grendall who is worse than all the others, or his old fool of a +father,—or the sweeper at the crossing,—or the black man that +waits at table, or anybody else that he chooses to pick up. I +don't care who it is the least in the world. But I'll lead +him such a life afterwards! I'll make Lord Nidderdale repent +the hour he saw me! You may tell papa." And then, +having thus entrusted her message to Madame Melmotte, Marie left +the room. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="69"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIX. Melmotte in Parliament</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Melmotte did not return home in time to hear the good news that +day,—good news as he would regard it, even though, when told to +him, it should be accompanied by all the extraneous additions with +which Marie had communicated her purpose to Madame Melmotte. +It was nothing to him what the girl thought of the marriage,—if +the marriage could now be brought about. He, too, had cause +for vexation, if not for anger. If Marie had consented a +fortnight since he might have so hurried affairs that Lord +Nidderdale might by this time have been secured. Now there +might be,—must be, doubt, through the folly of his girl and the +villainy of Sir Felix Carbury. Were he once the father-in-law +of the eldest son of a marquis, he thought he might almost be +safe. Even though something might be all but proved against +him,—which might come to certain proof in less august +circumstances,—matters would hardly be pressed against a Member +for Westminster whose daughter was married to the heir of the +Marquis of Auld Reekie! So many persons would then be +concerned! Of course his vexation with Marie had been +great. Of course his wrath against Sir Felix was +unbounded. The seat for Westminster was his. He was to +be seen to occupy it before all the world on this very day. +But he had not as yet heard that his daughter had yielded in +reference to Lord Nidderdale. + +<p>There was considerable uneasiness felt in some circles as to the +manner in which Melmotte should take his seat. When he was +put forward as the Conservative candidate for the borough a good +deal of fuss had been made with him by certain leading +politicians. It had been the manifest intention of the party +that his return, if he were returned, should be hailed as a great +Conservative triumph, and be made much of through the length and +the breadth of the land. He was returned,—but the trumpets +had not as yet been sounded loudly. On a sudden, within the +space of forty-eight hours, the party had become ashamed of their +man. And, now, who was to introduce him to the House? +But with this feeling of shame on one side, there was already +springing up an idea among another class that Melmotte might become +as it were a Conservative tribune of the people,—that he might be +the realization of that hitherto hazy mixture of Radicalism and +old-fogyism, of which we have lately heard from a political master, +whose eloquence has been employed in teaching us that progress can +only be expected from those whose declared purpose is to stand +still. The new farthing newspaper, "The Mob," was already +putting Melmotte forward as a political hero, preaching with +reference to his commercial transactions the grand doctrine that +magnitude in affairs is a valid defence for certain +irregularities. A Napoleon, though he may exterminate tribes +in carrying out his projects, cannot be judged by the same law as a +young lieutenant who may be punished for cruelty to a few +negroes. "The Mob" thought that a good deal should be +overlooked in a Melmotte, and that the philanthropy of his great +designs should be allowed to cover a multitude of sins. I do +not know that the theory was ever so plainly put forward as it was +done by the ingenious and courageous writer in "The Mob"; but in +practice it has commanded the assent of many intelligent minds. + +<p>Mr Melmotte, therefore, though he was not where he had been +before that wretched Squercum had set afloat the rumours as to the +purchase of Pickering, was able to hold his head much higher than +on the unfortunate night of the great banquet. He had replied +to the letter from Messrs. Slow and Bideawhile, by a note +written in the ordinary way in the office, and only signed by +himself. In this he merely said that he would lose no time in +settling matters as to the purchase of Pickering. Slow and +Bideawhile were of course anxious that things should be +settled. They wanted no prosecution for forgery. To +make themselves clear in the matter, and their client,—and if +possible to take some wind out of the sails of the odious +Squercum;—this would suit them best. They were prone to hope +that for his own sake Melmotte would raise the money. If it +were raised there would be no reason why that note purporting to +have been signed by Dolly Longestaffe should ever leave their +office. They still protested their belief that it did bear +Dolly's signature. They had various excuses for +themselves. It would have been useless for them to summon +Dolly to their office, as they knew from long experience that Dolly +would not come. The very letter written by themselves,—as a +suggestion,—and given to Dolly's father, had come back to them +with Dolly's ordinary signature, sent to them,—as they +believed,—with other papers by Dolly's father. What +justification could be clearer? But still the money had not +been paid. That was the fault of Longestaffe senior. +But if the money could be paid, that would set everything +right. Squercum evidently thought that the money would not be +paid, and was ceaseless in his intercourse with Bideawhile's +people. He charged Slow and Bideawhile with having delivered +up the title-deeds on the authority of a mere note, and that a note +with a forged signature. He demanded that the note should be +impounded. On the receipt by Mr Bideawhile of Melmotte's +rather curt reply Mr Squercum was informed that Mr Melmotte had +promised to pay the money at once, but that a day or two must be +allowed. Mr Squercum replied that on his client's behalf he +should open the matter before the Lord Mayor. + +<p>But in this way two or three days had passed without any renewal +of the accusation before the public, and Melmotte had in a certain +degree recovered his position. The Beauclerks and the Luptons +disliked and feared him as much as ever, but they did not quite +dare to be so loud and confident in condemnation as they had +been. It was pretty well known that Mr Longestaffe had not +received his money,—and that was a condition of things tending +greatly to shake the credit of a man living after Melmotte's +fashion. But there was no crime in that. No forgery was +implied by the publication of any statement to that effect. +The Longestaffes, father and son, might probably have been very +foolish. Whoever expected anything but folly from +either? And Slow and Bideawhile might have been very remiss +in their duty. It was astonishing, some people said, what +things attorneys would do in these days! But they who had +expected to see Melmotte behind the bars of a prison before this, +and had regulated their conduct accordingly, now imagined that they +had been deceived. + +<p>Had the Westminster triumph been altogether a triumph it would +have become the pleasant duty of some popular Conservative to +express to Melmotte the pleasure he would have in introducing his +new political ally to the House. In such case Melmotte +himself would have been walked up the chamber with a pleasurable +ovation and the thing would have been done without trouble to +him. But now this was not the position of affairs. +Though the matter was debated at the Carlton, no such popular +Conservative offered his services. "I don't think we ought to +throw him over," Mr Beauclerk said. Sir Orlando Drought, +quite a leading Conservative, suggested that as Lord Nidderdale was +very intimate with Mr Melmotte he might do it. But Nidderdale +was not the man for such a performance. He was a very good +fellow and everybody liked him. He belonged to the House +because his father had territorial influence in a Scotch +county;—but he never did anything there, and his selection for +such a duty would be a declaration to the world that nobody else +would do it. "It wouldn't hurt you, Lupton," said Mr +Beauclerk. "Not at all," said Lupton; "but I also, like +Nidderdale am a young man and of no use,—and a great deal too +bashful." Melmotte, who knew but little about it, went down +to the House at four o'clock, somewhat cowed by want of +companionship, but carrying out his resolution that he would be +stopped by no phantom fears,—that he would lose nothing by want of +personal pluck. He knew that he was a Member, and concluded +that if he presented himself he would be able to make his way in +and assume his right. But here again fortune befriended +him. The very leader of the party, the very founder of that +new doctrine of which it was thought that Melmotte might become an +apostle and an expounder,—who, as the reader may remember, had +undertaken to be present at the banquet when his colleagues were +dismayed and untrue to him, and who kept his promise and sat there +almost in solitude,—he happened to be entering the House, as his +late host was claiming from the doorkeeper the fruition of his +privilege. "You had better let me accompany you," said the +Conservative leader, with something of chivalry in his heart. +And so Mr Melmotte was introduced to the House by the head of his +party! When this was seen many men supposed that the rumours +had been proved to be altogether false. Was not this a +guarantee sufficient to guarantee any man's respectability? + +<p>Lord Nidderdale saw his father in the lobby of the House of +Lords that afternoon and told him what had occurred. The old +man had been in a state of great doubt since the day of the dinner +party. He was aware of the ruin that would be incurred by a +marriage with Melmotte's daughter, if the things which had been +said of Melmotte should be proved to be true. But he knew +also that if his son should now recede, there must be an end of the +match altogether;—and he did not believe the rumours. He was +fully determined that the money should be paid down before the +marriage was celebrated; but if his son were to secede now, of +course no money would be forthcoming. He was prepared to +recommend his son to go on with the affair still a little +longer. "Old Cure tells me he doesn't believe a word of it," +said the father. Cure was the family lawyer of the Marquises +of Auld Reekie. + +<p>"There's some hitch about Dolly Longestaffe's money, sir," said +the son. + +<p>"What's that to us if he has our money ready? I suppose it +isn't always easy even for a man like that to get a couple of +hundred thousand together. I know I've never found it easy to +get a thousand. If he has borrowed a trifle from Longestaffe +to make up the girl's money, I shan't complain. You stand to +your guns. There's no harm done till the parson has said the +word." + +<p>"You couldn't let me have a couple of hundred;—could you, sir?" +suggested the son. + +<p>"No, I couldn't," replied the father with a very determined +aspect. + +<p>"I'm awfully hard up." + +<p>"So am I." Then the old man toddled into his own chamber, +and after sitting there ten minutes went away home. + +<p>Lord Nidderdale also got quickly through his legislative duties +and went to the Beargarden. There he found Grasslough and +Miles Grendall dining together, and seated himself at the next +table. They were full of news. "You've heard it, I +suppose," said Miles in an awful whisper. + +<p>"Heard what?" + +<p>"I believe he doesn't know!" said Lord Grasslough. "By +Jove, Nidderdale, you're in a mess like some others." + +<p>"What's up now?" + +<p>"Only fancy that they shouldn't have known down at the +House! Vossner has bolted!" + +<p>"Bolted!" exclaimed Nidderdale, dropping the spoon with which he +was just going to eat his soup. + +<p>"Bolted," repeated Grasslough. Lord Nidderdale looked +round the room and became aware of the awful expression of dismay +which hung upon the features of all the dining members. +"Bolted, by George! He has sold all our acceptances to a +fellow in Great Marlbro' that's called 'Flatfleece'." + +<p>"I know him," said Nidderdale shaking his head. + +<p>"I should think so," said Miles ruefully. + +<p>"A bottle of champagne!" said Nidderdale, appealing to the +waiter in almost a humble voice, feeling that he wanted sustenance +in this new trouble that had befallen him. The waiter, beaten +almost to the ground by an awful sense of the condition of the +club, whispered to him the terrible announcement that there was not +a bottle of champagne in the house. "Good +G––––," exclaimed the unfortunate +nobleman. Miles Grendall shook his head. Grasslough +shook his head. + +<p>"It's true," said another young lord from the table on the other +side. Then the waiter, still speaking with suppressed and +melancholy voice, suggested that there was some port left. It +was now the middle of July. + +<p>"Brandy?" suggested Nidderdale. There had been a few +bottles of brandy, but they had been already consumed. "Send +out and get some brandy," said Nidderdale with rapid +impetuosity. But the club was so reduced in circumstances +that he was obliged to take silver out of his pocket before he +could get even such humble comfort as he now demanded. + +<p>Then Lord Grasslough told the whole story as far as it was +known. Herr Vossner had not been seen since nine o'clock on +the preceding evening. The head waiter had known for some +weeks that heavy bills were due. It was supposed that three +or four thousand pounds were owing to tradesmen, who now professed +that the credit had been given, not to Herr Vossner but to the +club. And the numerous acceptances for large sums which the +accommodating purveyor held from many of the members had all been +sold to Mr Flatfleece. Mr Flatfleece had spent a considerable +portion of the day at the club, and it was now suggested that he +and Herr Vossner were in partnership. At this moment Dolly +Longestaffe came in. Dolly had been at the club before and +had heard the story,—but had gone at once to another club for his +dinner when he found that there was not even a bottle of wine to be +had. "Here's a go," said Dolly. "One thing atop of +another! There'll be nothing left for anybody soon. Is +that brandy you're drinking, Nidderdale? There was none here +when I left." + +<p>"Had to send round the corner for it, to the public." + +<p>"We shall be sending round the corner for a good many things +now. Does anybody know anything of that fellow Melmotte?" + +<p>"He's down in the House, as big as life," said Nidderdale. +"He's all right I think." + +<p>"I wish he'd pay me my money then. That fellow Flatfleece +was here, and he showed me notes of mine for about +£1,500! I write such a beastly hand that I never know +whether I've written it or not. But, by George, a fellow +can't eat and drink £1,500 in less than six months!" + +<p>"There's no knowing what you can do, Dolly," said Lord +Grasslough. + +<p>"He's paid some of your card money, perhaps," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"I don't think he ever did. Carbury had a lot of my +I.O.U.'s while that was going on, but I got the money for that from +old Melmotte. How is a fellow to know? If any fellow +writes D. Longestaffe, am I obliged to pay it? Everybody is +writing my name! How is any fellow to stand that kind of +thing? Do you think Melmotte's all right?" Nidderdale +said that he did think so. "I wish he wouldn't go and write +my name then. That's a sort of thing that a man should be +left to do for himself. I suppose Vossner is a swindler; but, +by Jove, I know a worse than Vossner." With that he turned on +his heels and went into the smoking-room. And, after he was +gone, there was silence at the table, for it was known that Lord +Nidderdale was to marry Melmotte's daughter. + +<p>In the meantime a scene of a different kind was going on in the +House of Commons. Melmotte had been seated on one of the back +Conservative benches, and there he remained for a considerable time +unnoticed and forgotten. The little emotion that had attended +his entrance had passed away, and Melmotte was now no more than any +one else. At first he had taken his hat off, but, as soon as +he observed that the majority of members were covered, he put it on +again. Then he sat motionless for an hour, looking round him +and wondering. He had never hitherto been even in the gallery +of the House. The place was very much smaller than he had +thought, and much less tremendous. The Speaker did not strike +him with the awe which he had expected, and it seemed to him that +they who spoke were talking much like other people in other +places. For the first hour he hardly caught the meaning of a +sentence that was said, nor did he try to do so. One man got +up very quickly after another, some of them barely rising on their +legs to say the few words that they uttered. It seemed to him +to be a very commonplace affair,—not half so awful as those +festive occasions on which he had occasionally been called upon to +propose a toast or to return thanks. Then suddenly the manner +of the thing was changed, and one gentleman made a long +speech. Melmotte by this time, weary of observing, had begun +to listen, and words which were familiar to him reached his +ears. The gentleman was proposing some little addition to a +commercial treaty and was expounding in very strong language the +ruinous injustice to which England was exposed by being tempted to +use gloves made in a country in which no income tax was +levied. Melmotte listened to his eloquence caring nothing +about gloves, and very little about England's ruin. But in +the course of the debate which followed, a question arose about the +value of money, of exchange, and of the conversion of shillings +into francs and dollars. About this Melmotte really did know +something and he pricked up his ears. It seemed to him that a +gentleman whom he knew very well in the city,—and who had +maliciously stayed away from his dinner,—one Mr Brown, who sat +just before him on the same side of the House, and who was plodding +wearily and slowly along with some pet fiscal theory of his own, +understood nothing at all of what he was saying. Here was an +opportunity for himself! Here was at his hand the means of +revenging himself for the injury done him, and of showing to the +world at the same time that he was not afraid of his city +enemies! It required some courage certainly,—this attempt +that suggested itself to him of getting upon his legs a couple of +hours after his first introduction to parliamentary life. But +he was full of the lesson which he was now ever teaching +himself. Nothing should cow him. Whatever was to be +done by brazen-faced audacity he would do. It seemed to be +very easy, and he saw no reason why he should not put that old fool +right. He knew nothing of the forms of the House;—was more +ignorant of them than an ordinary schoolboy;—but on that very +account felt less trepidation than might another parliamentary +novice. Mr Brown was tedious and prolix; and Melmotte, though +he thought much of his project and had almost told himself that he +would do the thing, was still doubting, when, suddenly, Mr Brown +sat down. There did not seem to be any particular end to the +speech, nor had Melmotte followed any general thread of +argument. But a statement had been made and repeated, +containing, as Melmotte thought, a fundamental error in finance; +and he longed to set the matter right. At any rate he desired +to show the House that Mr Brown did not know what he was talking +about,—because Mr Brown had not come to his dinner. When Mr +Brown was seated, nobody at once rose. The subject was not +popular, and they who understood the business of the House were +well aware that the occasion had simply been one on which two or +three commercial gentlemen, having crazes of their own, should be +allowed to ventilate them. The subject would have +dropped;—but on a sudden the new member was on his legs. + +<p>Now it was probably not in the remembrance of any gentleman +there that a member had got up to make a speech within two or three +hours of his first entry into the House. And this gentleman +was one whose recent election had been of a very peculiar +kind. It had been considered by many of his supporters that +his name should be withdrawn just before the ballot; by others that +he would be deterred by shame from showing himself even if he were +elected; and again by another party that his appearance in +Parliament would be prevented by his disappearance within the walls +of Newgate. But here he was, not only in his seat, but on his +legs! The favourable grace, the air of courteous attention, +which is always shown to a new member when he first speaks, was +extended also to Melmotte. There was an excitement in the +thing which made gentlemen willing to listen, and a consequent hum, +almost of approbation. + +<p>As soon as Melmotte was on his legs, and, looking round, found +that everybody was silent with the intent of listening to him, a +good deal of his courage oozed out of his fingers' ends. The +House, which, to his thinking, had by no means been august while Mr +Brown had been toddling through his speech, now became awful. +He caught the eyes of great men fixed upon him,—of men who had not +seemed to him to be at all great as he had watched them a few +minutes before, yawning beneath their hats. Mr Brown, poor as +his speech had been, had, no doubt, prepared it,—and had perhaps +made three or four such speeches every year for the last fifteen +years. Melmotte had not dreamed of putting two words +together. He had thought, as far as he had thought at all, +that he could rattle off what he had to say just as he might do it +when seated in his chair at the Mexican Railway Board. But +there was the Speaker, and those three clerks in their wigs, and +the mace,—and worse than all, the eyes of that long row of +statesmen opposite to him! His position was felt by him to be +dreadful. He had forgotten even the very point on which he +had intended to crush Mr Brown. + +<p>But the courage of the man was too high to allow him to be +altogether quelled at once. The hum was prolonged; and though +he was red in the face, perspiring, and utterly confused, he was +determined to make a dash at the matter with the first words which +would occur to him. "Mr Brown is all wrong," he said. +He had not even taken off his hat as he rose. Mr Brown turned +slowly round and looked up at him. Some one, whom he could +not exactly hear, touching him behind, suggested that he should +take off his hat. There was a cry of order, which of course +he did not understand. "Yes, you are," said Melmotte, nodding +his head, and frowning angrily at poor Mr Brown. + +<p>"The honourable member," said the Speaker, with the most +good-natured voice which he could assume, "is not perhaps as yet +aware that he should not call another member by his name. He +should speak of the gentleman to whom he alluded as the honourable +member for Whitechapel. And in speaking he should address, +not another honourable member, but the chair." + +<p>"You should take your hat off," said the good-natured gentleman +behind. + +<p>In such a position how should any man understand so many and +such complicated instructions at once, and at the same time +remember the gist of the argument to be produced? He did take +off his hat, and was of course made hotter and more confused by +doing so. "What he said was all wrong," continued Melmotte; +"and I should have thought a man out of the City, like Mr Brown, +ought to have known better." Then there were repeated calls +of order, and a violent ebullition of laughter from both sides of +the House. The man stood for a while glaring around him, +summoning his own pluck for a renewal of his attack on Mr Brown, +determined that he would be appalled and put down neither by the +ridicule of those around him, nor by his want of familiarity with +the place; but still utterly unable to find words with which to +carry on the combat. "I ought to know something about it," +said Melmotte sitting down and hiding his indignation and his shame +under his hat. + +<p>"We are sure that the honourable member for Westminster does +understand the subject," said the leader of the House, "and we +shall be very glad to hear his remarks. The House I am sure +will pardon ignorance of its rules in so young a member." + +<p>But Mr Melmotte would not rise again. He had made a great +effort, and had at any rate exhibited his courage. Though +they might all say that he had not displayed much eloquence, they +would be driven to admit that he had not been ashamed to show +himself. He kept his seat till the regular stampede was made +for dinner, and then walked out with as stately a demeanour as he +could assume. + +<p>"Well, that was plucky!" said Cohenlupe, taking his friend's arm +in the lobby. + +<p>"I don't see any pluck in it. That old fool Brown didn't +know what he was talking about, and I wanted to tell them so. +They wouldn't let me do it, and there's an end of it. It +seems to me to be a stupid sort of a place." + +<p>"Has Longestaffe's money been paid?" said Cohenlupe opening his +black eyes while he looked up into his friend's face. + +<p>"Don't you trouble your head about Longestaffe, or his money +either," said Melmotte, getting into his brougham; "do you leave Mr +Longestaffe and his money to me. I hope you are not such a +fool as to be scared by what the other fools say. When men +play such a game as you and I are concerned in, they ought to know +better than to be afraid of every word that is spoken." + +<p>"Oh, dear; yes," said Cohenlupe apologetically. "You don't +suppose that I am afraid of anything." But at that moment Mr +Cohenlupe was meditating his own escape from the dangerous shores +of England, and was trying to remember what happy country still was +left in which an order from the British police would have no power +to interfere with the comfort of a retired gentleman such as +himself. + +<p>That evening Madame Melmotte told her husband that Marie was now +willing to marry Lord Nidderdale;—but she did not say anything as +to the crossing-sweeper or the black footman, nor did she allude to +Marie's threat of the sort of life she would lead her husband. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="70"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXX. Sir Felix Meddles with Many Matters</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>There is no duty more certain or fixed in the world than that +which calls upon a brother to defend his sister from ill-usage; +but, at the same time, in the way we live now, no duty is more +difficult, and we may say generally more indistinct. The +ill-usage to which men's sisters are most generally exposed is one +which hardly admits of either protection or vengeance,—although +the duty of protecting and avenging is felt and acknowledged. +We are not allowed to fight duels, and that banging about of +another man with a stick is always disagreeable and seldom +successful. A John Crumb can do it, perhaps, and come out of +the affair exulting; but not a Sir Felix Carbury, even if the Sir +Felix of the occasion have the requisite courage. There is a +feeling, too, when a girl has been jilted,—thrown over, perhaps, +is the proper term,—after the gentleman has had the fun of making +love to her for an entire season, and has perhaps even been allowed +privileges as her promised husband, that the less said the +better. The girl does not mean to break her heart for love of +the false one, and become the tragic heroine of a tale for three +months. It is her purpose again to + +<blockquote> +<i> + —trick her beams, and with new-spangled ore<br> + Flame in the forehead of the morning sky. +</i> +</blockquote> + +<p>Though this one has been false, as were perhaps two or three +before, still the road to success is open. <i>Uno avulso non +deficit alter</i>. But if all the notoriety of cudgels and +cutting whips be given to the late unfortunate affair, the +difficulty of finding a substitute will be greatly increased. +The brother recognizes his duty, and prepares for vengeance. +The injured one probably desires that she may be left to fight her +own little battles alone. + +<p>"Then, by heaven, he shall answer it to me," Sir Felix had said +very grandly, when his sister had told him that she was engaged to +a man who was, as he thought he knew, engaged also to marry another +woman. Here, no doubt, was gross ill-usage, and opportunity +at any rate for threats. No money was required and no +immediate action,—and Sir Felix could act the fine gentleman and +the dictatorial brother at very little present expense. But +Hetta, who ought perhaps to have known her brother more thoroughly, +was fool enough to believe him. On the day but one following, +no answer had as yet come from Roger Carbury,—nor could as yet +have come. But Hetta's mind was full of her trouble, and she +remembered her brother's threat. Felix had forgotten that he +had made a threat,—and, indeed, had thought no more of the matter +since his interview with his sister. + +<p>"Felix," she said, "you won't mention that to Mr Montague!" + +<p>"Mention what? Oh! about that woman, Mrs Hurtle? +Indeed I shall. A man who does that kind of thing ought to be +crushed;—and, by heavens, if he does it to you, he shall be +crushed." + +<p>"I want to tell you, Felix. If it is so, I will see him no +more." + +<p>"If it is so! I tell you I know it." + +<p>"Mamma has written to Roger. At least I feel sure she +has." + +<p>"What has she written to him for? What has Roger Carbury +to do with our affairs?" + +<p>"Only you said he knew! If he says so, that is, if you and +he both say that he is to marry that woman,—I will not see Mr +Montague again. Pray do not go to him. If such a +misfortune does come, it is better to bear it and to be +silent. What good can be done?" + +<p>"Leave that to me," said Sir Felix, walking out of the room with +much fraternal bluster. Then he went forth, and at once had +himself driven to Paul Montague's lodgings. Had Hetta not +been foolish enough to remind him of his duty, he would not now +have undertaken the task. He too, no doubt, remembered as he +went that duels were things of the past, and that even fists and +sticks are considered to be out of fashion. "Montague," he +said, assuming all the dignity of demeanour that his late sorrows +had left to him, "I believe I am right in saying that you are +engaged to marry that American lady, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"Then let me tell you that you were never more wrong in your +life. What business have you with Mrs Hurtle?" + +<p>"When a man proposes to my sister, I think I've a great deal of +business," said Sir Felix. + +<p>"Well;—yes; I admit that fully. If I answered you +roughly, I beg your pardon. Now as to the facts. I am +not going to marry Mrs Hurtle. I suppose I know how you have +heard her name;—but as you have heard it, I have no hesitation in +telling you so much. As you know where she is to be found you +can go and ask her if you please. On the other hand, it is +the dearest wish of my heart to marry your sister. I trust +that will be enough for you." + +<p>"You were engaged to Mrs Hurtle?" + +<p>"My dear Carbury, I don't think I'm bound to tell you all the +details of my past life. At any rate, I don't feel inclined +to do so in answer to hostile questions. I dare say you have +heard enough of Mrs Hurtle to justify you, as your sister's +brother, in asking me whether I am in any way entangled by a +connection with her. I tell you that I am not. If you +still doubt, I refer you to the lady herself. Beyond that, I +do not think I am called on to go; and beyond that I won't go,—at +any rate, at present." Sir Felix still blustered, and made +what capital he could out of his position as a brother; but he took +no steps towards positive revenge. "Of course, Carbury," said +the other, "I wish to regard you as a brother; and if I am rough to +you, it is only because you are rough to me." + +<p>Sir Felix was now in that part of town which he had been +accustomed to haunt,—for the first time since his +misadventure,—and, plucking up his courage, resolved that he would +turn into the Beargarden. He would have a glass of sherry, +and face the one or two men who would as yet be there, and in this +way gradually creep back to his old habits. But when he +arrived there, the club was shut up. "What the deuce is +Vossner about?" said he, pulling out his watch. It was nearly +five o'clock. He rang the bell, and knocked at the door, +feeling that this was an occasion for courage. One of the +servants, in what we may call private clothes, after some delay, +drew back the bolts, and told him the astounding news;—The club +was shut up! "Do you mean to say I can't come in?" said Sir +Felix. The man certainly did mean to tell him so, for he +opened the door no more than a foot, and stood in that narrow +aperture. Mr Vossner had gone away. There had been a +meeting of the Committee, and the club was shut up. Whatever +further information rested in the waiter's bosom he declined to +communicate to Sir Felix Carbury. + +<p>"By George!" The wrong that was done him filled the young +baronet's bosom with indignation. He had intended, he assured +himself, to dine at his club, to spend the evening there +sportively, to be pleasant among his chosen companions. And +now the club was shut up, and Vossner had gone away! What +business had the club to be shut up? What right had Vossner +to go away? Had he not paid his subscription in +advance? Throughout the world, the more wrong a man does, the +more indignant is he at wrong done to him. Sir Felix almost +thought that he could recover damages from the whole Committee. + +<p>He went direct to Mrs Pipkin's house. When he made that +half promise of marriage in Mrs Pipkin's hearing, he had said that +he would come again on the morrow. This he had not done; but +of that he thought nothing. Such breaches of faith, when +committed by a young man in his position, require not even an +apology. He was admitted by Ruby herself who was of course +delighted to see him. "Who do you think is in town?" she +said. "John Crumb; but though he came here ever so smart, I +wouldn't so much as speak to him, except to tell him to go +away." Sir Felix, when he heard the name, felt an +uncomfortable sensation creep over him. "I don't know I'm +sure what he should come after me for, and me telling him as plain +as the nose on his face that I never want to see him again." + +<p>"He's not of much account," said the baronet. + +<p>"He would marry me out and out immediately, if I'd have him," +continued Ruby, who perhaps thought that her honest old lover +should not be spoken of as being altogether of no account. +"And he has everything comfortable in the way of furniture, and all +that. And they do say he's ever so much money in the +bank. But I detest him," said Ruby, shaking her pretty head, +and inclining herself towards her aristocratic lover's shoulder. + +<p>This took place in the back parlour, before Mrs Pipkin had +ascended from the kitchen prepared to disturb so much romantic +bliss with wretched references to the cold outer world. +"Well, now, Sir Felix," she began, "if things is square, of course +you're welcome to see my niece." + +<p>"And what if they're round, Mrs Pipkin?" said the gallant, +careless, sparkling Lothario. + +<p>"Well, or round either, so long as they're honest." + +<p>"Ruby and I are both honest;—ain't we, Ruby? I want to +take her out to dinner, Mrs Pipkin. She shall be back before +late;—before ten; she shall indeed." Ruby inclined herself +still more closely towards his shoulder. "Come, Ruby, get +your hat and change your dress, and we'll be off. I've ever +so many things to tell you." + +<p>Ever so many things to tell her! They must be to fix a day +for the marriage, and to let her know where they were to live, and +to settle what dress she should wear,—and perhaps to give her the +money to go and buy it! Ever so many things to tell +her! She looked up into Mrs Pipkin's face with imploring +eyes. Surely on such an occasion as this an aunt would not +expect that her niece should be a prisoner and a slave. "Have +it been put in writing, Sir Felix Carbury?" demanded Mrs Pipkin +with cruel gravity. Mrs Hurtle had given it as her decided +opinion that Sir Felix would not really mean to marry Ruby Ruggles +unless he showed himself willing to do so with all the formality of +a written contract. + +<p>"Writing be bothered," said Sir Felix. + +<p>"That's all very well, Sir Felix. Writing do bother, very +often. But when a gentleman has intentions, a bit of writing +shows it plainer nor words. Ruby don't go nowhere to dine +unless you puts it into writing." + +<p>"Aunt Pipkin!" exclaimed the wretched Ruby. + +<p>"What do you think I'm going to do with her?" asked Sir Felix. + +<p>"If you want to make her your wife, put it in writing. And +if it be as you don't, just say so, and walk away,—free." + +<p>"I shall go," said Ruby. "I'm not going to be kept here a +prisoner for any one. I can go when I please. You wait, +Felix, and I'll be down in a minute." The girl, with a nimble +spring, ran upstairs, and began to change her dress without giving +herself a moment for thought. + +<p>"She don't come back no more here, Sir Felix," said Mrs Pipkin, +in her most solemn tones. "She ain't nothing to me, no more +than she was my poor dear husband's sister's child. There +ain't no blood between us, and won't be no disgrace. But I'd +be loth to see her on the streets." + +<p>"Then why won't you let me bring her back again?" + +<p>"'Cause that'd be the way to send her there. You don't +mean to marry her." To this Sir Felix said nothing. +"You're not thinking of that. It's just a bit of sport,—and +then there she is, an old shoe to be chucked away, just a rag to be +swept into the dust-bin. I've seen scores of 'em, and I'd +sooner a child of mine should die in a workus', or be starved to +death. But it's all nothing to the likes o' you." + +<p>"I haven't done her any harm," said Sir Felix, almost +frightened. + +<p>"Then go away, and don't do her any. That's Mrs Hurtle's +door open. You go and speak to her. She can talk a deal +better nor me." + +<p>"Mrs Hurtle hasn't been able to manage her own affairs very +well." + +<p>"Mrs Hurtle's a lady, Sir Felix, and a widow, and one as has +seen the world." As she spoke, Mrs Hurtle came downstairs, +and an introduction, after some rude fashion, was effected between +her and Sir Felix. Mrs Hurtle had heard often of Sir Felix +Carbury, and was quite as certain as Mrs Pipkin that he did not +mean to marry Ruby Ruggles. In a few minutes Felix found +himself alone with Mrs Hurtle in her own room. He had been +anxious to see the woman since he had heard of her engagement with +Paul Montague, and doubly anxious since he had also heard of Paul's +engagement with his sister. It was not an hour since Paul +himself had referred him to her for corroboration of his own +statement. + +<p>"Sir Felix Carbury," she said, "I am afraid you are doing that +poor girl no good, and are intending to do her none." It did +occur to him very strongly that this could be no affair of Mrs +Hurtle's, and that he, as a man of position in society, was being +interfered with in an unjustifiable manner. Aunt Pipkin +wasn't even an aunt; but who was Mrs Hurtle? "Would it not be +better that you should leave her to become the wife of a man who is +really fond of her?" + +<p>He could already see something in Mrs Hurtle's eye which +prevented his at once bursting into wrath;—but! who was Mrs +Hurtle, that she should interfere with him? "Upon my word, +ma'am," he said, "I'm very much obliged to you, but I don't quite +know to what I owe the honour of your—your—" + +<p>"Interference you mean." + +<p>"I didn't say so, but perhaps that's about it." + +<p>"I'd interfere to save any woman that God ever made," said Mrs +Hurtle with energy. "We're all apt to wait a little too long, +because we're ashamed to do any little good that chance puts in our +way. You must go and leave her, Sir Felix." + +<p>"I suppose she may do as she pleases about that." + +<p>"Do you mean to make her your wife?" asked Mrs Hurtle sternly. + +<p>"Does Mr Paul Montague mean to make you his wife?" rejoined Sir +Felix with an impudent swagger. He had struck the blow +certainly hard enough, and it had gone all the way home. She +had not surmised that he would have heard aught of her own +concerns. She only barely connected him with that Roger +Carbury who, she knew, was Paul's great friend, and she had as yet +never heard that Hetta Carbury was the girl whom Paul loved. +Had Paul so talked about her that this young scamp should know all +her story? + +<p>She thought awhile,—she had to think for a moment,—before she +could answer him. "I do not see," she said, with a faint +attempt at a smile, "that there is any parallel between the two +cases. I, at any rate, am old enough to take care of +myself. Should he not marry me, I am as I was before. +Will it be so with that poor girl if she allows herself to be taken +about the town by you at night?" She had desired in what she +said to protect Ruby rather than herself. What could it +matter whether this young man was left in a belief that she was, or +that she was not, about to be married? + +<p>"If you'll answer me, I'll answer you," said Sir Felix. +"Does Mr Montague mean to make you his wife?" + +<p>"It does not concern you to know," said she, flashing upon +him. "The question is insolent." + +<p>"It does concern me,—a great deal more than anything about Ruby +can concern you. And as you won't answer me, I won't answer +you." + +<p>"Then, sir, that girl's fate will be upon your head." + +<p>"I know all about that," said the baronet. + +<p>"And the young man who has followed her up to town will probably +know where to find you," added Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>To such a threat as this, no answer could be made, and Sir Felix +left the room. At any rate, John Crumb was not there at +present. And were there not policemen in London? And +what additional harm would be done to John Crumb, or what increase +of danger engendered in that true lover's breast, by one additional +evening's amusement? Ruby had danced with him so often at the +Music Hall that John Crumb could hardly be made more bellicose by +the fact of her dining with him on this evening. When he +descended, he found Ruby in the hall, all arrayed. "You don't +come in here again to-night," said Mrs Pipkin, thumping the little +table which stood in the passage, "if you goes out of that there +door with that there young man." + +<p>"Then I shall," said Ruby linking herself on to her lover's arm. + +<p>"Baggage! Slut!" said Mrs Pipkin; "after all I've done for +you, just as one as though you were my own flesh and blood." + +<p>"I've worked for it, I suppose;—haven't I?" rejoined Ruby. + +<p>"You send for your things to-morrow, for you don't come in here +no more. You ain't nothing to me no more nor no other +girl. But I'd 've saved you, if you'd but a' let me. As +for you,"—and she looked at Sir Felix,—"only because I've +lodgings to let, and because of the lady upstairs, I'd shake you +that well, you'd never come here no more after poor girls." I +do not think that she need have feared any remonstrance from Mrs +Hurtle, even had she put her threat into execution. + +<p>Sir Felix, thinking that he had had enough of Mrs Pipkin and her +lodger, left the house with Ruby on his arm. For the moment, +Ruby had been triumphant, and was happy. She did not stop to +consider whether her aunt would or would not open her door when she +should return tired, and perhaps repentant. She was on her +lover's arm, in her best clothes, and going out to have a dinner +given to her. And her lover had told her that he had ever so +many things,—ever so many things to say to her! But she +would ask no impertinent questions in the first hour of her +bliss. It was so pleasant to walk with him up to +Pentonville;—so joyous to turn into a gay enclosure, half +public-house and half tea-garden; so pleasant to hear him order the +good things, which in his company would be so nice! Who +cannot understand that even an urban Rosherville must be an Elysium +to those who have lately been eating their meals in all the gloom +of a small London underground kitchen? There we will leave +Ruby in her bliss. + +<p>At about nine that evening John Crumb called at Mrs Pipkin's, +and was told that Ruby had gone out with Sir Felix Carbury. +He hit his leg a blow with his fist, and glared out of his +eyes. "He'll have it hot some day," said John Crumb. He +was allowed to remain waiting for Ruby till midnight, and then, +with a sorrowful heart, he took his departure. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="71"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXI. John Crumb Falls into Trouble</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It was on a Friday evening, an inauspicious Friday, that poor +Ruby Ruggles had insisted on leaving the security of her Aunt +Pipkin's house with her aristocratic and vicious lover, in spite of +the positive assurance made to her by Mrs Pipkin that if she went +forth in such company she should not be allowed to return. +"Of course you must let her in," Mrs Hurtle had said soon after the +girl's departure. Whereupon Mrs Pipkin had cried. She +knew her own softness too well to suppose it to be possible that +she could keep the girl out in the streets all night; but yet it +was hard upon her, very hard, that she should be so troubled. +"We usen't to have our ways like that when I was young," she said, +sobbing. What was to be the end of it? Was she to be +forced by circumstances to keep the girl always there, let the +girl's conduct be what it might? Nevertheless she +acknowledged that Ruby must be let in when she came back. +Then, about nine o'clock, John Crumb came; and the latter part of +the evening was more melancholy even than the first. It was +impossible to conceal the truth from John Crumb. Mrs Hurtle +saw the poor man and told the story in Mrs Pipkin's presence. + +<p>"She's headstrong, Mr Crumb," said Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"She is that, ma'am. And it was along wi' the baronite she +went?" + +<p>"It was so, Mr Crumb." + +<p>"Baro-nite! Well;—perhaps I shall catch him some of these +days;—went to dinner wi' him, did she? Didn't she have no +dinner here?" + +<p>Then Mrs Pipkin spoke up with a keen sense of offence. +Ruby Ruggles had had as wholesome a dinner as any young woman in +London,—a bullock's heart and potatoes,—just as much as ever she +had pleased to eat of it. Mrs Pipkin could tell Mr Crumb that +there was "no starvation nor yet no stint in her house." John +Crumb immediately produced a very thick and admirably useful blue +cloth cloak, which he had brought up with him to London from +Bungay, as a present to the woman who had been good to his +Ruby. He assured her that he did not doubt that her victuals +were good and plentiful, and went on to say that he had made bold +to bring her a trifle out of respect. It was some little time +before Mrs Pipkin would allow herself to be appeased;—but at last +she permitted the garment to be placed on her shoulders. But +it was done after a melancholy fashion. There was no smiling +consciousness of the bestowal of joy on the countenance of the +donor as he gave it, no exuberance of thanks from the recipient as +she received it. Mrs Hurtle, standing by, declared it to be +perfect;—but the occasion was one which admitted of no +delight. "It's very good of you, Mr Crumb, to think of an old +woman like me,—particularly when you've such a deal of trouble +with a young un'." + +<p>"It's like the smut in the wheat, Mrs Pipkin, or the d'sease in +the 'tatoes;—it has to be put up with, I suppose. Is she +very partial, ma'am, to that young baronite?" This question +was asked of Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"Just a fancy for the time, Mr Crumb," said the lady. + +<p>"They never thinks as how their fancies may wellnigh half kill a +man!" Then he was silent for a while, sitting back in his +chair, not moving a limb, with his eyes fastened on Mrs Pipkin's +ceiling. Mrs Hurtle had some work in her hand, and sat +watching him. The man was to her an extraordinary being,—so +constant, so slow, so unexpressive, so unlike her own +countrymen,—willing to endure so much, and at the same time so +warm in his affections! "Sir Felix Carbury!" he said. +"I'll Sir Felix him some of these days. If it was only +dinner, wouldn't she be back afore this, ma'am?" + +<p>"I suppose they've gone to some place of amusement," said Mrs +Hurtle. + +<p>"Like enough," said John Crumb in a low voice. + +<p>"She's that mad after dancing as never was," said Mrs Pipkin. + +<p>"And where is it as 'em dances?" asked Crumb, getting up from +his chair, and stretching himself. It was evident to both the +ladies that he was beginning to think that he would follow Ruby to +the music hall. Neither of them answered him, however, and +then he sat down again. "Does 'em dance all night at them +places, Mrs Pipkin?" + +<p>"They do pretty nearly all that they oughtn't to do," said Mrs +Pipkin. John Crumb raised one of his fists, brought it down +heavily on the palm of his other hand, and then sat silent for +awhile. + +<p>"I never knowed as she was fond o' dancing," he said. "I'd +a had dancing for her down at Bungay,—just as ready as +anything. D'ye think, ma'am, it's the dancing she's after, or +the baro-nite?" This was another appeal to Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"I suppose they go together," said the lady. + +<p>Then there was another long pause, at the end of which poor John +Crumb burst out with some violence. "Domn him! Domn +him! What 'ad I ever dun to him? Nothing! Did I +ever interfere wi' him? Never! But I wull. I +wull. I wouldn't wonder but I'll swing for this at Bury!" + +<p>"Oh, Mr Crumb, don't talk like that," said Mrs Pipkin. + +<p>"Mr Crumb is a little disturbed, but he'll get over it +presently," said Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"She's a nasty slut to go and treat a young man as she's +treating you," said Mrs Pipkin. + +<p>"No, ma'am;—she ain't nasty," said the lover. "But she's +crou'll—horrid crou'll. It's no more use my going down about +meal and pollard, nor business, and she up here with that +baro-nite,—no, no more nor nothin'! When I handles it I don't know +whether its middlings nor nothin' else. If I was to twist his +neck, ma'am, would you take it on yourself to say as I was wrong?" + +<p>"I'd sooner hear that you had taken the girl away from him," +said Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"I could pretty well eat him,—that's what I could. Half +past eleven; is it? She must come some time, mustn't +she?" Mrs Pipkin, who did not want to burn candles all night +long, declared that she could give no assurance on that head. +If Ruby did come, she should, on that night, be admitted. But +Mrs Pipkin thought that it would be better to get up and let her in +than to sit up for her. Poor Mr Crumb did not at once take +the hint, and remained there for another half-hour, saying little, +but waiting with the hope that Ruby might come. But when the +clock struck twelve he was told that he must go. Then he +slowly collected his limbs and dragged them out of the house. + +<p>"That young man is a good fellow," said Mrs Hurtle as soon as +the door was closed. + +<p>"A deal too good for Ruby Ruggles," said Mrs Pipkin. "And +he can maintain a wife. Mr Carbury says as he's as well to do +as any tradesman down in them parts." + +<p>Mrs Hurtle disliked the name of Mr Carbury, and took this last +statement as no evidence in John Crumb's favour. "I don't +know that I think better of the man for having Mr Carbury's +friendship," she said. + +<p>"Mr Carbury ain't any way like his cousin, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"I don't think much of any of the Carburys, Mrs Pipkin. It +seems to me that everybody here is either too humble or too +overbearing. Nobody seems content to stand firm on his own +footing and interfere with nobody else." This was all Greek +to poor Mrs Pipkin. "I suppose we may as well go to bed +now. When that girl comes and knocks, of course we must let +her in. If I hear her, I'll go down and open the door for +her." + +<p>Mrs Pipkin made very many apologies to her lodger for the +condition of her household. She would remain up herself to +answer the door at the first sound, so that Mrs Hurtle should not +be disturbed. She would do her best to prevent any further +annoyance. She trusted Mrs Hurtle would see that she was +endeavouring to do her duty by the naughty wicked girl. And +then she came round to the point of her discourse. She hoped +that Mrs Hurtle would not be induced to quit the rooms by these +disagreeable occurrences. "I don't mind saying it now, Mrs +Hurtle, but your being here is ever so much to me. I ain't +nothing to depend on,—only lodgers, and them as is any good is so +hard to get!" The poor woman hardly understood Mrs Hurtle, +who, as a lodger, was certainly peculiar. She cared nothing +for disturbances, and rather liked than otherwise the task of +endeavouring to assist in the salvation of Ruby. Mrs Hurtle +begged that Mrs Pipkin would go to bed. She would not be in +the least annoyed by the knocking. Another half-hour had thus +been passed by the two ladies in the parlour after Crumb's +departure. Then Mrs Hurtle took her candle and had ascended +the stairs half way to her own sitting-room, when a loud double +knock was heard. She immediately joined Mrs Pipkin in the +passage. The door was opened, and there stood Ruby Ruggles, +John Crumb, and two policemen! Ruby rushed in, and casting +herself on to one of the stairs began to throw her hands about, and +to howl piteously. "Laws a mercy; what is it?" asked Mrs +Pipkin. + +<p>"He's been and murdered him!" screamed Ruby. "He +has! He's been and murdered him!" + +<p>"This young woman is living here;—is she?" asked one of the +policemen. + +<p>"She is living here," said Mrs Hurtle. But now we must go +back to the adventures of John Crumb after he had left the house. + +<p>He had taken a bedroom at a small inn close to the Eastern +Counties Railway Station which he was accustomed to frequent when +business brought him up to London, and thither he proposed to +himself to return. At one time there had come upon him an +idea that he would endeavour to seek Ruby and his enemy among the +dancing saloons of the metropolis; and he had asked a question with +that view. But no answer had been given which seemed to aid +him in his project, and his purpose had been abandoned as being too +complex and requiring more intelligence than he gave himself credit +for possessing. So he had turned down a street with which he +was so far acquainted as to know that it would take him to the +Islington Angel,—where various roads meet, and whence he would +know his way eastwards. He had just passed the Angel, and the +end of Goswell Road, and was standing with his mouth open, looking +about, trying to make certain of himself that he would not go +wrong, thinking that he would ask a policeman whom he saw, and +hesitating because he feared that the man would want to know his +business. Then, of a sudden, he heard a woman scream, and +knew that it was Ruby's voice. The sound was very near him, +but in the glimmer of the gaslight he could not quite see whence it +came. He stood still, putting his hand up to scratch his head +under his hat,—trying to think what, in such an emergency, it +would be well that he should do. Then he heard the voice +distinctly, "I won't;—I won't," and after that a scream. +Then there were further words. "It's no good—I won't." +At last he was able to make up his mind. He rushed after the +sound, and turning down a passage to the right which led back into +Goswell Road, saw Ruby struggling in a man's arms. She had +left the dancing establishment with her lover; and when they had +come to the turn of the passage, there had arisen a question as to +her further destiny for the night. Ruby, though she well +remembered Mrs Pipkin's threats, was minded to try her chance at +her aunt's door. Sir Felix was of opinion that he could make +a preferable arrangement for her; and as Ruby was not at once +amenable to his arguments he had thought that a little gentle force +might avail him. He had therefore dragged Ruby into the +passage. The unfortunate one! That so ill a chance +should have come upon him in the midst of his diversion! He +had swallowed several tumblers of brandy and water, and was +therefore brave with reference to that interference of the police, +the fear of which might otherwise have induced him to relinquish +his hold of Ruby's arm when she first raised her voice. But +what amount of brandy and water would have enabled him to +persevere, could he have dreamed that John Crumb was near +him? On a sudden he found a hand on his coat, and he was +swung violently away, and brought with his back against the +railings so forcibly as to have the breath almost knocked out of +his body. But he could hear Ruby's exclamation, "If it isn't +John Crumb!" Then there came upon him a sense of coming +destruction, as though the world for him were all over; and, +collapsing throughout his limbs, he slunk down upon the ground. + +<p>"Get up, you wiper," said John Crumb. But the baronet +thought it better to cling to the ground. "You sholl get up," +said John, taking him by the collar of his coat and lifting +him. "Now, Ruby, he's a-going to have it," said John. +Whereupon Ruby screamed at the top of her voice, with a shriek very +much louder than that which had at first attracted John Crumb's +notice. + +<p>"Don't hit a man when he's down," said the baronet, pleading as +though for his life. + +<p>"I wunt," said John;—"but I'll hit a fellow when un's +up." Sir Felix was little more than a child in the man's +arms. John Crumb raised him, and catching him round the neck +with his left arm,—getting his head into chancery as we used to +say when we fought at school,—struck the poor wretch some +half-dozen times violently in the face, not knowing or caring +exactly where he hit him, but at every blow obliterating a +feature. And he would have continued had not Ruby flown at +him and rescued Sir Felix from his arms. "He's about got +enough of it," said John Crumb as he gave over his work. Then +Sir Felix fell again to the ground, moaning fearfully. "I +know'd he'd have to have it," said John Crumb. + +<p>Ruby's screams of course brought the police, one arriving from +each end of the passage on the scene of action at the same +time. And now the cruellest thing of all was that Ruby in the +complaints which she made to the policemen said not a word against +Sir Felix, but was as bitter as she knew how to be in her +denunciations of John Crumb. It was in vain that John +endeavoured to make the man understand that the young woman had +been crying out for protection when he had interfered. Ruby +was very quick of speech and John Crumb was very slow. Ruby +swore that nothing so horrible, so cruel, so bloodthirsty had ever +been done before. Sir Felix himself when appealed to could +say nothing. He could only moan and make futile efforts to +wipe away the stream of blood from his face when the men stood him +up leaning against the railings. And John, though he +endeavoured to make the policemen comprehend the extent of the +wickedness of the young baronet, would not say a word against +Ruby. He was not even in the least angered by her +denunciations of himself. As he himself said sometimes +afterwards, he had "dropped into the baronite" just in time, and, +having been successful in this, felt no wrath against Ruby for +having made such an operation necessary. + +<p>There was soon a third policeman on the spot, and a dozen other +persons, cab-drivers, haunters of the street by night, and +houseless wanderers, casuals who at this season of the year +preferred the pavements to the poorhouse wards. They all took +part against John Crumb. Why had the big man interfered +between the young woman and her young man? Two or three of +them wiped Sir Felix's face, and dabbed his eyes, and proposed this +and the other remedy. Some thought that he had better be +taken straight to an hospital. One lady remarked that he was +so mashed and mauled that she was sure he would never "come to" +again. A precocious youth remarked that he was "all one as a +dead un'." A cabman observed that he had "'ad it awful +'eavy." To all these criticisms on his condition Sir Felix +himself made no direct reply, but he intimated his desire to be +carried away somewhere, though he did not much care whither. + +<p>At last the policemen among them decided upon a course of +action. They had learned by the united testimony of Ruby and +Crumb that Sir Felix was Sir Felix. He was to be carried in a +cab by one constable to Bartholomew Hospital, who would then take +his address so that he might be produced and bound over to +prosecute. Ruby should be even conducted to the address she +gave,—not half a mile from the spot on which they now stood,—and +be left there or not according to the account which might be given +of her. John Crumb must be undoubtedly locked up in the +station-house. He was the offender;—for aught that any of +them yet knew, the murderer. No one said a good word for +him. He hardly said a good word for himself, and certainly +made no objection to the treatment that had been proposed for +him. But, no doubt, he was buoyed up inwardly by the +conviction that he had thoroughly thrashed his enemy. + +<p>Thus it came to pass that the two policemen with John Crumb and +Ruby came together to Mrs Pipkin's door. Ruby was still loud +with complaints against the ruffian who had beaten her lover,—who, +perhaps, had killed her loved one. She threatened the +gallows, and handcuffs, and perpetual imprisonment, and an action +for damages amidst her lamentations. But from Mrs Hurtle the +policemen did manage to learn something of the truth. Oh +yes;—the girl lived there and was—respectable. This man +whom they had arrested was respectable also, and was the girl's +proper lover. The other man who had been beaten was +undoubtedly the owner of a title; but he was not respectable, and +was only the girl's improper lover. And John Crumb's name was +given. "I'm John Crumb of Bungay," said he, "and I ain't +afeared of nothin' nor nobody. And I ain't a been a drinking; +no, I ain't. Mauled un'! In course I've mauled +un'. And I meaned it. That ere young woman is engaged +to be my wife." + +<p>"No, I ain't," shouted Ruby. + +<p>"But she is," persisted John Crumb. + +<p>"Well then, I never will," rejoined Ruby. + +<p>John Crumb turned upon her a look of love, and put his hand on +his heart. Whereupon the senior policeman said that he saw at +a glance how it all was, but that Mr Crumb had better come along +with him just for the present. To this arrangement the +unfortunate hero from Bungay made not the slightest objection. + +<p>"Miss Ruggles," said Mrs Hurtle, "if that young man doesn't +conquer you at last you can't have a heart in your bosom." + +<p>"Indeed and I have then, and I don't mean to give it him if it's +ever so. He's been and killed Sir Felix." Mrs Hurtle in +a whisper to Mrs Pipkin expressed a wicked wish that it might be +so. After that the three women all went to bed. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="72"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXII. "Ask Himself"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Roger Carbury when he received the letter from Hetta's mother +desiring him to tell her all that he knew of Paul Montague's +connection with Mrs Hurtle found himself quite unable to write a +reply. He endeavoured to ask himself what he would do in such +a case if he himself were not personally concerned. What +advice in this emergency would he give to the mother and what to +the daughter, were he himself uninterested? He was sure that, +as Hetta's cousin and asking as though he were Hetta's brother, he +would tell her that Paul Montague's entanglement with that American +woman should have forbidden him at any rate for the present to +offer his hand to any other lady. He thought that he knew +enough of all the circumstances to be sure that such would be his +decision. He had seen Mrs Hurtle with Montague at Lowestoft, +and had known that they were staying together as friends at the +same hotel. He knew that she had come to England with the +express purpose of enforcing the fulfilment of an engagement which +Montague had often acknowledged. He knew that Montague made +frequent visits to her in London. He had, indeed, been told +by Montague himself that, let the cost be what it might, the +engagement should be and in fact had been broken off. He +thoroughly believed the man's word, but put no trust whatever in +his firmness. And, hitherto, he had no reason whatever for +supposing that Mrs Hurtle had consented to be abandoned. What +father, what elder brother would allow a daughter or a sister to +become engaged to a man embarrassed by such difficulties? He +certainly had counselled Montague to rid himself of the trammels by +which he had surrounded himself;—but not on that account could he +think that the man in his present condition was fit to engage +himself to another woman. + +<p>All this was clear to Roger Carbury. But then it had been +equally clear to him that he could not, as a man of honour, assist +his own cause by telling a tale,—which tale had become known to +him as the friend of the man against whom it would have to be +told. He had resolved upon that as he left Montague and Mrs +Hurtle together upon the sands at Lowestoft. But what was he +to do now? The girl whom he loved had confessed her love for +the other man,—that man, who in seeking the girl's love, had been +as he thought so foul a traitor to himself! That he would +hold himself as divided from the man by a perpetual and undying +hostility he had determined. That his love for the woman +would be equally perpetual he was quite sure. Already there +were floating across his brain ideas of perpetuating his name in +the person of some child of Hetta's,—but with the distinct +understanding that he and the child's father should never see each +other. No more than twenty-four hours had intervened between +the receipt of Paul's letter and that from Lady Carbury,—but +during those four-and-twenty hours he had almost forgotten Mrs +Hurtle. The girl was gone from him, and he thought only of +his own loss and of Paul's perfidy. Then came the direct +question as to which he was called upon for a direct answer. +Did he know anything of facts relating to the presence of a certain +Mrs Hurtle in London which were of a nature to make it inexpedient +that Hetta should accept Paul Montague as her betrothed +lover? Of course he did. The facts were all familiar to +him. But how was he to tell the facts? In what words +was he to answer such a letter? If he told the truth as he +knew it how was he to secure himself against the suspicion of +telling a story against his rival in order that he might assist +himself, or at any rate, punish the rival? + +<p>As he could not trust himself to write an answer to Lady +Carbury's letter he determined that he would go to London. If +he must tell the story he could tell it better face to face than by +any written words. So he made the journey, arrived in town +late in the evening, and knocked at the door in Welbeck Street +between ten and eleven on the morning after the unfortunate meeting +which took place between Sir Felix and John Crumb. The page +when he opened the door looked as a page should look when the +family to which he is attached is suffering from some terrible +calamity. "My lady" had been summoned to the hospital to see +Sir Felix who was,—as the page reported,—in a very bad way +indeed. The page did not exactly know what had happened, but +supposed that Sir Felix had lost most of his limbs by this +time. Yes; Miss Carbury was upstairs; and would no doubt see +her cousin, though she, too, was in a very bad condition; and +dreadfully put about. That poor Hetta should be "put about" +with her brother in the hospital and her lover in the toils of an +abominable American woman was natural enough. + +<p>"What's this about Felix?" asked Roger. The new trouble +always has precedence over those which are of earlier date. + +<p>"Oh Roger, I am so glad to see you. Felix did not come +home last night, and this morning there came a man from the +hospital in the city to say that he is there." + +<p>"What has happened to him?" + +<p>"Somebody,—somebody has,—beaten him," said Hetta +whimpering. Then she told the story as far as she knew +it. The messenger from the hospital had declared that the +young man was in no danger and that none of his bones were broken, +but that he was terribly bruised about the face, that his eyes were +in a frightful condition, sundry of his teeth knocked out, and his +lips cut open. But, the messenger had gone on to say, the +house surgeon had seen no reason why the young gentleman should not +be taken home. "And mamma has gone to fetch him," said Hetta. + +<p>"That's John Crumb," said Roger. Hetta had never heard of +John Crumb, and simply stared into her cousin's face. "You +have not been told about John Crumb? No;—you would not hear +of him." + +<p>"Why should John Crumb beat Felix like that?" + +<p>"They say, Hetta, that women are the cause of most troubles that +occur in the world." The girl blushed up to her eyes, as +though the whole story of Felix's sin and folly had been told to +her. "If it be as I suppose," continued Roger, "John Crumb +has considered himself to be aggrieved and has thus avenged +himself." + +<p>"Did you—know of him before?" + +<p>"Yes indeed;—very well. He is a neighbour of mine and was +in love with a girl, with all his heart; and he would have made her +his wife and have been good to her. He had a home to offer +her, and is an honest man with whom she would have been safe and +respected and happy. Your brother saw her and, though he knew +the story, though he had been told by myself that this honest +fellow had placed his happiness on the girl's love, he +thought,—well, I suppose he thought that such a pretty thing as +this girl was too good for John Crumb." + +<p>"But Felix has been going to marry Miss Melmotte!" + +<p>"You're old-fashioned, Hetta. It used to be the way,—to +be off with your old love before you are on with the new; but that +seems to be all changed now. Such fine young fellows as there +are now can be in love with two at once. That I fear is what +Felix has thought;—and now he has been punished." + +<p>"You know all about it then?" + +<p>"No;—I don't know. But I think it has been so. I do +know that John Crumb had threatened to do this thing, and I felt +sure that sooner or later he would be as good as his word. If +it has been so, who is to blame him?" + +<p>Hetta as she heard the story hardly knew whether her cousin, in +his manner of telling the story, was speaking of that other man, of +that stranger of whom she had never heard, or of himself. He +would have made her his wife and have been good to her. He +had a home to offer her. He was an honest man with whom she +would have been safe and respected and happy! He had looked +at her while speaking as though it were her own case of which he +spoke. And then, when he talked of the old-fashioned way, of +being off with the old love before you are on with the new, had he +not alluded to Paul Montague and this story of the American +woman? But, if so, it was not for Hetta to notice it +by words. He must speak more plainly than that before she +could be supposed to know that he alluded to her own +condition. "It is very shocking," she said. + +<p>"Shocking;—yes. One is shocked at it all. I pity +your mother, and I pity you." + +<p>"It seems to me that nothing ever will be happy for us," said +Hetta. She was longing to be told something of Mrs Hurtle, +but she did not as yet dare to ask the question. + +<p>"I do not know whether to wait for your mother or not," said he +after a short pause. + +<p>"Pray wait for her if you are not very busy." + +<p>"I came up only to see her, but perhaps she would not wish me to +be here when she brings Felix back to the house." + +<p>"Indeed she will. She would like you always to be here +when there are troubles. Oh, Roger, I wish you could tell +me." + +<p>"Tell you what?" + +<p>"She has written to you;—has she not?" + +<p>"Yes; she has written to me." + +<p>"And about me?" + +<p>"Yes;—about you, Hetta. And, Hetta, Mr Montague has +written to me also." + +<p>"He told me that he would," whispered Hetta. + +<p>"Did he tell you my answer?" + +<p>"No;—he has told me of no answer. I have not seen him +since." + +<p>"You do not think that it can have been very kind, do you? +I also have something of the feeling of John Crumb, though I shall +not attempt to show it after the same fashion." + +<p>"Did you not say the girl had promised to love that man?" + +<p>"I did not say so;—but she had promised. Yes, Hetta; +there is a difference. The girl then was fickle and went back +from her word. You never have done that. I am not +justified in thinking even a hard thought of you. I have +never harboured a hard thought of you. It is not you that I +reproach. But he,—he has been if possible more false than +Felix." + +<p>"Oh, Roger, how has he been false?" + +<p>Still he was not wishful to tell her the story of Mrs +Hurtle. The treachery of which he was speaking was that which +he had thought had been committed by his friend towards +himself. "He should have left the place and never have come +near you," said Roger, "when he found how it was likely to be with +him. He owed it to me not to take the cup of water from my +lips." + +<p>How was she to tell him that the cup of water never could have +touched his lips? And yet if this were the only falsehood of +which he had to tell, she was bound to let him know that it was +so. That horrid story of Mrs Hurtle;—she would listen to +that if she could hear it. She would be all ears for +that. But she could not admit that her lover had sinned in +loving her. "But, Roger," she said,—"it would have been the +same." + +<p>"You may say so. You may feel it. You may know +it. I at any rate will not contradict you when you say that +it must have been so. But he didn't feel it. He didn't +know it. He was to me as a younger brother,—and he has +robbed me of everything. I understand, Hetta, what you +mean. I should never have succeeded! My happiness would +have been impossible if Paul had never come home from +America. I have told myself so a hundred times, but I cannot +therefore forgive him. And I won't forgive him, Hetta. +Whether you are his wife, or another man's, or whether you are +Hetta Carbury on to the end, my feeling to you will be the +same. While we both live, you must be to me the dearest +creature living. My hatred to him—" + +<p>"Oh, Roger, do not say hatred." + +<p>"My hostility to him can make no difference in my feeling to +you. I tell you that should you become his wife you will +still be my love. As to not coveting,—how is a man to cease +to covet that which he has always coveted? But I shall be +separated from you. Should I be dying, then I should send for +you. You are the very essence of my life. I have no +dream of happiness otherwise than as connected with you. He +might have my whole property and I would work for my bread, if I +could only have a chance of winning you to share my toils with me." + +<p>But still there was no word of Mrs Hurtle. "Roger," she +said, "I have given it all away now. It cannot be given +twice." + +<p>"If he were unworthy would your heart never change?" + +<p>"I think—never. Roger, is he unworthy?" + +<p>"How can you trust me to answer such a question? He is my +enemy. He has been ungrateful to me as one man hardly ever is +to another. He has turned all my sweetness to gall, all my +flowers to bitter weeds; he has choked up all my paths. And +now you ask me whether he is unworthy! I cannot tell you." + +<p>"If you thought him worthy you would tell me," she said, getting +up and taking him by the arm. + +<p>"No;—I will tell you nothing. Go to some one else, not to +me;" and he tried with gentleness but tried ineffectually to +disengage himself from her hold. + +<p>"Roger, if you knew him to be good you would tell me, because +you yourself are so good. Even though you hated him you would +say so. It would not be you to leave a false impression even +against your enemies. I ask you because, however it may be +with you, I know I can trust you. I can be nothing else to +you, Roger; but I love you as a sister loves, and I come to you as +a sister comes to a brother. He has my heart. Tell +me;—is there any reason why he should not also have my hand?" + +<p>"Ask himself, Hetta." + +<p>"And you will tell me nothing? You will not try to save me +though you know that I am in danger? Who is—Mrs Hurtle?" + +<p>"Have you asked him?" + +<p>"I had not heard her name when he parted from me. I did +not even know that such a woman lived. Is it true that he has +promised to marry her? Felix told me of her, and told me also +that you knew. But I cannot trust Felix as I would trust +you. And mamma says that it is so;—but mamma also bids me +ask you. There is such a woman?" + +<p>"There is such a woman certainly." + +<p>"And she has been,—a friend of Paul's?" + +<p>"Whatever be the story, Hetta, you shall not hear it from +me. I will say neither evil nor good of the man except in +regard to his conduct to myself. Send for him and ask him to +tell you the story of Mrs Hurtle as it concerns himself. I do +not think he will lie, but if he lies you will know that he is +lying." + +<p>"And that is all?" + +<p>"All that I can say, Hetta. You ask me to be your +brother;—but I cannot put myself in the place of your +brother. I tell you plainly that I am your lover, and shall +remain so. Your brother would welcome the man whom you would +choose as your husband. I can never welcome any husband of +yours. I think if twenty years were to pass over us, and you +were still Hetta Carbury, I should still be your lover,—though an +old one. What is now to be done about Felix, Hetta?" + +<p>"Ah what can be done? I think sometimes that it will break +mamma's heart." + +<p>"Your mother makes me angry by her continual indulgence." + +<p>"But what can she do? You would not have her turn him into +the street?" + +<p>"I do not know that I would not. For a time it might serve +him perhaps. Here is the cab. Here they are. Yes; +you had better go down and let your mother know that I am +here. They will perhaps take him up to bed, so that I need +not see him." + +<p>Hetta did as she was bid, and met her mother and her brother in +the hall. Felix having the full use of his arms and legs was +able to descend from the cab, and hurry across the pavement into +the house, and then, without speaking a word to his sister, hid +himself in the dining-room. His face was strapped up with +plaister so that not a feature was visible; and both his eyes were +swollen and blue; part of his beard had been cut away, and his +physiognomy had altogether been so treated that even the page would +hardly have known him. "Roger is upstairs, mamma," said Hetta +in the hall. + +<p>"Has he heard about Felix;—has he come about that?" + +<p>"He has heard only what I have told him. He has come +because of your letter. He says that a man named Crumb did +it." + +<p>"Then he does know. Who can have told him? He always +knows everything. Oh, Hetta, what am I to do? Where +shall I go with this wretched boy?" + +<p>"Is he hurt, mamma?" + +<p>"Hurt;—of course he is hurt; horribly hurt. The brute +tried to kill him. They say that he will be dreadfully +scarred for ever. But oh, Hetta;—what am I to do with +him? What am I to do with myself and you?" + +<p>On this occasion Roger was saved from the annoyance of any +personal intercourse with his cousin Felix. The unfortunate +one was made as comfortable as circumstances would permit in the +parlour, and Lady Carbury then went up to her cousin in the +drawing-room. She had learned the truth with some fair +approach to accuracy, though Sir Felix himself had of course lied +as to every detail. There are some circumstances so +distressing in themselves as to make lying almost a +necessity. When a young man has behaved badly about a woman, +when a young man has been beaten without returning a blow, when a +young man's pleasant vices are brought directly under a mother's +eyes, what can he do but lie? How could Sir Felix tell the +truth about that rash encounter? But the policeman who had +brought him to the hospital had told all that he knew. The +man who had thrashed the baronet had been Crumb, and the thrashing +had been given on the score of a young woman called Ruggles. +So much was known at the hospital, and so much could not be hidden +by any lies which Sir Felix might tell. And when Sir Felix +swore that a policeman was holding him while Crumb was beating him, +no one believed him. In such cases the liar does not expect +to be believed. He knows that his disgrace will be made +public, and only hopes to be saved from the ignominy of declaring +it with his own words. + +<p>"What am I to do with him?" Lady Carbury said to her +cousin. "It is no use telling me to leave him. I can't +do that. I know he is bad. I know that I have done much +to make him what he is." As she said this the tears were +running down her poor worn cheeks. "But he is my child. +What am I to do with him now?" + +<p>This was a question which Roger found it almost impossible to +answer. If he had spoken his thoughts he would have declared +that Sir Felix had reached an age at which, if a man will go +headlong to destruction, he must go headlong to destruction. +Thinking as he did of his cousin he could see no possible salvation +for him. "Perhaps I should take him abroad," he said. + +<p>"Would he be better abroad than here?" + +<p>"He would have less opportunity for vice, and fewer means of +running you into debt." + +<p>Lady Carbury, as she turned this counsel in her mind, thought of +all the hopes which she had indulged,—her literary aspirations, +her Tuesday evenings, her desire for society, her Brounes, her +Alfs, and her Bookers, her pleasant drawing-room, and the +determination which she had made that now in the afternoon of her +days she would become somebody in the world. Must she give it +all up and retire to the dreariness of some French town because it +was no longer possible that she should live in London with such a +son as hers? There seemed to be a cruelty in this beyond all +cruelties that she had hitherto endured. This was harder even +than those lies which had been told of her when almost in fear of +her life she had run from her husband's house. But yet she +must do even this if in no other way she and her son could be +together. "Yes," she said, "I suppose it would be so. I +only wish that I might die, so that were an end of it." + +<p>"He might go out to one of the Colonies," said Roger. + +<p>"Yes;—be sent away that he might kill himself with drink in the +bush, and so be got rid of. I have heard of that +before. Wherever he goes I shall go." + +<p>As the reader knows, Roger Carbury had not latterly held this +cousin of his in much esteem. He knew her to be worldly and +he thought her to be unprincipled. But now, at this moment, +her exceeding love for the son whom she could no longer pretend to +defend, wiped out all her sins. He forgot the visit made to +Carbury under false pretences, and the Melmottes, and all the +little tricks which he had detected, in his appreciation of an +affection which was pure and beautiful. "If you like to let +your house for a period," he said, "mine is open to you." + +<p>"But, Felix?" + +<p>"You shall take him there. I am all alone in the +world. I can make a home for myself at the cottage. It +is empty now. If you think that would save you you can try it +for six months." + +<p>"And turn you out of your own house? No, Roger. I +cannot do that. And, Roger;—what is to be done about +Hetta?" Hetta herself had retreated, leaving Roger and her +mother alone together, feeling sure that there would be questions +asked and answered in her absence respecting Mrs Hurtle, which her +presence would prevent. She wished it could have been +otherwise—that she might have been allowed to hear it all +herself—as she was sure that the story coming through her mother +would not savour so completely of unalloyed truth as if told to her +by her cousin Roger. + +<p>"Hetta can be trusted to judge for herself," he said. + +<p>"How can you say that when she has just accepted this young +man? Is it not true that he is even now living with an +American woman whom he has promised to marry?" + +<p>"No;—that is not true." + +<p>"What is true then? Is he not engaged to the woman?" +Roger hesitated a moment. "I do not know that even that is +true. When last he spoke to me about it he declared that the +engagement was at an end. I have told Hetta to ask +himself. Let her tell him that she has heard of this woman +from you, and that it behoves her to know the truth. I do not +love him, Lady Carbury. He has no longer any place in my +friendship. But I think that if Hetta asks him simply what is +the nature of his connexion with Mrs Hurtle, he will tell her the +truth." + +<p>Roger did not again see Hetta before he left the house, nor did +he see his cousin Felix at all. He had now done all that he +could do by his journey up to London, and he returned on that day +back to Carbury. Would it not be better for him, in spite of +the protestations which he had made, to dismiss the whole family +from his mind? There could be no other love for him. He +must be desolate and alone. But he might then save himself +from a world of cares, and might gradually teach himself to live as +though there were no such woman as Hetta Carbury in the +world. But no! He would not allow himself to believe +that this could be right. The very fact of his love made it a +duty to him,—made it almost the first of his duties,—to watch +over the interests of her he loved and of those who belonged to +her. + +<p>But among those so belonging he did not recognise Paul Montague. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="73"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIII. Marie's Fortune</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When Marie Melmotte assured Sir Felix Carbury that her father +had already endowed her with a large fortune which could not be +taken from her without her own consent, she spoke no more than the +truth. She knew of the matter almost as little as it was +possible that she should know. As far as reticence on the +subject was compatible with the object he had in view Melmotte had +kept from her all knowledge of the details of the +arrangement. But it had been necessary when the thing was +done to explain, or to pretend to explain, much; and Marie's memory +and also her intelligence had been strong beyond her father's +anticipation. He was deriving a very considerable income from +a large sum of money which he had invested in foreign funds in her +name, and had got her to execute a power of attorney enabling him +to draw this income on her behalf. This he had done fearing +shipwreck in the course which he meant to run, and resolved that, +let circumstances go as they might, there should still be left +enough to him of the money which he had realised to enable him to +live in comfort and luxury, should he be doomed to live in +obscurity, or even in infamy. He had sworn to himself +solemnly that under no circumstances would he allow this money to +go back into the vortex of his speculations, and hitherto he had +been true to his oath. Though bankruptcy and apparent ruin +might be imminent he would not bolster up his credit by the use of +this money even though it might appear at the moment that the money +would be sufficient for the purpose. If such a day should +come, then, with that certain income, he would make himself happy, +if possible, or at any rate luxurious, in whatever city of the +world might know least of his antecedents, and give him the warmest +welcome on behalf of his wealth. Such had been his scheme of +life. But he had failed to consider various +circumstances. His daughter might be untrue to him, or in the +event of her marriage might fail to release his property,—or it +might be that the very money should be required to dower his +daughter. Or there might come troubles on him so great that +even the certainty of a future income would not enable him to bear +them. Now, at this present moment, his mind was tortured by +great anxiety. Were he to resume this property it would more +than enable him to pay all that was due to the Longestaffes. +It would do that and tide him for a time over some other +difficulties. Now in regard to the Longestaffes themselves, +he certainly had no desire to depart from the rule which he had +made for himself, on their behalf. Were it necessary that a +crash should come they would be as good creditors as any +other. But then he was painfully alive to the fact that +something beyond simple indebtedness was involved in that +transaction. He had with his own hand traced Dolly +Longestaffe's signature on the letter which he had found in old Mr +Longestaffe's drawer. He had found it in an envelope, +addressed by the elder Mr Longestaffe to Messrs. Slow and +Bideawhile, and he had himself posted this letter in a pillarbox +near to his house. In the execution of this manoeuvre, +circumstances had greatly befriended him. He had become the +tenant of Mr Longestaffe's house, and at the same time had only +been the joint tenant of Mr Longestaffe's study,—so that Mr +Longestaffe's papers were almost in his very hands. To pick a +lock was with him an accomplishment long since learned. But +his science in that line did not go so far as to enable him to +replace the bolt in its receptacle. He had picked a lock, had +found the letter prepared by Mr Bideawhile with its accompanying +envelope, and had then already learned enough of the domestic +circumstances of the Longestaffe family to feel assured that unless +he could assist the expedition of this hitherto uncompleted letter +by his own skill, the letter would never reach its intended +destination. In all this fortune had in some degree +befriended him. The circumstances being as they were it was +hardly possible that the forgery should be discovered. Even +though the young man were to swear that the signature was not his, +even though the old man were to swear that he had left that drawer +properly locked with the unsigned letter in it, still there could +be no evidence. People might think. People might +speak. People might feel sure. And then a crash would +come. But there would still be that ample fortune on which to +retire and eat and drink and make merry for the rest of his days. + +<p>Then there came annoying complications in his affairs. +What had been so easy in reference to that letter which Dolly +Longestaffe never would have signed, was less easy but still +feasible in another matter. Under the joint pressure of +immediate need, growing ambition, and increasing audacity it had +been done. Then the rumours that were spread abroad,—which +to Melmotte were serious indeed,—they named, at any rate in +reference to Dolly Longestaffe, the very thing that had been +done. Now if that, or the like of that, were brought actually +home to him, if twelve jurymen could be got to say that he had done +that thing, of what use then would be all that money? When +that fear arose, then there arose also the question whether it +might not be well to use the money to save him from such ruin, if +it might be so used. No doubt all danger in that Longestaffe +affair might be bought off by payment of the price stipulated for +the Pickering property. Neither would Dolly Longestaffe nor +Squercum, of whom Mr Melmotte had already heard, concern himself in +this matter if the money claimed were paid. But then the +money would be as good as wasted by such a payment, if, as he +firmly believed, no sufficient evidence could be produced to prove +the thing which he had done. + +<p>But the complications were so many! Perhaps in his +admiration for the country of his adoption Mr Melmotte had allowed +himself to attach higher privileges to the British aristocracy than +do in truth belong to them. He did in his heart believe that +could he be known to all the world as the father-in-law of the +eldest son of the Marquis of Auld Reekie he would become, not +really free of the law, but almost safe from its fangs in regard to +such an affair as this. He thought he could so use the family +with which he would be connected as to force from it that +protection which he would need. And then again, if he could +tide over this bad time, how glorious would it be to have a British +Marquis for his son-in-law! Like many others he had failed +altogether to inquire when the pleasure to himself would come, or +what would be its nature. But he did believe that such a +marriage would add a charm to his life. Now he knew that Lord +Nidderdale could not be got to marry his daughter without the +positive assurance of absolute property, but he did think that the +income which might thus be transferred with Marie, though it fell +short of that which had been promised, might suffice for the time; +and he had already given proof to the Marquis's lawyer that his +daughter was possessed of the property in question. + +<p>And indeed, there was another complication which had arisen +within the last few days and which had startled Mr Melmotte very +much indeed. On a certain morning he had sent for Marie to +the study and had told her that he should require her signature in +reference to a deed. She had asked him what deed. He +had replied that it would be a document regarding money and +reminded her that she had signed such a deed once before, telling +her that it was all in the way of business. It was not +necessary that she should ask any more questions as she would be +wanted only to sign the paper. Then Marie astounded him, not +merely by showing him that she understood a great deal more of the +transaction than he had thought,—but also by a positive refusal to +sign anything at all. The reader may understand that there +had been many words between them. "I know, papa. It is +that you may have the money to do what you like with. You +have been so unkind to me about Sir Felix Carbury that I won't do +it. If I ever marry the money will belong to my +husband!" His breath almost failed him as he listened to +these words. He did not know whether to approach her with +threats, with entreaties, or with blows. Before the interview +was over he had tried all three. He had told her that he +could and would put her in prison for conduct so fraudulent. +He besought her not to ruin her parent by such monstrous +perversity. And at last he took her by both arms and shook +her violently. But Marie was quite firm. He might cut +her to pieces; but she would sign nothing. "I suppose you +thought Sir Felix would have had the entire sum," said the father +with deriding scorn. + +<p>"And he would;—if he had the spirit to take it," answered +Marie. + +<p>This was another reason for sticking to the Nidderdale +plan. He would no doubt lose the immediate income, but in +doing so he would secure the Marquis. He was therefore +induced, on weighing in his nicest-balanced scales the advantages +and disadvantages, to leave the Longestaffes unpaid and to let +Nidderdale have the money. Not that he could make up his mind +to such a course with any conviction that he was doing the best for +himself. The dangers on all sides were very great! But +at the present moment audacity recommended itself to him, and this +was the boldest stroke. Marie had now said that she would +accept Nidderdale,—or the sweep at the crossing. + +<p>On Monday morning,—it was on the preceding Thursday that he had +made his famous speech in Parliament,—one of the Bideawhiles had +come to him in the City. He had told Mr Bideawhile that all +the world knew that just at the present moment money was very +"tight" in the City. "We are not asking for payment of a +commercial debt," said Mr Bideawhile, "but for the price of a +considerable property which you have purchased. " Mr Melmotte +had suggested that the characteristics of the money were the same, +let the sum in question have become due how it might. Then he +offered to make the payment in two bills at three and six months' +date, with proper interest allowed. But this offer Mr +Bideawhile scouted with indignation, demanding that the title-deeds +might be restored to them. + +<p>"You have no right whatever to demand the title-deeds," said +Melmotte. "You can only claim the sum due, and I have already +told you how I propose to pay it." + +<p>Mr Bideawhile was nearly beside himself with dismay. In +the whole course of his business, in all the records of the very +respectable firm to which he belonged, there had never been such a +thing as this. Of course Mr Longestaffe had been the person +to blame,—so at least all the Bideawhiles declared among +themselves. He had been so anxious to have dealings with the +man of money that he had insisted that the title-deeds should be +given up. But then the title-deeds had not been his to +surrender. The Pickering estate had been the joint property +of him and his son. The house had been already pulled down, +and now the purchaser offered bills in lieu of the purchase +money! "Do you mean to tell me, Mr Melmotte, that you have +not got the money to pay for what you have bought, and that +nevertheless the title-deeds have already gone out of your hands?" + +<p>"I have property to ten times the value, twenty times the value, +thirty times the value," said Melmotte proudly; "but you must know +I should think by this time that a man engaged in large affairs +cannot always realise such a sum as eighty thousand pounds at a +day's notice." Mr Bideawhile without using language that was +absolutely vituperative gave Mr Melmotte to understand that he +thought that he and his client had been robbed, and that he should +at once take whatever severest steps the law put in his +power. As Mr Melmotte shrugged his shoulders and made no +further reply, Mr Bideawhile could only take his departure. + +<p>The attorney, although he was bound to be staunch to his own +client, and to his own house in opposition to Mr Squercum, +nevertheless was becoming doubtful in his own mind as to the +genuineness of the letter which Dolly was so persistent in +declaring that he had not signed. Mr Longestaffe himself, who +was at any rate an honest man, had given it as his opinion that +Dolly had not signed the letter. His son had certainly +refused to sign it once, and as far as he knew could have had no +opportunity of signing it since. He was all but sure that he +had left the letter under lock and key in his own drawer in the +room which had latterly become Melmotte's study as well as his +own. Then, on entering the room in Melmotte's +presence,—their friendship at the time having already +ceased,—he found that his drawer was open. This same Mr +Bideawhile was with him at the time. "Do you mean to say that +I have opened your drawer?" said Mr Melmotte. Mr Longestaffe +had become very red in the face and had replied by saying that he +certainly made no such accusation, but as certainly he had not left +the drawer unlocked. He knew his own habits and was sure that +he had never left that drawer open in his life. "Then you +must have changed the habits of your life on this occasion," said +Mr Melmotte with spirit. Mr Longestaffe would trust himself +to no other word within the house, but, when they were out in the +street together, he assured the lawyer that certainly that drawer +had been left locked, and that to the best of his belief the letter +unsigned had been left within the drawer. Mr Bideawhile could +only remark that it was the most unfortunate circumstance with +which he had ever been concerned. + +<p>The marriage with Nidderdale would upon the whole be the best +thing, if it could only be accomplished. The reader must +understand that though Mr Melmotte had allowed himself considerable +poetical licence in that statement as to property thirty times as +great as the price which he ought to have paid for Pickering, still +there was property. The man's speculations had been so great +and so wide that he did not really know what he owned, or what he +owed. But he did know that at the present moment he was +driven very hard for large sums. His chief trust for +immediate money was in Cohenlupe, in whose hands had really been +the manipulation of the shares of the Mexican railway. He had +trusted much to Cohenlupe,—more than it had been customary with +him to trust to any man. Cohenlupe assured him that nothing +could be done with the railway shares at the present moment. +They had fallen under the panic almost to nothing. Now in the +time of his trouble Melmotte wanted money from the great railway, +but just because he wanted money the great railway was worth +nothing. Cohenlupe told him that he must tide over the evil +hour,—or rather over an evil month. It was at Cohenlupe's +instigation that he had offered the two bills to Mr +Bideawhile. "Offer 'em again," said Cohenlupe. "He must +take the bills sooner or later." + +<p>On the Monday afternoon Melmotte met Lord Nidderdale in the +lobby of the House. "Have you seen Marie lately?" he +said. Nidderdale had been assured that morning, by his +father's lawyer, in his father's presence, that if he married Miss +Melmotte at present he would undoubtedly become possessed of an +income amounting to something over £5,000 a year. He +had intended to get more than that,—and was hardly prepared to +accept Marie at such a price; but then there probably would be +more. No doubt there was a difficulty about Pickering. +Melmotte certainly had been raising money. But this might +probably be an affair of a few weeks. Melmotte had declared +that Pickering should be made over to the young people at the +marriage. His father had recommended him to get the girl to +name a day. The marriage could be broken off at the last day +if the property were not forthcoming. + +<p>"I'm going up to your house almost immediately," said +Nidderdale. + +<p>"You'll find the women at tea to a certainty between five and +six," said Melmotte. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="74"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIV. Melmotte Makes a Friend</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>"Have you been thinking any more about it?" Lord Nidderdale said +to the girl as soon as Madame Melmotte had succeeded in leaving +them alone together. + +<p>"I have thought ever so much more about it," said Marie. + +<p>"And what's the result?" + +<p>"Oh,—I'll have you." + +<p>"That's right," said Nidderdale, throwing himself on the sofa +close to her, so that he might put his arm round her waist. + +<p>"Wait a moment, Lord Nidderdale," she said. + +<p>"You might as well call me John." + +<p>"Then wait a moment,—John. You think you might as well +marry me, though you don't love me a bit." + +<p>"That's not true, Marie." + +<p>"Yes it is;—it's quite true. And I think just the +same,—that I might as well marry you, though I don't love you a +bit." + +<p>"But you will." + +<p>"I don't know. I don't feel like it just at present. +You had better know the exact truth, you know. I have told my +father that I did not think you'd ever come again, but that if you +did I would accept you. But I'm not going to tell any stories +about it. You know who I've been in love with." + +<p>"But you can't be in love with him now." + +<p>"Why not? I can't marry him. I know that. And +if he were to come to me, I don't think that I would. He has +behaved bad." + +<p>"Have I behaved bad?" + +<p>"Not like him. You never did care, and you never said you +cared." + +<p>"Oh yes,—I have." + +<p>"Not at first. You say it now because you think that I +shall like it. But it makes no difference now. I don't +mind about your arm being there if we are to be married, only it's +just as well for both of us to look on it as business." + +<p>"How very hard you are, Marie." + +<p>"No, I ain't. I wasn't hard to Sir Felix Carbury, and so I +tell you. I did love him." + +<p>"Surely you have found him out now." + +<p>"Yes, I have," said Marie. "He's a poor creature." + +<p>"He has just been thrashed, you know, in the streets,—most +horribly." Marie had not been told of this, and started back +from her lover's arms. "You hadn't heard it?" + +<p>"Who has thrashed him?" + +<p>"I don't want to tell the story against him, but they say he has +been cut about in a terrible manner." + +<p>"Why should anybody beat him? Did he do anything?" + +<p>"There was a young lady in the question, Marie." + +<p>"A young lady! What young lady? I don't believe +it. But it's nothing to me. I don't care about +anything, Lord Nidderdale;—not a bit. I suppose you've made +up all that out of your own head." + +<p>"Indeed, no. I believe he was beaten, and I believe it was +about a young woman. But it signifies nothing to me, and I +don't suppose it signifies much to you. Don't you think we +might fix a day, Marie?" + +<p>"I don't care the least," said Marie. "The longer it's put +off the better I shall like it;—that's all." + +<p>"Because I'm so detestable?" + +<p>"No,—you ain't detestable. I think you are a very good +fellow; only you don't care for me. But it is detestable not +being able to do what one wants. It's detestable having to +quarrel with everybody and never to be good friends with +anybody. And it's horribly detestable having nothing on earth +to give one any interest." + +<p>"You couldn't take any interest in me?" + +<p>"Not the least." + +<p>"Suppose you try. Wouldn't you like to know anything about +the place where we live?" + +<p>"It's a castle, I know." + +<p>"Yes;—Castle Reekie; ever so many hundred years old." + +<p>"I hate old places. I should like a new house, and a new +dress, and a new horse every week,—and a new lover. Your +father lives at the castle. I don't suppose we are to go and +live there too." + +<p>"We shall be there sometimes. When shall it be?" + +<p>"The year after next." + +<p>"Nonsense, Marie." + +<p>"To-morrow." + +<p>"You wouldn't be ready." + +<p>"You may manage it all just as you like with papa. Oh, +yes,—kiss me; of course you may. If I'm to belong to you +what does it matter? No;—I won't say that I love you. +But if ever I do say it, you may be sure it will be true. +That's more than you can say of yourself,—John." + +<p>So the interview was over and Nidderdale walked back to the +house thinking of his lady love, as far as he was able to bring his +mind to any operation of thinking. He was fully determined to +go on with it. As far as the girl herself was concerned, she +had, in these latter days, become much more attractive to him than +when he had first known her. She certainly was not a +fool. And, though he could not tell himself that she was +altogether like a lady, still she had a manner of her own which +made him think that she would be able to live with ladies. +And he did think that, in spite of all she said to the contrary, +she was becoming fond of him,—as he certainly had become fond of +her. "Have you been up with the ladies?" Melmotte asked him. + +<p>"Oh yes." + +<p>"And what does Marie say?" + +<p>"That you must fix the day." + +<p>"We'll have it very soon then;—some time next month. +You'll want to get away in August. And to tell the truth so +shall I. I never was worked so hard in my life as I've been +this summer. The election and that horrid dinner had +something to do with it. And I don't mind telling you that +I've had a fearful weight on my mind in reference to money. I +never had to find so many large sums in so short a time! And +I'm not quite through it yet." + +<p>"I wonder why you gave the dinner then." + +<p>"My dear boy,"—it was very pleasant to him to call the son of a +marquis his dear boy,—"as regards expenditure that was a +flea-bite. Nothing that I could spend myself would have the +slightest effect upon my condition one way or the other." + +<p>"I wish it could be the same way with me," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"If you chose to go into business with me instead of taking +Marie's money out, it very soon would be so with you. But the +burden is very great. I never know whence these panics arise, +or why they come, or whither they go. But when they do come, +they are like a storm at sea. It is only the strong ships +that can stand the fury of the winds and waves. And then the +buffeting which a man gets leaves him only half the man he +was. I've had it very hard this time." + +<p>"I suppose you are getting right now." + +<p>"Yes;—I am getting right. I am not in any fear, if you +mean that. I don't mind telling you everything as it is +settled now that you are to be Marie's husband. I know that +you are honest, and that if you could hurt me by repeating what I +say you wouldn't do it." + +<p>"Certainly I would not." + +<p>"You see I've no partner,—nobody that is bound to know my +affairs. My wife is the best woman in the world, but is +utterly unable to understand anything about it. Of course I +can't talk freely to Marie. Cohenlupe whom you see so much +with me is all very well,—in his way, but I never talk over my +affairs with him. He is concerned with me in one or two +things,—our American railway for instance, but he has no interest +generally in my house. It is all on my own shoulders, and I +can tell you the weight is a little heavy. It will be the +greatest comfort to me in the world if I can get you to have an +interest in the matter." + +<p>"I don't suppose I could ever really be any good at business," +said the modest young lord. + +<p>"You wouldn't come and work, I suppose. I shouldn't expect +that. But I should be glad to think that I could tell you how +things are going on. Of course you heard all that was said +just before the election. For forty-eight hours I had a very +bad time of it then. The fact was that Alf and they who were +supporting him thought that they could carry the election by +running me down. They were at it for a fortnight,—perfectly +unscrupulous as to what they said or what harm they might do me and +others. I thought that very cruel. They couldn't get +their man in, but they could and did have the effect of +depreciating my property suddenly by nearly half a million of +money. Think what that is!" + +<p>"I don't understand how it could be done." + +<p>"Because you don't understand how delicate a thing is +credit. They persuaded a lot of men to stay away from that +infernal dinner, and consequently it was spread about the town that +I was ruined. The effect upon shares which I held was +instantaneous and tremendous. The Mexican railway were at +117, and they fell from that in two days to something quite +nominal,—so that selling was out of the question. Cohenlupe +and I between us had about 8,000 of these shares. Think what +that comes to!" Nidderdale tried to calculate what it did +come to, but failed altogether. "That's what I call a +blow;—a terrible blow. When a man is concerned as I am with +money interests, and concerned largely with them all, he is of +course exchanging one property for another every day of his +life,—according as the markets go. I don't keep such a sum +as that in one concern as an investment. Nobody does. +Then when a panic comes, don't you see how it hits?" + +<p>"Will they never go up again?" + +<p>"Oh yes,—perhaps higher than ever. But it will take +time. And in the meantime I am driven to fall back upon +property intended for other purposes. That's the meaning of +what you hear about that place down in Sussex which I bought for +Marie. I was so driven that I was obliged to raise forty or +fifty thousand wherever I could. But that will be all right +in a week or two. And as for Marie's money,—that, you know, +is settled." + +<p>He quite succeeded in making Nidderdale believe every word that +he spoke, and he produced also a friendly feeling in the young +man's bosom, with something approaching to a desire that he might +be of service to his future father-in-law. Hazily, as through +a thick fog, Lord Nidderdale thought that he did see something of +the troubles, as he had long seen something of the glories, of +commerce on an extended scale, and an idea occurred to him that it +might be almost more exciting than whist or unlimited loo. He +resolved too that whatever the man might tell him should never be +divulged. He was on this occasion somewhat captivated by +Melmotte, and went away from the interview with a conviction that +the financier was a big man;—one with whom he could sympathise, +and to whom in a certain way he could become attached. + +<p>And Melmotte himself had derived positive pleasure even from a +simulated confidence in his son-in-law. It had been pleasant +to him to talk as though he were talking to a young friend whom he +trusted. It was impossible that he could really admit any one +to a participation in his secrets. It was out of the question +that he should ever allow himself to be betrayed into speaking the +truth of his own affairs. Of course every word he had said to +Nidderdale had been a lie, or intended to corroborate lies. +But it had not been only on behalf of the lies that he had talked +after this fashion. Even though his friendship with the young +man were but a mock friendship,—though it would too probably be +turned into bitter enmity before three months had passed by,—still +there was a pleasure in it. The Grendalls had left him since +the day of the dinner,—Miles having sent him a letter up from the +country complaining of severe illness. It was a comfort to +him to have someone to whom he could speak, and he much preferred +Nidderdale to Miles Grendall. + +<p>This conversation took place in the smoking-room. When it +was over Melmotte went into the House, and Nidderdale strolled away +to the Beargarden. The Beargarden had been opened again +though with difficulty, and with diminished luxury. Nor could +even this be done without rigid laws as to the payment of ready +money. Herr Vossner had never more been heard of, but the +bills which Vossner had left unpaid were held to be good against +the club, whereas every note of hand which he had taken from the +members was left in the possession of Mr Flatfleece. Of +course there was sorrow and trouble at the Beargarden; but still +the institution had become so absolutely necessary to its members +that it had been reopened under a new management. No one had +felt this need more strongly during every hour of the day,—of the +day as he counted his days, rising as he did about an hour after +noon and going to bed three or four hours after midnight,—than did +Dolly Longestaffe. The Beargarden had become so much to him +that he had begun to doubt whether life would be even possible +without such a resort for his hours. But now the club was +again open, and Dolly could have his dinner and his bottle of wine +with the luxury to which he was accustomed. + +<p>But at this time he was almost mad with the sense of +injury. Circumstances had held out to him a prospect of +almost unlimited ease and indulgence. The arrangement made as +to the Pickering estate would pay all his debts, would disembarrass +his own property, and would still leave him a comfortable sum in +hand. Squercum had told him that if he would stick to his +terms he would surely get them. He had stuck to his terms and +he had got them. And now the property was sold, and the +title-deeds gone,—and he had not received a penny! He did +not know whom to be loudest in abusing,—his father, the +Bideawhiles, or Mr Melmotte. And then it was said that he had +signed that letter! He was very open in his manner of talking +about his misfortune at the club. His father was the most +obstinate old fool that ever lived. As for the +Bideawhiles,—he would bring an action against them. Squercum +had explained all that to him. But Melmotte was the biggest +rogue the world had ever produced. "By George! the world," he +said, "must be coming to an end. There's that infernal +scoundrel sitting in Parliament just as if he had not robbed me of +my property, and forged my name, and—and—by George! he ought to +be hung. If any man ever deserved to be hung, that man +deserves to be hung." This he spoke openly in the coffee-room +of the club, and was still speaking as Nidderdale was taking his +seat at one of the tables. Dolly had been dining, and had +turned round upon his chair so as to face some half-dozen men whom +he was addressing. + +<p>Nidderdale leaving his chair walked up to him very gently. +"Dolly," said he, "do not go on in that way about Melmotte when I +am in the room. I have no doubt you are mistaken, and so +you'll find out in a day or two. You don't know Melmotte." + +<p>"Mistaken!" Dolly still continued to exclaim with a loud +voice. "Am I mistaken in supposing that I haven't been paid +my money?" + +<p>"I don't believe it has been owing very long." + +<p>"Am I mistaken in supposing that my name has been forged to a +letter?" + +<p>"I am sure you are mistaken if you think that Melmotte had +anything to do with it." + +<p>"Squercum says—" + +<p>"Never mind Squercum. We all know what are the suspicions +of a fellow of that kind." + +<p>"I'd believe Squercum a deuced sight sooner than Melmotte." + +<p>"Look here, Dolly. I know more probably of Melmotte's +affairs than you do or perhaps than anybody else. If it will +induce you to remain quiet for a few days and to hold your tongue +here,—I'll make myself responsible for the entire sum he owes +you." + +<p>"The devil you will." + +<p>"I will indeed." + +<p>Nidderdale was endeavouring to speak so that only Dolly should +hear him, and probably nobody else did hear him; but Dolly would +not lower his voice. "That's out of the question, you know," +he said. "How could I take your money? The truth is, +Nidderdale, the man is a thief, and so you'll find out, sooner or +later. He has broken open a drawer in my father's room and +forged my name to a letter. Everybody knows it. Even my +governor knows it now,—and Bideawhile. Before many days are +over you'll find that he will be in gaol for forgery." + +<p>This was very unpleasant, as every one knew that Nidderdale was +either engaged or becoming engaged to Melmotte's daughter. + +<p>"Since you will speak about it in this public way—" began +Nidderdale. + +<p>"I think it ought to be spoken about in a public way," said +Dolly. + +<p>"I deny it as publicly. I can't say anything about the +letter except that I am sure Mr Melmotte did not put your name to +it. From what I understand there seems to have been some +blunder between your father and his lawyer." + +<p>"That's true enough," said Dolly; "but it doesn't excuse +Melmotte." + +<p>"As to the money, there can be no more doubt that it will be +paid than that I stand here. What is it?—twenty-five +thousand, isn't it?" + +<p>"Eighty thousand, the whole." + +<p>"Well,—eighty thousand. It's impossible to suppose that +such a man as Melmotte shouldn't be able to raise eighty thousand +pounds." + +<p>"Why don't he do it then?" asked Dolly. + +<p>All this was very unpleasant and made the club less social than +it used to be in old days. There was an attempt that night to +get up a game of cards; but Nidderdale would not play because he +was offended with Dolly Longestaffe; and Miles Grendall was away in +the country,—a fugitive from the face of Melmotte, and Carbury was +in hiding at home with his countenance from top to bottom supported +by plasters, and Montague in these days never went to the +club. At the present moment he was again in Liverpool, having +been summoned thither by Mr Ramsbottom. "By George," said +Dolly, as he filled another pipe and ordered more brandy and water, +"I think everything is going to come to an end. I do +indeed. I never heard of such a thing before as a man being +done in this way. And then Vossner has gone off, and it seems +everybody is to pay just what he says they owed him. And now +one can't even get up a game of cards. I feel as though there +were no good in hoping that things would ever come right again." + +<p>The opinion of the club was a good deal divided as to the matter +in dispute between Lord Nidderdale and Dolly Longestaffe. It +was admitted by some to be "very fishy." If Melmotte were so +great a man why didn't he pay the money, and why should he have +mortgaged the property before it was really his own? But the +majority of the men thought that Dolly was wrong. As to the +signature of the letter, Dolly was a man who would naturally be +quite unable to say what he had and what he had not signed. +And then, even into the Beargarden there had filtered, through the +outer world, a feeling that people were not now bound to be so +punctilious in the paying of money as they were a few years +since. No doubt it suited Melmotte to make use of the money, +and therefore,—as he had succeeded in getting the property into his +hands,—he did make use of it. But it would be forthcoming +sooner or later! In this way of looking at the matter the +Beargarden followed the world at large. The world at large, +in spite of the terrible falling-off at the Emperor of China's +dinner, in spite of all the rumours, in spite of the ruinous +depreciation of the Mexican Railway stock, and of the undoubted +fact that Dolly Longestaffe had not received his money, was +inclined to think that Melmotte would "pull through." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="75"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXV. In Bruton Street</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Mr Squercum all this time was in a perfect fever of hard work +and anxiety. It may be said of him that he had been quite +sharp enough to perceive the whole truth. He did really know +it all,—if he could prove that which he knew. He had +extended his inquiries in the city till he had convinced himself +that, whatever wealth Melmotte might have had twelve months ago, +there was not enough of it left at present to cover the +liabilities. Squercum was quite sure that Melmotte was not a +falling, but a fallen star,—perhaps not giving sufficient credence +to the recuperative powers of modern commerce. Squercum told +a certain stockbroker in the City, who was his specially +confidential friend, that Melmotte was a "gone coon." The +stockbroker made also some few inquiries, and on that evening +agreed with Squercum that Melmotte was a "gone coon." If such +were the case it would positively be the making of Squercum if it +could be so managed that he should appear as the destroying angel +of this offensive dragon. So Squercum raged among the +Bideawhiles, who were unable altogether to shut their doors against +him. They could not dare to bid defiance to +Squercum,—feeling that they had themselves blundered, and feeling +also that they must be careful not to seem to screen a fault by a +falsehood. "I suppose you give it up about the letter having +been signed by my client," said Squercum to the elder of the two +younger Bideawhiles. + +<p>"I give up nothing and I assert nothing," said the superior +attorney. "Whether the letter be genuine or not we had no +reason to believe it to be otherwise. The young gentleman's +signature is never very plain, and this one is about as like any +other as that other would be like the last." + +<p>"Would you let me look at it again, Mr Bideawhile?" Then +the letter which had been very often inspected during the last ten +days was handed to Mr Squercum. "It's a stiff +resemblance;—such as he never could have written had he tried it +ever so." + +<p>"Perhaps not, Mr Squercum. We are not generally on the +look out for forgeries in letters from our clients or our clients' +sons." + +<p>"Just so, Mr Bideawhile. But then Mr Longestaffe had +already told you that his son would not sign the letter." + +<p>"How is one to know when and how and why a young man like that +will change his purpose?" + +<p>"Just so, Mr Bideawhile. But you see, after such a +declaration as that on the part of my client's father, the +letter,—which is in itself a little irregular perhaps—" + +<p>"I don't know that it's irregular at all." + +<p>"Well;—it didn't reach you in a very confirmatory manner. +We'll just say that. What Mr Longestaffe can have been at to +wish to give up his title-deeds without getting anything for +them—" + +<p>"Excuse me, Mr Squercum, but that's between Mr Longestaffe and +us." + +<p>"Just so;—but as Mr Longestaffe and you have jeopardised my +client's property it is natural that I should make a few +remarks. I think you'd have made a few remarks yourself, Mr +Bideawhile, if the case had been reversed. I shall bring the +matter before the Lord Mayor, you know." To this Mr +Bideawhile said not a word. "And I think I understand you now +that you do not intend to insist on the signature as being +genuine." + +<p>"I say nothing about it, Mr Squercum. I think you'll find +it very hard to prove that it's not genuine." + +<p>"My client's oath, Mr Bideawhile." + +<p>"I'm afraid your client is not always very clear as to what he +does." + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by that, Mr Bideawhile. I +fancy that if I were to speak in that way of your client you would +be very angry with me. Besides, what does it all amount +to? Will the old gentleman say that he gave the letter into +his son's hands, so that, even if such a freak should have come +into my client's head, he could have signed it and sent it +off? If I understand, Mr Longestaffe says that he locked the +letter up in a drawer in the very room which Melmotte occupied, and +that he afterwards found the drawer open. It won't, I +suppose, be alleged that my client knew so little what he was about +that he broke open the drawer in order that he might get at the +letter. Look at it whichever way you will, he did not sign +it, Mr Bideawhile." + +<p>"I have never said he did. All I say is that we had fair +ground for supposing that it was his letter. I really don't +know that I can say anything more." + +<p>"Only that we are to a certain degree in the same boat together +in this matter." + +<p>"I won't admit even that, Mr Squercum." + +<p>"The difference being that your client by his fault has +jeopardised his own interests and those of my client, while my +client has not been in fault at all. I shall bring the matter +forward before the Lord Mayor to-morrow, and as at present advised +shall ask for an investigation with reference to a charge of +fraud. I presume you will be served with a subpoena to bring +the letter into court." + +<p>"If so you may be sure that we shall produce it." Then Mr +Squercum took his leave and went straight away to Mr Bumby, a +barrister well known in the City. The game was too powerful +to be hunted down by Mr Squercum's unassisted hands. He had +already seen Mr Bumby on the matter more than once. Mr Bumby +was inclined to doubt whether it might not be better to get the +money, or some guarantee for the money. Mr Bumby thought that +if a bill at three months could be had for Dolly's share of the +property it might be expedient to take it. Mr Squercum +suggested that the property itself might be recovered, no genuine +sale having been made. Mr Bumby shook his head. +"Title-deeds give possession, Mr Squercum. You don't suppose +that the company which has lent money to Melmotte on the +title-deeds would have to lose it. Take the bill; and if it +is dishonoured run your chance of what you'll get out of the +property. There must be assets." + +<p>"Every rap will have been made over," said Mr Squercum. + +<p>This took place on the Monday, the day on which Melmotte had +offered his full confidence to his proposed son-in-law. On +the following Wednesday three gentlemen met together in the study +in the house in Bruton Street from which it was supposed that the +letter had been abstracted. There were Mr Longestaffe, the +father, Dolly Longestaffe, and Mr Bideawhile. The house was +still in Melmotte's possession, and Melmotte and Mr Longestaffe +were no longer on friendly terms. Direct application for +permission to have this meeting in this place had been formally +made to Mr Melmotte, and he had complied. The meeting took +place at eleven o'clock—a terribly early hour. Dolly had at +first hesitated as to placing himself as he thought between the +fire of two enemies, and Mr Squercum had told him that as the +matter would probably soon be made public, he could not judiciously +refuse to meet his father and the old family lawyer. +Therefore Dolly had attended, at great personal inconvenience to +himself. "By George, it's hardly worth having if one is to +take all this trouble about it," Dolly had said to Lord Grasslough, +with whom he had fraternised since the quarrel with +Nidderdale. Dolly entered the room last, and at that time +neither Mr Longestaffe nor Mr Bideawhile had touched the drawer, or +even the table, in which the letter had been deposited. + +<p>"Now, Mr Longestaffe," said Mr Bideawhile, "perhaps you will +show us where you think you put the letter." + +<p>"I don't think at all," said he. "Since the matter has +been discussed the whole thing has come back upon my memory." + +<p>"I never signed it," said Dolly, standing with his hands in his +pockets and interrupting his father. + +<p>"Nobody says you did, sir," rejoined the father with an angry +voice. "If you will condescend to listen we may perhaps +arrive at the truth." + +<p>"But somebody has said that I did. I've been told that Mr +Bideawhile says so." + +<p>"No, Mr Longestaffe; no. We have never said so. We +have only said that we had no reason for supposing the letter to be +other than genuine. We have never gone beyond that." + +<p>"Nothing on earth would have made me sign it," said Dolly. +"Why should I have given my property up before I got my +money? I never heard such a thing in my life." + +<p>The father looked up at the lawyer and shook his head, +testifying as to the hopelessness of his son's obstinacy. +"Now, Mr Longestaffe," continued the lawyer, "let us see where you +put the letter." + +<p>Then the father very slowly, and with much dignity of +deportment, opened the drawer,—the second drawer from the top, and +took from it a bundle of papers very carefully folded and docketed, +"There," said he, "the letter was not placed in the envelope but on +the top of it, and the two were the two first documents in the +bundle." He went on to say that as far as he knew no other +paper had been taken away. He was quite certain that he had +left the drawer locked. He was very particular in regard to +that particular drawer, and he remembered that about this time Mr +Melmotte had been in the room with him when he had opened it, +and,—as he was certain,—had locked it again. At that +special time there had been, he said, considerable intimacy between +him and Melmotte. It was then that Mr Melmotte had offered +him a seat at the Board of the Mexican railway. + +<p>"Of course he picked the lock, and stole the letter," said +Dolly. "It's as plain as a pikestaff. It's clear enough +to hang any man." + +<p>"I am afraid that it falls short of evidence, however strong and +just may be the suspicion induced," said the lawyer. "Your +father for a time was not quite certain about the letter." + +<p>"He thought that I had signed it," said Dolly. + +<p>"I am quite certain now," rejoined the father angrily. "A +man has to collect his memory before he can be sure of anything." + +<p>"I am thinking you know how it would go to a jury." + +<p>"What I want to know is how are we to get the money," said +Dolly. "I should like to see him hung,—of course; but I'd +sooner have the money. Squercum says—" + +<p>"Adolphus, we don't want to know here what Mr Squercum says." + +<p>"I don't know why what Mr Squercum says shouldn't be as good as +what Mr Bideawhile says. Of course Squercum doesn't sound +very aristocratic." + +<p>"Quite as much so as Bideawhile, no doubt," said the lawyer +laughing. + +<p>"No; Squercum isn't aristocratic, and Fetter Lane is a good deal +lower than Lincoln's Inn. Nevertheless Squercum may know what +he's about. It was Squercum who was first down upon Melmotte +in this matter, and if it wasn't for Squercum we shouldn't know as +much about it as we do at present." Squercum's name was +odious to the elder Longestaffe. He believed, probably +without much reason, that all his family troubles came to him from +Squercum, thinking that if his son would have left his affairs in +the hands of the old Slows and the old Bideawhiles, money would +never have been scarce with him, and that he would not have made +this terrible blunder about the Pickering property. And the +sound of Squercum, as his son knew, was horrid to his ears. +He hummed and hawed, and fumed and fretted about the room, shaking +his head and frowning. His son looked at him as though quite +astonished at his displeasure. "There's nothing more to be +done here, sir, I suppose," said Dolly putting on his hat. + +<p>"Nothing more," said Mr Bideawhile. "It may be that I +shall have to instruct counsel, and I thought it well that I should +see in the presence of both of you exactly how the thing +stood. You speak so positively, Mr Longestaffe, that there +can be no doubt?" + +<p>"There is no doubt." + +<p>"And now perhaps you had better lock the drawer in our +presence. Stop a moment—I might as well see whether there is +any sign of violence having been used." So saying Mr +Bideawhile knelt down in front of the table and began to examine +the lock. This he did very carefully and satisfied himself +that there was "no sign of violence." "Whoever has done it, +did it very well," said Bideawhile. + +<p>"Of course Melmotte did it," said Dolly Longestaffe standing +immediately over Bideawhile's shoulder. + +<p>At that moment there was a knock at the door,—a very distinct, +and, we may say, a formal knock. There are those who knock +and immediately enter without waiting for the sanction asked. +Had he who knocked done so on this occasion Mr Bideawhile would +have been found still on his knees, with his nose down to the level +of the keyhole. But the intruder did not intrude rapidly, and +the lawyer jumped on to his feet, almost upsetting Dolly with the +effort. There was a pause, during which Mr Bideawhile moved +away from the table,—as he might have done had he been picking a +lock;—and then Mr Longestaffe bade the stranger come in with a +sepulchral voice. The door was opened, and Mr Melmotte +appeared. + +<p>Now Mr Melmotte's presence certainly had not been +expected. It was known that it was his habit to be in the +City at this hour. It was known also that he was well aware +that this meeting was to be held in this room at this special +hour,—and he might well have surmised with what view. There +was now declared hostility between both the Longestaffes and Mr +Melmotte, and it certainly was supposed by all the gentlemen +concerned that he would not have put himself out of the way to meet +them on this occasion. "Gentlemen," he said, "perhaps you +think that I am intruding at the present moment." No one said +that he did not think so. The elder Longestaffe simply bowed +very coldly. Mr Bideawhile stood upright and thrust his +thumbs into his waistcoat pockets. Dolly, who at first forgot +to take his hat off, whistled a bar, and then turned a pirouette on +his heel. That was his mode of expressing his thorough +surprise at the appearance of his debtor. "I fear that you do +think I am intruding," said Melmotte, "but I trust that what I have +to say will be held to excuse me. I see, sir," he said, +turning to Mr Longestaffe, and glancing at the still open drawer, +"that you have been examining your desk. I hope that you will +be more careful in locking it than you were when you left it +before." + +<p>"The drawer was locked when I left it," said Mr +Longestaffe. "I make no deductions and draw no conclusions, +but the drawer was locked." + +<p>"Then I should say it must have been locked when you returned to +it." + +<p>"No, sir, I found it open. I make no deductions and draw +no conclusions,—but I left it locked and I found it open." + +<p>"I should make a deduction and draw a conclusion," said Dolly; +"and that would be that somebody else had opened it." + +<p>"This can answer no purpose at all," said Bideawhile. + +<p>"It was but a chance remark," said Melmotte. "I did not +come here out of the City at very great personal inconvenience to +myself to squabble about the lock of the drawer. As I was +informed that you three gentlemen would be here together, I thought +the opportunity a suitable one for meeting you and making you an +offer about this unfortunate business." He paused a moment; +but neither of the three spoke. It did occur to Dolly to ask +them to wait while he should fetch Squercum; but on second thoughts +he reflected that a great deal of trouble would have to be taken, +and probably for no good. "Mr Bideawhile, I believe," +suggested Melmotte; and the lawyer bowed his head. "If I +remember rightly I wrote to you offering to pay the money due to +your clients—" + +<p>"Squercum is my lawyer," said Dolly. + +<p>"That will make no difference." + +<p>"It makes a deal of difference," said Dolly. + +<p>"I wrote," continued Melmotte, "offering my bills at three and +six months' date." + +<p>"They couldn't be accepted, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"I would have allowed interest. I never have had my bills +refused before." + +<p>"You must be aware, Mr Melmotte," said the lawyer, "that the +sale of a property is not like an ordinary mercantile transaction +in which bills are customarily given and taken. The +understanding was that money should be paid in the usual way. +And when we learned, as we did learn, that the property had been at +once mortgaged by you, of course we became,—well, I think I may be +justified in saying more than suspicious. It was a +most,—most—unusual proceeding. You say you have another +offer to make, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"Of course I have been short of money. I have had enemies +whose business it has been for some time past to run down my +credit, and, with my credit, has fallen the value of stocks in +which it has been known that I have been largely interested. +I tell you the truth openly. When I purchased Pickering I had +no idea that the payment of such a sum of money could inconvenience +me in the least. When the time came at which I should pay it, +stocks were so depreciated that it was impossible to sell. +Very hostile proceedings are threatened against me now. +Accusations are made, false as hell,"—Mr Melmotte as he spoke +raised his voice and looked round the room "but which at the +present crisis may do me most cruel damage. I have come to +say that, if you will undertake to stop proceedings which have been +commenced in the City, I will have fifty thousand pounds,—which is +the amount due to these two gentlemen,—ready for payment on Friday +at noon." + +<p>"I have taken no proceedings as yet," said Bideawhile. + +<p>"It's Squercum," says Dolly. + +<p>"Well, sir," continued Melmotte addressing Dolly, "let me assure +you that if these proceedings are stayed the money will be +forthcoming;—but if not, I cannot produce the money. I +little thought two months ago that I should ever have to make such +a statement in reference to such a sum as fifty thousand +pounds. But so it is. To raise that money by Friday, I +shall have to cripple my resources frightfully. It will be +done at a terrible cost. But what Mr Bideawhile says is +true. I have no right to suppose that the purchase of this +property should be looked upon as an ordinary commercial +transaction. The money should have been paid,—and, if you +will now take my word, the money shall be paid. But this +cannot be done if I am made to appear before the Lord Mayor +to-morrow. The accusations brought against me are damnably +false. I do not know with whom they have originated. +Whoever did originate them, they are damnably false. But +unfortunately, false as they are, in the present crisis, they may +be ruinous to me. Now gentlemen, perhaps you will give me an +answer." + +<p>Both the father and the lawyer looked at Dolly. Dolly was +in truth the accuser through the mouthpiece of his attorney +Squercum. It was at Dolly's instance that these proceedings +were being taken. "I, on behalf of my client," said Mr +Bideawhile, "will consent to wait till Friday at noon." + +<p>"I presume, Adolphus, that you will say as much," said the elder +Longestaffe. + +<p>Dolly Longestaffe was certainly not an impressionable person, +but Melmotte's eloquence had moved even him. It was not that +he was sorry for the man, but that at the present moment he +believed him. Though he had been absolutely sure that +Melmotte had forged his name or caused it to be forged,—and did +not now go so far into the matter as to abandon that +conviction,—he had been talked into crediting the reasons given +for Melmotte's temporary distress, and also into a belief that the +money would be paid on Friday. Something of the effect which +Melmotte's false confessions had had upon Lord Nidderdale, they now +also had on Dolly Longestaffe. "I'll ask Squercum, you know," +he said. + +<p>"Of course Mr Squercum will act as you instruct him," said +Bideawhile. + +<p>"I'll ask Squercum. I'll go to him at once. I can't +do any more than that. And upon my word, Mr Melmotte, you've +given me a great deal of trouble." + +<p>Melmotte with a smile apologized. Then it was settled that +they three should meet in that very room on Friday at noon, and +that the payment should then be made,—Dolly stipulating that as +his father would be attended by Bideawhile, so would he be attended +by Squercum. To this Mr Longestaffe senior yielded with a +very bad grace. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="76"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVI. Hetta and Her Lover</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lady Carbury was at this time so miserable in regard to her son +that she found herself unable to be active as she would otherwise +have been in her endeavours to separate Paul Montague and her +daughter. Roger had come up to town and given his opinion, +very freely at any rate with regard to Sir Felix. But Roger +had immediately returned to Suffolk, and the poor mother in want of +assistance and consolation turned naturally to Mr Broune, who came +to see her for a few minutes almost every evening. It had now +become almost a part of Mr Broune's life to see Lady Carbury once +in the day. She told him of the two propositions which Roger +had made: first, that she should fix her residence in some +second-rate French or German town, and that Sir Felix should be +made to go with her; and, secondly, that she should take possession +of Carbury manor for six months. "And where would Mr Carbury +go?" asked Mr Broune. + +<p>"He's so good that he doesn't care what he does with +himself. There's a cottage on the place, he says, that he +would move to." Mr Broune shook his head. Mr Broune did +not think that an offer so quixotically generous as this should be +accepted. As to the German or French town, Mr Broune said +that the plan was no doubt feasible, but he doubted whether the +thing to be achieved was worth the terrible sacrifice +demanded. He was inclined to think that Sir Felix should go +to the colonies. "That he might drink himself to death," said +Lady Carbury, who now had no secrets from Mr Broune. Sir +Felix in the meantime was still in the doctor's hands +upstairs. He had no doubt been very severely thrashed, but +there was not in truth very much ailing him beyond the cuts on his +face. He was, however, at the present moment better satisfied +to be an invalid than to have to come out of his room and to meet +the world. "As to Melmotte," said Mr Broune, "they say now +that he is in some terrible mess which will ruin him and all who +have trusted him." + +<p>"And the girl?" + +<p>"It is impossible to understand it at all. Melmotte was to +have been summoned before the Lord Mayor to-day on some charge of +fraud;—but it was postponed. And I was told this morning +that Nidderdale still means to marry the girl. I don't think +anybody knows the truth about it. We shall hold our tongue +about him till we really do know something." The "we" of whom +Mr Broune spoke was, of course, the "Morning Breakfast Table." + +<p>But in all this there was nothing about Hetta. Hetta, +however, thought very much of her own condition, and found herself +driven to take some special step by the receipt of two letters from +her lover, written to her from Liverpool. They had never met +since she had confessed her love to him. The first letter she +did not at once answer, as she was at that moment waiting to hear +what Roger Carbury would say about Mrs Hurtle. Roger Carbury +had spoken, leaving a conviction on her mind that Mrs Hurtle was by +no means a fiction,—but indeed a fact very injurious to her +happiness. Then Paul's second love-letter had come, full of +joy, and love, and contentment,—with not a word in it which seemed +to have been in the slightest degree influenced by the existence of +a Mrs Hurtle. Had there been no Mrs Hurtle, the letter would +have been all that Hetta could have desired; and she could have +answered it, unless forbidden by her mother, with all a girl's +usual enthusiastic affection for her chosen lord. But it was +impossible that she should now answer it in that strain;—and it +was equally impossible that she should leave such letters +unanswered. Roger had told her to "ask himself;" and she now +found herself constrained to bid him either come to her and answer +the question, or, if he thought it better, to give her some written +account of Mrs Hurtle so that she might know who the lady was, and +whether the lady's condition did in any way interfere with her own +happiness. So she wrote to Paul, as follows: + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +Welbeck Street, 16 July, 18—<br> +<br> +MY DEAR PAUL.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>She found that after that which had passed between them she +could not call him "My dear Sir," or "My dear Mr Montague," and +that it must either be "Sir" or "My dear Paul." He was dear +to her,—very dear; and she thought that he had not been as yet +convicted of any conduct bad enough to force her to treat him as an +outcast. Had there been no Mrs Hurtle he would have been her +"Dearest Paul,"—but she made her choice, and so commenced. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +"MY DEAR PAUL,<br> +<br> + A strange report has come round to me +about a lady called Mrs Hurtle. I have been told that she is +an American lady living in London, and that she is engaged to be +your wife. I cannot believe this. It is too horrid to +be true. But I fear,—I fear there is something true that +will be very very sad for me to hear. It was from my brother +I first heard it,—who was of course bound to tell me anything he +knew. I have talked to mamma about it, and to my cousin +Roger. I am sure Roger knows it all;—but he will not tell +me. He said,—"Ask himself." And so I ask you. Of +course I can write about nothing else till I have heard about +this. I am sure I need not tell you that it has made me very +unhappy. If you cannot come and see me at once, you had +better write. I have told mamma about this letter.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Then came the difficulty of the signature, with the declaration +which must naturally be attached to it. After some hesitation +she subscribed herself, + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> + Your affectionate friend,<br> +<br> + HENRIETTA CARBURY.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>"Most affectionately your own Hetta" would have been the form in +which she would have wished to finish the first letter she had ever +written to him. + +<p>Paul received it at Liverpool on the Wednesday morning, and on +the Wednesday evening he was in Welbeck Street. He had been +quite aware that it had been incumbent on him to tell her the whole +history of Mrs Hurtle. He had meant to keep back—almost +nothing. But it had been impossible for him to do so on that +one occasion on which he had pleaded his love to her +successfully. Let any reader who is intelligent in such +matters say whether it would have been possible for him then to +have commenced the story of Mrs Hurtle and to have told it to the +bitter end. Such a story must be postponed for a second or +third interview. Or it may, indeed, be communicated by +letter. When Paul was called away to Liverpool he did +consider whether he should write the story. But there are +many reasons strong against such written communications. A +man may desire that the woman he loves should hear the record of +his folly,—so that, in after days, there may be nothing to detect: +so that, should the Mrs Hurtle of his life at any time intrude upon +his happiness, he may with a clear brow and undaunted heart say to +his beloved one,—"Ah, this is the trouble of which I spoke to +you." And then he and his beloved one will be in one cause +together. But he hardly wishes to supply his beloved one with +a written record of his folly. And then who does not know how +much tenderness a man may show to his own faults by the tone of his +voice, by half-spoken sentences, and by an admixture of words of +love for the lady who has filled up the vacant space once occupied +by the Mrs Hurtle of his romance? But the written record must +go through from beginning to end, self-accusing, thoroughly +perspicuous, with no sweet, soft falsehoods hidden under the +half-expressed truth. The soft falsehoods which would be +sweet as the scent of violets in a personal interview, would stand +in danger of being denounced as deceit added to deceit, if sent in +a letter. I think therefore that Paul Montague did quite +right in hurrying up to London. + +<p>He asked for Miss Carbury, and when told that Miss Henrietta was +with her mother, he sent his name up and said that he would wait in +the dining-room. He had thoroughly made up his mind to this +course. They should know that he had come at once; but he +would not, if it could be helped, make his statement in the +presence of Lady Carbury. Then, upstairs, there was a little +discussion. Hetta pleaded her right to see him alone. +She had done what Roger had advised, and had done it with her +mother's consent. Her mother might be sure that she would not +again accept her lover till this story of Mrs Hurtle had been +sifted to the very bottom. But she must herself hear what her +lover had to say for himself. Felix was at the time in the +drawing-room and suggested that he should go down and see Paul +Montague on his sister's behalf;—but his mother looked at him with +scorn, and his sister quietly said that she would rather see Mr +Montague herself. Felix had been so cowed by circumstances +that he did not say another word, and Hetta left the room alone. + +<p>When she entered the parlour Paul stept forward to take her in +his arms. That was a matter of course. She knew it +would be so, and she had prepared herself for it. "Paul," she +said, "let me hear about all this—first." She sat down at +some distance from him,—and he found himself compelled to seat +himself at some distance from her. + +<p>"And so you have heard of Mrs Hurtle," he said, with a faint +attempt at a smile. + +<p>"Yes;—Felix told me, and Roger evidently had heard about her." + +<p>"Oh yes; Roger Carbury has heard about her from the +beginning;—knows the whole history almost as well as I know it +myself. I don't think your brother is as well informed." + +<p>"Perhaps not. But—isn't it a story that—concerns me?" + +<p>"Certainly it so far concerns you, Hetta, that you ought to know +it. And I trust you will believe that it was my intention to +tell it you." + +<p>"I will believe anything that you will tell me." + +<p>"If so, I don't think that you will quarrel with me when you +know all. I was engaged to marry Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"Is she a widow?"—He did not answer this at once. "I +suppose she must be a widow if you were going to marry her." + +<p>"Yes;—she is a widow. She was divorced." + +<p>"Oh, Paul! And she is an American?" + +<p>"Yes." + +<p>"And you loved her?" + +<p>Montague was desirous of telling his own story, and did not wish +to be interrogated. "If you will allow me I will tell it you +all from beginning to end." + +<p>"Oh, certainly. But I suppose you loved her. If you +meant to marry her you must have loved her." There was a +frown upon Hetta's brow and a tone of anger in her voice which made +Paul uneasy. + +<p>"Yes;—I loved her once; but I will tell you all." Then he +did tell his story, with a repetition of which the reader need not +be detained. Hetta listened with fair attention,—not +interrupting very often, though when she did interrupt, the little +words which she spoke were bitter enough. But she heard the +story of the long journey across the American continent, of the +ocean journey before the end of which Paul had promised to make +this woman his wife. "Had she been divorced then?" asked +Hetta,—"because I believe they get themselves divorced just when +they like." Simple as the question was he could not answer +it. "I could only know what she told me," he said, as he went +on with his story. Then Mrs Hurtle had gone on to Paris, and +he, as soon as he reached Carbury, had revealed everything to +Roger. "Did you give her up then?" demanded Hetta with stern +severity. No;—not then. He had gone back to San +Francisco, and,—he had not intended to say that the engagement had +been renewed, but he was forced to acknowledge that it had not been +broken off. Then he had written to her on his second return +to England,—and then she had appeared in London at Mrs Pipkin's +lodgings in Islington. "I can hardly tell you how terrible +that was to me," he said, "for I had by that time become quite +aware that my happiness must depend upon you." He tried the +gentle, soft falsehoods that should have been as sweet as +violets. Perhaps they were sweet. It is odd how stern a +girl can be, while her heart is almost breaking with love. +Hetta was very stern. + +<p>"But Felix says you took her to Lowestoft,—quite the other +day." + +<p>Montague had intended to tell all,—almost all. There was +a something about the journey to Lowestoft which it would be +impossible to make Hetta understand, and he thought that that might +be omitted. "It was on account of her health." + +<p>"Oh;—on account of her health. And did you go to the play +with her?" + +<p>"I did." + +<p>"Was that for her health?" + +<p>"Oh, Hetta, do not speak to me like that! Cannot you +understand that when she came here, following me, I could not +desert her?" + +<p>"I cannot understand why you deserted her at all," said +Hetta. "You say you loved her, and you promised to marry +her. It seems horrid to me to marry a divorced woman,—a +woman who just says that she was divorced. But that is +because I don't understand American ways. And I am sure you +must have loved her when you took her to the theatre, and down to +Lowestoft,—for her health. That was only a week ago." + +<p>"It was nearly three weeks," said Paul in despair. + +<p>"Oh;—nearly three weeks! That is not such a very long +time for a gentleman to change his mind on such a matter. You +were engaged to her, not three weeks ago." + +<p>"No, Hetta, I was not engaged to her then." + +<p>"I suppose she thought you were when she went to Lowestoft with +you." + +<p>"She wanted then to force me to—to—to—. Oh, Hetta, it +is so hard to explain, but I am sure that you understand. I +do know that you do not, cannot think that I have, even for one +moment, been false to you." + +<p>"But why should you be false to her? Why should I step in +and crush all her hopes? I can understand that Roger should +think badly of her because she was—divorced. Of course he +would. But an engagement is an engagement. You had +better go back to Mrs Hurtle and tell her that you are quite ready +to keep your promise." + +<p>"She knows now that it is all over." + +<p>"I dare say you will be able to persuade her to reconsider +it. When she came all the way here from San Francisco after +you, and when she asked you to take her to the theatre, and to +Lowestoft—because of her health, she must be very much attached +to you. And she is waiting here,—no doubt on purpose for +you. She is a very old friend,—very old,—and you ought not +to treat her unkindly. Good bye, Mr Montague. I think +you had better lose no time in going—back to Mrs Hurtle." +All this she said with sundry little impedimentary gurgles in her +throat, but without a tear and without any sign of tenderness. + +<p>"You don't mean to tell me, Hetta, that you are going to quarrel +with me!" + +<p>"I don't know about quarrelling. I don't wish to quarrel +with any one. But of course we can't be friends when you have +married Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"Nothing on earth would induce me to marry her." + +<p>"Of course I cannot say anything about that. When they +told me this story I did not believe them. No; I hardly +believed Roger when,—he would not tell it for he was too +kind,—but when he would not contradict it. It seemed to be +almost impossible that you should have come to me just at the very +same moment. For, after all, Mr Montague, nearly three weeks +is a very short time. That trip to Lowestoft couldn't have +been much above a week before you came to me." + +<p>"What does it matter?" + +<p>"Oh no; of course not;—nothing to you. I think I will go +away now, Mr Montague. It was very good of you to come and +tell me all. It makes it so much easier." + +<p>"Do you mean to say that—you are going to—throw me over?" + +<p>"I don't want you to throw Mrs Hurtle over. Good bye." + +<p>"Hetta!" + +<p>"No; I will not have you lay your hand upon me. Good +night, Mr Montague." And so she left him. + +<p>Paul Montague was beside himself with dismay as he left the +house. He had never allowed himself for a moment to believe +that this affair of Mrs Hurtle would really separate him from Hetta +Carbury. If she could only really know it all, there could be +no such result. He had been true to her from the first moment +in which he had seen her, never swerving from his love. It +was to be supposed that he had loved some woman before; but, as the +world goes, that would not, could not, affect her. But her +anger was founded on the presence of Mrs Hurtle in London,—which +he would have given half his possessions to have prevented. +But when she did come, was he to have refused to see her? +Would Hetta have wished him to be cold and cruel like that? +No doubt he had behaved badly to Mrs Hurtle;—but that trouble he +had overcome. And now Hetta was quarrelling with him, though +he certainly had never behaved badly to her. + +<p>He was almost angry with Hetta as he walked home. +Everything that he could do he had done for her. For her sake +he had quarrelled with Roger Carbury. For her sake,—in order +that he might be effectually free from Mrs Hurtle,—he had +determined to endure the spring of the wild cat. For her +sake,—so he told himself,—he had been content to abide by that +odious railway company, in order that he might if possible preserve +an income on which to support her. And now she told him that +they must part,—and that only because he had not been cruelly +indifferent to the unfortunate woman who had followed him from +America. There was no logic in it, no reason,—and, as he +thought, very little heart. "I don't want you to throw Mrs +Hurtle over," she had said. Why should Mrs Hurtle be anything +to her? Surely she might have left Mrs Hurtle to fight her +own battles. But they were all against him. Roger +Carbury, Lady Carbury, and Sir Felix; and the end of it would be +that she would be forced into marriage with a man almost old enough +to be her father! She could not ever really have loved +him. That was the truth. She must be incapable of such +love as was his own for her. True love always forgives. +And here there was really so very little to forgive! Such +were his thoughts as he went to bed that night. But he +probably omitted to ask himself whether he would have forgiven her +very readily had he found that she had been living "nearly three +weeks ago" in close intercourse with another lover of whom he had +hitherto never even heard the name. But then,—as all the +world knows,—there is a wide difference between young men and +young women! + +<p>Hetta, as soon as she had dismissed her lover, went up at once +to her own room. Thither she was soon followed by her mother, +whose anxious ear had heard the closing of the front door. +"Well; what has he said?" asked Lady Carbury. Hetta was in +tears,—or very nigh to tears,—struggling to repress them, and +struggling almost successfully. "You have found that what we +told you about that woman was all true." + +<p>"Enough of it was true," said Hetta, who, angry as she was with +her lover, was not on that account less angry with her mother for +disturbing her bliss. + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Hetta? Had you not better speak +to me openly?" + +<p>"I say, mamma, that enough was true. I do not know how to +speak more openly. I need not go into all the miserable story +of the woman. He is like other men, I suppose. He has +entangled himself with some abominable creature and then when he is +tired of her thinks that he has nothing to do but to say so,—and +to begin with somebody else." + +<p>"Roger Carbury is very different." + +<p>"Oh, mamma, you will make me ill if you go on like that. +It seems to me that you do not understand in the least." + +<p>"I say he is not like that." + +<p>"Not in the least. Of course I know that he is not in the +least like that." + +<p>"I say that he can be trusted." + +<p>"Of course he can be trusted. Who doubts it?" + +<p>"And that if you would give yourself to him, there would be no +cause for any alarm." + +<p>"Mamma," said Hetta jumping up, "how can you talk to me in that +way? As soon as one man doesn't suit, I am to give myself to +another! Oh, mamma, how can you propose it? Nothing on +earth will ever induce me to be more to Roger Carbury than I am +now." + +<p>"You have told Mr Montague that he is not to come here again?" + +<p>"I don't know what I told him, but he knows very well what I +mean." + +<p>"That it is all over?" Hetta made no reply. "Hetta, +I have a right to ask that, and I have a right to expect a +reply. I do not say that you have hitherto behaved badly +about Mr Montague." + +<p>"I have not behaved badly. I have told you +everything. I have done nothing that I am ashamed of." + +<p>"But we have now found out that he has behaved very badly. +He has come here to you,—with unexampled treachery to your cousin +Roger—" + +<p>"I deny that," exclaimed Hetta. + +<p>"And at the very time was almost living with this woman who says +that she is divorced from her husband in America! Have you +told him that you will see him no more?" + +<p>"He understood that." + +<p>"If you have not told him so plainly, I must tell him." + +<p>"Mamma, you need not trouble yourself. I have told him +very plainly." Then Lady Carbury expressed herself satisfied +for the moment, and left her daughter to her solitude. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="77"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVII. Another Scene in Bruton Street</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When Mr Melmotte made his promise to Mr Longestaffe and to +Dolly, in the presence of Mr Bideawhile, that he would, on the next +day but one, pay to them a sum of fifty thousand pounds, thereby +completing, satisfactorily as far as they were concerned, the +purchase of the Pickering property, he intended to be as good as +his word. The reader knows that he had resolved to face the +Longestaffe difficulty,—that he had resolved that at any rate he +would not get out of it by sacrificing the property to which he had +looked forward as a safe haven when storms should come. But, +day by day, every resolution that he made was forced to undergo +some change. Latterly he had been intent on purchasing a +noble son-in-law with this money,—still trusting to the chapter +of chances for his future escape from the Longestaffe and other +difficulties. But Squercum had been very hard upon him; and +in connexion with this accusation as to the Pickering property, +there was another, which he would be forced to face also, +respecting certain property in the East of London, with which the +reader need not much trouble himself specially, but in reference to +which it was stated that he had induced a foolish old gentleman to +consent to accept railway shares in lieu of money. The old +gentleman had died during the transaction, and it was asserted that +the old gentleman's letter was hardly genuine. Melmotte had +certainly raised between twenty and thirty thousand pounds on the +property, and had made payment for it in stock which was now +worth—almost nothing at all. Melmotte thought that he might +face this matter successfully if the matter came upon him +single-handed;—but in regard to the Longestaffes he considered +that now, at this last moment, he had better pay for Pickering. + +<p>The property from which he intended to raise the necessary funds +was really his own. There could be no doubt about that. +It had never been his intention to make it over to his +daughter. When he had placed it in her name, he had done so +simply for security,—feeling that his control over his only +daughter would be perfect and free from danger. No girl +apparently less likely to take it into her head to defraud her +father could have crept quietly about a father's house. Nor +did he now think that she would disobey him when the matter was +explained to her. Heavens and earth! That he should be +robbed by his own child,—robbed openly, shamefully, with brazen +audacity! It was impossible. But still he had felt the +necessity of going about this business with some little care. +It might be that she would disobey him if he simply sent for her +and bade her to affix her signature here and there. He +thought much about it and considered that it would be wise that his +wife should be present on the occasion, and that a full explanation +should be given to Marie, by which she might be made to understand +that the money had in no sense become her own. So he gave +instructions to his wife when he started into the city that +morning; and when he returned, for the sake of making his offer to +the Longestaffes, he brought with him the deeds which it would be +necessary that Marie should sign, and he brought also Mr Croll, his +clerk, that Mr Croll might witness the signature. + +<p>When he left the Longestaffes and Mr Bideawhile he went at once +to his wife's room. "Is she here?" he asked. + +<p>"I will send for her. I have told her." + +<p>"You haven't frightened her?" + +<p>"Why should I frighten her? It is not very easy to +frighten her, Melmotte. She is changed since these young men +have been so much about her." + +<p>"I shall frighten her if she does not do as I bid her. Bid +her come now." This was said in French. Then Madame +Melmotte left the room, and Melmotte arranged a lot of papers in +order upon a table. Having done so, he called to Croll, who +was standing on the landing-place, and told him to seat himself in +the back drawing-room till he should be called. Melmotte then +stood with his back to the fireplace in his wife's sitting-room, +with his hands in his pockets, contemplating what might be the +incidents of the coming interview. He would be very +gracious,—affectionate if it were possible,—and, above all +things, explanatory. But, by heavens, if there were continued +opposition to his demand,—to his just demand,—if this girl should +dare to insist upon exercising her power to rob him, he would not +then be affectionate nor gracious! There was some little +delay in the coming of the two women, and he was already beginning +to lose his temper when Marie followed Madame Melmotte into the +room. He at once swallowed his rising anger with an +effort. He would put a constraint upon himself The affection +and the graciousness should be all there,—as long as they might +secure the purpose in hand. + +<p>"Marie," he began, "I spoke to you the other day about some +property which for certain purposes was placed in your name just as +we were leaving Paris." + +<p>"Yes, papa." + +<p>"You were such a child then,—I mean when we left Paris,—that +I could hardly explain to you the purpose of what I did." + +<p>"I understood it, papa." + +<p>"You had better listen to me, my dear. I don't think you +did quite understand it. It would have been very odd if you +had, as I never explained it to you." + +<p>"You wanted to keep it from going away if you got into trouble." + +<p>This was so true that Melmotte did not know how at the moment to +contradict the assertion. And yet he had not intended to talk +of the possibility of trouble. "I wanted to lay aside a large +sum of money which should not be liable to the ordinary +fluctuations of commercial enterprise." + +<p>"So that nobody could get at it." + +<p>"You are a little too quick, my dear." + +<p>"Marie, why can't you let your papa speak?" said Madame +Melmotte. + +<p>"But of course, my dear," continued Melmotte, "I had no idea of +putting the money beyond my own reach. Such a transaction is +very common; and in such cases a man naturally uses the name of +some one who is very near and dear to him, and in whom he is sure +that he can put full confidence. And it is customary to +choose a young person, as there will then be less danger of the +accident of death. It was for these reasons, which I am sure +that you will understand, that I chose you. Of course the +property remained exclusively my own." + +<p>"But it is really mine," said Marie. + +<p>"No, miss; it was never yours," said Melmotte, almost bursting +out into anger, but restraining himself. "How could it become +yours, Marie? Did I ever make you a gift of it?" + +<p>"But I know that it did become mine,—legally." + +<p>"By a quibble of law,—yes; but not so as to give you any right +to it. I always draw the income." + +<p>"But I could stop that, papa,—and if I were married, of course +it would be stopped." + +<p>Then, quick as a flash of lightning, another idea occurred to +Melmotte, who feared that he already began to see that this child +of his might be stiff-necked. "As we are thinking of your +marriage," he said, "it is necessary that a change should be +made. Settlements must be drawn for the satisfaction of Lord +Nidderdale and his father. The old Marquis is rather hard +upon me, but the marriage is so splendid that I have +consented. You must now sign these papers in four or five +places. Mr Croll is here, in the next room, to witness your +signature, and I will call him." + +<p>"Wait a moment, papa." + +<p>"Why should we wait?" + +<p>"I don't think I will sign them." + +<p>"Why not sign them? You can't really suppose that the +property is your own. You could not even get it if you did +think so." + +<p>"I don't know how that may be; but I had rather not sign +them. If I am to be married, I ought not to sign anything +except what he tells me." + +<p>"He has no authority over you yet. I have authority over +you. Marie, do not give more trouble. I am very much +pressed for time. Let me call in Mr Croll." + +<p>"No, papa," she said. + +<p>Then came across his brow that look which had probably first +induced Marie to declare that she would endure to be "cut to +pieces," rather than to yield in this or that direction. The +lower jaw squared itself and the teeth became set, and the nostrils +of his nose became extended,—and Marie began to prepare herself to +be "cut to pieces." But he reminded himself that there was +another game which he had proposed to play before he resorted to +anger and violence. He would tell her how much depended on +her compliance. Therefore he relaxed the frown,—as well as +he knew how, and softened his face towards her, and turned again to +his work. "I am sure, Marie, that you will not refuse to do +this when I explain to you its importance to me. I must have +that property for use in the city to-morrow, or—I shall be +ruined." The statement was very short, but the manner in +which he made it was not without effect. + +<p>"Oh!" shrieked his wife. + +<p>"It is true. These harpies have so beset me about the +election that they have lowered the price of every stock in which I +am concerned, and have brought the Mexican Railway so low that they +cannot be sold at all. I don't like bringing my troubles home +from the city; but on this occasion I cannot help it. The sum +locked up here is very large, and I am compelled to use it. +In point of fact it is necessary to save us from +destruction." This he said, very slowly, and with the utmost +solemnity. + +<p>"But you told me just now you wanted it because I was going to +be married," rejoined Marie. + +<p>A liar has many points to his favour,—but he has this against +him, that unless he devote more time to the management of his lies +than life will generally allow, he cannot make them tally. +Melmotte was thrown back for a moment, and almost felt that the +time for violence had come. He longed to be at her that he +might shake the wickedness, and the folly, and the ingratitude out +of her. But he once more condescended to argue and to +explain. "I think you misunderstood me, Marie. I meant +you to understand that settlements must be made, and that of course +I must get my own property back into my own hands before anything +of that kind can be done. I tell you once more, my dear, that +if you do not do as I bid you, so that I may use that property the +first thing to-morrow, we are all ruined. Everything will be +gone." + +<p>"This can't be gone," said Marie, nodding her head at the +papers. + +<p>"Marie,—do you wish to see me disgraced and ruined? I have +done a great deal for you." + +<p>"You turned away the only person I ever cared for," said Marie. + +<p>"Marie, how can you be so wicked? Do as your papa bids +you," said Madame Melmotte. + +<p>"No!' said Melmotte. 'She does not care who is ruined, +because we saved her from that reprobate." + +<p>"She will sign them now," said Madame Melmotte. + +<p>"No;—I will not sign them," said Marie. "If I am to be +married to Lord Nidderdale as you all say, I am sure I ought to +sign nothing without telling him. And if the property was +once made to be mine, I don't think I ought to give it up again +because papa says that he is going to be ruined. I think +that's a reason for not giving it up again." + +<p>"It isn't yours to give. It's mine," said Melmotte +gnashing his teeth. + +<p>"Then you can do what you like with it without my signing," said +Marie. + +<p>He paused a moment, and then laying his hand gently upon her +shoulder, he asked her yet once again. His voice was changed, +and was very hoarse. But he still tried to be gentle with +her. "Marie," he said, "will you do this to save your father +from destruction?" + +<p>But she did not believe a word that he said to her. How +could she believe him? He had taught her to regard him as her +natural enemy, making her aware that it was his purpose to use her +as a chattel for his own advantage, and never allowing her for a +moment to suppose that aught that he did was to be done for her +happiness. And now, almost in a breath, he had told her that +this money was wanted that it might be settled on her and the man +to whom she was to be married, and then that it might be used to +save him from instant ruin. She believed neither one story +nor the other. That she should have done as she was desired +in this matter can hardly be disputed. The father had used +her name because he thought that he could trust her. She was +his daughter and should not have betrayed his trust. But she +had steeled herself to obstinacy against him in all things. +Even yet, after all that had passed, although she had consented to +marry Lord Nidderdale, though she had been forced by what she had +learned to despise Sir Felix Carbury, there was present to her an +idea that she might escape with the man she really loved. But +any such hope could depend only on the possession of the money +which she now claimed as her own. Melmotte had endeavoured to +throw a certain supplicatory pathos into the question he had asked +her; but, though he was in some degree successful with his voice, +his eyes and his mouth and his forehead still threatened her. +He was always threatening her. All her thoughts respecting +him reverted to that inward assertion that he might "cut her to +pieces" if he liked. He repeated his question in the pathetic +strain. "Will you do this now,—to save us all from +ruin?" But his eyes still threatened her. + +<p>"No;" she said, looking up into his face as though watching for +the personal attack which would be made upon her; "no, I won't." + +<p>"Marie!" exclaimed Madame Melmotte. + +<p>She glanced round for a moment at her pseudo-mother with +contempt. "No;" she said. "I don't think I ought,—and +I won't." + +<p>"You won't!" shouted Melmotte. She merely shook her +head. "Do you mean that you, my own child, will attempt to +rob your father just at the moment you can destroy him by your +wickedness?" She shook her head but said no other word. + +<blockquote> +<blockquote> +<font size="-1"> +"Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet."<br> +<br> +"Let not Medea with unnatural rage<br> + Slaughter her mangled infants on the stage." +</font> +</blockquote> +</blockquote> + +<p>Nor will I attempt to harrow my readers by a close description +of the scene which followed. Poor Marie. That cutting +her up into pieces was commenced after a most savage fashion. +Marie crouching down hardly uttered a sound. But Madame +Melmotte frightened beyond endurance screamed at the top of her +voice,—"Ah, Melmotte, tu la tueras!" And then she +tried to drag him from his prey. "Will you sign them now?" +said Melmotte, panting. At that moment Croll, frightened by +the screams, burst into the room. It was perhaps not the +first time that he had interfered to save Melmotte from the effects +of his own wrath. + +<p>"Oh, Mr Melmotte, vat is de matter?" asked the clerk. +Melmotte was out of breath and could hardly tell his story. +Marie gradually recovered herself; and crouched, cowering, in the +corner of a sofa, by no means vanquished in spirit, but with a +feeling that the very life had been crushed out of her body. +Madame Melmotte was standing weeping copiously, with her +handkerchief up to her eyes. "Will you sign the papers?" +Melmotte demanded. Marie, lying as she was, all in a heap, +merely shook her head. "Pig!" said Melmotte,—"wicked, +ungrateful pig." + +<p>"Ah, Ma'am-moiselle," said Croll, "you should oblige your +fader." + +<p>"Wretched, wicked girl" said Melmotte, collecting the papers +together. Then he left the room, and followed by Croll +descended to the study, whence the Longestaffes and Mr Bideawhile +had long since taken their departure. + +<p>Madame Melmotte came and stood over the girl, but for some +minutes spoke never a word. Marie lay on the sofa, all in a +heap, with her hair dishevelled and her dress disordered, breathing +hard, but uttering no sobs and shedding no tears. The +stepmother,—if she might so be called,—did not think of +attempting to persuade where her husband had failed. She +feared Melmotte so thoroughly, and was so timid in regard to her +own person, that she could not understand the girl's courage. +Melmotte was to her an awful being, powerful as Satan,—whom she +never openly disobeyed, though she daily deceived him, and was +constantly detected in her deceptions. Marie seemed to her to +have all her father's stubborn, wicked courage, and very much of +his power. At the present moment she did not dare to tell the +girl that she had been wrong. But she had believed her +husband when he had said that destruction was coming, and had +partly believed him when he declared that the destruction might be +averted by Marie's obedience. Her life had been passed in +almost daily fear of destruction. To Marie the last two years +of splendour had been so long that they had produced a feeling of +security. But to the elder woman the two years had not +sufficed to eradicate the remembrance of former reverses, and never +for a moment had she felt herself to be secure. At last she +asked the girl what she would like to have done for her. "I +wish he had killed me," Marie said, slowly dragging herself up from +the sofa, and retreating without another word to her own room. + +<p>In the meantime another scene was being acted in the room +below. Melmotte after he reached the room hardly made a +reference to his daughter,—merely saying that nothing would +overcome her wicked obstinacy. He made no allusion to his own +violence, nor had Croll the courage to expostulate with him now +that the immediate danger was over. The Great Financier again +arranged the papers, just as they had been laid out before,—as +though he thought that the girl might be brought down to sign them +there. And then he went on to explain to Croll what he had +wanted to have done,—how necessary it was that the thing should be +done, and how terribly cruel it was to him that in such a crisis of +his life he should be hampered, impeded,—he did not venture to his +clerk to say ruined,—by the ill-conditioned obstinacy of a +girl! He explained very fully how absolutely the property was +his own, how totally the girl was without any right to withhold it +from him! How monstrous in its injustice was the present +position of things! In all this Croll fully agreed. +Then Melmotte went on to declare that he would not feel the +slightest scruple in writing Marie's signature to the papers +himself. He was the girl's father and was justified in acting +for her. The property was his own property, and he was +justified in doing with it as he pleased. Of course he would +have no scruple in writing his daughter's name. Then he +looked up at the clerk. The clerk again assented,—after a +fashion, not by any means with the comfortable certainty with which +he had signified his accordance with his employer's first +propositions. But he did not, at any rate, hint any +disapprobation of the step which Melmotte proposed to take. +Then Melmotte went a step farther, and explained that the only +difficulty in reference to such a transaction would be that the +signature of his daughter would be required to be corroborated by +that of a witness before he could use it. Then he again +looked up at Croll;—but on this occasion Croll did not move a +muscle of his face. There certainly was no assent. +Melmotte continued to look at him; but then came upon the old +clerk's countenance a stern look which amounted to very strong +dissent. And yet Croll had been conversant with some +irregular doings in his time, and Melmotte knew well the extent of +Croll's experience. Then Melmotte made a little remark to +himself. "He knows that the game is pretty well over." +"You had better return to the city now," he said aloud. "I +shall follow you in half an hour. It is quite possible that I +may bring my daughter with me. If I can make her understand +this thing I shall do so. In that case I shall want you to be +ready." Croll again smiled, and again assented, and went his +way. + +<p>But Melmotte made no further attempt upon his daughter. As +soon as Croll was gone he searched among various papers in his desk +and drawers, and having found two signatures, those of his daughter +and of this German clerk, set to work tracing them with some thin +tissue paper. He commenced his present operation by bolting +his door and pulling down the blinds. He practised the two +signatures for the best part of an hour. Then he forged them +on the various documents;—and, having completed the operation, +refolded them, placed them in a locked bag of which he had always +kept the key in his purse, and then, with the bag in his hand, was +taken in his brougham into the city. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="78"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVIII. Miss Longestaffe Again at Caversham</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>All this time Mr Longestaffe was necessarily detained in London +while the three ladies of his family were living forlornly at +Caversham. He had taken his younger daughter home on the day +after his visit to Lady Monogram, and in all his intercourse with +her had spoken of her suggested marriage with Mr Brehgert as a +thing utterly out of the question. Georgiana had made one +little fight for her independence at the Jermyn Street Hotel. +"Indeed, papa, I think it's very hard," she said. + +<p>"What's hard? I think a great many things are hard; but I +have to bear them." + +<p>"You can do nothing for me." + +<p>"Do nothing for you! Haven't you got a home to live in, +and clothes to wear, and a carriage to go about in,—and books to +read if you choose to read them? What do you expect?" + +<p>"You know, papa, that's nonsense." + +<p>"How do you dare to tell me that what I say is nonsense?" + +<p>"Of course there's a house to live in and clothes to wear; but +what's to be the end of it? Sophia, I suppose, is going to be +married." + +<p>"I am happy to say she is,—to a most respectable young man and +a thorough gentleman." + +<p>"And Dolly has his own way of going on." + +<p>"You have nothing to do with Adolphus." + +<p>"Nor will he have anything to do with me. If I don't marry +what's to become of me? It isn't that Mr Brehgert is the sort +of man I should choose." + +<p>"Do not mention his name to me." + +<p>"But what am I to do? You give up the house in town, and +how am I to see people? It was you sent me to Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"I didn't send you to Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"It was at your suggestion I went there, papa. And of +course I could only see the people he had there. I like nice +people as well as anybody." + +<p>"There's no use talking any more about it." + +<p>"I don't see that. I must talk about it, and think about +it too. If I can put up with Mr Brehgert I don't see why you +and mamma should complain." + +<p>"A Jew!" + +<p>"People don't think about that as they used to, papa. He +has a very fine income, and I should always have a house in—" + +<p>Then Mr Longestaffe became so furious and loud, that he stopped +her for that time. "Look here," he said, "if you mean to tell +me that you will marry that man without my consent, I can't prevent +it. But you shall not marry him as my daughter. You +shall be turned out of my house, and I will never have your name +pronounced in my presence again. It is disgusting, +degrading,—disgraceful!" And then he left her. + +<p>On the next morning before he started for Caversham he did see +Mr Brehgert; but he told Georgiana nothing of the interview, nor +had she the courage to ask him. The objectionable name was +not mentioned again in her father's hearing, but there was a sad +scene between herself, Lady Pomona, and her sister. When Mr +Longestaffe and his younger daughter arrived, the poor mother did +not go down into the hall to meet her child,—from whom she had +that morning received the dreadful tidings about the Jew. As +to these tidings she had as yet heard no direct condemnation from +her husband. The effect upon Lady Pomona had been more +grievous even than that made upon the father. Mr Longestaffe +had been able to declare immediately that the proposed marriage was +out of the question, that nothing of the kind should be allowed, +and could take upon himself to see the Jew with the object of +breaking off the engagement. But poor Lady Pomona was +helpless in her sorrow. If Georgiana chose to marry a Jew +tradesman she could not help it. But such an occurrence in +the family would, she felt, be to her as though the end of all +things had come. She could never again hold up her head, +never go into society, never take pleasure in her powdered +footmen. When her daughter should have married a Jew, she +didn't think that she could pluck up the courage to look even her +neighbours Mrs Yeld and Mrs Hepworth in the face. Georgiana +found no one in the hall to meet her, and dreaded to go to her +mother. She first went with her maid to her own room, and +waited there till Sophia came to her. As she sat pretending +to watch the process of unpacking, she strove to regain her +courage. Why need she be afraid of anybody? Why, at any +rate, should she be afraid of other females? Had she not +always been dominant over her mother and sister? "Oh, +Georgey," said Sophia, "this is wonderful news!" + +<p>"I suppose it seems wonderful that anybody should be going to be +married except yourself." + +<p>"No;—but such a very odd match!" + +<p>"Look here, Sophia. If you don't like it, you need not +talk about it. We shall always have a house in town, and you +will not. If you don't like to come to us, you needn't. +That's about all." + +<p>"George wouldn't let me go there at all," said Sophia. + +<p>"Then—George—had better keep you at home at Toodlam. +Where's mamma? I should have thought somebody might have come +and met me to say a word to me, instead of allowing me to creep +into the house like this." + +<p>"Mamma isn't at all well; but she's up in her own room. +You mustn't be surprised, Georgey, if you find mamma very—very +much cut up about this." Then Georgiana understood that she +must be content to stand all alone in the world, unless she made up +her mind to give up Mr Brehgert. + +<p>"So I've come back," said Georgiana, stooping down and kissing +her mother. + +<p>"Oh, Georgiana; oh, Georgiana!" said Lady Pomona, slowly raising +herself and covering her face with one of her hands. "This is +dreadful. It will kill me. It will indeed. I +didn't expect it from you." + +<p>"What is the good of all that, mamma?" + +<p>"It seems to me that it can't be possible. It's +unnatural. It's worse than your wife's sister. I'm sure +there's something in the Bible against it. You never would +read your Bible, or you wouldn't be going to do this." + +<p>"Lady Julia Start has done just the same thing,—and she goes +everywhere." + +<p>"What does your papa say? I'm sure your papa won't allow +it. If he's fixed about anything, it's about the Jews. +An accursed race;—think of that, Georgiana;—expelled from +Paradise." + +<p>"Mamma, that's nonsense." + +<p>"Scattered about all over the world, so that nobody knows who +anybody is. And it's only since those nasty Radicals came up +that they have been able to sit in Parliament." + +<p>"One of the greatest judges in the land is a Jew," said +Georgiana, who had already learned to fortify her own case. + +<p>"Nothing that the Radicals can do can make them anything else +but what they are. I'm sure that Mr Whitstable, who is to be +your brother-in-law, will never condescend to speak to him." + +<p>Now if there was anybody whom Georgiana Longestaffe had despised +from her youth upwards it was George Whitstable. He had been +a laughing-stock to her when they were children, had been regarded +as a lout when he left school, and had been her common example of +rural dullness since he had become a man. He certainly was +neither beautiful nor bright;—but he was a Conservative squire +born of Tory parents. Nor was he rich;—having but a moderate +income, sufficient to maintain a moderate country house and no +more. When first there came indications that Sophia intended +to put up with George Whitstable, the more ambitious sister did not +spare the shafts of her scorn. And now she was told that +George Whitstable would not speak to her future husband! She +was not to marry Mr Brehgert lest she should bring disgrace, among +others, upon George Whitstable! This was not to be endured. + +<p>"Then Mr Whitstable may keep himself at home at Toodlam and not +trouble his head at all about me or my husband. I'm sure I +shan't trouble myself as to what a poor creature like that may +think about me. George Whitstable knows as much about London +as I do about the moon." + +<p>"He has always been in county society," said Sophia, "and was +staying only the other day at Lord Cantab's." + +<p>"Then there were two fools together," said Georgiana, who at +this moment was very unhappy. + +<p>"Mr Whitstable is an excellent young man, and I am sure he will +make your sister happy; but as for Mr Brehgert,—I can't bear to +have his name mentioned in my hearing." + +<p>"Then, mamma, it had better not be mentioned. At any rate +it shan't be mentioned again by me." Having so spoken, +Georgiana bounced out of the room and did not meet her mother and +sister again till she came down into the drawing-room before +dinner. + +<p>Her position was one very trying both to her nerves and to her +feelings. She presumed that her father had seen Mr Brehgert, +but did not in the least know what had passed between them. +It might be that her father had been so decided in his objection as +to induce Mr Brehgert to abandon his intention,—and if this were +so, there could be no reason why she should endure the misery of +having the Jew thrown in her face. Among them all they had +made her think that she would never become Mrs Brehgert. She +certainly was not prepared to nail her colours upon the mast and to +live and die for Brehgert. She was almost sick of the thing +herself. But she could not back out of it so as to obliterate +all traces of the disgrace. Even if she should not ultimately +marry the Jew, it would be known that she had been engaged to a +Jew,—and then it would certainly be said afterwards that the Jew +had jilted her. She was thus vacillating in her mind, not +knowing whether to go on with Brehgert or to abandon him. +That evening Lady Pomona retired immediately after dinner, being +"far from well." It was of course known to them all +that Mr Brehgert was her ailment. She was accompanied by her +elder daughter, and Georgiana was left with her father. Not a +word was spoken between them. He sat behind his newspaper +till he went to sleep, and she found herself alone and deserted in +that big room. It seemed to her that even the servants +treated her with disdain. Her own maid had already given her +notice. It was manifestly the intention of her family to +ostracise her altogether. Of what service would it be to her +that Lady Julia Goldsheiner should be received everywhere, if she +herself were to be left without a single Christian friend? +Would a life passed exclusively among the Jews content even her +lessened ambition? At ten o'clock she kissed her father's +head and went to bed. Her father grunted less audibly than +usual under the operation. She had always given herself +credit for high spirits, but she began to fear that her courage +would not suffice to carry her through sufferings such as these. + +<p>On the next day her father returned to town, and the three +ladies were left alone. Great preparations were going on for +the Whitstable wedding. Dresses were being made and linen +marked, and consultations held,—from all which things Georgiana +was kept quite apart. The accepted lover came over to lunch, +and was made as much of as though the Whitstables had always kept a +town house. Sophy loomed so large in her triumph and +happiness, that it was not to be borne. All Caversham treated +her with a new respect. And yet if Toodlam was a couple of +thousand a year, it was all it was:—and there were two unmarried +sisters! Lady Pomona went half into hysterics every time she +saw her younger daughter, and became in her way a most oppressive +parent. Oh, heavens;—was Mr Brehgert with his two houses +worth all this? A feeling of intense regret for the things +she was losing came over her. Even Caversham, the Caversham +of old days which she had hated, but in which she had made herself +respected and partly feared by everybody about the place,—had +charms for her which seemed to her delightful now that they were +lost for ever. Then she had always considered herself to be +the first personage in the house,—superior even to her +father;—but now she was decidedly the last. + +<p>Her second evening was worse even than the first. When Mr +Longestaffe was not at home the family sat in a small dingy room +between the library and the dining-room, and on this occasion the +family consisted only of Georgiana. In the course of the +evening she went upstairs and calling her sister out into the +passage demanded to be told why she was thus deserted. "Poor +mamma is very ill," said Sophy. + +<p>"I won't stand it if I'm to be treated like this," said +Georgiana. "I'll go away somewhere." + +<p>"How can I help it, Georgey? It's your own doing. Of +course you must have known that you were going to separate yourself +from us." + +<p>On the next morning there came a dispatch from Mr +Longestaffe,—of what nature Georgey did not know as it was +addressed to Lady Pomona. But one enclosure she was allowed +to see. "Mamma," said Sophy, "thinks you ought to know how +Dolly feels about it." And then a letter from Dolly to his +father was put into Georgey's hands. The letter was as +follows:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +MY DEAR FATHER,—<br> +<br> + Can it be true that Georgey is +thinking of marrying that horrid vulgar Jew, old Brehgert? +The fellows say so; but I can't believe it. I'm sure you +wouldn't let her. You ought to lock her up.<br> +<br> + Yours affectionately,<br> +<br> + A. LONGESTAFFE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>Dolly's letters made his father very angry, as, short as they +were, they always contained advice or instruction, such as should +come from a father to a son, rather than from a son to a +father. This letter had not been received with a +welcome. Nevertheless the head of the family had thought it +worth his while to make use of it, and had sent it to Caversham in +order that it might be shown to his rebellious daughter. + +<p>And so Dolly had said that she ought to be locked up! +She'd like to see somebody do it! As soon as she had read her +brother's epistle she tore it into fragments and threw it away in +her sister's presence. "How can mamma be such a hypocrite as +to pretend to care what Dolly says? Who doesn't know that +he's an idiot? And papa has thought it worth his while to +send that down here for me to see! Well, after that I must +say that I don't much care what papa does." + +<p>"I don't see why Dolly shouldn't have an opinion as well as +anybody else," said Sophy. + +<p>"As well as George Whitstable? As far as stupidness goes +they are about the same. But Dolly has a little more +knowledge of the world." + +<p>"Of course we all know, Georgiana," rejoined the elder sister, +"that for cuteness and that kind of thing one must look among the +commercial classes, and especially among a certain sort." + +<p>"I've done with you all," said Georgey, rushing out of the +room. "I'll have nothing more to do with any one of you." + +<p>But it is very difficult for a young lady to have done with her +family! A young man may go anywhere, and may be lost at sea; +or come and claim his property after twenty years. A young +man may demand an allowance, and has almost a right to live +alone. The young male bird is supposed to fly away from the +paternal nest. But the daughter of a house is compelled to +adhere to her father till she shall get a husband. The only +way in which Georgey could "have done" with them all at Caversham +would be by trusting herself to Mr Brehgert, and at the present +moment she did not know whether Mr Brehgert did or did not consider +himself as engaged to her. + +<p>That day also passed away with ineffable tedium. At one +time she was so beaten down by ennui that she almost offered her +assistance to her sister in reference to the wedding +garments. In spite of the very bitter words which had been +spoken in the morning she would have done so had Sophy afforded her +the slightest opportunity. But Sophy was heartlessly cruel in +her indifference. In her younger days she had had her bad +things, and now,—with George Whitstable by her side,—she meant to +have good things, the goodness of which was infinitely enhanced by +the badness of her sister's things. She had been so greatly +despised that the charm of despising again was irresistible. +And she was able to reconcile her cruelty to her conscience by +telling herself that duty required her to show implacable +resistance to such a marriage as this which her sister +contemplated. Therefore Georgiana dragged out another day, +not in the least knowing what was to be her fate. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="79"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIX. The Brehgert Correspondence</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Mr Longestaffe had brought his daughter down to Caversham on a +Wednesday. During the Thursday and Friday she had passed a +very sad time, not knowing whether she was or was not engaged to +marry Mr Brehgert. Her father had declared to her that he +would break off the match, and she believed that he had seen Mr +Brehgert with that purpose. She had certainly given no +consent, and had never hinted to any one of the family an idea that +she was disposed to yield. But she felt that, at any rate +with her father, she had not adhered to her purpose with tenacity, +and that she had allowed him to return to London with a feeling +that she might still be controlled. She was beginning to be +angry with Mr Brehgert, thinking that he had taken his dismissal +from her father without consulting her. It was necessary that +something should be settled, something known. Life such as +she was leading now would drive her mad. She had all the +disadvantages of the Brehgert connection and none of the +advantages. She could not comfort herself with thinking of +the Brehgert wealth and the Brehgert houses, and yet she was living +under the general ban of Caversham on account of her Brehgert +associations. She was beginning to think that she herself +must write to Mr Brehgert,—only she did not know what to say to +him. + +<p>But on the Saturday morning she got a letter from Mr +Brehgert. It was handed to her as she was sitting at +breakfast with her sister,—who at that moment was triumphant with +a present of gooseberries which had been sent over from +Toodlam. The Toodlam gooseberries were noted throughout +Suffolk, and when the letters were being brought in Sophia was +taking her lover's offering from the basket with her own fair +hands. "Well!" Georgey had exclaimed, "to send a pottle of +gooseberries to his lady love across the country! Who but +George Whitstable would do that?" + +<p>"I dare say you get nothing but gems and gold," Sophy +retorted. "I don't suppose that Mr Brehgert knows what a +gooseberry is." At that moment the letter was brought in, and +Georgiana knew the writing. "I suppose that's from Mr +Brehgert," said Sophy. + +<p>"I don't think it matters much to you who it's from." She +tried to be composed and stately, but the letter was too important +to allow of composure, and she retired to read it in privacy. + +<p>The letter was as follows:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +"MY DEAR GEORGIANA,<br> +<br> + Your father came to me the day after +I was to have met you at Lady Monogram's party. I told him +then that I would not write to you till I had taken a day or two to +consider what he said to me;—and also that I thought it better +that you should have a day or two to consider what he might say to +you. He has now repeated what he said at our first interview, +almost with more violence; for I must say that I think he has +allowed himself to be violent when it was surely unnecessary.<br> +<br> + The long and short of it is +this. He altogether disapproves of your promise to marry +me. He has given three reasons;—first that I am in trade; +secondly that I am much older than you, and have a family; and +thirdly that I am a Jew. In regard to the first I can hardly +think that he is earnest. I have explained to him that my +business is that of a banker; and I can hardly conceive it to be +possible that any gentleman in England should object to his +daughter marrying a banker, simply because the man is a +banker. There would be a blindness of arrogance in such a +proposition of which I think your father to be incapable. +This has merely been added in to strengthen his other +objections.<br> +<br> + As to my age, it is just +fifty-one. I do not at all think myself too old to be married +again. Whether I am too old for you is for you to judge,—as +is also that question of my children who, of course, should you +become my wife will be to some extent a care upon your +shoulders. As this is all very serious you will not, I hope, +think me wanting in gallantry if I say that I should hardly have +ventured to address you if you had been quite a young girl. +No doubt there are many years between us;—and so I think there +should be. A man of my age hardly looks to marry a woman of +the same standing as himself. But the question is one for the +lady to decide,—and you must decide it now.<br> +<br> + As to my religion, I acknowledge the +force of what your father says,—though I think that a gentleman +brought up with fewer prejudices would have expressed himself in +language less likely to give offence. However I am a man not +easily offended; and on this occasion I am ready to take what he +has said in good part. I can easily conceive that there +should be those who think that the husband and wife should agree in +religion. I am indifferent to it myself. I shall not +interfere with you if you make me happy by becoming my wife, nor, I +suppose, will you with me. Should you have a daughter or +daughters I am quite willing that they should be brought up subject +to your influence.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>There was a plain-speaking in this which made Georgiana look +round the room as though to see whether any one was watching her as +she read it. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +But no doubt your father objects to me specially because I am a +Jew. If I were an atheist he might, perhaps, say nothing on +the subject of religion. On this matter as well as on others +it seems to me that your father has hardly kept pace with the +movements of the age. Fifty years ago, whatever claim a Jew +might have to be as well considered as a Christian, he certainly +was not so considered. Society was closed against him, except +under special circumstances, and so were all the privileges of high +position. But that has been altered. Your father does +not admit the change; but I think he is blind to it, because he +does not wish to see.<br> +<br> + I say all this more as defending +myself than as combating his views with you. It must be for +you and for you alone to decide how far his views shall govern +you. He has told me, after a rather peremptory fashion, that +I have behaved badly to him and to his family because I did not go +to him in the first instance when I thought of obtaining the honour +of an alliance with his daughter. I have been obliged to tell +him that in this matter I disagree with him entirely, though in so +telling him I endeavoured to restrain myself from any appearance of +warmth. I had not the pleasure of meeting you in his house, +nor had I any acquaintance with him. And again, at the risk +of being thought uncourteous, I must say that you are to a certain +degree emancipated by age from that positive subordination to which +a few years ago you probably submitted without a question. If +a gentleman meets a lady in society, as I met you in the home of +our friend Mr Melmotte, I do not think that the gentleman is to be +debarred from expressing his feelings because the lady may possibly +have a parent. Your father, no doubt with propriety, had left +you to be the guardian of yourself, and I cannot submit to be +accused of improper conduct because, finding you in that condition, +I availed myself of it.<br> +<br> + And now, having said so much, I must +leave the question to be decided entirely by yourself. I beg +you to understand that I do not at all wish to hold you to a +promise merely because the promise has been given. I readily +acknowledge that the opinion of your family should be considered by +you, though I will not admit that I was bound to consult that +opinion before I spoke to you. It may well be that your +regard for me or your appreciation of the comforts with which I may +be able to surround you, will not suffice to reconcile you to such +a breach from your own family as your father, with much repetition, +has assured me will be inevitable. Take a day or two to think +of this and turn it well over in your mind. When I last had +the happiness of speaking to you, you seemed to think that your +parents might raise objections, but that those objections would +give way before an expression of your own wishes. I was +flattered by your so thinking; but, if I may form any judgment from +your father's manner, I must suppose that you were mistaken. +You will understand that I do not say this as any reproach to +you. Quite the contrary. I think your father is +irrational; and you may well have failed to anticipate that be +should be so.<br> +<br> + As to my own feelings they remain +exactly as they were when I endeavoured to explain them to +you. Though I do not find myself to be too old to marry, I do +think myself too old to write love letters. I have no doubt +you believe me when I say that I entertain a most sincere affection +for you; and I beseech you to believe me in saying further that +should you become my wife it shall be the study of my life to make +you happy.<br> +<br> + It is essentially necessary that I +should allude to one other matter, as to which I have already told +your father what I will now tell you. I think it probable +that within this week I shall find myself a loser of a very large +sum of money through the failure of a gentleman whose bad treatment +of me I will the more readily forgive because he was the means of +making me known to you. This you must understand is private +between you and me, though I have thought it proper to inform your +father. Such loss, if it fall upon me, will not interfere in +the least with the income which I have proposed to settle upon you +for your use after my death; and, as your father declares that in +the event of your marrying me he will neither give to you nor +bequeath to you a shilling, he might have abstained from telling me +to my face that I was a bankrupt merchant when I myself told him of +my loss. I am not a bankrupt merchant nor at all likely to +become so. Nor will this loss at all interfere with my +present mode of living. But I have thought it right to inform +you of it, because, if it occur,—as I think it will,—I shall not +deem it right to keep a second establishment probably for the next +two or three years. But my house at Fulham and my stables +there will be kept up just as they are at present.<br> +<br> + I have now told you everything which +I think it is necessary you should know, in order that you may +determine either to adhere to or to recede from your +engagement. When you have resolved you will let me know,—but +a day or two may probably be necessary for your decision. I +hope I need not say that a decision in my favour will make me a +happy man.<br> +<br> + I am, in the meantime, your affectionate friend,<br> +<br> + EZEKIEL BREHGERT.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>This very long letter puzzled Georgey a good deal, and left her, +at the time of reading it, very much in doubt as to what she would +do. She could understand that it was a plain-spoken and +truth-telling letter. Not that she, to herself, gave it +praise for those virtues; but that it imbued her unconsciously with +a thorough belief. She was apt to suspect deceit in other +people;—but it did not occur to her that Mr Brehgert had written a +single word with an attempt to deceive her. But the +single-minded genuine honesty of the letter was altogether thrown +away upon her. She never said to herself, as she read it, +that she might safely trust herself to this man, though he were a +Jew, though greasy and like a butcher, though over fifty and with a +family, because he was an honest man. She did not see that +the letter was particularly sensible;—but she did allow herself to +be pained by the total absence of romance. She was annoyed at +the first allusion to her age, and angry at the second; and yet she +had never supposed that Brehgert had taken her to be younger than +she was. She was well aware that the world in general +attributes more years to unmarried women than they have lived, as a +sort of equalising counter-weight against the pretences which young +women make on the other side, or the lies which are told on their +behalf. Nor had she wished to appear peculiarly young in his +eyes. But, nevertheless, she regarded the reference to be +uncivil,—perhaps almost butcher-like,—and it had its effect upon +her. And then the allusion to the "daughter or daughters" +troubled her. She told herself that it was vulgar,—just what +a butcher might have said. And although she was quite +prepared to call her father the most irrational, the most +prejudiced, and most ill-natured of men, yet she was displeased +that Mr Brehgert should take such a liberty with him. But the +passage in Mr Brehgert's letter which was most distasteful to her +was that which told her of the loss which he might probably incur +through his connection with Melmotte. What right had he to +incur a loss which would incapacitate him from keeping his +engagements with her? The town-house had been the great +persuasion, and now he absolutely had the face to tell her that +there was to be no town-house for three years. When she read +this she felt that she ought to be indignant, and for a few moments +was minded to sit down without further consideration and tell the +man with considerable scorn that she would have nothing more to say +to him. + +<p>But on that side too there would be terrible bitterness. +How would she have fallen from her greatness when, barely forgiven +by her father and mother for the vile sin which she had +contemplated, she should consent to fill a common bridesmaid place +at the nuptials of George Whitstable! And what would then be +left to her in life? This episode of the Jew would make it +quite impossible for her again to contest the question of the +London house with her father. Lady Pomona and Mrs George +Whitstable would be united with him against her. There would +be no "season" for her, and she would be nobody at Caversham. +As for London, she would hardly wish to go there! Everybody +would know the story of the Jew. She thought that she could +have plucked up courage to face the world as the Jew's wife, but +not as the young woman who had wanted to marry the Jew and had +failed. How would her future life go with her, should she now +make up her mind to retire from the proposed alliance? If she +could get her father to take her abroad at once, she would do it; +but she was not now in a condition to make any terms with her +father. As all this gradually passed through her mind, she +determined that she would so far take Mr Brehgert's advice as to +postpone her answer till she had well considered the matter. + +<p>She slept upon it, and the next day she asked her mother a few +questions. "Mamma, have you any idea what papa means to do?" + +<p>"In what way, my dear?" Lady Pomona's voice was not +gracious, as she was free from that fear of her daughter's +ascendancy which had formerly affected her. + +<p>"Well;—I suppose he must have some plan." + +<p>"You must explain yourself. I don't know why he should +have any particular plan." + +<p>"Will he go to London next year?" + +<p>"That depends upon money, I suppose. What makes you ask?" + +<p>"Of course I have been very cruelly circumstanced. +Everybody must see that. I'm sure you do, mamma. The +long and short of it is this;—if I give up my engagement, will he +take us abroad for a year?" + +<p>"Why should he?" + +<p>"You can't suppose that I should be very comfortable in +England. If we are to remain here at Caversham, how am I to +hope ever to get settled?" + +<p>"Sophy is doing very well." + +<p>"Oh, mamma, there are not two George Whitstables;—thank +God." She had meant to be humble and supplicating, but she +could not restrain herself from the use of that one shaft. "I +don't mean but what Sophy may be very happy, and I am sure that I +hope she will. But that won't do me any good. I should +be very unhappy here." + +<p>"I don't see how you are to find any one to marry you by going +abroad," said Lady Pomona, "and I don't see why your papa is to be +taken away from his own home. He likes Caversham." + +<p>"Then I am to be sacrificed on every side," said Georgey, +stalking out of the room. But still she could not make up her +mind what letter she would write to Mr Brehgert, and she slept upon +it another night. + +<p>On the next day after breakfast she did write her letter, though +when she sat down to her task she had not clearly made up her mind +what she would say. But she did get it written, and here it +is. + + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +Caversham, Monday.<br> +<br> +MY DEAR MR BREHGERT,<br> +<br> + As you told me not to hurry, I have +taken a little time to think about your letter. Of course it +would be very disagreeable to quarrel with papa and mamma and +everybody. And if I do do so, I'm sure somebody ought to be +very grateful. But papa has been very unfair in what he has +said. As to not asking him, it could have been of no good, +for of course he would be against it. He thinks a great deal +of the Longestaffe family, and so, I suppose, ought I. But +the world does change so quick that one doesn't think of anything +now as one used to do. Anyway, I don't feel that I'm bound to +do what papa tells me just because he says it. Though I'm not +quite so old as you seem to think, I'm old enough to judge for +myself,—and I mean to do so. You say very little about +affection, but I suppose I am to take all that for granted.<br> +<br> + I don't wonder at papa being annoyed +about the loss of the money. It must be a very great sum when +it will prevent your having a house in London,—as you +agreed. It does make a great difference, because, of course, +as you have no regular place in the country, one could only see +one's friends in London. Fulham is all very well now and +then, but I don't think I should like to live at Fulham all the +year through. You talk of three years, which would be +dreadful. If as you say it will not have any lasting effect, +could you not manage to have a house in town? If you can do +it in three years, I should think you could do it now. I +should like to have an answer to this question. I do think so +much about being the season in town!<br> +<br> + As for the other parts of your +letter, I knew very well beforehand that papa would be unhappy +about it. But I don't know why I'm to let that stand in my +way when so very little is done to make me happy. Of course +you will write to me again, and I hope you will say something +satisfactory about the house in London.<br> +<br> + Yours always sincerely,<br> +<br> + GEORGIANA LONGESTAFFE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>It probably never occurred to Georgey that Mr Brehgert would +under any circumstances be anxious to go back from his +engagement. She so fully recognised her own value as a +Christian lady of high birth and position giving herself to a +commercial Jew, that she thought that under any circumstances Mr +Brehgert would be only too anxious to stick to his bargain. +Nor had she any idea that there was anything in her letter which +could probably offend him. She thought that she might at any +rate make good her claim to the house in London; and that as there +were other difficulties on his side, he would yield to her on this +point. But as yet she hardly knew Mr Brehgert. He did +not lose a day in sending to her a second letter. He took her +letter with him to his office in the city, and there he answered it +without a moment's delay. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +No. 7, St. Cuthbert's Court, London,<br> +Tuesday, July 16, 18—.<br> +<br> +MY DEAR MISS LONGESTAFFE,<br> +<br> + You say it would be very disagreeable +to you to quarrel with your papa and mamma; and as I agree with +you, I will take your letter as concluding our intimacy. I +should not, however, be dealing quite fairly with you or with +myself if I gave you to understand that I felt myself to be coerced +to this conclusion simply by your qualified assent to your parents' +views. It is evident to me from your letter that you would +not wish to be my wife unless I can supply you with a house in town +as well as with one in the country. But this for the present +is out of my power. I would not have allowed my losses to +interfere with your settlement because I had stated a certain +income; and must therefore to a certain extent have compromised my +children. But I should not have been altogether happy till I +had replaced them in their former position, and must therefore have +abstained from increased expenditure till I had done so. But +of course I have no right to ask you to share with me the +discomfort of a single home. I may perhaps add that I had +hoped that you would have looked to your happiness to another +source, and that I will bear my disappointment as best I may.<br> +<br> + As you may perhaps under these +circumstances be unwilling that I should wear the ring you gave me, +I return it by post. I trust you will be good enough to keep +the trifle you were pleased to accept from me, in remembrance of +one who will always wish you well.<br> +<br> + Yours sincerely,<br> +<br> + EZEKIEL BREHGERT.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>And so it was all over! Georgey, when she read this +letter, was very indignant at her lover's conduct. She did +not believe that her own letter had at all been of a nature to +warrant it. She had regarded herself as being quite sure of +him, and only so far doubting herself, as to be able to make her +own terms because of such doubts. And now the Jew had +rejected her! She read this last letter over and over again, +and the more she read it the more she felt that in her heart of +hearts she had intended to marry him. There would have been +inconveniences no doubt, but they would have been less than the +sorrow on the other side. Now she saw nothing before her but +a long vista of Caversham dullness, in which she would be trampled +upon by her father and mother, and scorned by Mr and Mrs George +Whitstable. + +<p>She got up and walked about the room thinking of +vengeance. But what vengeance was possible to her? +Everybody belonging to her would take the part of the Jew in that +which he had now done. She could not ask Dolly to beat him; +nor could she ask her father to visit him with a stern frown of +paternal indignation. There could be no revenge. For a +time,—only a few seconds,—she thought that she would write to Mr +Brehgert and tell him that she had not intended to bring about this +termination of their engagement. This, no doubt, would have +been an appeal to the Jew for mercy;—and she could not quite +descend to that. But she would keep the watch and chain he +had given her, and which somebody had told her had not cost less +than a hundred and fifty guineas. She could not wear them, as +people would know whence they had come; but she might exchange them +for jewels which she could wear. + +<p>At lunch she said nothing to her sister, but in the course of +the afternoon she thought it best to inform her mother. +"Mamma," she said, "as you and papa take it so much to heart, I +have broken off everything with Mr Brehgert." + +<p>"Of course it must be broken off," said Lady Pomona. This +was very ungracious,—so much so that Georgey almost flounced out of +the room. "Have you heard from the man?" asked her ladyship. + +<p>"I have written to him, and he has answered me; and it is all +settled. I thought that you would have said something kind to +me." And the unfortunate young woman burst out into tears. + +<p>"It was so dreadful," said Lady Pomona;—"so very +dreadful. I never heard of anything so bad. When young +what's-his-name married the tallow-chandler's daughter I thought it +would have killed me if it had been Dolly; but this was worse than +that. Her father was a methodist." + +<p>"They had neither of them a shilling of money," said Georgey +through her tears. + +<p>"And your papa says this man was next door to a bankrupt. +But it's all over?" + +<p>"Yes, mamma." + +<p>"And now we must all remain here at Caversham till people forget +it. It has been very hard upon George Whitstable, because of +course everybody has known it through the county. I once +thought he would have been off, and I really don't know that we +could have said anything." At that moment Sophy entered the +room. "It's all over between Georgiana and the—man," said +Lady Pomona, who hardly saved herself from stigmatising him by a +further reference to his religion. + +<p>"I knew it would be," said Sophia. + +<p>"Of course it could never have really taken place," said their +mother. + +<p>"And now I beg that nothing more may be said about it," said +Georgiana. "I suppose, mamma, you will write to papa?" + +<p>"You must send him back his watch and chain, Georgey," said +Sophia. + +<p>"What business is that of yours?" + +<p>"Of course she must. Her papa would not let her keep it." + +<p>To such a miserable depth of humility had the younger Miss +Longestaffe been brought by her ill-considered intimacy with the +Melmottes! Georgiana, when she looked back on this miserable +episode in her life, always attributed her grief to the scandalous +breach of compact of which her father had been guilty. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="80"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXX. Ruby Prepares for Service</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Our poor old honest friend John Crumb was taken away to durance +vile after his performance in the street with Sir Felix, and was +locked up for the remainder of the night. This indignity did +not sit so heavily on his spirits as it might have done on those of +a quicker nature. He was aware that he had not killed the +baronet, and that he had therefore enjoyed his revenge without the +necessity of "swinging for it at Bury." That in itself was a +comfort to him. Then it was a great satisfaction to think +that he had "served the young man out" in the actual presence of +his Ruby. He was not prone to give himself undue credit for +his capability and willingness to knock his enemies about; but he +did think that Ruby must have observed on this occasion that he was +the better man of the two. And, to John, a night in the +station-house was no great personal inconvenience. Though he +was very proud of his four-post bed at home, he did not care very +much for such luxuries as far as he himself was concerned. +Nor did he feel any disgrace from being locked up for the +night. He was very good-humoured with the policeman, who +seemed perfectly to understand his nature, and was as meek as a +child when the lock was turned upon him. As he lay down on +the hard bench, he comforted himself with thinking that Ruby would +surely never care any more for the "baronite" since she had seen +him go down like a cur without striking a blow. He thought a +good deal about Ruby, but never attributed any blame to her for her +share in the evils that had befallen him. + +<p>The next morning he was taken before the magistrates, but was +told at an early hour of the day that he was again free. Sir +Felix was not much the worse for what had happened to him, and had +refused to make any complaint against the man who had beaten +him. John Crumb shook hands cordially with the policeman who +had had him in charge, and suggested beer. The constable, +with regrets, was forced to decline, and bade adieu to his late +prisoner with the expression of a hope that they might meet again +before long. "You come down to Bungay," said John, "and I'll +show you how we live there." + +<p>From the police-office he went direct to Mrs Pipkin's house, and +at once asked for Ruby. He was told that Ruby was out with +the children, and was advised both by Mrs Pipkin and Mrs Hurtle not +to present himself before Ruby quite yet. "You see," said Mrs +Pipkin, "she's a thinking how heavy you were upon that young +gentleman." + +<p>"But I wasn't;—not particular. Lord love you, he ain't a +hair the wuss." + +<p>"You let her alone for a time," said Mrs Hurtle. "A little +neglect will do her good." + +<p>"Maybe," said John,—"only I wouldn't like her to have it +bad. You'll let her have her wittles regular, Mrs Pipkin." + +<p>It was then explained to him that the neglect proposed should +not extend to any deprivation of food, and he took his leave, +receiving an assurance from Mrs Hurtle that he should be summoned +to town as soon as it was thought that his presence there would +serve his purposes; and with loud promises repeated to each of the +friendly women that as soon as ever a "line should be dropped" he +would appear again upon the scene, he took Mrs Pipkin aside, and +suggested that if there were "any hextras," he was ready to pay for +them. Then he took his leave without seeing Ruby, and went +back to Bungay. + +<p>When Ruby returned with the children she was told that John +Crumb had called. "I thought as he was in prison," said Ruby. + +<p>"What should they keep him in prison for?" said Mrs +Pipkin. "He hasn't done nothing as he oughtn't to have +done. That young man was dragging you about as far as I can +make out, and Mr Crumb just did as anybody ought to have done to +prevent it. Of course they weren't going to keep him in +prison for that. Prison indeed! It isn't him as ought +to be in prison." + +<p>"And where is he now, aunt?" + +<p>"Gone down to Bungay to mind his business, and won't be coming +here any more of a fool's errand. He must have seen now +pretty well what's worth having, and what ain't. Beauty is +but skin deep, Ruby." + +<p>"John Crumb'd be after me again to-morrow, if I'd give him +encouragement," said Ruby. "If I'd hold up my finger he'd +come." + +<p>"Then John Crumb's a fool for his pains, that's all; and now do +you go about your work." Ruby didn't like to be told to go +about her work, and tossed her head, and slammed the kitchen door, +and scolded the servant girl, and then sat down to cry. What +was she to do with herself now? She had an idea that Felix +would not come back to her after the treatment he had +received;—and a further idea that if he did come he was not, as +she phrased it to herself, "of much account." She certainly +did not like him the better for having been beaten, though, at the +time, she had been disposed to take his part. She did not +believe that she would ever dance with him again. That had +been the charm of her life in London, and that was now all +over. And as for marrying her,—she began to feel certain +that he did not intend it. John Crumb was a big, awkward, +dull, uncouth lump of a man, with whom Ruby thought it impossible +that a girl should be in love. Love and John Crumb were poles +asunder. But—! Ruby did not like wheeling the +perambulator about Islington, and being told by her aunt Pipkin to +go about her work. What Ruby did like was being in love and +dancing; but if all that must come to an end, then there would be a +question whether she could not do better for herself, than by +staying with her aunt and wheeling the perambulator about +Islington. + +<p>Mrs Hurtle was still living in solitude in the lodgings, and +having but little to do on her own behalf, had devoted herself to +the interest of John Crumb. A man more unlike one of her own +countrymen she had never seen. "I wonder whether he has any +ideas at all in his head," she had said to Mrs Pipkin. Mrs +Pipkin had replied that Mr Crumb had certainly a very strong idea +of marrying Ruby Ruggles. Mrs Hurtle had smiled, thinking +that Mrs Pipkin was also very unlike her own countrywomen. +But she was very kind to Mrs Pipkin, ordering rice-puddings on +purpose that the children might eat them, and she was quite +determined to give John Crumb all the aid in her power. + +<p>In order that she might give effectual aid she took Mrs Pipkin +into confidence, and prepared a plan of action in reference to +Ruby. Mrs Pipkin was to appear as chief actor on the scene, +but the plan was altogether Mrs Hurtle's plan. On the day +following John's return to Bungay Mrs Pipkin summoned Ruby into the +back parlour, and thus addressed her. "Ruby, you know, this +must come to an end now." + +<p>"What must come to an end?" + +<p>"You can't stay here always, you know." + +<p>"I'm sure I work hard, Aunt Pipkin, and I don't get no wages." + +<p>"I can't do with more than one girl,—and there's the keep if +there isn't wages. Besides, there's other reasons. Your +grandfather won't have you back there; that's certain." + +<p>"I wouldn't go back to grandfather, if it was ever so." + +<p>"But you must go somewheres. You didn't come to stay here +always,—nor I couldn't have you. You must go into service." + +<p>"I don't know anybody as'd have me," said Ruby. + +<p>"You must put a 'vertisement into the paper. You'd better +say as nursemaid, as you seems to take kindly to children. +And I must give you a character;—only I shall say just the +truth. You mustn't ask much wages just at first." Ruby +looked very sorrowful, and the tears were near her eyes. The +change from the glories of the music hall was so startling and so +oppressive! "It has got to be done sooner or later, so you +may as well put the 'vertisement in this afternoon." + +<p>"You'r going to turn me out, Aunt Pipkin." + +<p>"Well;—if that's turning out, I am. You see you never +would be said by me as though I was your mistress. You would +go out with that rapscallion when I bid you not. Now when +you're in a regular place like, you must mind when you're spoke to, +and it will be best for you. You've had your swing, and now +you see you've got to pay for it. You must earn your bread, +Ruby, as you've quarrelled both with your lover and your +grandfather." + +<p>There was no possible answer to this, and therefore the +necessary notice was put into the paper,—Mrs Hurtle paying for its +insertion. "Because, you know," said Mrs Hurtle, "she must +stay here really, till Mr Crumb comes and takes her away." +Mrs Pipkin expressed her opinion that Ruby was a "baggage" and John +Crumb a "soft." Mrs Pipkin was perhaps a little jealous at +the interest which her lodger took in her niece, thinking perhaps +that all Mrs Hurtle's sympathies were due to herself. + +<p>Ruby went hither and thither for a day or two, calling upon the +mothers of children who wanted nursemaids. The answers which +she had received had not come from the highest members of the +aristocracy, and the houses which she visited did not appal her by +their splendour. Many objections were made to her. A +character from an aunt was objectionable. Her ringlets were +objectionable. She was a deal too flighty-looking. She +spoke up much too free. At last one happy mother of five +children offered to take her on approval for a month, at £12 +a year, Ruby to find her own tea and wash for herself. This +was slavery;—abject slavery. And she too, who had been the +beloved of a baronet, and who might even now be the mistress of a +better house than that into which she was to go as a servant,—if +she would only hold up her finger! But the place was +accepted, and with broken-hearted sobbings Ruby prepared herself +for her departure from Aunt Pipkin's roof. + +<p>"I hope you like your place, Ruby," Mrs Hurtle said on the +afternoon of her last day. + +<p>"Indeed then I don't like it at all. They're the ugliest +children you ever see, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"Ugly children must be minded as well as pretty ones." + +<p>"And the mother of 'em is as cross as cross." + +<p>"It's your own fault, Ruby; isn't it?" + +<p>"I don't know as I've done anything out of the way." + +<p>"Don't you think it's anything out of the way to be engaged to a +young man and then to throw him over? All this has come +because you wouldn't keep your word to Mr Crumb. Only for +that your grandfather wouldn't have turned you out of his house." + +<p>"He didn't turn me out. I ran away. And it wasn't +along of John Crumb, but because grandfather hauled me about by the +hair of my head." + +<p>"But he was angry with you about Mr Crumb. When a young +woman becomes engaged to a young man, she ought not to go back from +her word." No doubt Mrs Hurtle, when preaching this doctrine, +thought that the same law might be laid down with propriety for the +conduct of young men. "Of course you have brought trouble on +yourself. I am sorry you don't like the place. I'm +afraid you must go to it now." + +<p>"I am agoing,—I suppose," said Ruby, probably feeling that if +she could but bring herself to condescend so far there might yet be +open for her a way of escape. + +<p>"I shall write and tell Mr Crumb where you are placed." + +<p>"Oh, Mrs Hurtle, don't. What should you write to him +for? It ain't nothing to him." + +<p>"I told him I'd let him know if any steps were taken." + +<p>"You can forget that, Mrs Hurtle. Pray don't write. +I don't want him to know as I'm in service." + +<p>"I must keep my promise. Why shouldn't he know? I +don't suppose you care much now what he hears about you." + +<p>"Yes I do. I wasn't never in service before, and I don't +want him to know." + +<p>"What harm can it do you?" + +<p>"Well, I don't want him to know. It's such a come down, +Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"There is nothing to be ashamed of in that. What you have +to be ashamed of is jilting him. It was a bad thing to +do;—wasn't it, Ruby?" + +<p>"I didn't mean nothing bad, Mrs Hurtle; only why couldn't he say +what he had to say himself, instead of bringing another to say it +for him? What would you feel, Mrs Hurtle, if a man was to +come and say it all out of another man's mouth?" + +<p>"I don't think I should much care if the thing was well said at +last. You know he meant it." + +<p>"Yes;—I did know that." + +<p>"And you know he means it now?" + +<p>"I'm not so sure about that. He's gone back to Bungay, and +he isn't no good at writing letters no more than at speaking. +Oh,—he'll go and get somebody else now." + +<p>"Of course he will if he hears nothing about you. I think +I'd better tell him. I know what would happen." + +<p>"What would happen, Mrs Hurtle?" + +<p>"He'd be up in town again in half a jiffey to see what sort of a +place you'd got. Now, Ruby, I'll tell you what I'll do, if +you'll say the word. I'll have him up here at once and you +shan't go to Mrs Buggins'." Ruby dropped her hands and stood +still, staring at Mrs Hurtle. "I will. But if he comes +you mustn't behave this time as you did before." + +<p>"But I'm to go to Mrs Buggins' to-morrow." + +<p>"We'll send to Mrs Buggins and tell her to get somebody +else. You're breaking your heart about going there;—are you +not?" + +<p>"I don't like it, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"And this man will make you mistress of his house. You say +he isn't good at speaking; but I tell you I never came across an +honester man in the whole course of my life, or one who I think +would treat a woman better. What's the use of a glib tongue +if there isn't a heart with it? What's the use of a lot of +tinsel and lacker, if the real metal isn't there? Sir Felix +Carbury could talk, I dare say, but you don't think now he was a +very fine fellow." + +<p>"He was so beautiful, Mrs Hurtle!" + +<p>"But he hadn't the spirit of a mouse in his bosom. Well, +Ruby, you have one more choice left you. Shall it be John +Crumb or Mrs Buggins?" + +<p>"He wouldn't come, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"Leave that to me, Ruby. May I bring him if I can?" +Then Ruby in a very low whisper told Mrs Hurtle, that if she +thought proper she might bring John Crumb back again. "And +there shall be no more nonsense?" + +<p>"No," whispered Ruby. + +<p>On that same night a letter was sent to Mrs Buggins, which Mrs +Hurtle also composed, informing that lady that unforeseen +circumstances prevented Ruby Ruggles from keeping the engagement +she had made; to which a verbal answer was returned that Ruby +Ruggles was an impudent hussey. And then Mrs Hurtle in her +own name wrote a short note to Mr John Crumb. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR MR CRUMB,<br> +<br> + If you will come back to London I think you will find Miss Ruby +Ruggles all that you desire.<br> +<br> + Yours faithfully,<br> +<br> + WINIFRED HURTLE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>"She's had a deal more done for her than I ever knew to be done +for young women in my time," said Mrs Pipkin, "and I'm not at all +so sure that she has deserved it." + +<p>"John Crumb will think she has." + +<p>"John Crumb's a fool;—and as to Ruby; well, I haven't got no +patience with girls like them. Yes; it is for the best; and +as for you, Mrs Hurtle, there's no words to say how good you've +been. I hope, Mrs Hurtle, you ain't thinking of going away +because this is all done." +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="81"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXI. Mr Cohenlupe Leaves London</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Dolly Longestaffe had found himself compelled to go to Fetter +Lane immediately after that meeting in Bruton Street at which he +had consented to wait two days longer for the payment of his +money. This was on a Wednesday, the day appointed for the +payment being Friday. He had undertaken that, on his part, +Squercum should be made to desist from further immediate +proceedings, and he could only carry out his word by visiting +Squercum. The trouble to him was very great, but he began to +feel that he almost liked it. The excitement was nearly as +good as that of loo. Of course it was a "horrid bore,"—this +having to go about in cabs under the sweltering sun of a London +July day. Of course it was a "horrid bore,"—this doubt about +his money. And it went altogether against the grain with him +that he should be engaged in any matter respecting the family +property in agreement with his father and Mr Bideawhile. But +there was an importance in it that sustained him amidst his +troubles. It is said that if you were to take a man of +moderate parts and make him Prime Minister out of hand, he might +probably do as well as other Prime Ministers, the greatness of the +work elevating the man to its own level. In that way Dolly +was elevated to the level of a man of business, and felt and +enjoyed his own capacity. "By George!" It depended +chiefly upon him whether such a man as Melmotte should or should +not be charged before the Lord Mayor. "Perhaps I oughtn't to +have promised," he said to Squercum, sitting in the lawyer's office +on a high-legged stool with a cigar in his mouth. He +preferred Squercum to any other lawyer he had met because +Squercum's room was untidy and homely, because there was nothing +awful about it, and because he could sit in what position he +pleased, and smoke all the time. + +<p>"Well; I don't think you ought, if you ask me," said Squercum. + +<p>"You weren't there to be asked, old fellow." + +<p>"Bideawhile shouldn't have asked you to agree to anything in my +absence," said Squercum indignantly. "It was a very +unprofessional thing on his part, and so I shall take an +opportunity of telling him." + +<p>"It was you told me to go." + +<p>"Well;—yes. I wanted you to see what they were at in that +room; but I told you to look on and say nothing." + +<p>"I didn't speak half-a-dozen words." + +<p>"You shouldn't have spoken those words. Your father then +is quite clear that you did not sign the letter?" + +<p>"Oh, yes;—the governor is pig-headed, you know, but he's +honest." + +<p>"That's a matter of course," said the lawyer. "All men are +honest; but they are generally specially honest to their own +side. Bideawhile's honest; but you've got to fight him deuced +close to prevent his getting the better of you. Melmotte has +promised to pay the money on Friday, has he?" + +<p>"He's to bring it with him to Bruton Street." + +<p>"I don't believe a word of it;—and I'm sure Bideawhile +doesn't. In what shape will he bring it? He'll give you +a cheque dated on Monday, and that'll give him two days more, and +then on Monday there'll be a note to say the money can't be lodged +till Wednesday. There should be no compromising with such a +man. You only get from one mess into another. I told +you neither to do anything or to say anything." + +<p>"I suppose we can't help ourselves now. You're to be there +on Friday. I particularly bargained for that. It you're +there, there won't be any more compromising." + +<p>Squercum made one or two further remarks to his client, not at +all flattering to Dolly's vanity,—which might have caused offence +had not there been such perfectly good feeling between the attorney +and the young man. As it was, Dolly replied to everything +that was said with increased flattery. "If I was a sharp +fellow like you, you know," said Dolly, "of course I should get +along better; but I ain't, you know." It was then settled +that they should meet each other, and also meet Mr Longestaffe +senior, Bideawhile, and Melmotte, at twelve o'clock on Friday +morning in Bruton Street. + +<p>Squercum was by no means satisfied. He had busied himself +in this matter, and had ferreted things out, till he had pretty +nearly got to the bottom of that affair about the houses in the +East, and had managed to induce the heirs of the old man who had +died to employ him. As to the Pickering property he had not a +doubt on the subject. Old Longestaffe had been induced by +promises of wonderful aid and by the bribe of a seat at the Board +of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway to give up the +title-deeds of the property,—as far as it was in his power to give +them up; and had endeavoured to induce Dolly to do so also. +As he had failed, Melmotte had supplemented his work by ingenuity, +with which the reader is acquainted. All this was perfectly +clear to Squercum, who thought that he saw before him a most +attractive course of proceeding against the Great Financier. +It was pure ambition rather than any hope of lucre that urged him +on. He regarded Melmotte as a grand swindler,—perhaps the +grandest that the world had ever known,—and he could conceive no +greater honour than the detection, successful prosecution, and +ultimate destroying of so great a man. To have hunted down +Melmotte would make Squercum as great almost as Melmotte +himself. But he felt himself to have been unfairly hampered +by his own client. He did not believe that the money would be +paid; but delay might rob him of his Melmotte. He had heard a +good many things in the City, and believed it to be quite out of +the question that Melmotte should raise the money,—but there were +various ways in which a man might escape. + +<p>It may be remembered that Croll, the German clerk, preceded +Melmotte into the City on Wednesday after Marie's refusal to sign +the deeds. He, too, had his eyes open, and had perceived that +things were not looking as well as they used to look. Croll +had for many years been true to his patron, having been, upon the +whole, very well paid for such truth. There had been times +when things had gone badly with him, but he had believed in +Melmotte, and, when Melmotte rose, had been rewarded for his +faith. Mr Croll at the present time had little investments of +his own, not made under his employer's auspices, which would leave +him not absolutely without bread for his family should the Melmotte +affairs at any time take an awkward turn. Melmotte had never +required from him service that was actually fraudulent,—had at any +rate never required it by spoken words. Mr Croll had not been +over-scrupulous, and had occasionally been very useful to Mr +Melmotte. But there must be a limit to all things; and why +should any man sacrifice himself beneath the ruins of a falling +house,—when convinced that nothing he can do can prevent the +fall? Mr Croll would have been of course happy to witness +Miss Melmotte's signature; but as for that other kind of +witnessing,—this clearly to his thinking was not the time for such +good-nature on his part. + +<p>"You know what's up now;—don't you?" said one of the junior +clerks to Mr Croll when he entered the office in Abchurch Lane. + +<p>"A good deal will be up soon," said the German. + +<p>"Cohenlupe has gone!" + +<p>"And to vere has Mr Cohenlupe gone?" + +<p>"He hasn't been civil enough to leave his address. I fancy +he don't want his friends to have to trouble themselves by writing +to him. Nobody seems to know what's become of him." + +<p>"New York," suggested Mr Croll. + +<p>"They seem to think not. They're too hospitable in New +York for Mr Cohenlupe just at present. He's travelling +private. He's on the continent somewhere,—half across France +by this time; but nobody knows what route he has taken. +That'll be a poke in the ribs for the old boy;—eh, Croll?" +Croll merely shook his head. "I wonder what has become of +Miles Grendall," continued the clerk. + +<p>"Ven de rats is going avay it is bad for de house. I like +de rats to stay." + +<p>"There seems to have been a regular manufactory of Mexican +Railway scrip." + +<p>"Our governor knew noding about dat," said Croll. + +<p>"He has a hat full of them at any rate. If they could have +been kept up another fortnight they say Cohenlupe would have been +worth nearly a million of money, and the governor would have been +as good as the bank. Is it true they are going to have him +before the Lord Mayor about the Pickering title-deeds?" Croll +declared that he knew nothing about the matter, and settled himself +down to his work. + +<p>In little more than two hours he was followed by Melmotte, who +thus reached the City late in the afternoon. It was he knew +too late to raise the money on that day, but he hoped that he might +pave the way for getting it on the next day, which would be +Thursday. Of course the first news which he heard was of the +defection of Mr Cohenlupe. It was Croll who told him. +He turned back, and his jaw fell, but at first he said nothing. + +<p>"It's a bad thing," said Mr Croll. + +<p>"Yes;—it is bad. He had a vast amount of my property in +his hands. Where has he gone?" Croll shook his +head. "It never rains but it pours," said Melmotte. +"Well; I'll weather it all yet. I've been worse than I am +now, Croll, as you know, and have had a hundred thousand pounds at +my banker's,—loose cash,—before the month was out." + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Croll. + +<p>"But the worst of it is that every one around me is so damnably +jealous. It isn't what I've lost that will crush me, but what +men will say that I've lost. Ever since I began to stand for +Westminster there has been a dead set against me in the City. +The whole of that affair of the dinner was planned,—planned, by +G––––, that it might ruin me. It was +all laid out just as you would lay the foundation of a +building. It is hard for one man to stand against all that +when he has dealings so large as mine." + +<p>"Very hard, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"But they'll find they're mistaken yet. There's too much +of the real stuff, Croll, for them to crush me. Property's a +kind of thing that comes out right at last. It's cut and come +again, you know, if the stuff is really there. But I mustn't +stop talking here. I suppose I shall find Brehgert in +Cuthbert's Court." + +<p>"I should say so, Mr Melmotte. Mr Brehgert never leaves +much before six." + +<p>Then Mr Melmotte took his hat and gloves, and the stick that he +usually carried, and went out with his face carefully dressed in +its usually jaunty air. But Croll as he went heard him mutter +the name of Cohenlupe between his teeth. The part which he +had to act is one very difficult to any actor. The carrying +an external look of indifference when the heart is sinking +within,—or has sunk almost to the very ground,—is more than +difficult; it is an agonizing task. In all mental suffering +the sufferer longs for solitude,—for permission to cast himself +loose along the ground, so that every limb and every feature of his +person may faint in sympathy with his heart. A grandly urbane +deportment over a crushed spirit and ruined hopes is beyond the +physical strength of most men;—but there have been men so +strong. Melmotte very nearly accomplished it. It was +only to the eyes of such a one as Herr Croll that the failure was +perceptible. + +<p>Melmotte did find Mr Brehgert. At this time Mr Brehgert +had completed his correspondence with Miss Longestaffe, in which he +had mentioned the probability of great losses from the anticipated +commercial failure in Mr Melmotte's affairs. He had now heard +that Mr Cohenlupe had gone upon his travels, and was therefore +nearly sure that his anticipation would be correct. +Nevertheless, he received his old friend with a smile. When +large sums of money are concerned there is seldom much of personal +indignation between man and man. The loss of fifty pounds or +of a few hundreds may create personal wrath;—but fifty thousand +require equanimity. "So Cohenlupe hasn't been seen in the +City to-day," said Brehgert. + +<p>"He has gone," said Melmotte hoarsely. + +<p>"I think I once told you that Cohenlupe was not the man for +large dealings." + +<p>"Yes, you did," said Melmotte. + +<p>"Well;—it can't be helped; can it? And what is it +now?" Then Melmotte explained to Mr Brehgert what it was that +he wanted then, taking the various documents out of the bag which +throughout the afternoon he had carried in his hand. Mr +Brehgert understood enough of his friend's affairs, and enough of +affairs in general, to understand readily all that was +required. He examined the documents, declaring, as he did so, +that he did not know how the thing could be arranged by +Friday. Melmotte replied that £50,000 was not a very +large sum of money, that the security offered was worth twice as +much as that. "You will leave them with me this evening," +said Brehgert. Melmotte paused for a moment, and said that he +would of course do so. He would have given much, very much, +to have been sufficiently master of himself to have assented +without hesitation;—but then the weight within was so very heavy! + +<p>Having left the papers and the bag with Mr Brehgert, he walked +westwards to the House of Commons. He was accustomed to +remain in the City later than this, often not leaving it till +seven,—though during the last week or ten days he had occasionally +gone down to the House in the afternoon. It was now +Wednesday, and there was no evening sitting;—but his mind was too +full of other things to allow him to remember this. As he +walked along the Embankment, his thoughts were very heavy. +How would things go with him?—What would be the end of +it? Ruin;—yes, but there were worse things than ruin. +And a short time since he had been so fortunate;—had made himself +so safe! As he looked back at it, he could hardly say how it +had come to pass that he had been driven out of the track that he +had laid down for himself. He had known that ruin would come, +and had made himself so comfortably safe, so brilliantly safe, in +spite of ruin. But insane ambition had driven him away from +his anchorage. He told himself over and over again that the +fault had been not in circumstances,—not in that which men call +Fortune,—but in his own incapacity to bear his position. He +saw it now. He felt it now. If he could only begin +again, how different would his conduct be! + +<p>But of what avail were such regrets as these? He must take +things as they were now, and see that, in dealing with them, he +allowed himself to be carried away neither by pride nor +cowardice. And if the worst should come to the worst, then +let him face it like a man! There was a certain manliness +about him which showed itself perhaps as strongly in his own +self-condemnation as in any other part of his conduct at this +time. Judging of himself, as though he were standing outside +himself and looking on to another man's work, he pointed out to +himself his own shortcomings. If it were all to be done again +he thought that he could avoid this bump against the rocks on one +side, and that terribly shattering blow on the other. There +was much that he was ashamed of,—many a little act which recurred +to him vividly in this solitary hour as a thing to be repented of +with inner sackcloth and ashes. But never once, not for a +moment, did it occur to him that he should repent of the fraud in +which his whole life had been passed. No idea ever crossed +his mind of what might have been the result had he lived the life +of an honest man. Though he was inquiring into himself as +closely as he could, he never even told himself that he had been +dishonest. Fraud and dishonesty had been the very principle +of his life, and had so become a part of his blood and bones that +even in this extremity of his misery he made no question within +himself as to his right judgment in regard to them. Not to +cheat, not to be a scoundrel, not to live more luxuriously than +others by cheating more brilliantly, was a condition of things to +which his mind had never turned itself. In that respect he +accused himself of no want of judgment. But why had he, so +unrighteous himself, not made friends to himself of the Mammon of +unrighteousness? Why had he not conciliated Lord +Mayors? Why had he trod upon all the corns of all his +neighbours? Why had he been insolent at the India +Office? Why had he trusted any man as he had trusted +Cohenlupe? Why had he not stuck to Abchurch Lane instead of +going into Parliament? Why had he called down unnecessary +notice on his head by entertaining the Emperor of China? It +was too late now, and he must bear it; but these were the things +that had ruined him. + +<p>He walked into Palace Yard and across it, to the door of +Westminster Abbey, before he found out that Parliament was not +sitting. "Oh, Wednesday! Of course it is," he said, +turning round and directing his steps towards Grosvenor +Square. Then he remembered that in the morning he had +declared his purpose of dining at home, and now he did not know +what better use to make of the present evening. His house +could hardly be very comfortable to him. Marie no doubt would +keep out of his way, and he did not habitually receive much +pleasure from his wife's company. But in his own house he +could at least be alone. Then, as he walked slowly across the +park, thinking so intently on matters as hardly to observe whether +he himself were observed or no, he asked himself whether it still +might not be best for him to keep the money which was settled on +his daughter, to tell the Longestaffes that he could make no +payment, and to face the worst that Mr Squercum could do to +him,—for he knew already how busy Mr Squercum was in the +matter. Though they should put him on his trial for forgery, +what of that? He had heard of trials in which the accused +criminals had been heroes to the multitude while their cases were +in progress,—who had been fêted from the beginning to the end +though no one had doubted their guilt,—and who had come out +unscathed at the last. What evidence had they against +him? It might be that the Longestaffes and Bideawhiles and +Squercums should know that he was a forger, but their knowledge +would not produce a verdict. He, as member for Westminster, +as the man who had entertained the Emperor, as the owner of one of +the most gorgeous houses in London, as the great Melmotte, could +certainly command the best half of the bar. He already felt +what popular support might do for him. Surely there need be +no despondency while so good a hope remained to him! He did +tremble as he remembered Dolly Longestaffe's letter, and the letter +of the old man who was dead. And he knew that it was possible +that other things might be adduced; but would it not be better to +face it all than surrender his money and become a pauper, seeing, +as he did very clearly, that even by such surrender he could not +cleanse his character? + +<p>But he had given those forged documents into the hands of Mr +Brehgert! Again he had acted in a hurry,—without giving +sufficient thought to the matter in hand. He was angry with +himself for that also. But how is a man to give sufficient +thought to his affairs when no step that he takes can be other than +ruinous? Yes;—he had certainly put into Brehgert's hands +means of proving him to have been absolutely guilty of +forgery. He did not think that Marie would disclaim the +signatures, even though she had refused to sign the deeds, when she +should understand that her father had written her name; nor did he +think that his clerk would be urgent against him, as the forgery of +Croll's name could not injure Croll. But Brehgert, should he +discover what had been done, would certainly not permit him to +escape. And now he had put these forgeries without any guard +into Brehgert's hands. + +<p>He would tell Brehgert in the morning that he had changed his +mind. He would see Brehgert before any action could have been +taken on the documents, and Brehgert would no doubt restore them to +him. Then he would instruct his daughter to hold the money +fast, to sign no paper that should be put before her, and to draw +the income herself. Having done that, he would let his foes +do their worst. They might drag him to gaol. They +probably would do so. He had an idea that he could not be +admitted to bail if accused of forgery. But he would bear all +that. If convicted he would bear the punishment, still hoping +that an end might come. But how great was the chance that +they might fail to convict him! As to the dead man's letter, +and as to Dolly Longestaffe's letter, he did not think that any +sufficient evidence could be found. The evidence as to the +deeds by which Marie was to have released the property was indeed +conclusive; but he believed that he might still recover those +documents. For the present it must be his duty to do +nothing,— when he should have recovered and destroyed those +documents,—and to live before the eyes of men as though he feared +nothing. + +<p>He dined at home alone, in the study, and after dinner carefully +went through various bundles of papers, preparing them for the eyes +of those ministers of the law who would probably before long have +the privilege of searching them. At dinner, and while he was +thus employed, he drank a bottle of champagne,—feeling himself +greatly comforted by the process. If he could only hold up +his head and look men in the face, he thought that he might still +live through it all. How much had he done by his own +unassisted powers! He had once been imprisoned for fraud at +Hamburg, and had come out of gaol a pauper; friendless, with all +his wretched antecedents against him. Now he was a member of +the British House of Parliament, the undoubted owner of perhaps the +most gorgeously furnished house in London, a man with an +established character for high finance,—a commercial giant whose +name was a familiar word on all the exchanges of the two +hemispheres. Even though he should be condemned to penal +servitude for life, he would not all die. He rang the bell +and desired that Madame Melmotte might be sent to him, and bade the +servant bring him brandy. + +<p>In ten minutes his poor wife came crawling into the room. +Every one connected with Melmotte regarded the man with a certain +amount of awe,—every one except Marie, to whom alone he had at +times been himself almost gentle. The servants all feared +him, and his wife obeyed him implicitly when she could not keep +away from him. She came in now and stood opposite him, while +he spoke to her. She never sat in his presence in that +room. He asked her where she and Marie kept their +jewelry;—for during the last twelve months rich trinkets had been +supplied to both of them. Of course she answered by another +question. "Is anything going to happen, Melmotte?" + +<p>"A good deal is going to happen. Are they here in this +house, or in Grosvenor Square?" + +<p>"They are here." + +<p>"Then have them all packed up,—as small as you can; never mind +about wool and cases and all that. Have them close to your +hand so that if you have to move you can take them with you. +Do you understand?" + +<p>"Yes; I understand." + +<p>"Why don't you speak, then?" + +<p>"What is going to happen, Melmotte?" + +<p>"How can I tell? You ought to know by this time that when +a man's work is such as mine, things will happen. You'll be +safe enough. Nothing can hurt you." + +<p>"Can they hurt you, Melmotte?" + +<p>"Hurt me! I don't know what you call hurting. +Whatever there is to be borne, I suppose it is I must bear +it. I have not had it very soft all my life hitherto, and I +don't think it's going to be very soft now." + +<p>"Shall we have to move?" + +<p>"Very likely. Move! What's the harm of moving? +You talk of moving as though that were the worst thing that could +happen. How would you like to be in some place where they +wouldn't let you move?" + +<p>"Are they going to send you to prison?" + +<p>"Hold your tongue." + +<p>"Tell me, Melmotte;—are they going to?" Then the poor +woman did sit down, overcome by her feelings. + +<p>"I didn't ask you to come here for a scene," said +Melmotte. "Do as I bid you about your own jewels, and +Marie's. The thing is to have them in small compass, and that +you should not have it to do at the last moment, when you will be +flurried and incapable. Now you needn't stay any longer, and +it's no good asking any questions because I shan't answer +them." So dismissed, the poor woman crept out again, and +immediately, after her own slow fashion, went to work with her +ornaments. + +<p>Melmotte sat up during the greater part of the night, sometimes +sipping brandy and water, and sometimes smoking. But he did +no work, and hardly touched a paper after his wife left him. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="82"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXII. Marie's Perseverance</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Very early the next morning, very early that is for London life, +Melmotte was told by a servant that Mr Croll had called and wanted +to see him. Then it immediately became a question with him +whether he wanted to see Croll. "Is it anything special?" he +asked. The man thought that it was something special, as +Croll had declared his purpose of waiting when told that Mr +Melmotte was not as yet dressed. This happened at about nine +o'clock in the morning. Melmotte longed to know every detail +of Croll's manner,—to know even the servant's opinion of the +clerk's manner,—but he did not dare to ask a question. +Melmotte thought that it might be well to be gracious. "Ask +him if he has breakfasted, and if not give him something in the +study." But Mr Croll had breakfasted and declined any further +refreshment. + +<p>Nevertheless Melmotte had not as yet made up his mind that he +would meet his clerk. His clerk was his clerk. It might +perhaps be well that he should first go into the City and send word +to Croll, bidding him wait for his return. Over and over +again, against his will, the question of flying would present +itself to him; but, though he discussed it within his own bosom in +every form, he knew that he could not fly. And if he stood +his ground,—as most assuredly he would do,—then must he not be +afraid to meet any man, let the man come with what thunderbolts in +his hand he might. Of course sooner or later some man must +come with a thunderbolt,—and why not Croll as well as +another? He stood against a press in his chamber, with a +razor in his hand, and steadied himself. How easily might he +put an end to it all! Then he rang his bell and desired that +Croll might be shown up into his room. + +<p>The three or four minutes which intervened seemed to him to be +very long. He had absolutely forgotten in his anxiety that +the lather was still upon his face. But he could not smother +his anxiety. He was fighting with it at every turn, but he +could not conquer it. When the knock came at his door, he +grasped at his own breast as though to support himself. With +a hoarse voice he told the man to come in, and Croll himself +appeared, opening the door gently and very slowly. Melmotte +had left the bag which contained the papers in possession of Mr +Brehgert, and he now saw, at a glance, that Croll had got the bag +in his hand and could see also by the shape of the bag that the bag +contained the papers. The man therefore had in his own hands, +in his own keeping, the very documents to which his own name had +been forged! There was no longer a hope, no longer a chance +that Croll should be ignorant of what had been done. "Well, +Croll," he said with an attempt at a smile, "what brings you here +so early?" He was pale as death, and let him struggle as he +would, could not restrain himself from trembling. + +<p>"Herr Brehgert vas vid me last night," said Croll. + +<p>"Eh!" + +<p>"And he thought I had better bring these back to you. +That's all." Croll spoke in a very low voice, with his eyes +fixed on his master's face, but with nothing of a threat in his +attitude or manner. + +<p>"Eh!" repeated Melmotte. Even though he might have saved +himself from all coming evils by a bold demeanour at that moment, +he could not assume it. But it all flashed upon him at a +moment. Brehgert had seen Croll after he, Melmotte, had left +the City, had then discovered the forgery, and had taken this way +of sending back all the forged documents. He had known +Brehgert to be of all men who ever lived the most good-natured, but +he could hardly believe in pure good-nature such as this. It +seemed that the thunderbolt was not yet to fall. + +<p>"Mr Brehgert came to me," continued Croll, "because one +signature was wanting. It was very late, so I took them home +with me. I said I'd bring them to you in the morning." + +<p>They both knew that he had forged the documents, Brehgert and +Croll; but how would that concern him, Melmotte, if these two +friends had resolved together that they would not expose him? +He had desired to get the documents back into his own hands, and +here they were! Melmotte's immediate trouble arose from the +difficulty of speaking in a proper manner to his own servant who +had just detected him in forgery. He couldn't speak. +There were no words appropriate to such an occasion. "It vas +a strong order, Mr Melmotte," said Croll. Melmotte tried to +smile but only grinned. "I vill not be back in the Lane, Mr +Melmotte." + +<p>"Not back at the office, Croll?" + +<p>"I tink not;—no. De leetle money coming to me, you will +send it. Adieu." And so Mr Croll took his final leave +of his old master after an intercourse which had lasted twenty +years. We may imagine that Herr Croll found his spirits to be +oppressed and his capacity for business to be obliterated by his +patron's misfortunes rather than by his patron's guilt. But +he had not behaved unkindly. He had merely remarked that the +forgery of his own name half-a-dozen times over was a "strong +order." + +<p>Melmotte opened the bag, and examined the documents one by +one. It had been necessary that Marie should sign her name +some half-dozen times, and Marie's father had made all the +necessary forgeries. It had been of course necessary that +each name should be witnessed;—but here the forger had scamped his +work. Croll's name he had written five times; but one forged +signature he had left unattested! Again he had himself been +at fault. Again he had aided his own ruin by his own +carelessness. One seems inclined to think sometimes that any +fool might do an honest business. But fraud requires a man to +be alive and wide awake at every turn! + +<p>Melmotte had desired to have the documents back in his own +hands, and now he had them. Did it matter much that Brehgert +and Croll both knew the crime which he had committed? Had +they meant to take legal steps against him they would not have +returned the forgeries to his own hands. Brehgert, he +thought, would never tell the tale;—unless there should arise some +most improbable emergency in which he might make money by telling +it; but he was by no means so sure of Croll. Croll had +signified his intention of leaving Melmotte's service, and would +therefore probably enter some rival service, and thus become an +enemy to his late master. There could be no reason why Croll +should keep the secret. Even if he got no direct profit by +telling it, he would curry favour by making it known. Of +course Croll would tell it. + +<p>But what harm could the telling of such a secret do him? +The girl was his own daughter! The money had been his own +money! The man had been his own servant! There had been +no fraud; no robbery; no purpose of peculation. Melmotte, as +he thought of this, became almost proud of what he had done, +thinking that if the evidence were suppressed the knowledge of the +facts could do him no harm. But the evidence must be +suppressed, and with the view of suppressing it he took the little +bag and all the papers down with him to the study. Then he +ate his breakfast,—and suppressed the evidence by the aid of his +gas lamp. + +<p>When this was accomplished he hesitated as to the manner in +which he would pass his day. He had now given up all idea of +raising the money for Longestaffe. He had even considered the +language in which he would explain to the assembled gentlemen on +the morrow the fact that a little difficulty still presented +itself, and that as he could not exactly name a day, he must leave +the matter in their hands. For he had resolved that he would +not evade the meeting. Cohenlupe had gone since he had made +his promise, and he would throw all the blame on Cohenlupe. +Everybody knows that when panics arise the breaking of one merchant +causes the downfall of another. Cohenlupe should bear the +burden. But as that must be so, he could do no good by going +into the City. His pecuniary downfall had now become too much +a matter of certainty to be staved off by his presence; and his +personal security could hardly be assisted by it. There would +be nothing for him to do. Cohenlupe had gone. Miles +Grendall had gone. Croll had gone. He could hardly go +to Cuthbert's Court and face Mr Brehgert! He would stay at +home till it was time for him to go down to the House, and then he +would face the world there. He would dine down at the House, +and stand about in the smoking-room with his hat on, and be visible +in the lobbies, and take his seat among his brother +legislators,—and, if it were possible, rise on his legs and make a +speech to them. He was about to have a crushing fall,—but +the world should say that he had fallen like a man. + +<p>About eleven his daughter came to him as he sat in the +study. It can hardly be said that he had ever been kind to +Marie, but perhaps she was the only person who in the whole course +of his career had received indulgence at his hands. He had +often beaten her; but he had also often made her presents and +smiled on her, and in the periods of his opulence, had allowed her +pocket-money almost without limit. Now she had not only +disobeyed him, but by most perverse obstinacy on her part had +driven him to acts of forgery which had already been +detected. He had cause to be angry now with Marie if he had +ever had cause for anger. But he had almost forgotten the +transaction. He had at any rate forgotten the violence of his +own feelings at the time of its occurrence. He was no longer +anxious that the release should be made, and therefore no longer +angry with her for her refusal. + +<p>"Papa," she said, coming very gently into the room, "I think +that perhaps I was wrong yesterday." + +<p>"Of course you were wrong;—but it doesn't matter now." + +<p>"If you wish it I'll sign those papers. I don't suppose +Lord Nidderdale means to come any more;—and I'm sure I don't care +whether he does or not." + +<p>"What makes you think that, Marie?" + +<p>"I was out last night at Lady Julia Goldsheiner's, and he was +there. I'm sure he doesn't mean to come here any more." + +<p>"Was he uncivil to you?" + +<p>"Oh dear no. He's never uncivil. But I'm sure of +it. Never mind how. I never told him that I cared for +him and I never did care for him. Papa, is there something +going to happen?" + +<p>"What do you mean?" + +<p>"Some misfortune! Oh, papa, why didn't you let me marry +that other man?" + +<p>"He is a penniless adventurer." + +<p>"But he would have had this money that I call my money, and then +there would have been enough for us all. Papa, he would marry +me still if you would let him." + +<p>"Have you seen him since you went to Liverpool?" + +<p>"Never, papa." + +<p>"Or heard from him?" + +<p>"Not a line." + +<p>"Then what makes you think he would marry you?" + +<p>"He would if I got hold of him and told him. And he is a +baronet. And there would be plenty of money for us all. +And we could go and live in Germany." + +<p>"We could do that just as well without your marrying." + +<p>"But I suppose, papa, I am to be considered as somebody. I +don't want after all to run away from London, just as if everybody +had turned up their noses at me. I like him, and I don't like +anybody else." + +<p>"He wouldn't take the trouble to go to Liverpool with you." + +<p>"He got tipsy. I know all about that. I don't mean +to say that he's anything particularly grand. I don't know +that anybody is very grand. He's as good as anybody else." + +<p>"It can't be done, Marie." + +<p>"Why can't it be done?" + +<p>"There are a dozen reasons. Why should my money be given +up to him? And it is too late. There are other things +to be thought of now than marriage." + +<p>"You don't want me to sign the papers?" + +<p>"No;—I haven't got the papers. But I want you to remember +that the money is mine and not yours. It may be that much may +depend on you, and that I shall have to trust to you for nearly +everything. Do not let me find myself deceived by my +daughter." + +<p>"I won't,—if you'll let me see Sir Felix Carbury once more." + +<p>Then the father's pride again reasserted itself and he became +angry. "I tell you, you little fool, that it is out of the +question. Why cannot you believe me? Has your mother +spoken to you about your jewels? Get them packed up, so that +you can carry them away in your hand if we have to leave this +suddenly. You are an idiot to think of that young man. +As you say, I don't know that any of them are very good, but among +them all he is about the worst. Go away and do as I bid you." + +<p>That afternoon the page in Welbeck Street came up to Lady +Carbury and told her that there was a young lady downstairs who +wanted to see Sir Felix. At this time the dominion of Sir +Felix in his mother's house had been much curtailed. His +latch-key had been surreptitiously taken away from him, and all +messages brought for him reached his hands through those of his +mother. The plasters were not removed from his face, so that +he was still subject to that loss of self-assertion with which we +are told that hitherto dominant cocks become afflicted when they +have been daubed with mud. Lady Carbury asked sundry +questions about the lady, suspecting that Ruby Ruggles, of whom she +had heard, had come to seek her lover. The page could give no +special description, merely saying that the young lady wore a black +veil. Lady Carbury directed that the young lady should be +shown into her own presence,—and Marie Melmotte was ushered into +the room. "I dare say you don't remember me, Lady Carbury," +Marie said. "I am Marie Melmotte." + +<p>At first Lady Carbury had not recognized her visitor;—but she +did so before she replied. "Yes, Miss Melmotte, I remember +you." + +<p>"Yes;—I am Mr Melmotte's daughter. How is your son? +I hope he is better. They told me he had been horribly used +by a dreadful man in the street." + +<p>"Sit down, Miss Melmotte. He is getting better." Now +Lady Carbury had heard within the last two days from Mr Broune that +"it was all over" with Melmotte. Broune had declared his very +strong belief, his thorough conviction, that Melmotte had committed +various forgeries, that his speculations had gone so much against +him as to leave him a ruined man, and, in short, that the great +Melmotte bubble was on the very point of bursting. "Everybody +says that he'll be in gaol before a week is over." That was +the information which had reached Lady Carbury about the Melmottes +only on the previous evening. + +<p>"I want to see him," said Marie. Lady Carbury, hardly +knowing what answer to make, was silent for a while. "I +suppose he told you everything;—didn't he? You know that we +were to have been married? I loved him very much, and so I do +still. I am not ashamed of coming and telling you." + +<p>"I thought it was all off," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"I never said so. Does he say so? Your daughter came +to me and was very good to me. I do so love her. She +said that it was all over; but perhaps she was wrong. It +shan't be all over if he will be true." + +<p>Lady Carbury was taken greatly by surprise. It seemed to +her at the moment that this young lady, knowing that her own father +was ruined, was looking out for another home, and was doing so with +a considerable amount of audacity. She gave Marie little +credit either for affection or for generosity; but yet she was +unwilling to answer her roughly. "I am afraid," she said, +"that it would not be suitable." + +<p>"Why should it not be suitable? They can't take my money +away. There is enough for all of us even if papa wanted to +live with us;—but it is mine. It is ever so much;—I don't +know how much, but a great deal. We should be quite rich +enough. I ain't a bit ashamed to come and tell you, because +we were engaged. I know he isn't rich, and I should have +thought it would be suitable." + +<p>It then occurred to Lady Carbury that if this were true the +marriage after all might be suitable. But how was she to find +out whether it was true? "I understand that your papa is +opposed to it," she said. + +<p>"Yes, he is;—but papa can't prevent me, and papa can't make me +give up the money. It's ever so many thousands a year, I +know. If I can dare to do it, why can't he?" + +<p>Lady Carbury was so beside herself with doubts, that she found +it impossible to form any decision. It would be necessary +that she should see Mr Broune. What to do with her son, how +to bestow him, in what way to get rid of him so that in ridding +herself of him she might not aid in destroying him,—this was the +great trouble of her life, the burden that was breaking her +back. Now this girl was not only willing but persistently +anxious to take her black sheep and to endow him,—as she +declared,—with ever so many thousands a year. If the +thousands were there,—or even an income of a single thousand a +year,—then what a blessing would such a marriage be! Sir +Felix had already fallen so low that his mother on his behalf would +not be justified in declining a connection with the Melmottes +because the Melmottes had fallen. To get any niche in the +world for him in which he might live with comparative safety would +now be to her a heaven-sent comfort. "My son is upstairs," +she said. "I will go up and speak to him." + +<p>"Tell him I am here and that I have said that I will forgive him +everything, and that I love him still, and that if he will be true +to me, I will be true to him." + +<p>"I couldn't go down to her," said Sir Felix, "with my face all +in this way." + +<p>"I don't think she would mind that." + +<p>"I couldn't do it. Besides, I don't believe about her +money. I never did believe it. That was the real reason +why I didn't go to Liverpool." + +<p>"I think I would see her if I were you, Felix. We could +find out to a certainty about her fortune. It is evident at +any rate that she is very fond of you." + +<p>"What's the use of that, if he is ruined?" He would not go +down to see the girl,—because he could not endure to expose his +face, and was ashamed of the wounds which he had received in the +street. As regarded the money he half-believed and +half-disbelieved Marie's story. But the fruition of the +money, if it were within his reach, would be far off and to be +attained with much trouble; whereas the nuisance of a scene with +Marie would be immediate. How could he kiss his future bride, +with his nose bound up with a bandage? + +<p>"What shall I say to her?" asked his mother. + +<p>"She oughtn't to have come. I should tell her just +that. You might send the maid to her to tell her that you +couldn't see her again." + +<p>But Lady Carbury could not treat the girl after that +fashion. She returned to the drawing-room, descending the +stairs very slowly, and thinking what answer she would make. +"Miss Melmotte," she said, "my son feels that everything has been +so changed since he and you last met, that nothing can be gained by +a renewal of your acquaintance." + +<p>"That is his message;—is it?" Lady Carbury remained +silent. "Then he is indeed all that they have told me; and I +am ashamed that I should have loved him. I am ashamed;—not +of coming here, although you will think that I have run after +him. I don't see why a girl should not run after a man if +they have been engaged together. But I'm ashamed of thinking +so much of so mean a person. Goodbye, Lady Carbury." + +<p>"Good-bye, Miss Melmotte. I don't think you should be +angry with me." + +<p>"No;—no. I am not angry with you. You can forget me +now as soon as you please, and I will try to forget him." + +<p>Then with a rapid step she walked back to Bruton Street, going +round by Grosvenor Square and in front of her old house on the +way. What should she now do with herself? What sort of +life should she endeavour to prepare for herself? The life +that she had led for the last year had been thoroughly +wretched. The poverty and hardship which she remembered in +her early days had been more endurable. The servitude to +which she had been subjected before she had learned by intercourse +with the world to assert herself, had been preferable. In +these days of her grandeur, in which she had danced with princes, +and seen an emperor in her father's house, and been affianced to +lords, she had encountered degradation which had been abominable to +her. She had really loved;—but had found out that her golden +idol was made of the basest clay. She had then declared to +herself that bad as the clay was she would still love it;—but even +the clay had turned away from her and had refused her love! + +<p>She was well aware that some catastrophe was about to happen to +her father. Catastrophes had happened before, and she had +been conscious of their coming. But now the blow would be a +very heavy blow. They would again be driven to pack up and +move and seek some other city,—probably in some very distant +part. But go where she might, she would now be her own +mistress. That was the one resolution she succeeded in +forming before she re-entered the house in Bruton Street. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="83"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIII. Melmotte Again at the House</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>On that Thursday afternoon it was known everywhere that there +was to be a general ruin of all the Melmotte affairs. As soon +as Cohenlupe had gone, no man doubted. The City men who had +not gone to the dinner prided themselves on their foresight, as did +also the politicians who had declined to meet the Emperor of China +at the table of the suspected Financier. They who had got up +the dinner and had been instrumental in taking the Emperor to the +house in Grosvenor Square, and they also who had brought him +forward at Westminster and had fought his battle for him, were +aware that they would have to defend themselves against heavy +attacks. No one now had a word to say in his favour, or a +doubt as to his guilt. The Grendalls had retired altogether +out of town, and were no longer even heard of. Lord Alfred +had not been seen since the day of the dinner. The Duchess of +Albury, too, went into the country some weeks earlier than usual, +quelled, as the world said, by the general Melmotte failure. +But this departure had not as yet taken place at the time at which +we have now arrived. + +<p>When the Speaker took his seat in the House, soon after four +o'clock, there were a great many members present, and a general +feeling prevailed that the world was more than ordinarily alive +because of Melmotte and his failures. It had been confidently +asserted throughout the morning that he would be put upon his trial +for forgery in reference to the purchase of the Pickering property +from Mr Longestaffe, and it was known that he had not as yet shown +himself anywhere on this day. People had gone to look at the +house in Grosvenor Square,—not knowing that he was still living in +Mr Longestaffe's house in Bruton Street, and had come away with the +impression that the desolation of ruin and crime was already +plainly to be seen upon it. "I wonder where he is," said Mr +Lupton to Mr Beauchamp Beauclerk in one of the lobbies of the +House. + +<p>"They say he hasn't been in the City all day. I suppose +he's in Longestaffe's house. That poor fellow has got it +heavy all round. The man has got his place in the country and +his house in town. There's Nidderdale. I wonder what he +thinks about it all." + +<p>"This is awful;—ain't it?" said Nidderdale. + +<p>"It might have been worse, I should say, as far as you are +concerned," replied Mr Lupton. + +<p>"Well, yes. But I'll tell you what, Lupton. I don't +quite understand it all yet. Our lawyer said three days ago +that the money was certainly there." + +<p>"And Cohenlupe was certainly here three days ago," said +Lupton,—"but he isn't here now. It seems to me that it has +just happened in time for you." Lord Nidderdale shook his +head and tried to look very grave. + +<p>"There's Brown," said Sir Orlando Drought, hurrying up to the +commercial gentleman whose mistakes about finance Mr Melmotte on a +previous occasion had been anxious to correct. "He'll be able +to tell us where he is. It was rumoured, you know, an hour +ago, that he was off to the continent after Cohenlupe." But +Mr Brown shook his head. Mr Brown didn't know anything. +But Mr Brown was very strongly of opinion that the police would +know all that there was to be known about Mr Melmotte before this +time on the following day. Mr Brown had been very bitter +against Melmotte since that memorable attack made upon him in the +House. + +<p>Even ministers as they sat to be badgered by the ordinary +question-mongers of the day were more intent upon Melmotte than +upon their own defence. "Do you know anything about it?" +asked the Chancellor of the Exchequer of the Secretary of State for +the Home Department. + +<p>"I understand that no order has been given for his arrest. +There is a general opinion that he has committed forgery; but I +doubt whether they've got their evidence together." + +<p>"He's a ruined man, I suppose," said the Chancellor. "I +doubt whether he ever was a rich man. But I'll tell you +what;—he has been about the grandest rogue we've seen yet. +He must have spent over a hundred thousand pounds during the last +twelve months on his personal expenses. I wonder how the +Emperor will like it when he learns the truth." Another +minister sitting close to the Secretary of State was of opinion +that the Emperor of China would not care half so much about it as +our own First Lord of the Treasury. + +<p>At this moment there came a silence over the House which was +almost audible. They who know the sensation which arises from +the continued hum of many suppressed voices will know also how +plain to the ear is the feeling caused by the discontinuance of the +sound. Everybody looked up, but everybody looked up in +perfect silence. An Under-Secretary of State had just got +upon his legs to answer a most indignant question as to an +alteration of the colour of the facings of a certain regiment, his +prepared answer to which, however, was so happy as to allow him to +anticipate quite a little triumph. It is not often that such +a Godsend comes in the way of an under-secretary; and he was intent +upon his performance. But even he was startled into momentary +oblivion of his well-arranged point. Augustus Melmotte, the +member for Westminster, was walking up the centre of the House. + +<p>He had succeeded by this time in learning so much of the forms +of the House as to know what to do with his hat,—when to wear it, +and when to take it off,—and how to sit down. As he entered +by the door facing the Speaker, he wore his hat on the side of his +head, as was his custom. Much of the arrogance of his +appearance had come from this habit, which had been adopted +probably from a conviction that it added something to his powers of +self-assertion. At this moment he was more determined than +ever that no one should trace in his outer gait or in any feature +of his face any sign of that ruin which, as he well knew, all men +were anticipating. Therefore, perhaps, his hat was a little +more cocked than usual, and the lapels of his coat were thrown back +a little wider, displaying the large jewelled studs which he wore +in his shirt; and the arrogance conveyed by his mouth and chin was +specially conspicuous. He had come down in his brougham, and +as he had walked up Westminster Hall and entered the House by the +private door of the members, and then made his way in across the +great lobby and between the doorkeepers,—no one had spoken a word +to him. He had of course seen many whom he had known. +He had indeed known nearly all whom he had seen;—but he had been +aware, from the beginning of this enterprise of the day, that men +would shun him, and that he must bear their cold looks and colder +silence without seeming to notice them. He had schooled +himself to the task, and he was now performing it. It was not +only that he would have to move among men without being noticed, +but that he must endure to pass the whole evening in the same +plight. But he was resolved, and he was now doing it. +He bowed to the Speaker with more than usual courtesy, raising his +hat with more than usual care, and seated himself, as usual, on the +third opposition-bench, but with more than his usual fling. +He was a big man, who always endeavoured to make an effect by +deportment, and was therefore customarily conspicuous in his +movements. He was desirous now of being as he was always, +neither more nor less demonstrative;—but, as a matter of course, +he exceeded; and it seemed to those who looked at him that there +was a special impudence in the manner in which he walked up the +House and took his seat. The Under-Secretary of State, who +was on his legs, was struck almost dumb, and his morsel of wit +about the facings was lost to Parliament for ever. + +<p>That unfortunate young man, Lord Nidderdale, occupied the seat +next to that on which Melmotte had placed himself. It had so +happened three or four times since Melmotte had been in the House, +as the young lord, fully intending to marry the Financier's +daughter, had resolved that he would not be ashamed of his +father-in-law. He understood that countenance of the sort +which he as a young aristocrat could give to the man of millions +who had risen no one knew whence, was part of the bargain in +reference to the marriage, and he was gifted with a mingled honesty +and courage which together made him willing and able to carry out +his idea. He had given Melmotte little lessons as to ordinary +forms of the House, and had done what in him lay to earn the money +which was to be forthcoming. But it had become manifest both +to him and to his father during the last two days,—very painfully +manifest to his father,—that the thing must be abandoned. +And if so,—then why should he be any longer gracious to +Melmotte? And, moreover, though he had been ready to be +courteous to a very vulgar and a very disagreeable man, he was not +anxious to extend his civilities to one who, as he was now assured, +had been certainly guilty of forgery. But to get up at once +and leave his seat because Melmotte had placed himself by his side, +did not suit the turn of his mind. He looked round to his +neighbour on the right with a half-comic look of misery, and then +prepared himself to bear his punishment, whatever it might be. + +<p>"Have you been up with Marie to-day?" said Melmotte. + +<p>"No;—I've not," replied the lord. + +<p>"Why don't you go? She's always asking about you +now. I hope we shall be in our own house again next week, and +then we shall be able to make you comfortable." + +<p>Could it be possible that the man did not know that all the +world was united in accusing him of forgery? "I'll tell you +what it is," said Nidderdale. "I think you had better see my +governor again, Mr Melmotte." + +<p>"There's nothing wrong, I hope." + +<p>"Well;—I don't know. You'd better see him. I'm +going now. I only just came down to enter an +appearance." He had to cross Melmotte on his way out, and as +he did so Melmotte grasped him by the hand. "Good night, my +boy," said Melmotte quite aloud,—in a voice much louder than that +which members generally allow themselves for conversation. +Nidderdale was confused and unhappy; but there was probably not a +man in the House who did not understand the whole thing. He +rushed down through the gangway and out through the doors with a +hurried step, and as he escaped into the lobby he met Lionel +Lupton, who, since his little conversation with Mr Beauclerk, had +heard further news. + +<p>"You know what has happened, Nidderdale?" + +<p>"About Melmotte, you mean?" + +<p>"Yes, about Melmotte," continued Lupton. "He has been +arrested in his own house within the last half-hour on a charge of +forgery." + +<p>"I wish he had," said Nidderdale, "with all my heart. If +you go in you'll find him sitting there as large as life. He +has been talking to me as though everything were all right." + +<p>"Compton was here not a moment ago, and said that he had been +taken under a warrant from the Lord Mayor." + +<p>"The Lord Mayor is a member and had better come and fetch his +prisoner himself. At any rate he's there. I shouldn't +wonder if he wasn't on his legs before long." + +<p>Melmotte kept his seat steadily till seven, at which hour the +House adjourned till nine. He was one of the last to leave, +and then with a slow step,—with almost majestic steps,—he +descended to the dining-room and ordered his dinner. There +were many men there, and some little difficulty about a seat. +No one was very willing to make room for him. But at last he +secured a place, almost jostling some unfortunate who was there +before him. It was impossible to expel him,—almost as +impossible to sit next him. Even the waiters were unwilling +to serve him;—but with patience and endurance he did at last get +his dinner. He was there in his right, as a member of the +House of Commons, and there was no ground on which such service as +he required could be refused to him. It was not long before +he had the table all to himself. But of this he took no +apparent notice. He spoke loudly to the waiters and drank his +bottle of champagne with much apparent enjoyment. Since his +friendly intercourse with Nidderdale no one had spoken to him, nor +had he spoken to any man. They who watched him declared among +themselves that he was happy in his own audacity;—but in truth he +was probably at that moment the most utterly wretched man in +London. He would have better studied his personal comfort had +he gone to his bed, and spent his evening in groans and +wailings. But even he, with all the world now gone from him, +with nothing before him but the extremest misery which the +indignation of offended laws could inflict, was able to spend the +last moments of his freedom in making a reputation at any rate for +audacity. It was thus that Augustus Melmotte wrapped his toga +around him before his death! + +<p>He went from the dining-room to the smoking-room, and there, +taking from his pocket a huge case which he always carried, +proceeded to light a cigar about eight inches long. Mr Brown, +from the City, was in the room, and Melmotte, with a smile and a +bow, offered Mr Brown one of the same. Mr Brown was a short, +fat, round little man, over sixty, who was always endeavouring to +give to a somewhat commonplace set of features an air of importance +by the contraction of his lips and the knitting of his brows. +It was as good as a play to see Mr Brown jumping back from any +contact with the wicked one, and putting on a double frown as he +looked at the impudent sinner. "You needn't think so much, +you know, of what I said the other night. I didn't mean any +offence." So spoke Melmotte, and then laughed with a loud, +hoarse laugh, looking round upon the assembled crowd as though he +were enjoying his triumph. + +<p>He sat after that and smoked in silence. Once again he +burst out into a laugh, as though peculiarly amused with his own +thoughts;—as though he were declaring to himself with much inward +humour that all these men around him were fools for believing the +stories which they had heard; but he made no further attempt to +speak to any one. Soon after nine he went back again into the +House, and again took his old place. At this time he had +swallowed three glasses of brandy and water, as well as the +champagne, and was brave enough almost for anything. There +was some debate going on in reference to the game laws,—a subject +on which Melmotte was as ignorant as one of his housemaids,—but, +as some speaker sat down, he jumped up to his legs. Another +gentleman had also risen, and when the House called to that other +gentleman Melmotte gave way. The other gentleman had not much +to say, and in a few minutes Melmotte was again on his legs. +Who shall dare to describe the thoughts which would cross the +august mind of a Speaker of the House of Commons at such a +moment? Of Melmotte's villainy he had no official +knowledge. And even could he have had such knowledge it was +not for him to act upon it. The man was a member of the +House, and as much entitled to speak as another. But it +seemed on that occasion that the Speaker was anxious to save the +House from disgrace;—for twice and thrice he refused to have his +"eye caught" by the member for Westminster. As long as any +other member would rise he would not have his eye caught. But +Melmotte was persistent, and determined not to be put down. +At last no one else would speak, and the House was about to +negative the motion without a division,—when Melmotte was again on +his legs, still persisting. The Speaker scowled at him and +leaned back in his chair. Melmotte standing erect, turning +his head round from one side of the House to another, as though +determined that all should see his audacity, propping himself with +his knees against the seat before him, remained for half a minute +perfectly silent. He was drunk,—but better able than most +drunken men to steady himself, and showing in his face none of +those outward signs of intoxication by which drunkenness is +generally made apparent. But he had forgotten in his audacity +that words are needed for the making of a speech, and now he had +not a word at his command. He stumbled forward, recovered +himself, then looked once more round the House with a glance of +anger, and after that toppled headlong over the shoulders of Mr +Beauchamp Beauclerk, who was sitting in front of him. + +<p>He might have wrapped his toga around him better perhaps had he +remained at home, but if to have himself talked about was his only +object, he could hardly have taken a surer course. The scene, +as it occurred, was one very likely to be remembered when the +performer should have been carried away into enforced +obscurity. There was much commotion in the House. Mr +Beauclerk, a man of natural good nature, though at the moment put +to considerable personal inconvenience, hastened, when he recovered +his own equilibrium, to assist the drunken man. But Melmotte +had by no means lost the power of helping himself. He quickly +recovered his legs, and then reseating himself, put his hat on, and +endeavoured to look as though nothing special had occurred. +The House resumed its business, taking no further notice of +Melmotte, and having no special rule of its own as to the treatment +to be adopted with drunken members. But the member for +Westminster caused no further inconvenience. He remained in +his seat for perhaps ten minutes, and then, not with a very steady +step, but still with capacity sufficient for his own guidance, he +made his way down to the doors. His exit was watched in +silence, and the moment was an anxious one for the Speaker, the +clerks, and all who were near him. Had he fallen some +one,—or rather some two or three,—must have picked him up and +carried him out. But he did not fall either there or in the +lobbies, or on his way down to Palace Yard. Many were looking +at him, but none touched him. When he had got through the +gates, leaning against the wall he hallooed for his brougham, and +the servant who was waiting for him soon took him home to Bruton +Street. That was the last which the British Parliament saw of +its new member for Westminster. + +<p>Melmotte as soon as he reached home got into his own +sitting-room without difficulty, and called for more brandy and +water. Between eleven and twelve he was left there by his +servant with a bottle of brandy, three or four bottles of +soda-water, and his cigar-case. Neither of the ladies of the +family came to him, nor did he speak of them. Nor was he so +drunk then as to give rise to any suspicion in the mind of the +servant. He was habitually left there at night, and the +servant as usual went to his bed. But at nine o'clock on the +following morning the maid-servant found him dead upon the +floor. Drunk as he had been,—more drunk as he probably +became during the night,—still he was able to deliver himself from +the indignities and penalties to which the law might have subjected +him by a dose of prussic acid. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="84"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIV. Paul Montague's Vindication</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It is hoped that the reader need hardly be informed that Hetta +Carbury was a very miserable young woman as soon as she decided +that duty compelled her to divide herself altogether from Paul +Montague. I think that she was irrational; but to her it +seemed that the offence against herself,—the offence against her +own dignity as a woman,—was too great to be forgiven. There +can be no doubt that it would all have been forgiven with the +greatest ease had Paul told the story before it had reached her +ears from any other source. Had he said to her,—when her +heart was softest towards him,—I once loved another woman, and +that woman is here now in London, a trouble to me, persecuting me, +and her history is so and so, and the history of my love for her +was after this fashion, and the history of my declining love is +after that fashion, and of this at any rate you may be sure, that +this woman has never been near my heart from the first moment in +which I saw you;—had he told it to her thus, there would not have +been an opening for anger. And he doubtless would have so +told it, had not Hetta's brother interfered too quickly. He +was then forced to exculpate himself, to confess rather than to +tell his own story,—and to admit facts which wore the air of +having been concealed, and which had already been conceived to be +altogether damning if true. It was that journey to +Lowestoft, not yet a month old, which did the mischief,—a journey +as to which Hetta was not slow in understanding all that Roger +Carbury had thought about it, though Roger would say nothing of it +to herself. Paul had been staying at the seaside with this +woman in amicable intimacy,—this horrid woman,—in intimacy worse +than amicable, and had been visiting her daily at Islington! +Hetta felt quite sure that he had never passed a day without going +there since the arrival of the woman; and everybody would know what +that meant. And during this very hour he had been,—well, +perhaps not exactly making love to herself, but looking at her and +talking to her, and behaving to her in a manner such as could not +but make her understand that he intended to make love to her. +Of course they had really understood it, since they had met at +Madame Melmotte's first ball, when she had made a plea that she +could not allow herself to dance with him more than,—say +half-a-dozen times. Of course she had not intended him then +to know that she would receive his love with favour, but equally of +course she had known that he must so feel it. She had not +only told herself, but had told her mother, that her heart was +given away to this man; and yet the man during this very time was +spending his hours with a—woman, with a strange American woman, to +whom he acknowledged that he had been once engaged. How could +she not quarrel with him? How could she refrain from telling +him that everything must be over between them? Everybody was +against him,—her mother, her brother, and her cousin: and she felt +that she had not a word to say in his defence. A horrid +woman! A wretched, bad, bold American intriguing woman! +It was terrible to her that a friend of hers should ever have +attached himself to such a creature;—but that he should have come +to her with a second tale of love long, long before he had cleared +himself from the first;—perhaps with no intention of clearing +himself from the first! Of course she could not forgive +him! No;—she would never forgive him. She would break +her heart for him. That was a matter of course; but she would +never forgive him. She knew well what it was that her mother +wanted. Her mother thought that by forcing her into a quarrel +with Montague she would force her also into a marriage with Roger +Carbury. But her mother would find out that in that she was +mistaken. She would never marry her cousin, though she would +be always ready to acknowledge his worth. She was sure now +that she would never marry any man. As she made this resolve +she had a wicked satisfaction in feeling that it would be a trouble +to her mother;—for though she was altogether in accord with Lady +Carbury as to the iniquities of Paul Montague she was not the less +angry with her mother for being so ready to expose those +iniquities. + +<p>Oh, with what slow, cautious fingers, with what heartbroken +tenderness did she take out from its guardian case the brooch which +Paul had given her! It had as yet been an only present, and +in thanking him for it, which she had done with full, free-spoken +words of love, she had begged him to send her no other, so that +that might ever be to her,—to her dying day,—the one precious +thing that had been given to her by her lover while she was yet a +girl. Now it must be sent back;—and, no doubt, it would go +to that abominable woman! But her fingers lingered over it as +she touched it, and she would fain have kissed it, had she not told +herself that she would have been disgraced, even in her solitude, +by such a demonstration of affection. She had given her +answer to Paul Montague; and, as she would have no further personal +correspondence with him, she took the brooch to her mother with a +request that it might be returned. + +<p>"Of course, my dear, I will send it back to him. Is there +nothing else?" + +<p>"No, mamma;—nothing else. I have no letters, and no other +present. You always knew everything that took place. If +you will just send that back to him,—without a word. You won't +say anything, will you, mamma?" + +<p>"There is nothing for me to say if you have really made him +understand you." + +<p>"I think he understood me, mamma. You need not doubt about +that." + +<p>"He has behaved very, very badly,—from the beginning," said +Lady Carbury. + +<p>But Hetta did not really think that the young man had behaved +very badly from the beginning, and certainly did not wish to be +told of his misbehaviour. No doubt she thought that the young +man had behaved very well in falling in love with her directly he +saw her;—only that he had behaved so badly in taking Mrs Hurtle to +Lowestoft afterwards! "It's no good talking about that, +mamma. I hope you will never talk of him any more." + +<p>"He is quite unworthy," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"I can't bear to—have him—abused," said Hetta sobbing. + +<p>"My dear Hetta, I have no doubt this has made you for the time +unhappy. Such little accidents do make people unhappy—for +the time. But it will be much for the best that you should +endeavour not to be so sensitive about it. The world is too +rough and too hard for people to allow their feelings full +play. You have to look out for the future, and you can best +do so by resolving that Paul Montague shall be forgotten at once." + +<p>"Oh, mamma, don't. How is a person to resolve? Oh, +mamma, don't say any more." + +<p>"But, my dear, there is more that I must say. Your future +life is before you, and I must think of it, and you must think of +it. Of course you must be married." + +<p>"There is no of course at all." + +<p>"Of course you must be married," continued Lady Carbury, "and of +course it is your duty to think of the way in which this may be +best done. My income is becoming less and less every +day. I already owe money to your cousin, and I owe money to +Mr Broune." + +<p>"Money to Mr Broune!" + +<p>"Yes,—to Mr Broune. I had to pay a sum for Felix which Mr +Broune told me ought to be paid. And I owe money to +tradesmen. I fear that I shall not be able to keep on this +house. And they tell me,—your cousin and Mr Broune,—that +it is my duty to take Felix out of London probably abroad." + +<p>"Of course I shall go with you." + +<p>"It may be so at first; but, perhaps, even that may not be +necessary. Why should you? What pleasure could you have +in it? Think what my life must be with Felix in some French +or German town!" + +<p>"Mamma, why don't you let me be a comfort to you? Why do +you speak of me always as though I were a burden?" + +<p>"Everybody is a burden to other people. It is the way of +life. But you,—if you will only yield in ever so +little,—you may go where you will be no burden, where you will be +accepted simply as a blessing. You have the opportunity of +securing comfort for your whole life, and of making a friend, not +only for yourself, but for me and your brother, of one whose +friendship we cannot fail to want." + +<p>"Mamma, you cannot really mean to talk about that now?" + +<p>"Why should I not mean it? What is the use of indulging in +high-flown nonsense? Make up your mind to be the wife of your +cousin Roger." + +<p>"This is horrid," said Hetta, bursting out in her agony. +"Cannot you understand that I am broken-hearted about Paul, that I +love him from my very soul, that parting from him is like tearing +my heart in pieces? I know that I must, because he has +behaved so very badly,—and because of that wicked woman! And +so I have. But I did not think that in the very next hour you +would bid me give myself to somebody else! I will never marry +Roger Carbury. You may be quite—quite sure that I shall +never marry any one. If you won't take me with you when you +go away with Felix, I must stay behind and try and earn my +bread. I suppose I could go out as a nurse." Then, +without waiting for a reply, she left the room and betook herself +to her own apartment. + +<p>Lady Carbury did not even understand her daughter. She +could not conceive that she had in any way acted unkindly in taking +the opportunity of Montague's rejection for pressing the suit of +the other lover. She was simply anxious to get a husband for +her daughter,—as she had been anxious to get a wife for her +son,—in order that her child might live comfortably. But she +felt that whenever she spoke common sense to Hetta, her daughter +took it as an offence, and flew into tantrums, being altogether +unable to accommodate herself to the hard truths of the +world. Deep as was the sorrow which her son brought upon her, +and great as was the disgrace, she could feel more sympathy for him +than for the girl. If there was anything that she could not +forgive in life it was romance. And yet she, at any rate, +believed that she delighted in romantic poetry! At the +present moment she was very wretched; and was certainly unselfish +in her wish to see her daughter comfortably settled before she +commenced those miserable roamings with her son which seemed to be +her coming destiny. + +<p>In these days she thought a good deal of Mr Broune's offer, and +of her own refusal. It was odd that since that refusal she +had seen more of him, and had certainly known much more of him than +she had ever seen or known before. Previous to that little episode +their intimacy had been very fictitious, as are many +intimacies. They had played at being friends, knowing but +very little of each other. But now, during the last five or +six weeks,—since she had refused his offer,—they had really +learned to know each other. In the exquisite misery of her +troubles, she had told him the truth about herself and her son, and +he had responded, not by compliments, but by real aid and true +counsel. His whole tone was altered to her, as was hers to +him. There was no longer any egregious flattery between +them,—and he, in speaking to her, would be almost rough to +her. Once he had told her that she would be a fool if she did +not do so and so. The consequence was that she almost +regretted that she had allowed him to escape. But she +certainly made no effort to recover the lost prize, for she told +him all her troubles. It was on that afternoon, after her +disagreement with her daughter, that Marie Melmotte came to +her. And, on the same evening, closeted with Mr Broune in her +back room, she told him of both occurrences. "If the girl has +got the money—," she began, regretting her son's obstinacy. + +<p>"I don't believe a bit of it," said Broune. "From all that +I can hear, I don't think that there is any money. And if +there is, you may be sure that Melmotte would not let it slip +through his fingers in that way. I would not have anything to +do with it." + +<p>"You think it is all over with the Melmottes?" + +<p>"A rumour reached me just now that he had been already +arrested." It was now between nine and ten in the +evening. "But as I came away from my room, I heard that he +was down at the House. That he will have to stand a trial for +forgery, I think there cannot be a doubt, and I imagine that it +will be found that not a shilling will be saved out of the +property." + +<p>"What a wonderful career it has been!" + +<p>"Yes;—the strangest thing that has come up in our days. I +am inclined to think that the utter ruin at this moment has been +brought about by his reckless personal expenditure." + +<p>"Why did he spend such a lot of money?" + +<p>"Because he thought he could conquer the world by it, and obtain +universal credit. He very nearly succeeded too. Only he +had forgotten to calculate the force of the envy of his +competitors." + +<p>"You think he has committed forgery?" + +<p>"Certainly, I think so. Of course we know nothing as yet." + +<p>"Then I suppose it is better that Felix should not have married +her." + +<p>"Certainly better. No redemption was to have been had on +that side, and I don't think you should regret the loss of such +money as his." Lady Carbury shook her head, meaning probably +to imply that even Melmotte's money would have had no bad odour to +one so dreadfully in want of assistance as her son. "At any +rate do not think of it any more." Then she told him her +grief about Hetta. "Ah, there," said he, "I feel myself less +able to express an authoritative opinion." + +<p>"He doesn't owe a shilling," said Lady Carbury, "and he is +really a fine gentleman." + +<p>"But if she doesn't like him?" + +<p>"Oh, but she does. She thinks him to be the finest person +in the world. She would obey him a great deal sooner than she +would me. But she has her mind stuffed with nonsense about +love." + +<p>"A great many people, Lady Carbury, have their minds stuffed +with that nonsense." + +<p>"Yes;—and ruin themselves with it, as she will do. Love +is like any other luxury. You have no right to it unless you +can afford it. And those who will have it when they can't +afford it, will come to the ground like this Mr Melmotte. How +odd it seems! It isn't a fortnight since we all thought him +the greatest man in London." Mr Broune only smiled, not +thinking it worth his while to declare that he had never held that +opinion about the late idol of Abchurch Lane. + +<p>On the following morning, very early, while Melmotte was still +lying, as yet undiscovered, on the floor of Mr Longestaffe's room, +a letter was brought up to Hetta by the maid-servant, who told her +that Mr Montague had delivered it with his own hands. She +took it greedily, and then repressing herself, put it with an +assumed gesture of indifference beneath her pillow. But as +soon as the girl had left the room she at once seized her +treasure. It never occurred to her as yet to think whether +she would or would not receive a letter from her dismissed +lover. She had told him that he must go, and go for ever, and +had taken it for granted that he would do so,—probably +willingly. No doubt he would be delighted to return to the +American woman. But now that she had the letter, she allowed +no doubt to come between her and the reading of it. As soon +as she was alone she opened it, and she ran through its contents +without allowing herself a moment for thinking, as she went on, +whether the excuses made by her lover were or were not such as she +ought to accept. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAREST HETTA,<br> +<br> + I think you have been most unjust to +me, and if you have ever loved me I cannot understand your +injustice. I have never deceived you in anything, not by a +word, or for a moment. Unless you mean to throw me over +because I did once love another woman, I do not know what cause of +anger you have. I could not tell you about Mrs Hurtle till +you had accepted me, and, as you yourself must know, I had had no +opportunity to tell you anything afterwards till the story had +reached your ears. I hardly know what I said the other day, I +was so miserable at your accusation. But I suppose I said +then, and I again declare now, that I had made up my mind that +circumstances would not admit of her becoming my wife before I had +ever seen you, and that I have certainly never wavered in my +determination since I saw you. I can with safety refer to +Roger as to this, because I was with him when I so determined, and +made up my mind very much at his instance. This was before I +had ever even met you.<br> +<br> + If I understand it all right you are +angry because I have associated with Mrs Hurtle since I so +determined. I am not going back to my first acquaintance with +her now. You may blame me for that if you please,—though it +cannot have been a fault against you. But, after what had +occurred, was I to refuse to see her when she came to England to +see me? I think that would have been cowardly. Of +course I went to her. And when she was all alone here, +without a single other friend and telling me that she was unwell, +and asking me to take her down to the seaside, was I to +refuse? I think that that would have been unkind. It +was a dreadful trouble to me. But of course I did it.<br> +<br> + She asked me to renew my +engagement. I am bound to tell you that, but I know in +telling you that it will go no farther. I declined, telling +her that it was my purpose to ask another woman to be my +wife. Of course there has been anger and sorrow,—anger on +her part and sorrow on mine. But there has been no +doubt. And at last she yielded. As far as she was +concerned my trouble was over except in so far that her unhappiness +has been a great trouble to me,—when, on a sudden, I found that +the story had reached you in such a form as to make you determined +to quarrel with me!<br> +<br> + Of course you do not know it all, for +I cannot tell you all without telling her history. But you +know everything that in the least concerns yourself, and I do say +that you have no cause whatever for anger. I am writing at +night. This evening your brooch was brought to me with three +or four cutting words from your mother. But I cannot +understand that if you really love me, you should wish to separate +yourself from me,—or that, if you ever loved me, you should cease +to love me now because of Mrs Hurtle.<br> +<br> + I am so absolutely confused by the +blow that I hardly know what I am writing, and take first one +outrageous idea into my head and then another. My love for +you is so thorough and so intense that I cannot bring myself to +look forward to living without you, now that you have once owned +that you have loved me. I cannot think it possible that love, +such as I suppose yours must have been, could be made to cease all +at a moment. Mine can't. I don't think it is natural +that we should be parted.<br> +<br> + If you want corroboration of my story +go yourself to Mrs Hurtle. Anything is better than that we +both should be broken-hearted.<br> +<br> + Yours most affectionately,<br> +<br> + PAUL MONTAGUE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="85"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXV. Breakfast in Berkeley Square</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Lord Nidderdale was greatly disgusted with his own part of the +performance when he left the House of Commons, and was, we may say, +disgusted with his own position generally, when he considered all +its circumstances. That had been at the commencement of the +evening, and Melmotte had not then been tipsy; but he had behaved +with unsurpassable arrogance and vulgarity, and had made the young +lord drink the cup of his own disgrace to the very dregs. +Everybody now knew it as a positive fact that the charges made +against the man were to become matter of investigation before the +chief magistrate for the City, everybody knew that he had committed +forgery upon forgery, everybody knew that he could not pay for the +property which he had pretended to buy, and that actually he was a +ruined man;—and yet he had seized Nidderdale by the hand, and +called the young lord "his dear boy" before the whole House. + +<p>And then he had made himself conspicuous as this man's +advocate. If he had not himself spoken openly of his coming +marriage with the girl, he had allowed other men to speak to him +about it. He had quarrelled with one man for saying that +Melmotte was a rogue, and had confidentially told his most intimate +friends that in spite of a little vulgarity of manner, Melmotte at +bottom was a very good fellow. How was he now to back out of +his intimacy with the Melmottes generally? He was engaged to +marry the girl, and there was nothing of which he could accuse +her. He acknowledged to himself that she deserved well at his +hands. Though at this moment he hated the father most +bitterly, as those odious words, and the tone in which they had +been pronounced, rang in his ears, nevertheless he had some kindly +feeling for the girl. Of course he could not marry her +now. That was manifestly out of the question. She +herself, as well as all others, had known that she was to be +married for her money, and now that bubble had been burst. +But he felt that he owed it to her, as to a comrade who had on the +whole been loyal to him, to have some personal explanation with +herself. He arranged in his own mind the sort of speech that +he would make to her. "Of course you know it can't be. +It was all arranged because you were to have a lot of money, and +now it turns out that you haven't got any. And I haven't got +any, and we should have nothing to live upon. It's out of the +question. But, upon my word, I'm very sorry, for I like you +very much, and I really think we should have got on uncommon well +together." That was the kind of speech that he suggested to +himself, but he did not know how to find for himself the +opportunity of making it. He thought that he must put it all +into a letter. But then that would be tantamount to a written +confession that he had made her an offer of marriage, and he feared +that Melmotte,—or Madame Melmotte on his behalf, if the great man +himself were absent, in prison,—might make an ungenerous use of +such an admission. + +<p>Between seven and eight he went into the Beargarden, and there +he saw Dolly Longestaffe and others. Everybody was talking +about Melmotte, the prevailing belief being that he was at this +moment in custody. Dolly was full of his own griefs; but +consoled amidst them by a sense of his own importance. "I +wonder whether it's true," he was saying to Lord Grasslough. +"He has an appointment to meet me and my governor at twelve o'clock +to-morrow, and to pay us what he owes us. He swore yesterday +that he would have the money to-morrow. But he can't keep his +appointment, you know, if he's in prison." + +<p>"You won't see the money, Dolly, you may swear to that," said +Grasslough. + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall. By George, what an ass my +governor has been. He had no more right than you have to give +up the property. Here's Nidderdale. He could tell us +where he is; but I'm afraid to speak to him since he cut up so +rough the other night." + +<p>In a moment the conversation was stopped; but when Lord +Grasslough asked Nidderdale in a whisper whether he knew anything +about Melmotte, the latter answered out loud, "Yes I left him in +the House half an hour ago." + +<p>"People are saying that he has been arrested." + +<p>"I heard that also; but he certainly had not been arrested when +I left the House." Then he went up and put his hand on Dolly +Longestaffe's shoulder, and spoke to him. "I suppose you were +about right the other night and I was about wrong; but you could +understand what it was that I meant. I'm afraid this is a bad +look out for both of us." + +<p>"Yes;—I understand. It's deuced bad for me," said +Dolly. "I think you're very well out of it. But I'm +glad there's not to be a quarrel. Suppose we have a rubber of +whist." + +<p>Later on in the night news was brought to the club that Melmotte +had tried to make a speech in the House, that he had been very +drunk, and that he had tumbled over, upsetting Beauchamp Beauclerk +in his fall. "By George, I should like to have seen that!" +said Dolly. + +<p>"I am very glad I was not there," said Nidderdale. It was +three o'clock before they left the card table, at which time +Melmotte was lying dead upon the floor in Mr Longestaffe's house. + +<p>On the following morning, at ten o'clock, Lord Nidderdale sat at +breakfast with his father in the old lord's house in Berkeley +Square. From thence the house which Melmotte had hired was +not above a few hundred yards distant. At this time the young +lord was living with his father, and the two had now met by +appointment in order that something might be settled between them +as to the proposed marriage. The Marquis was not a very +pleasant companion when the affairs in which he was interested did +not go exactly as he would have them. He could be very cross +and say most disagreeable words,—so that the ladies of the family, +and others connected with him, for the most part, found it +impossible to live with him. But his eldest son had endured +him;—partly perhaps because, being the eldest, he had been treated +with a nearer approach to courtesy, but chiefly by means of his own +extreme good humour. What did a few hard words matter? +If his father was ungracious to him, of course he knew what all +that meant. As long as his father would make fair allowance +for his own peccadilloes,—he also would make allowances for his +father's roughness. All this was based on his grand theory of +live and let live. He expected his father to be a little +cross on this occasion, and he acknowledged to himself that there +was cause for it. + +<p>He was a little late himself, and he found his father already +buttering his toast. "I don't believe you'd get out of bed a +moment sooner than you liked if you could save the whole property +by it." + +<p>"You show me how I can make a guinea by it, sir, and see if I +don't earn the money." Then he sat down and poured himself +out a cup of tea, and looked at the kidneys and looked at the fish. + +<p>"I suppose you were drinking last night," said the old lord. + +<p>"Not particular." The old man turned round and gnashed his +teeth at him. "The fact is, sir, I don't drink. +Everybody knows that." + +<p>"I know when you're in the country you can't live without +champagne. Well;—what have you got to say about all this?" + +<p>"What have you got to say?" + +<p>"You've made a pretty kettle of fish of it." + +<p>"I've been guided by you in everything. Come, now; you +ought to own that. I suppose the whole thing is over?" + +<p>"I don't see why it should be over. I'm told she has got +her own money." Then Nidderdale described to his father +Melmotte's behaviour in the House on the preceding evening. +"What the devil does that matter?" said the old man. "You're +not going to marry the man himself." + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder if he's in gaol now." + +<p>"And what does that matter? She's not in gaol. And +if the money is hers, she can't lose it because he goes to +prison. Beggars mustn't be choosers. How do you mean to +live if you don't marry this girl?" + +<p>"I shall scrape on, I suppose. I must look for somebody +else." The Marquis showed very plainly by his demeanour that +he did not give his son much credit either for diligence or for +ingenuity in making such a search. "At any rate, sir, I can't +marry the daughter of a man who is to be put upon his trial for +forgery." + +<p>"I can't see what that has to do with you." + +<p>"I couldn't do it, sir. I'd do anything else to oblige +you, but I couldn't do that. And, moreover, I don't believe +in the money." + +<p>"Then you may just go to the devil," said the old Marquis +turning himself round in his chair, and lighting a cigar as he took +up the newspaper. Nidderdale went on with his breakfast with +perfect equanimity, and when he had finished lighted his +cigar. "They tell me," said the old man, "that one of those +Goldsheiner girls will have a lot of money." + +<p>"A Jewess," suggested Nidderdale. + +<p>"What difference does that make?" + +<p>"Oh no;—not in the least if the money's really there. +Have you heard any sum named, sir?" + +<p>The old man only grunted. "There are two sisters and two +brothers. I don't suppose the girls would have a hundred +thousand each." + +<p>"They say the widow of that brewer who died the other day has +about twenty thousand a year." + +<p>"It's only for her life, sir." + +<p>"She could insure her life. +D––––me, sir, we must do something. +If you turn up your nose at one woman after another how do you +mean to live?" + +<p>"I don't think that a woman of forty with only a life interest +would be a good speculation. Of course I'll think of it if +you press it." The old man growled again. "You +see, sir, I've been so much in earnest about this girl that I +haven't thought of inquiring about any one else. There always +is some one up with a lot of money. It's a pity there +shouldn't be a regular statement published with the amount of +money, and what is expected in return. It'd save a deal of +trouble." + +<p>"If you can't talk more seriously than that you'd better go +away," said the old Marquis. + +<p>At that moment a footman came into the room and told Lord +Nidderdale that a man particularly wished to see him in the +hall. He was not always anxious to see those who called on +him, and he asked the servant whether he knew who the man +was. "I believe, my lord, he's one of the domestics from Mr +Melmotte's in Bruton Street," said the footman, who was no doubt +fully acquainted with all the circumstances of Lord Nidderdale's +engagement. The son, who was still smoking, looked at his +father as though in doubt. "You'd better go and see," said +the Marquis. But Nidderdale before he went asked a question +as to what he had better do if Melmotte had sent for him. "Go +and see Melmotte. Why should you be afraid to see him? +Tell him you are ready to marry the girl if you can see the money +down, but that you won't stir a step till it has been actually paid +over." + +<p>"He knows that already," said Nidderdale as he left the room. + +<p>In the hall he found a man whom he recognized as Melmotte's +butler, a ponderous, elderly, heavy man who now had a letter in his +hand. But the lord could tell by the man's face and manner +that he himself had some story to tell. "Is there anything +the matter?" + +<p>"Yes, my lord,—yes. Oh, dear,—oh, dear! I think +you'll be sorry to hear it. There was none who came there he +seemed to take to so much as your lordship." + +<p>"They've taken him to prison!" exclaimed Nidderdale. But +the man shook his head. "What is it then? He can't be +dead." Then the man nodded his head, and, putting his hand up +to his face, burst into tears. "Mr Melmotte dead! He +was in the House of Commons last night. I saw him +myself. How did he die?" But the fat, ponderous man was +so affected by the tragedy he had witnessed, that he could not as +yet give any account of the scene of his master's death, but simply +handed the note which he had in his hand to Lord Nidderdale. +It was from Marie, and had been written within half an hour of the +time at which news had been brought to her of what had +occurred. The note was as follows:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR LORD NIDDERDALE,<br> +<br> + The man will tell you what has +happened. I feel as though I was mad. I do not know who +to send to. Will you come to me, only for a few minutes?<br> +<br> + MARIE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>He read it standing up in the hall, and then again asked the man +as to the manner of his master's death. And now the Marquis, +gathering from a word or two that he heard and from his son's delay +that something special had occurred, hobbled out into the +hall. "Mr Melmotte is—dead," said his son. The old man +dropped his stick, and fell back against the wall. "This man +says that he is dead, and here is a letter from Marie asking me to +go there. How was it that he—died?" + +<p>"It was—poison," said the butler solemnly. "There has been +a doctor already, and there isn't no doubt of that. He took +it all by himself last night. He came home, perhaps a little +fresh, and he had in brandy and soda and cigars;—and sat himself +down all to himself. Then in the morning, when the young +woman went,—in there he was,—poisoned! I see him lay on the +ground, and I helped to lift him up, and there was that smell of +prussic acid that I knew what he had been and done just the same as +when the doctor came and told us." + +<p>Before the man could be allowed to go back, there was a +consultation between the father and son as to a compliance with the +request which Marie had made in her first misery. The Marquis +thought that his son had better not go to Bruton Street. +"What's the use? What good can you do? She'll only be +falling into your arms, and that's what you've got to avoid,—at +any rate, till you know how things are." + +<p>But Nidderdale's better feelings would not allow him to submit +to this advice. He had been engaged to marry the girl, and +she in her abject misery had turned to him as the friend she knew +best. At any rate for the time the heartlessness of his usual +life deserted him, and he felt willing to devote himself to the +girl not for what he could get,—but because she had so nearly been +so near to him. "I couldn't refuse her," he said over and +over again. "I couldn't bring myself to do it. Oh, +no;—I shall certainly go." + +<p>"You'll get into a mess if you do." + +<p>"Then I must get into a mess. I shall certainly go. +I will go at once. It is very disagreeable, but I cannot +possibly refuse. It would be abominable." Then going +back to the hall, he sent a message by the butler to Marie, saying +that he would be with her in less than half an hour. + +<p>"Don't you go and make a fool of yourself," his father said to +him when he was alone. "This is just one of those times when +a man may ruin himself by being softhearted." Nidderdale +simply shook his head as he took his hat and gloves to go across to +Bruton Street. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="86"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXVI. The Meeting in Bruton Street</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When the news of her husband's death was in some very rough way +conveyed to Madame Melmotte, it crushed her for the time +altogether. Marie first heard that she no longer had a living +parent as she stood by the poor woman's bedside, and she was +enabled, as much perhaps by the necessity incumbent upon her of +attending to the wretched woman as by her own superior strength of +character, to save herself from that prostration and collapse of +power which a great and sudden blow is apt to produce. She +stared at the woman who first conveyed to her tidings of the +tragedy, and then for a moment seated herself at the bedside. +But the violent sobbings and hysterical screams of Madame Melmotte +soon brought her again to her feet, and from that moment she was +not only active but efficacious. No;—she would not go down +to the room; she could do no good by going thither. But they +must send for a doctor. They should send for a doctor +immediately. She was then told that a doctor and an inspector +of police were already in the rooms below. The necessity of +throwing whatever responsibility there might be on to other +shoulders had been at once apparent to the servants, and they had +sent out right and left, so that the house might be filled with +persons fit to give directions in such an emergency. The +officers from the police station were already there when the woman +who now filled Didon's place in the house communicated to Madame +Melmotte the fact that she was a widow. + +<p>It was afterwards said by some of those who had seen her at the +time, that Marie Melmotte had shown a hard heart on the +occasion. But the condemnation was wrong. Her feeling +for her father was certainly not that which we are accustomed to +see among our daughters and sisters. He had never been to her +the petted divinity of the household, whose slightest wish had been +law, whose little comforts had become matters of serious care, +whose frowns were horrid clouds, whose smiles were glorious +sunshine, whose kisses were daily looked for, and if missed would +be missed with mourning. How should it have been so with +her? In all the intercourses of her family, since the first +rough usage which she remembered, there had never been anything +sweet or gracious. Though she had recognized a certain duty, +as due from herself to her father, she had found herself bound to +measure it, so that more should not be exacted from her than duty +required. She had long known that her father would fain make +her a slave for his own purposes, and that if she put no limits to +her own obedience he certainly would put none. She had drawn +no comparison between him and other fathers, or between herself and +other daughters, because she had never become conversant with the +ways of other families. After a fashion she had loved him, +because nature creates love in a daughter's heart; but she had +never respected him, and had spent the best energies of her +character on a resolve that she would never fear him. "He may +cut me into pieces, but he shall not make me do for his advantage +that which I do not think he has a right to exact from me." +That had been the state of her mind towards her father; and now +that he had taken himself away with terrible suddenness, leaving +her to face the difficulties of the world with no protector and no +assistance, the feeling which dominated her was no doubt one of awe +rather than of broken-hearted sorrow. Those who depart must +have earned such sorrow before it can be really felt. They +who are left may be overwhelmed by the death—even of their most +cruel tormentors. Madame Melmotte was altogether overwhelmed; +but it could not probably be said of her with truth that she was +crushed by pure grief. There was fear of all things, fear of +solitude, fear of sudden change, fear of terrible revelations, fear +of some necessary movement she knew not whither, fear that she +might be discovered to be a poor wretched impostor who never could +have been justified in standing in the same presence with emperors +and princes, with duchesses and cabinet ministers. This and +the fact that the dead body of the man who had so lately been her +tyrant was lying near her, so that she might hardly dare to leave +her room lest she should encounter him dead, and thus more dreadful +even than when alive, utterly conquered her. Feelings of the +same kind, the same fears, and the same awe were powerful also with +Marie;—but they did not conquer her. She was strong and +conquered them; and she did not care to affect a weakness to which +she was in truth superior. In such a household the death of +such a father after such a fashion will hardly produce that tender +sorrow which comes from real love. + +<p>She soon knew it all. Her father had destroyed himself, +and had doubtless done so because his troubles in regard to money +had been greater than he could bear. When he had told her +that she was to sign those deeds because ruin was impending, he +must indeed have told her the truth. He had so often lied to +her that she had had no means of knowing whether he was lying then +or telling her a true story. But she had offered to sign the +deeds since that, and he had told her that it would be of no +avail,—and at that time had not been angry with her as he would +have been had her refusal been the cause of his ruin. She +took some comfort in thinking of that. + +<p>But what was she to do? What was to be done generally by +that over-cumbered household? She and her pseudo-mother had +been instructed to pack up their jewellery, and they had both +obeyed the order. But she herself at this moment cared but +little for any property. How ought she to behave +herself? Where should she go? On whose arm could she +lean for some support at this terrible time? As for love, and +engagements, and marriage,—that was all over. In her +difficulty she never for a moment thought of Sir Felix +Carbury. Though she had been silly enough to love the man +because he was pleasant to look at, she had never been so far gone +in silliness as to suppose that he was a staff upon which any one +might lean. Had that marriage taken place, she would have +been the staff. But it might be possible that Lord Nidderdale +would help her. He was good-natured and manly, and would be +efficacious,—if only he would come to her. He was near, and +she thought that at any rate she would try. So she had +written her note and sent it by the butler,—thinking as she did so +of the words she would use to make the young man understand that +all the nonsense they had talked as to marrying each other was, of +course, to mean nothing now. + +<p>It was past eleven when he reached the house, and he was shown +upstairs into one of the sitting-rooms on the first-floor. As +he passed the door of the study, which was at the moment partly +open, he saw the dress of a policeman within, and knew that the +body of the dead man was still lying there. But he went by +rapidly without a glance within, remembering the look of the man as +he had last seen his burly figure, and that grasp of his hand, and +those odious words. And now the man was dead,—having +destroyed his own life. Surely the man must have known when +he uttered those words what it was that he intended to do! +When he had made that last appeal about Marie, conscious as he was +that every one was deserting him, he must even then have looked his +fate in the face and have told himself that it was better that he +should die! His misfortunes, whatever might be their nature, +must have been heavy on him then with all their weight; and he +himself and all the world had known that he was ruined. And +yet he had pretended to be anxious about the girl's marriage, and +had spoken of it as though he still believed that it would be +accomplished! + +<p>Nidderdale had hardly put his hat down on the table before Marie +was with him. He walked up to her, took her by both hands, +and looked into her face. There was no trace of a tear, but +her whole countenance seemed to him to be altered. She was +the first to speak. + +<p>"I thought you would come when I sent for you." + +<p>"Of course I came." + +<p>"I knew you would be a friend, and I knew no one else who +would. You won't be afraid, Lord Nidderdale, that I shall +ever think any more of all those things which he was +planning?" She paused a moment, but he was not ready enough +to have a word to say in answer to this. "You know what has +happened?" + +<p>"Your servant told us." + +<p>"What are we to do? Oh, Lord Nidderdale, it is so +dreadful! Poor papa! Poor papa! When I think of +all that he must have suffered I wish that I could be dead too." + +<p>"Has your mother been told?" + +<p>"Oh yes. She knows. No one tried to conceal anything +for a moment. It was better that it should be so;—better at +last. But we have no friends who would be considerate enough +to try to save us from sorrow. But I think it was +better. Mamma is very bad. She is always nervous and +timid. Of course this has nearly killed her. What ought +we to do? It is Mr Longestaffe's house, and we were to have +left it to-morrow." + +<p>"He will not mind that now." + +<p>"Where must we go? We can't go back to that big place in +Grosvenor Square. Who will manage for us? Who will see +the doctor and the policemen?" + +<p>"I will do that." + +<p>"But there will be things that I cannot ask you to do. Why +should I ask you to do anything?" + +<p>"Because we are friends." + +<p>"No," she said, "no. You cannot really regard me as a +friend. I have been an impostor. I know that. I +had no business to know a person like you at all. Oh, if the +next six months could be over! Poor papa,—poor papa!" +And then for the first time she burst into tears. + +<p>"I wish I knew what might comfort you," he said. + +<p>"How can there be any comfort? There never can be comfort +again! As for comfort, when were we ever comfortable? +It has been one trouble after another,—one fear after +another! And now we are friendless and homeless. I +suppose they will take everything that we have." + +<p>"Your papa had a lawyer, I suppose?" + +<p>"I think he had ever so many,—but I do not know who they +were. His own clerk, who had lived with him for over twenty +years, left him yesterday. I suppose they will know something +in Abchurch Lane; but now that Herr Croll has gone I am not +acquainted even with the name of one of them. Mr Miles +Grendall used to be with him." + +<p>"I do not think that he could be of much service." + +<p>"Nor Lord Alfred? Lord Alfred was always with him till +very lately." Nidderdale shook his head. "I suppose +not. They only came because papa had a big house." The +young lord could not but feel that he was included in the same +rebuke. "Oh, what a life it has been! And now,—now +it's over." As she said this it seemed that for the moment +her strength failed her, for she fell backwards on the corner of +the sofa. He tried to raise her, but she shook him away, +burying her face in her hands. He was standing close to her, +still holding her arm, when he heard a knock at the front door, +which was immediately opened, as the servants were hanging about in +the hall. "Who are they?" said Marie, whose sharp ears caught +the sound of various steps. Lord Nidderdale went out on to +the head of the stairs, and immediately heard the voice of Dolly +Longestaffe. + +<p>Dolly Longestaffe had on that morning put himself early into the +care of Mr Squercum, and it had happened that he with his lawyer +had met his father with Mr Bideawhile at the corner of the +square. They were all coming according to appointment to +receive the money which Mr Melmotte had promised to pay them at +this very hour. Of course they had none of them as yet heard +of the way in which the Financier had made his last grand payment, +and as they walked together to the door had been intent only in +reference to their own money. Squercum, who had heard a good +deal on the previous day, was very certain that the money would not +be forthcoming, whereas Bideawhile was sanguine of success. +"Don't we wish we may get it?" Dolly had said, and by saying so had +very much offended his father, who had resented the want of +reverence implied in the use of that word "we". They had all +been admitted together, and Dolly had at once loudly claimed an old +acquaintance with some of the articles around him. "I knew +I'd got a coat just like that," said Dolly, "and I never could make +out what my fellow had done with it." This was the speech +which Nidderdale had heard, standing on the top of the stairs. + +<p>The two lawyers had at once seen, from the face of the man who +had opened the door and from the presence of three or four servants +in the hall, that things were not going on in their usual +course. Before Dolly had completed his buffoonery the butler +had whispered to Mr Bideawhile that Mr Melmotte—"was no more." + +<p>"Dead!" exclaimed Mr Bideawhile. Squercum put his hands +into his trousers pockets and opened his mouth wide. "Dead!" +muttered Mr Longestaffe senior. "Dead!" said Dolly. +"Who's dead?" The butler shook his head. Then Squercum +whispered a word into the butler's ear, and the butler thereupon +nodded his head. "It's about what I expected," said +Squercum. Then the butler whispered the word to Mr +Longestaffe, and whispered it also to Mr Bideawhile, and they all +knew that the millionaire had swallowed poison during the night. + +<p>It was known to the servants that Mr Longestaffe was the owner +of the house, and he was therefore, as having authority there, +shown into the room where the body of Melmotte was lying on a +sofa. The two lawyers and Dolly of course followed, as did +also Lord Nidderdale, who had now joined them from the lobby +above. There was a policeman in the room who seemed to be +simply watching the body, and who rose from his seat when the +gentlemen entered. Two or three of the servants followed +them, so that there was almost a crowd round the dead man's +bier. There was no further tale to be told. That +Melmotte had been in the House on the previous night, and had there +disgraced himself by intoxication, they had known already. +That he had been found dead that morning had been already +announced. They could only stand round and gaze on the +square, sullen, livid features of the big-framed man, and each +lament that he had ever heard the name of Melmotte. + +<p>"Are you in the house here?" said Dolly to Lord Nidderdale in a +whisper. + +<p>"She sent for me. We live quite close, you know. She +wanted somebody to tell her something. I must go up to her +again now." + +<p>"Had you seen him before?" + +<p>"No indeed. I only came down when I heard your +voices. I fear it will be rather bad for you;—won't it?" + +<p>"He was regularly smashed, I suppose?" asked Dolly. + +<p>"I know nothing myself. He talked to me about his affairs +once, but he was such a liar that not a word that he said was worth +anything. I believed him then. How it will go, I can't +say." + +<p>"That other thing is all over of course," suggested Dolly. +Nidderdale intimated by a gesture of his head that the other thing +was all over, and then returned to Marie. There was nothing +further that the four gentlemen could do, and they soon departed +from the house;—not, however, till Mr Bideawhile had given certain +short injunctions to the butler concerning the property contained +in Mr Longestaffe's town residence. + +<p>"They had come to see him," said Lord Nidderdale in a +whisper. "There was some appointment. He had told them +to be all here at this hour." + +<p>"They didn't know, then?" asked Marie. + +<p>"Nothing;—till the man told them." + +<p>"And did you go in?" + +<p>"Yes; we all went into the room." Marie shuddered, and +again hid her face. "I think the best thing I can do," said +Nidderdale, "is to go to Abchurch Lane, and find out from Smith who +is the lawyer whom he chiefly trusted. I know Smith had to do +with his own affairs, because he has told me so at the Board; and +if necessary I will find out Croll. No doubt I can trace +him. Then we had better employ the lawyer to arrange +everything for you." + +<p>"And where had we better go to?" + +<p>"Where would Madame Melmotte wish to go?" + +<p>"Anywhere, so that we could hide ourselves. Perhaps +Frankfort would be the best. But shouldn't we stay till +something has been done here? And couldn't we have lodgings, +so as to get away from Mr Longestaffe's house?" Nidderdale +promised that he himself would look for lodgings, as soon as he had +seen the lawyer. "And now, my lord, I suppose that I never +shall see you again," said Marie. + +<p>"I don't know why you should say that." + +<p>"Because it will be best. Why should you? All this +will be trouble enough to you when people begin to say what we +are. But I don't think it has been my fault." + +<p>"Nothing has ever been your fault." + +<p>"Good-bye, my lord. I shall always think of you as one of +the kindest people I ever knew. I thought it best to send to +you for different reasons, but I do not want you to come back." + +<p>"Good-bye, Marie. I shall always remember you." And +so they parted. + +<p>After that he did go into the City, and succeeded in finding +both Mr Smith and Herr Croll. When he reached Abchurch Lane, +the news of Melmotte's death had already been spread abroad; and +more was known or said to be known, of his circumstances than +Nidderdale had as yet heard. The crushing blow to him, so +said Herr Croll, had been the desertion of Cohenlupe,—that and the +sudden fall in the value of the South Central Pacific and Mexican +Railway shares, consequent on the rumours spread about the City +respecting the Pickering property. It was asserted in +Abchurch Lane that had he not at that moment touched the Pickering +property, or entertained the Emperor, or stood for Westminster, he +must, by the end of the autumn, have been able to do any or all of +those things without danger, simply as the result of the money +which would then have been realized by the railway. But he +had allowed himself to become hampered by the want of comparatively +small sums of ready money, and in seeking relief had rushed from +one danger to another, till at last the waters around him had +become too deep even for him, and had overwhelmed him. As to +his immediate death, Herr Croll expressed not the slightest +astonishment. It was just the thing, Herr Croll said, that he +had been sure that Melmotte would do, should his difficulties ever +become too great for him. "And dere vas a leetle ting he lay +himself open by de oder day," said Croll, "dat vas nasty,—very +nasty." Nidderdale shook his head, but asked no +questions. Croll had alluded to the use of his own name, but +did not on this occasion make any further revelation. Then +Croll made a further statement to Lord Nidderdale, which I think he +must have done in pure good-nature. "Mylor," he said, +whispering very gravely, "de money of de yong lady is all her +own." Then he nodded his head three times. "Nobody can +toch it, not if he vas in debt millions." Again he nodded his +head. + +<p>"I am very glad to hear it for her sake," said Lord Nidderdale +as he took his leave. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="87"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXVII. Down at Carbury</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When Roger Carbury returned to Suffolk, after seeing his cousins +in Welbeck Street, he was by no means contented with himself. +That he should be discontented generally with the circumstances of +his life was a matter of course. He knew that he was farther +removed than ever from the object on which his whole mind was +set. Had Hetta Carbury learned all the circumstances of +Paul's engagement with Mrs Hurtle before she had confessed her love +to Paul,—so that her heart might have been turned against the man +before she had made her confession,—then, he thought, she might at +last have listened to him. Even though she had loved the +other man, she might have at last done so, as her love would have +been buried in her own bosom. But the tale had been told +after the fashion which was most antagonistic to his own +interests. Hetta had never heard Mrs Hurtle's name till she +had given herself away, and had declared to all her friends that +she had given herself away to this man, who was so unworthy of +her. The more Roger thought of this, the more angry he was +with Paul Montague, and the more convinced that that man had done +him an injury which he could never forgive. + +<p>But his grief extended even beyond that. Though he was +never tired of swearing to himself that he would not forgive Paul +Montague, yet there was present to him a feeling that an injury was +being done to the man, and that he was in some sort responsible for +that injury. He had declined to tell Hetta any part of the +story about Mrs Hurtle,—actuated by a feeling that he ought not to +betray the trust put in him by a man who was at the time his +friend; and he had told nothing. But no one knew so well as +he did the fact that all the attention latterly given by Paul to +the American woman had by no means been the effect of love, but had +come from a feeling on Paul's part that he could not desert the +woman he had once loved, when she asked him for his kindness. +If Hetta could know everything exactly,—if she could look back and +read the state of Paul's mind as he, Roger, could read it,—then +she would probably forgive the man, or perhaps tell herself that +there was nothing for her to forgive. Roger was anxious that +Hetta's anger should burn hot,—because of the injury done to +himself. He thought that there were ample reasons why Paul +Montague should be punished,—why Paul should be utterly expelled +from among them, and allowed to go his own course. But it was +not right that the man should be punished on false grounds. +It seemed to Roger now that he was doing an injustice to his enemy +by refraining from telling all that he knew. + +<p>As to the girl's misery in losing her lover, much as he loved +her, true as it was that he was willing to devote himself and all +that he had to her happiness, I do not think that at the present +moment he was disturbed in that direction. It is hardly +natural, perhaps, that a man should love a woman with such devotion +as to wish to make her happy by giving her to another man. +Roger told himself that Paul would be an unsafe husband, a fickle +husband,—one who might be carried hither and thither both in his +circumstances and his feelings,—and that it would be better for +Hetta that she should not marry him; but at the same time he was +unhappy as he reflected that he himself was a party to a certain +amount of deceit. + +<p>And yet he had said not a word. He had referred Hetta to +the man himself. He thought that he knew, and he did indeed +accurately know, the state of Hetta's mind. She was wretched +because she thought that while her lover was winning her love, +while she herself was willingly allowing him to win her love, he +was dallying with another woman, and making to that other woman +promises the same as those he made to her. This was not +true. Roger knew that it was not true. But when he +tried to quiet his conscience by saying that they must fight it out +among themselves, he felt himself to be uneasy under that +assurance. + +<p>His life at Carbury, at this time, was very desolate. He +had become tired of the priest, who, in spite of various repulses, +had never for a moment relaxed his efforts to convert his +friend. Roger had told him once that he must beg that +religion might not be made the subject of further conversation +between them. In answer to this, Father Barham had declared +that he would never consent to remain as an intimate associate with +any man on those terms. Roger had persisted in his +stipulation, and the priest had then suggested that it was his +host's intention to banish him from Carbury Hall. Roger had +made no reply, and the priest had of course been banished. +But even this added to his misery. Father Barham was a +gentleman, was a good man, and in great penury. To ill-treat +such a one, to expel such a one from his house, seemed to Roger to +be an abominable cruelty. He was unhappy with himself about +the priest, and yet he could not bid the man come back to +him. It was already being said of him among his neighbours, +at Eardly, at Caversham, and at the Bishop's palace, that he either +had become or was becoming a Roman Catholic, under the priest's +influence. Mrs Yeld had even taken upon herself to write to +him a most affectionate letter, in which she said very little as to +any evidence that had reached her as to Roger's defection, but +dilated at very great length on the abominations of a certain lady +who is supposed to indulge in gorgeous colours. + +<p>He was troubled, too, about old Daniel Ruggles, the farmer at +Sheep's Acre, who had been so angry because his niece would not +marry John Crumb. Old Ruggles, when abandoned by Ruby and +accused by his neighbours of personal cruelty to the girl, had +taken freely to that source of consolation which he found to be +most easily within his reach. Since Ruby had gone he had been +drunk every day, and was making himself generally a scandal and a +nuisance. His landlord had interfered with his usual +kindness, and the old man had always declared that his niece and +John Crumb were the cause of it all; for now, in his maudlin +misery, he attributed as much blame to the lover as he did to the +girl. John Crumb wasn't in earnest. If he had been in +earnest he would have gone after her to London at once. +No;—he wouldn't invite Ruby to come back. If Ruby would come +back, repentant, full of sorrow,—and hadn't been and made a fool +of herself in the meantime,—then he'd think of taking her +back. In the meantime, with circumstances in their present +condition, he evidently thought that he could best face the +difficulties of the world by an unfaltering adhesion to gin, early +in the day and all day long. This, too, was a grievance to +Roger Carbury. + +<p>But he did not neglect his work, the chief of which at the +present moment was the care of the farm which he kept in his own +hands. He was making hay at this time in certain meadows down +by the river side; and was standing by while the men were loading a +cart, when he saw John Crumb approaching across the field. He +had not seen John since the eventful journey to London; nor had he +seen him in London; but he knew well all that had occurred,—how +the dealer in pollard had thrashed his cousin, Sir Felix, how he +had been locked up by the police and then liberated,—and how he +was now regarded in Bungay as a hero, as far as arms were +concerned, but as being very "soft" in the matter of love. +The reader need hardly be told that Roger was not at all disposed +to quarrel with Mr Crumb, because the victim of Crumb's heroism had +been his own cousin. Crumb had acted well, and had never said +a word about Sir Felix since his return to the country. No +doubt he had now come to talk about his love,—and in order that +his confessions might not be made before all the assembled +haymakers, Roger Carbury hurried to meet him. There was soon +evident on Crumb's broad face a whole sunshine of delight. As +Roger approached him he began to laugh aloud, and to wave a bit of +paper that he had in his hands. "She's a coomin; she's a +coomin," were the first words he uttered. Roger knew very +well that in his friend's mind there was but one "she" in the +world, and that the name of that she was Ruby Ruggles. + +<p>"I am delighted to hear it," said Roger. "She has made it +up with her grandfather?" + +<p>"Don't know now't about grandfeyther. She have made it up +wi' me. Know'd she would when I'd polish'd t'other un off a +bit;—know'd she would." + +<p>"Has she written to you, then?" + +<p>"Well, squoire,—she ain't; not just herself. I do suppose +that isn't the way they does it. But it's all as one." +And then Mr Crumb thrust Mrs Hurtle's note into Roger Carbury's +hand. + +<p>Roger certainly was not predisposed to think well or kindly of +Mrs Hurtle. Since he had first known Mrs Hurtle's name, when +Paul Montague had told the story of his engagement on his return +from America, Roger had regarded her as a wicked, intriguing, bad +woman. It may, perhaps, be confessed that he was prejudiced +against all Americans, looking upon Washington much as he did upon +Jack Cade or Wat Tyler; and he pictured to himself all American +women as being loud, masculine, and atheistical. But it +certainly did seem that in this instance Mrs Hurtle was +endeavouring to do a good turn from pure charity. "She is a +lady," Crumb began to explain, "who do be living with Mrs Pipkin; +and she is a lady as is a lady." + +<p>Roger could not fully admit the truth of this assertion; but he +explained that he, too, knew something of Mrs Hurtle, and that he +thought it probable that what she said of Ruby might be true. +"True, squoire," said Crumb, laughing with his whole face. "I +ha' nae a doubt it's true. What's again its being true? +When I had dropped into t'other fellow, of course she made her +choice. It was me as was to blame, because I didn't do it +before. I ought to ha' dropped into him when I first heard as +he was arter her. It's that as girls like. So, squoire, +I'm just going again to Lon'on right away." + +<p>Roger suggested that old Ruggles would, of course, receive his +niece; but as to this John expressed his supreme +indifference. The old man was nothing to him. Of course +he would like to have the old man's money; but the old man couldn't +live for ever, and he supposed that things would come right in +time. But this he knew,—that he wasn't going to cringe to +the old man about his money. When Roger observed that it +would be better that Ruby should have some home to which she might +at once return, John adverted with a renewed grin to all the +substantial comforts of his own house. It seemed to be his +idea, that on arriving in London he would at once take Ruby away to +church and be married to her out of hand. He had thrashed his +rival, and what cause could there now be for delay? + +<p>But before he left the field he made one other speech to the +squire. "You ain't a'taken it amiss, squoire, 'cause he was +coosin to yourself?" + +<p>"Not in the least, Mr Crumb." + +<p>"That's koind now. I ain't a done the yong man a ha'porth +o' harm, and I don't feel no grudge again him, and when me and +Ruby's once spliced, I'm darned if I don't give 'un a bottle of +wine the first day as he'll come to Bungay." + +<p>Roger did not feel himself justified in accepting this +invitation on the part of Sir Felix; but he renewed his assurance +that he, on his own part, thought that Crumb had behaved well in +that matter of the street encounter, and he expressed a strong wish +for the immediate and continued happiness of Mr and Mrs John Crumb. + +<p>"Oh, ay, we'll be 'appy, squoire," said Crumb as he went +exulting out of the field. + +<p>On the day after this Roger Carbury received a letter which +disturbed him very much, and to which he hardly knew whether to +return any answer, or what answer. It was from Paul Montague, +and was written by him but a few hours after he had left his letter +for Hetta with his own hands, at the door of her mother's +house. Paul's letter to Roger was as follows:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +MY DEAR ROGER,—<br> +<br> + Though I know that you have cast me +off from you I cannot write to you in any other way, as any other +way would be untrue. You can answer me, of course, as you +please, but I do think that you will owe me an answer, as I appeal +to you in the name of justice.<br> +<br> + You know what has taken place between +Hetta and myself. She had accepted me, and therefore I am +justified in feeling sure that she must have loved me. But +she has now quarrelled with me altogether, and has told me that I +am never to see her again. Of course I don't mean to put up +with this. Who would? You will say that it is no +business of yours. But I think that you would not wish that +she should be left under a false impression, if you could put her +right.<br> +<br> + Somebody has told her the story of +Mrs Hurtle. I suppose it was Felix, and that he had learned +it from those people at Islington. But she has been told that +which is untrue. Nobody knows and nobody can know the truth +as you do. She supposes that I have willingly been passing my +time with Mrs Hurtle during the last two months, although during +that very time I have asked for and received the assurance of her +love. Now, whether or no I have been to blame about Mrs +Hurtle,—as to which nothing at present need be said,—it is +certainly the truth that her coming to England was not only not +desired by me, but was felt by me to be the greatest possible +misfortune. But after all that had passed I certainly owed it +to her not to neglect her;—and this duty was the more incumbent on +me as she was a foreigner and unknown to any one. I went down +to Lowestoft with her at her request, having named the place to +her as one known to myself, and because I could not refuse her so +small a favour. You know that it was so, and you know also, +as no one else does, that whatever courtesy I have shown to Mrs +Hurtle in England, I have been constrained to show her.<br> +<br> + I appeal to you to let Hetta know +that this is true. She had made me understand that not only +her mother and brother, but you also, are well acquainted with the +story of my acquaintance with Mrs Hurtle. Neither Lady +Carbury nor Sir Felix has ever known anything about it. You, +and you only, have known the truth. And now, though at the +present you are angry with me, I call upon you to tell Hetta the +truth as you know it. You will understand me when I say that +I feel that I am being destroyed by a false representation. I +think that you, who abhor a falsehood, will see the justice of +setting me right, at any rate as far as the truth can do so. +I do not want you to say a word for me beyond that.<br> +<br> + Yours always,<br> +<br> + PAUL MONTAGUE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>"What business is all that of mine?" This, of course, was +the first feeling produced in Roger's mind by Montague's +letter. If Hetta had received any false impression, it had +not come from him. He had told no stories against his rival, +whether true or false. He had been so scrupulous that he had +refused to say a word at all. And if any false impression had +been made on Hetta's mind, either by circumstances or by untrue +words, had not Montague deserved any evil that might fall upon +him? Though every word in Montague's letter might be true, +nevertheless, in the end, no more than justice would be done him, +even should he be robbed at last of his mistress under erroneous +impressions. The fact that he had once disgraced himself by +offering to make Mrs Hurtle his wife, rendered him unworthy of +Hetta Carbury. Such, at least, was Roger Carbury's verdict as +he thought over all the circumstances. At any rate, it was no +business of his to correct these wrong impressions. + +<p>And yet he was ill at ease as he thought of it all. He did +believe that every word in Montague's letter was true. Though +he had been very indignant when he met Roger and Mrs Hurtle +together on the sands at Lowestoft, he was perfectly convinced +that the cause of their coming there had been precisely that which +Montague had stated. It took him two days to think over all +this, two days of great discomfort and unhappiness. After +all, why should he be a dog in the manger? The girl did not +care for him,—looked upon him as an old man to be regarded in a +fashion altogether different from that in which she regarded Paul +Montague. He had let his time for love-making go by, and now +it behoved him, as a man, to take the world as he found it, and not +to lose himself in regrets for a kind of happiness which he could +never attain. In such an emergency as this he should do what +was fair and honest, without reference to his own feelings. +And yet the passion which dominated John Crumb altogether, which +made the mealman so intent on the attainment of his object as to +render all other things indifferent to him for the time, was +equally strong with Roger Carbury. Unfortunately for Roger, +strong as his passion was, it was embarrassed by other +feelings. It never occurred to Crumb to think whether he was +a fit husband for Ruby, or whether Ruby, having a decided +preference for another man, could be a fit wife for him. But +with Roger there were a thousand surrounding difficulties to hamper +him. John Crumb never doubted for a moment what he should +do. He had to get the girl, if possible, and he meant to get +her whatever she might cost him. He was always confident +though sometimes perplexed. But Roger had no +confidence. He knew that he should never win the game. +In his sadder moments he felt that he ought not to win it. +The people around him, from old fashion, still called him the young +squire! Why;—he felt himself at times to be eighty years +old,—so old that he was unfitted for intercourse with such +juvenile spirits as those of his neighbour the bishop, and of his +friend Hepworth. Could he, by any training, bring himself to +take her happiness in hand, altogether sacrificing his own? + +<p>In such a mood as this he did at last answer his enemy's +letter,—and he answered it as follows:— + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> + I do not know that I am concerned to +meddle in your affairs at all. I have told no tale against +you, and I do not know that I have any that I wish to tell in your +favour, or that I could so tell if I did wish. I think that +you have behaved badly to me, cruelly to Mrs Hurtle, and +disrespectfully to my cousin. Nevertheless, as you appeal to +me on a certain point for evidence which I can give, and which you +say no one else can give, I do acknowledge that, in my opinion, Mrs +Hurtle's presence in England has not been in accordance with your +wishes, and that you accompanied her to Lowestoft, not as her +lover but as an old friend whom you could not neglect.<br> +<br> + ROGER CARBURY.<br> +<br> +Paul Montague, Esq.<br> +<br> + You are at liberty to show this +letter to Miss Carbury, if you please; but if she reads part she +should read the whole! +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>There was more perhaps of hostility in this letter than of that +spirit of self-sacrifice to which Roger intended to train himself; +and so he himself felt after the letter had been dispatched. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="88"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXVIII. The Inquest</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Melmotte had been found dead on Friday morning, and late on the +evening of the same day Madame Melmotte and Marie were removed to +lodgings far away from the scene of the tragedy, up at +Hampstead. Herr Croll had known of the place, and at Lord +Nidderdale's instance had busied himself in the matter, and had +seen that the rooms were made instantly ready for the widow of his +late employer. Nidderdale himself had assisted them in their +departure; and the German, with the poor woman's maid, with the +jewels also, which had been packed according to Melmotte's last +orders to his wife, followed the carriage which took the mother and +the daughter. They did not start till nine o'clock in the +evening, and Madame Melmotte at the moment would fain have been +allowed to rest one other night in Bruton Street. But Lord +Nidderdale, with one hardly uttered word, made Marie understand +that the inquest would be held early on the following morning, and +Marie was imperious with her mother and carried her point. So +the poor woman was taken away from Mr Longestaffe's residence, and +never again saw the grandeur of her own house in Grosvenor Square, +which she had not visited since the night on which she had helped +to entertain the Emperor of China. + +<p>On Saturday morning the inquest was held. There was not +the slightest doubt as to any one of the incidents of the +catastrophe. The servants, the doctor, and the inspector of +police between them, learned that he had come home alone, that +nobody had been near him during the night, that he had been found +dead, and that he had undoubtedly been poisoned by prussic +acid. It was also proved that he had been drunk in the House +of Commons, a fact to which one of the clerks of the House, very +much against his will, was called upon to testify. That he +had destroyed himself there was no doubt,—nor was there any doubt +as to the cause. + +<p>In such cases as this it is for the jury to say whether the +unfortunate one who has found his life too hard for endurance, and +has rushed away to see whether he could not find an improved +condition of things elsewhere, has or has not been mad at the +moment. Surviving friends are of course anxious for a verdict +of insanity, as in that case no further punishment is +exacted. The body can be buried like any other body, and it +can always be said afterwards that the poor man was mad. +Perhaps it would be well that all suicides should be said to have +been mad, for certainly the jurymen are not generally guided in +their verdicts by any accurately ascertained facts. If the +poor wretch has, up to his last days, been apparently living a +decent life; if he be not hated, or has not in his last moments +made himself specially obnoxious to the world at large, then he is +declared to have been mad. Who would be heavy on a poor +clergyman who has been at last driven by horrid doubts to rid +himself of a difficulty from which he saw no escape in any other +way? Who would not give the benefit of the doubt to the poor +woman whose lover and lord had deserted her? Who would remit +to unhallowed earth the body of the once beneficent philosopher who +has simply thought that he might as well go now, finding himself +powerless to do further good upon earth? Such, and such like, +have of course been temporarily insane, though no touch even of +strangeness may have marked their conduct up to their last known +dealings with their fellow-mortals. But let a Melmotte be +found dead, with a bottle of prussic acid by his side—a man who +has become horrid to the world because of his late iniquities, a +man who has so well pretended to be rich that he has been able to +buy and to sell properties without paying for them, a wretch who +has made himself odious by his ruin to friends who had taken him up +as a pillar of strength in regard to wealth, a brute who had got +into the House of Commons by false pretences, and had disgraced the +House by being drunk there,—and, of course, he will not be saved +by a verdict of insanity from the cross roads, or whatever scornful +grave may be allowed to those who have killed themselves with their +wits about them. Just at this moment there was a very strong +feeling against Melmotte, owing perhaps as much to his having +tumbled over poor Mr Beauchamp in the House of Commons as to the +stories of the forgeries he had committed, and the virtue of the +day vindicated itself by declaring him to have been responsible for +his actions when he took the poison. He was <i>felo de +se</i>, and therefore carried away to the cross roads—or +elsewhere. But it may be imagined, I think, that during that +night he may have become as mad as any other wretch, have been +driven as far beyond his powers of endurance as any other poor +creature who ever at any time felt himself constrained to go. +He had not been so drunk but that he knew all that happened, and +could foresee pretty well what would happen. The summons to +attend upon the Lord Mayor had been served upon him. There +were some, among them Croll and Mr Brehgert, who absolutely knew +that he had committed forgery. He had no money for the +Longestaffes, and he was well aware what Squercum would do at +once. He had assured himself long ago,—he had assured +himself indeed not very long ago,—that he would brave it all like +a man. But we none of us know what load we can bear, and what +would break our backs. Melmotte's back had been so utterly +crushed that I almost think that he was mad enough to have +justified a verdict of temporary insanity. + +<p>But he was carried away, no one knew whither, and for a week his +name was hateful. But after that, a certain amount of +whitewashing took place, and, in some degree, a restitution of fame +was made to the manes of the departed. In Westminster he was +always odious. Westminster, which had adopted him, never +forgave him. But in other districts it came to be said of him +that he had been more sinned against than sinning; and that, but +for the jealousy of the old stagers in the mercantile world, he +would have done very wonderful things. Marylebone, which is +always merciful, took him up quite with affection, and would have +returned his ghost to Parliament could his ghost have paid for +committee rooms. Finsbury delighted for a while to talk of +the great Financier, and even Chelsea thought that he had been done +to death by ungenerous tongues. It was, however, Marylebone +alone that spoke of a monument. + +<p>Mr Longestaffe came back to his house, taking formal possession +of it a few days after the verdict. Of course he was +alone. There had been no further question of bringing the +ladies of the family up to town; and Dolly altogether declined to +share with his father the honour of encountering the dead man's +spirit. But there was very much for Mr Longestaffe to do, and +very much also for his son. It was becoming a question with +both of them how far they had been ruined by their connection with +the horrible man. It was clear that they could not get back +the title-deeds of the Pickering property without paying the amount +which had been advanced upon them, and it was equally clear that +they could not pay that sum unless they were enabled to do so by +funds coming out of the Melmotte estate. Dolly, as he sat +smoking upon the stool in Mr Squercum's office, where he now passed +a considerable portion of his time, looked upon himself as a +miracle of ill-usage. + +<p>"By George, you know, I shall have to go to law with the +governor. There's nothing else for it; is there, Squercum?" + +<p>Squercum suggested that they had better wait till they found +what pickings there might be out of the Melmotte estate. He +had made inquiries too about that, and had been assured that there +must be property, but property so involved and tied up as to make +it impossible to lay hands upon it suddenly. "They say that +the things in the square, and the plate, and the carriages and +horses, and all that, ought to fetch between twenty and thirty +thousand. There were a lot of jewels, but the women have +taken them," said Squercum. + +<p>"By George, they ought to be made to give up everything. +Did you ever hear of such a thing;—the very house pulled down,—my +house; and all done without a word from me in the matter? I +don't suppose such a thing was ever known before, since properties +were properties." Then he uttered sundry threats against the +Bideawhiles, in reference to whom he declared his intention of +"making it very hot for them." + +<p>It was an annoyance added to the elder Mr Longestaffe that the +management of Melmotte's affairs fell at last almost exclusively +into the hands of Mr Brehgert. Now Brehgert, in spite of his +many dealings with Melmotte, was an honest man, and, which was +perhaps of as much immediate consequence, both an energetic and a +patient man. But then he was the man who had wanted to marry +Georgiana Longestaffe, and he was the man to whom Mr Longestaffe +had been particularly uncivil. Then there arose necessities +for the presence of Mr Brehgert in the house in which Melmotte had +lately lived and had died. The dead man's papers were still +there,—deeds, documents, and such letters as he had not chosen to +destroy;—and these could not be moved quite at once. "Mr +Brehgert must of course have access to my private room, as long as +it is necessary,—absolutely necessary," said Mr Longestaffe in +answer to a message which was brought to him; "but he will of +course see the expediency of relieving me from such intrusion as +soon as possible." But he soon found it preferable to come to +terms with the rejected suitor, especially as the man was +singularly good-natured and forbearing after the injuries he had +received. + +<p>All minor debts were to be paid at once; an arrangement to which +Mr Longestaffe cordially agreed, as it included a sum of £300 +due to him for the rent of his house in Bruton Street. Then +by degrees it became known that there would certainly be a dividend +of not less than fifty per cent. payable on debts which could +be proved to have been owing by Melmotte, and perhaps of more;—an +arrangement which was very comfortable to Dolly, as it had been +already agreed between all the parties interested that the debt due +to him should be satisfied before the father took anything. +Mr Longestaffe resolved during these weeks that he remained in town +that, as regarded himself and his own family, the house in London +should not only not be kept up, but that it should be absolutely +sold, with all its belongings, and that the servants at Caversham +should be reduced in number and should cease to wear powder. +All this was communicated to Lady Pomona in a very long letter, +which she was instructed to read to her daughters. "I have +suffered great wrongs," said Mr Longestaffe, "but I must submit to +them, and as I submit so must my wife and children. If our +son were different from what he is the sacrifice might probably be +made lighter. His nature I cannot alter, but from my +daughters I expect cheerful obedience." From what incidents +of his past life he was led to expect cheerfulness at Caversham it +might be difficult to say; but the obedience was there. +Georgey was for the time broken down; Sophia was satisfied with her +nuptial prospects, and Lady Pomona had certainly no spirits left +for a combat. I think the loss of the hair-powder afflicted +her most; but she said not a word even about that. + +<p>But in all this the details necessary for the telling of our +story are anticipated. Mr Longestaffe had remained in London +actually over the 1st of September, which in Suffolk is the one +great festival of the year, before the letter was written to which +allusion has been made. In the meantime he saw much of Mr +Brehgert, and absolutely formed a kind of friendship for that +gentleman, in spite of the abomination of his religion,—so that on +one occasion he even condescended to ask Mr Brehgert to dine alone +with him in Bruton Street. This, too, was in the early days +of the arrangement of the Melmotte affairs, when Mr Longestaffe's +heart had been softened by that arrangement with reference to the +rent. Mr Brehgert came, and there arose a somewhat singular +conversation between the two gentlemen as they sat together over a +bottle of Mr Longestaffe's old port wine. Hitherto not a word +had passed between them respecting the connection which had once +been proposed, since the day on which the young lady's father had +said so many bitter things to the expectant bridegroom. But +in this evening Mr Brehgert, who was by no means a coward in such +matters and whose feelings were not perhaps painfully fine, spoke +his mind in a way that at first startled Mr Longestaffe. The +subject was introduced by a reference which Brehgert had made to +his own affairs. His loss would be, at any rate, double that +which Mr Longestaffe would have to bear;—but he spoke of it in an +easy way, as though it did not sit very near his heart. "Of +course there's a difference between me and you," he said. Mr +Longestaffe bowed his head graciously, as much as to say that there +was of course a very wide difference. "In our affairs," +continued Brehgert, "we expect gains, and of course look for +occasional losses. When a gentleman in your position sells a +property he expects to get the purchase-money." + +<p>"Of course he does, Mr Brehgert. That's what made it so +hard." + +<p>"I can't even yet quite understand how it was with him, or why +he took upon himself to spend such an enormous deal of money here +in London. His business was quite irregular, but there was +very much of it, and some of it immensely profitable. He took +us in completely." + +<p>"I suppose so." + +<p>"It was old Mr Todd that first took to him;—but I was deceived +as much as Todd, and then I ventured on a speculation with him +outside of our house. The long and short of it is that I +shall lose something about sixty thousand pounds." + +<p>"That's a large sum of money." + +<p>"Very large;—so large as to affect my daily mode of life. +In my correspondence with your daughter, I considered it to be my +duty to point out to her that it would be so. I do not know +whether she told you." + +<p>This reference to his daughter for the moment altogether upset +Mr Longestaffe. The reference was certainly most indelicate, +most deserving of censure; but Mr Longestaffe did not know how to +pronounce his censure on the spur of the moment, and was moreover +at the present time so very anxious for Brehgert's assistance in +the arrangement of his affairs that, so to say, he could not afford +to quarrel with the man. But he assumed something more than +his normal dignity as he asserted that his daughter had never +mentioned the fact. + +<p>"It was so," said Brehgert + +<p>"No doubt;"—and Mr Longestaffe assumed a great deal of dignity. + +<p>"Yes; it was so. I had promised your daughter when she was +good enough to listen to the proposition which I made to her, that +I would maintain a second house when we should be married." + +<p>"It was impossible," said Mr Longestaffe,—meaning to assert +that such hymeneals were altogether unnatural and out of the +question. + +<p>"It would have been quite possible as things were when that +proposition was made. But looking forward to the loss which I +afterwards anticipated from the affairs of our deceased friend, I +found it to be prudent to relinquish my intention for the present, +and I thought myself bound to inform Miss Longestaffe." + +<p>"There were other reasons," muttered Mr Longestaffe, in a +suppressed voice, almost in a whisper,—in a whisper which was +intended to convey a sense of present horror and a desire for +future reticence. + +<p>"There may have been; but in the last letter which Miss +Longestaffe did me the honour to write to me,—a letter with which +I have not the slightest right to find any fault,—she seemed to +me to confine herself almost exclusively to that reason." + +<p>"Why mention this now, Mr Brehgert; why mention this now? +The subject is painful." + +<p>"Just because it is not painful to me, Mr Longestaffe; and +because I wish that all they who have heard of the matter should +know that it is not painful. I think that throughout I +behaved like a gentleman." Mr Longestaffe, in an agony, first +shook his head twice, and then bowed it three times, leaving the +Jew to take what answer he could from so dubious an oracle. +"I am sure." continued Brehgert, "that I behaved like an honest +man; and I didn't quite like that the matter should be passed over +as if I was in any way ashamed of myself." + +<p>"Perhaps on so delicate a subject the less said the soonest +mended." + +<p>"I've nothing more to say, and I've nothing at all to +mend." Finishing the conversation with this little speech +Brehgert arose to take his leave, making some promise at the time +that he would use all the expedition in his power to complete the +arrangement of the Melmotte affairs. + +<p>As soon as he was gone Mr Longestaffe opened the door and walked +about the room and blew out long puffs of breath, as though to +cleanse himself from the impurities of his late contact. He +told himself that he could not touch pitch and not be +defiled! How vulgar had the man been, how indelicate, how +regardless of all feeling, how little grateful for the honour which +Mr Longestaffe had conferred upon him by asking him to +dinner! Yes;—yes! A horrid Jew! Were not all +Jews necessarily an abomination? Yet Mr Longestaffe was aware +that in the present crisis of his fortunes he could not afford to +quarrel with Mr Brehgert. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="89"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIX. "The Wheel of Fortune"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It was a long time now since Lady Carbury's great historical +work on the Criminal Queens of the World had been completed and +given to the world. Any reader careful as to dates will +remember that it was as far back as in February that she had +solicited the assistance of certain of her literary friends who +were connected with the daily and weekly press. These +gentlemen had responded to her call with more or less zealous aid, +so that the "Criminal Queens" had been regarded in the trade as one +of the successful books of the season. Messrs. Leadham and +Loiter had published a second, and then, very quickly, a fourth and +fifth edition; and had been able in their advertisements to give +testimony from various criticisms showing that Lady Carbury's book +was about the greatest historical work which had emanated from the +press in the present century. With this object a passage was +extracted even from the columns of the "Evening Pulpit,"—which +showed very great ingenuity on the part of some young man connected +with the establishment of Messrs. Leadham and Loiter. Lady +Carbury had suffered something in the struggle. What efforts +can mortals make as to which there will not be some +disappointment? Paper and print cannot be had for nothing, +and advertisements are very costly. An edition may be sold +with startling rapidity, but it may have been but a scanty +edition. When Lady Carbury received from Messrs. Leadham and +Loiter their second very moderate cheque, with the expression of a +fear on their part that there would not probably be a third,— +unless some unforeseen demand should arise,—she repeated to +herself those well-known lines from the satirist,— + +<blockquote> +<blockquote> +<font size="-1"> +"Oh, Amos Cottle, for a moment think<br> + What meagre profits spread from pen and ink." +</font> +</blockquote> +</blockquote> + +<p>But not on that account did she for a moment hesitate as to +further attempts. Indeed she had hardly completed the last +chapter of her "Criminal Queens" before she was busy on another +work; and although the last six months had been to her a period of +incessant trouble, and sometimes of torture, though the conduct of +her son had more than once forced her to declare to herself that +her mind would fail her, still she had persevered. From day +to day, with all her cares heavy upon her, she had sat at her work, +with a firm resolve that so many lines should be always +forthcoming, let the difficulty of making them be what it +might. Messrs. Leadham and Loiter had thought that they might +be justified in offering her certain terms for a novel,—terms not +very high indeed, and those contingent on the approval of the +manuscript by their reader. The smallness of the sum offered, +and the want of certainty, and the pain of the work in her present +circumstances, had all been felt by her to be very hard. But +she had persevered, and the novel was now complete. + +<p>It cannot with truth be said of her that she had had any special +tale to tell. She had taken to the writing of a novel because +Mr Loiter had told her that upon the whole novels did better than +anything else. She would have written a volume of sermons on +the same encouragement, and have gone about the work exactly after +the same fashion. The length of her novel had been her first +question. It must be in three volumes, and each volume must +have three hundred pages. But what fewest number of words +might be supposed sufficient to fill a page? The money +offered was too trifling to allow of very liberal measure on her +part. She had to live, and if possible to write another +novel,—and, as she hoped, upon better terms,—when this should be +finished. Then what should be the name of her novel; what the +name of her hero; and above all what the name of her heroine? +It must be a love story of course; but she thought that she would +leave the complications of the plot to come by chance,—and they +did come. "Don't let it end unhappily, Lady Carbury," Mr +Loiter had said, "because though people like it in a play, they +hate it in a book. And whatever you do, Lady Carbury, don't +be historical. Your historical novel, Lady Carbury, isn't +worth a—" Mr Loiter stopping himself suddenly, and remembering +that he was addressing himself to a lady, satisfied his energy at +last by the use of the word "straw." Lady Carbury had +followed these instructions with accuracy. + +<p>The name for the story had been the great thing. It did +not occur to the authoress that, as the plot was to be allowed to +develop itself and was, at this moment when she was perplexed as to +the title, altogether uncreated, she might as well wait to see what +appellation might best suit her work when its purpose should have +declared itself. A novel, she knew well, was most unlike a +rose, which by any other name will smell as sweet. "The +Faultless Father," "The Mysterious Mother," "The Lame Lover,"—such +names as that she was aware would be useless now. "Mary Jane +Walker," if she could be very simple, would do, or "Blanche De +Veau," if she were able to maintain throughout a somewhat +high-stilted style of feminine rapture. But as she considered +that she could best deal with rapid action and strange +coincidences, she thought that something more startling and +descriptive would better suit her purpose. After an hour's +thought a name did occur to her, and she wrote it down, and with +considerable energy of purpose framed her work in accordance with +her chosen title, "The Wheel of Fortune!" She had no +particular fortune in her mind when she chose it, and no particular +wheel;—but the very idea conveyed by the words gave her the plot +which she wanted. A young lady was blessed with great wealth, +and lost it all by an uncle, and got it all back by an honest +lawyer, and gave it all up to a distressed lover, and found it all +again in a third volume. And the lady's name was Cordinga, +selected by Lady Carbury as never having been heard before either +in the world of fact or in that of fiction. + +<p>And now with all her troubles thick about her,—while her son +was still hanging about the house in a condition that would break +any mother's heart, while her daughter was so wretched and sore +that she regarded all those around her as her enemies, Lady Carbury +finished her work, and having just written the last words in which +the final glow of enduring happiness was given to the young married +heroine whose wheel had now come full round, sat with the sheets +piled at her right hand. She had allowed herself a certain +number of weeks for the task, and had completed it exactly in the +time fixed. As she sat with her hand near the pile, she did +give herself credit for her diligence. Whether the work might +have been better done she never asked herself. I do not think +that she prided herself much on the literary merit of the +tale. But if she could bring the papers to praise it, if she +could induce Mudie to circulate it, if she could manage that the +air for a month should be so loaded with "The Wheel of Fortune," as +to make it necessary for the reading world to have read or to have +said that it had read the book,—then she would pride herself very +much upon her work. + +<p>As she was so sitting on a Sunday afternoon, in her own room, Mr +Alf was announced. According to her habit, she expressed warm +delight at seeing him. Nothing could be kinder than such a +visit just at such a time,—when there was so very much to occupy +such a one as Mr Alf! Mr Alf, in his usual mildly satirical +way, declared that he was not peculiarly occupied just at +present. "The Emperor has left Europe at last," he +said. "Poor Melmotte poisoned himself on Friday, and the +inquest sat yesterday. I don't know that there is anything of +interest to-day." Of course Lady Carbury was intent upon her +book, rather even than on the exciting death of a man whom she had +herself known. Oh, if she could only get Mr Alf! She +had tried it before, and had failed lamentably. She was well +aware of that; and she had a deep-seated conviction that it would +be almost impossible to get Mr Alf. But then she had another +deep-seated conviction, that that which is almost impossible may +possibly be done. How great would be the glory, how infinite +the service! And did it not seem as though Providence had +blessed her with this special opportunity, sending Mr Alf to her +just at the one moment at which she might introduce the subject of +her novel without seeming premeditation? + +<p>"I am so tired," she said, affecting to throw herself back as +though stretching her arms out for ease. + +<p>"I hope I am not adding to your fatigue," said Mr Alf. "Oh +dear no. It is not the fatigue of the moment, but of the last +six months. Just as you knocked at the door, I had finished +the novel at which I have been working, oh, with such diligence!" + +<p>"Oh;—a novel! When is it to appear, Lady Carbury?" + +<p>"You must ask Leadham and Loiter that question. I have +done my part of the work. I suppose you never wrote a novel, +Mr Alf?" + +<p>"I? Oh dear no; I never write anything." + +<p>"I have sometimes wondered whether I have hated or loved it the +most. One becomes so absorbed in one's plot and one's +characters! One loves the loveable so intensely, and hates +with such fixed aversion those who are intended to be hated. +When the mind is attuned to it, one is tempted to think that it is +all so good. One cries at one's own pathos, laughs at one's +own humour, and is lost in admiration at one's own sagacity and +knowledge." + +<p>"How very nice!" + +<p>"But then there comes the reversed picture, the other side of +the coin. On a sudden everything becomes flat, tedious, and +unnatural. The heroine who was yesterday alive with the +celestial spark is found to-day to be a lump of motionless +clay. The dialogue that was so cheery on the first perusal is +utterly uninteresting at a second reading. Yesterday I was +sure that there was my monument," and she put her hand upon the +manuscript; "to-day I feel it to be only too heavy for a +gravestone!" + +<p>"One's judgement about one's self always does vacillate," said +Mr Alf in a tone as phlegmatic as were the words. + +<p>"And yet it is so important that one should be able to judge +correctly of one's own work! I can at any rate trust myself +to be honest, which is more perhaps than can be said of all the +critics." + +<p>"Dishonesty is not the general fault of the critics, Lady +Carbury,—at least not as far as I have observed the +business. It is incapacity. In what little I have done +in the matter, that is the sin which I have striven to +conquer. When we want shoes we go to a professed shoemaker; +but for criticism we have certainly not gone to professed +critics. I think that when I gave up the "Evening Pulpit," I +left upon it a staff of writers who are entitled to be regarded as +knowing their business." + +<p>"You given up the 'Pulpit'?" asked Lady Carbury with +astonishment, readjusting her mind at once, so that she might +perceive whether any and if so what advantage might be taken of Mr +Alf's new position. He was no longer editor, and therefore +his heavy sense of responsibility would no longer exist;—but he +must still have influence. Might he not be persuaded to do +one act of real friendship? Might she not succeed if she +would come down from her high seat, sink on the ground before him, +tell him the plain truth, and beg for a favour as a poor struggling +woman? + +<p>"Yes, Lady Carbury, I have given it up. It was a matter of +course that I should do so when I stood for Parliament. Now +that the new member has so suddenly vacated his seat, I shall +probably stand again." + +<p>"And you are no longer an editor?" + +<p>"I have given it up, and I suppose I have now satisfied the +scruples of those gentlemen who seemed to think that I was +committing a crime against the Constitution in attempting to get +into Parliament while I was managing a newspaper. I never +heard such nonsense. Of course I know where it came from." + +<p>"Where did it come from?" + +<p>"Where should it come from but the "Breakfast Table"? +Broune and I have been very good friends, but I do think that of +all the men I know he is the most jealous." + +<p>"That is so little," said Lady Carbury. She was really +very fond of Mr Broune, but at the present moment she was obliged +to humour Mr Alf. + +<p>"It seems to me that no man can be better qualified to sit in +Parliament than an editor of a newspaper,—that is if he is capable +as an editor." + +<p>"No one, I think, has ever doubted that of you." + +<p>"The only question is whether he be strong enough for the double +work. I have doubted about myself, and have therefore given +up the paper. I almost regret it." + +<p>"I dare say you do," said Lady Carbury, feeling intensely +anxious to talk about her own affairs instead of his. "I +suppose you still retain an interest in the paper?" + +<p>"Some pecuniary interest;—nothing more." + +<p>"Oh, Mr Alf,—you could do me such a favour!" + +<p>"Can I? If I can, you may be sure I will." +False-hearted, false-tongued man! Of course he knew at the +moment what was the favour Lady Carbury intended to ask, and of +course he had made up his mind that he would not do as he was +asked. + +<p>"Will you?" And Lady Carbury clasped her hands together as +she poured forth the words of her prayer. "I never asked you +to do anything for me as long as you were editing the paper. +Did I? I did not think it right, and I would not do it. +I took my chance like others, and I am sure you must own that I +bore what was said of me with a good grace. I never +complained. Did I?" + +<p>"Certainly not." + +<p>"But now that you have left it yourself,—if you would have the +"Wheel of Fortune" done for me,—really well done!" + +<p>"The 'Wheel of Fortune'!" + +<p>"That is the name of my novel," said Lady Carbury, putting her +hand softly upon the manuscript. "Just at this moment it +would be the making of a fortune for me! And oh, Mr Alf, if +you could but know how I want such assistance!" + +<p>"I have nothing further to do with the editorial management, +Lady Carbury." + +<p>"Of course you could get it done. A word from you would +make it certain. A novel is different from an historical +work, you know. I have taken so much pains with it." + +<p>"Then no doubt it will be praised on its own merits." + +<p>"Don't say that, Mr Alf. The 'Evening Pulpit' is +like,—oh, it is like,—like,—like the throne of heaven! Who +can be justified before it? Don't talk about its own merits, +but say that you will have it done. It couldn't do any man +any harm, and it would sell five hundred copies at once,—that is +if it were done really con amore." Mr Alf looked at her +almost piteously, and shook his head. "The paper stands so +high, it can't hurt it to do that kind of thing once. A woman +is asking you, Mr Alf. It is for my children that I am +struggling. The thing is done every day of the week, with +much less noble motives." + +<p>"I do not think that it has ever been done by the 'Evening +Pulpit.'" + +<p>"I have seen books praised." + +<p>"Of course you have." + +<p>"I think I saw a novel spoken highly of." + +<p>Mr Alf laughed. "Why not? You do not suppose that it +is the object of the 'Pulpit' to cry down novels?" + +<p>"I thought it was; but I thought you might make an exception +here. I would be so thankful;—so grateful." + +<p>"My dear Lady Carbury, pray believe me when I say that I have +nothing to do with it. I need not preach to you sermons about +literary virtue." + +<p>"Oh, no," she said, not quite understanding what he meant. + +<p>"The sceptre has passed from my hands, and I need not vindicate +the justice of my successor." + +<p>"I shall never know your successor." + +<p>"But I must assure you that on no account should I think of +meddling with the literary arrangement of the paper. I would +not do it for my sister." Lady Carbury looked greatly +pained. "Send the book out, and let it take its chance. +How much prouder you will be to have it praised because it deserves +praise, than to know that it has been eulogized as a mark of +friendship." + +<p>"No, I shan't," said Lady Carbury. "I don't believe that +anything like real selling praise is ever given to anybody, except +to friends. I don't know how they manage it, but they +do." Mr Alf shook his head. "Oh yes; that is all very +well from you. Of course you have been a dragon of virtue; +but they tell me that the authoress of the 'New Cleopatra' is a +very handsome woman." Lady Carbury must have been worried +much beyond her wont, when she allowed herself so far to lose her +temper as to bring against Mr Alf the double charge of being too +fond of the authoress in question, and of having sacrificed the +justice of his columns to that improper affection. + +<p>"At this moment I do not remember the name of the lady to whom +you allude," said Mr Alf, getting up to take his leave; "and I am +quite sure that the gentleman who reviewed the book,—if there be +any such lady and any such book,—had never seen her!" And so +Mr Alf departed. + +<p>Lady Carbury was very angry with herself, and very angry also +with Mr Alf. She had not only meant to be piteous, but had +made the attempt and then had allowed herself to be carried away +into anger. She had degraded herself to humility, and had +then wasted any possible good result by a foolish fit of +chagrin. The world in which she had to live was almost too +hard for her. When left alone she sat weeping over her +sorrows; but when from time to time she thought of Mr Alf and his +conduct, she could hardly repress her scorn. What lies he had +told her! Of course he could have done it had he +chosen. But the assumed honesty of the man was infinitely +worse to her than his lies. No doubt the "Pulpit" had two +objects in its criticisms. Other papers probably had but +one. The object common to all papers, that of helping friends +and destroying enemies, of course prevailed with the +"Pulpit." There was the second purpose of enticing readers by +crushing authors,—as crowds used to be enticed to see men hanged +when executions were done in public. But neither the one +object nor the other was compatible with that Aristidean justice +which Mr Alf arrogated to himself and to his paper. She hoped +with all her heart that Mr Alf would spend a great deal of money at +Westminster, and then lose his seat. + +<p>On the following morning she herself took the manuscript to +Messrs Leadham and Loiter, and was hurt again by the small amount +of respect which seemed to be paid to the collected sheets. +There was the work of six months; her very blood and brains,—the +concentrated essence of her mind,—as she would say herself when +talking with energy of her own performances; and Mr Leadham pitched +it across to a clerk, apparently perhaps sixteen years of age, and +the lad chucked the parcel unceremoniously under the counter. +An author feels that his work should be taken from him with +fast-clutching but reverential hands, and held thoughtfully, out of +harm's way, till it be deposited within the very sanctum of an +absolutely fireproof safe. Oh, heavens, if it should be +lost!—or burned!—or stolen! Those scraps of paper, so +easily destroyed, apparently so little respected, may hereafter be +acknowledged to have had a value greater, so far greater, than +their weight in gold! If "Robinson Crusoe" had been +lost! If "Tom Jones" had been consumed by flames! And +who knows but that this may be another "Robinson Crusoe,"—a better +than "Tom Jones"? "Will it be safe there?" asked Lady +Carbury. + +<p>"Quite safe,—quite safe," said Mr Leadham, who was rather busy, +and perhaps saw Lady Carbury more frequently than the nature and +amount of her authorship seemed to him to require. + +<p>"It seemed to be,—put down there,—under the counter!" + +<p>"That's quite right, Lady Carbury. They're left there till +they're packed." + +<p>"Packed!" + +<p>"There are two or three dozen going to our reader this +week. He's down in Skye, and we keep them till there's enough +to fill the sack." + +<p>"Do they go by post, Mr Leadham?" + +<p>"Not by post, Lady Carbury. There are not many of them +would pay the expense. We send them by long sea to Glasgow, +because just at this time of the year there is not much +hurry. We can't publish before the winter." Oh, +heavens! If that ship should be lost on its journey by long +sea to Glasgow! + +<p>That evening, as was now almost his daily habit, Mr Browne came +to her. There was something in the absolute friendship which +now existed between Lady Carbury and the editor of the "Morning +Breakfast Table," which almost made her scrupulous as to asking +from him any further literary favour. She fully +recognized,—no woman perhaps more fully,—the necessity of making +use of all aid and furtherance which might come within reach. +With such a son, with such need for struggling before her, would +she not be wicked not to catch even at every straw? But this +man had now become so true to her, that she hardly knew how to beg +him to do that which she, with all her mistaken feelings, did in +truth know that he ought not to do. He had asked her to marry +him, for which,—though she had refused him,—she felt infinitely +grateful. And though she had refused him, he had lent her +money, and had supported her in her misery by his continued +counsel. If he would offer to do this thing for her she would +accept his kindness on her knees,—but even she could not bring +herself to ask to have this added to his other favours. Her +first word to him was about Mr Alf. "So he has given up the +paper?" + +<p>"Well, yes;—nominally." + +<p>"Is that all?" + +<p>"I don't suppose he'll really let it go out of his own +hands. Nobody likes to lose power. He'll share the +work, and keep the authority. As for Westminster, I don't +believe he has a chance. If that poor wretch Melmotte could +beat him when everybody was already talking about the forgeries, +how is it likely that he should stand against such a candidate as +they'll get now?" + +<p>"He was here yesterday." + +<p>"And full of triumph, I suppose?" + +<p>"He never talks to me much of himself. We were speaking of +my new book,—my novel. He assured me most positively that he +had nothing further to do with the paper." + +<p>"He did not care to make you a promise, I dare say." + +<p>"That was just it. Of course I did not believe him." + +<p>"Neither will I make a promise, but we'll see what we can +do. If we can't be good-natured, at any rate we will say +nothing ill-natured. Let me see,—what is the name?" + +<p>"'The Wheel of Fortune.'" Lady Carbury as she told the +title of her new book to her old friend seemed to be almost ashamed +of it. + +<p>"Let them send it early,—a day or two before it's out, if they +can. I can't answer, of course, for the opinion of the +gentleman it will go to, but nothing shall go in that you would +dislike. Good-bye. God bless you." And as he took +her hand, he looked at her almost as though the old susceptibility +were returning to him. + +<p>As she sat alone after he had gone, thinking over it +all,—thinking of her own circumstances and of his kindness,—it +did not occur to her to call him an old goose again. She felt +now that she had mistaken her man when she had so regarded +him. That first and only kiss which he had given her, which +she had treated with so much derision, for which she had rebuked +him so mildly and yet so haughtily, had now a somewhat sacred spot +in her memory. Through it all the man must have really loved +her! Was it not marvellous that such a thing should be? +And how had it come to pass that she in all her tenderness had +rejected him when he had given her the chance of becoming his wife? +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="90"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XC. Hetta's Sorrow</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When Hetta Carbury received that letter from her lover which was +given to the reader some chapters back, it certainly did not tend +in any way to alleviate her misery. Even when she had read it +over half-a-dozen times, she could not bring herself to think it +possible that she could be reconciled to the man. It was not +only that he had sinned against her by giving his society to +another woman to whom he had at any rate been engaged not long +since, at the very time at which he was becoming engaged to +her,—but also that he had done this in such a manner as to make +his offence known to all her friends. Perhaps she had been +too quick;—but there was the fact that with her own consent she +had acceded to her mother's demand that the man should be +rejected. The man had been rejected, and even Roger Carbury +knew that it was so. After this it was, she thought, +impossible that she should recall him. But they should all +know that her heart was unchanged. Roger Carbury should +certainly know that, if he ever asked her further question on the +matter. She would never deny it; and though she knew that the +man had behaved badly,—having entangled himself with a nasty +American woman,—yet she would be true to him as far as her own +heart was concerned. + +<p>And now he told her that she had been most unjust to him. +He said that he could not understand her injustice. He did +not fill his letter with entreaties, but with reproaches. And +certainly his reproaches moved her more than any prayer would have +done. It was too late now to remedy the evil; but she was not +quite sure within her own bosom that she had not been unjust to +him. The more she thought of it the more puzzled her mind +became. Had she quarrelled with him because he had once been +in love with Mrs Hurtle, or because she had grounds for regarding +Mrs Hurtle as her present rival? She hated Mrs Hurtle, and +she was very angry with him in that he had ever been on +affectionate terms with a woman she hated;—but that had not been +the reason put forward by her for quarrelling with him. +Perhaps it was true that he, too, had of late loved Mrs Hurtle +hardly better than she did herself. It might be that he had +been indeed constrained by hard circumstances to go with the woman +to Lowestoft. Having so gone with her, it was no doubt right +that he should be rejected;—for how can it be that a man who is +engaged shall be allowed to travel about the country with another +woman to whom also he was engaged a few months back? But +still there might be hardship in it. To her, to Hetta +herself, the circumstances were very hard. She loved the man +with all her heart. She could look forward to no happiness in +life without him. But yet it must be so. + +<p>At the end of his letter he had told her to go to Mrs Hurtle +herself if she wanted corroboration of the story as told by +him. Of course he had known when he wrote it that she could +not and would not go to Mrs Hurtle. But when the letter had +been in her possession three or four days,—unanswered, for, as a +matter of course, no answer to it from herself was possible,—and +had been read and re-read till she knew every word of it by heart, +she began to think that if she could hear the story as it might be +told by Mrs Hurtle, a good deal that was now dark might become +light to her. As she continued to read the letter, and to +brood over it all, by degrees her anger was turned from her lover +to her mother, her brother, and to her cousin Roger. Paul had +of course behaved badly, very badly,—but had it not been for them +she might have had an opportunity of forgiving him. They had +driven her on to the declaration of a purpose from which she could +now see no escape. There had been a plot against her, and she +was a victim. In the first dismay and agony occasioned by +that awful story of the American woman,—which had, at the moment, +struck her with a horror which was now becoming less and less every +hour,—she had fallen head foremost into the trap laid for +her. She acknowledged to herself that it was too late to +recover her ground. She was, at any rate, almost sure that it +must be too late. But yet she was disposed to do battle with +her mother and her cousin in the matter—if only with the object +of showing that she would not submit her own feelings to their +control. She was savage to the point of rebellion against all +authority. Roger Carbury would of course think that any +communication between herself and Mrs Hurtle must be +improper,—altogether indelicate. Two or three days ago she +thought so herself. But the world was going so hard with her, +that she was beginning to feel herself capable of throwing +propriety and delicacy to the winds. This man whom she had +once accepted, whom she altogether loved, and who, in spite of all +his faults, certainly still loved her,—of that she was beginning +to have no further doubt,—accused her of dishonesty, and referred +her to her rival for a corroboration of his story. She would +appeal to Mrs Hurtle. The woman was odious, abominable, a +nasty intriguing American female. But her lover desired that +she should hear the woman's story; and she would hear the +story,—if the woman would tell it. + +<p>So resolving, she wrote as follows to Mrs Hurtle, finding great +difficulty in the composition of a letter which should tell neither +too little nor too much, and determined that she would be +restrained by no mock modesty, by no girlish fear of declaring the +truth about herself. The letter at last was stiff and hard, +but it sufficed for its purpose. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +Madam,—<br> +<br> + Mr Paul Montague has referred me to +you as to certain circumstances which have taken place between him +and you. It is right that I should tell you that I was a +short time since engaged to marry him, but that I have found myself +obliged to break off that engagement in consequence of what I have +been told as to his acquaintance with you. I make this +proposition to you, not thinking that anything you will say to me +can change my mind, but because he has asked me to do so, and has, +at the same time, accused me of injustice towards him. I do +not wish to rest under an accusation of injustice from one to whom +I was once warmly attached. If you will receive me, I will +make it my business to call any afternoon you may name.<br> +<br> + Yours truly,<br> +<br> + HENRIETTA CARBURY.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> + +<p>When the letter was written she was not only ashamed of it, but +very much afraid of it also. What if the American woman +should put it in a newspaper! She had heard that everything +was put into newspapers in America. What if this Mrs Hurtle +should send back to her some horribly insolent answer;—or should +send such answer to her mother, instead of herself! And then, +again, if the American woman consented to receive her, would not +the American woman, as a matter of course, trample upon her with +rough words? Once or twice she put the letter aside, and +almost determined that it should not be sent;—but at last, with +desperate fortitude, she took it out with her and posted it +herself. She told no word of it to any one. Her mother, +she thought, had been cruel to her, had disregarded her feelings, +and made her wretched for ever. She could not ask her mother +for sympathy in her present distress. There was no friend who +would sympathize with her. She must do everything alone. + +<p>Mrs Hurtle, it will be remembered, had at last determined that +she would retire from the contest and own herself to have been +worsted. It is, I fear, impossible to describe adequately the +various half resolutions which she formed, and the changing phases +of her mind before she brought herself to this conclusion. +And soon after she had assured herself that this should be the +conclusion,—after she had told Paul Montague that it should be +so,—there came back upon her at times other half resolutions to a +contrary effect. She had written a letter to the man +threatening desperate revenge, and had then abstained from sending +it, and had then shown it to the man,—not intending to give it to +him as a letter upon which he would have to act, but only that she +might ask him whether, had he received it, he would have said that +he had not deserved it. Then she had parted with him, +refusing either to hear or to say a word of farewell, and had told +Mrs Pipkin that she was no longer engaged to be married. At +that moment everything was done that could be done. The game +had been played and the stakes lost,—and she had schooled herself +into such restraint as to have abandoned all idea of +vengeance. But from time to time there arose in her heart a +feeling that such softness was unworthy of her. Who had ever +been soft to her? Who had spared her? Had she not long +since found out that she must fight with her very nails and teeth +for every inch of ground, if she did not mean to be trodden into +the dust? Had she not held her own among rough people after a +very rough fashion, and should she now simply retire that she might +weep in a corner like a love-sick schoolgirl? And she had +been so stoutly determined that she would at any rate avenge her +own wrongs, if she could not turn those wrongs into triumph! +There were moments in which she thought that she could still seize +the man by the throat, where all the world might see her, and dare +him to deny that he was false, perjured, and mean. + +<p>Then she received a long passionate letter from Paul Montague, +written at the same time as those other letters to Roger Carbury +and Hetta, in which he told her all the circumstances of his +engagement to Hetta Carbury, and implored her to substantiate the +truth of his own story. It was certainly marvellous to her +that the man who had so long been her own lover and who had parted +with her after such a fashion should write such a letter to +her. But it had no tendency to increase either her anger or +her sorrow. Of course she had known that it was so, and at +certain times she had told herself that it was only natural,—had +almost told herself that it was right. She and this young +Englishman were not fit to be mated. He was to her thinking a +tame, sleek household animal, whereas she knew herself to be +wild,—fitter for the woods than for polished cities. It had +been one of the faults of her life that she had allowed herself to +be bound by tenderness of feeling to this soft over-civilised +man. The result had been disastrous, as might have been +expected. She was angry with him,—almost to the extent of +tearing him to pieces,—but she did not become more angry because +he wrote to her of her rival. + +<p>Her only present friend was Mrs Pipkin, who treated her with the +greatest deference, but who was never tired of asking questions +about the lost lover. "That letter was from Mr Montague?" +said Mrs Pipkin on the morning after it had been received. + +<p>"How can you know that?" + +<p>"I'm sure it was. One does get to know handwritings when +letters come frequent." + +<p>"It was from him. And why not?" + +<p>"Oh dear no;—why not certainly? I wish he'd write every +day of his life, so that things would come round again. +Nothing ever troubles me so much as broken love. Why don't he +come again himself, Mrs Hurtle?" + +<p>"It is not at all likely that he should come again. It is +all over, and there is no good in talking of it. I shall +return to New York on Saturday week." + +<p>"Oh, Mrs Hurtle!" + +<p>"I can't remain here, you know, all my life doing nothing. +I came over here for a certain purpose and that has—gone by. +Now I may just go back again." + +<p>"I know he has ill-treated you. I know he has." + +<p>"I am not disposed to talk about it, Mrs Pipkin." + +<p>"I should have thought it would have done you good to speak your +mind out free. I knew it would me if I'd been served in that +way." + +<p>"If I had anything to say at all after that fashion it would be +to the gentleman, and not to any other else. As it is I shall +never speak of it again to any one. You have been very kind +to me, Mrs Pipkin, and I shall be sorry to leave you." + +<p>"Oh, Mrs Hurtle, you can't understand what it is to me. It +isn't only my feelings. The likes of me can't stand by their +feelings only, as their betters do. I've never been above +telling you what a godsend you've been to me this summer;—have +I? I've paid everything, butcher, baker, rates and all, just +like clockwork. And now you're going away!" Then Mrs +Pipkin began to sob. + +<p>"I suppose I shall see Mr Crumb before I go," said Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>"She don't deserve it; do she? And even now she never says +a word about him that I call respectful. She looks on him as +just being better than Mrs Buggins's children. That's all." + +<p>"She'll be all right when he has once got her home." + +<p>"And I shall be all alone by myself," said Mrs Pipkin, with her +apron up to her eyes. + +<p>It was after this that Mrs Hurtle received Hetta's letter. +She had as yet returned no answer to Paul Montague,—nor had she +intended to send any written answer. Were she to comply with +his request she could do so best by writing to the girl who was +concerned rather than to him. And though she wrote no such +letter she thought of it,—of the words she would use were she to +write it, and of the tale which she would have to tell. She +sat for hours thinking of it, trying to resolve whether she would +tell the tale,—if she told it at all,—in a manner to suit Paul's +purpose, or so as to bring that purpose utterly to shipwreck. +She did not doubt that she could cause the shipwreck were she so +minded. She could certainly have her revenge after that +fashion. But it was a woman's fashion, and, as such, did not +recommend itself to Mrs Hurdle's feelings. A pistol or a +horsewhip, a violent seizing by the neck, with sharp taunts and +bitter-ringing words, would have made the fitting revenge. If +she abandoned that she could do herself no good by telling a story +of her wrongs to another woman. + +<p>Then came Hetta's note, so stiff, so cold, so true,—so like the +letter of an Englishwoman, as Mrs Hurtle said to herself. Mrs +Hurtle smiled as she read the letter. "I make this +proposition not thinking that anything you can say to me can change +my mind." Of course the girl's mind would be changed. +The girl's mind, indeed, required no change. Mrs Hurtle could +see well enough that the girl's heart was set upon the man. +Nevertheless she did not doubt but that she could tell the story +after such a fashion as to make it impossible that the girl should +marry him,—if she chose to do so. + +<p>At first she thought that she would not answer the letter at +all. What was it to her? Let them fight their own +lovers' battles out after their own childish fashion. If the +man meant at last to be honest, there could be no doubt, Mrs Hurtle +thought, that the girl would go to him. It would require no +interference of hers. But after a while she thought that she +might as well see this English chit who had superseded herself in +the affections of the Englishman she had condescended to +love. And if it were the case that all revenge was to be +abandoned, that no punishment was to be exacted in return for all +the injury that had been done, why should she not say a kind word +so as to smooth away the existing difficulties? Wild cat as +she was, kindness was more congenial to her nature than +cruelty. So she wrote to Hetta making an appointment. + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<i> +DEAR MISS CARBURY,—<br> +<br> + If you could make it convenient to +yourself to call here either Thursday or Friday at any hour between +two and four, I shall be very happy to see you.<br> +<br> + Yours sincerely,<br> +<br> + WINIFRED HURTLE.<br> +</i> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="91"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCI. The Rivals</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>During these days the intercourse between Lady Carbury and her +daughter was constrained and far from pleasant. Hetta, +thinking that she was ill-used, kept herself aloof, and would not +speak to her mother of herself or of her troubles. Lady +Carbury watching her, but not daring to say much, was at last +almost frightened at her girl's silence. She had assured +herself, when she found that Hetta was disposed to quarrel with her +lover and to send him back his brooch, that "things would come +round," that Paul would be forgotten quickly,—or laid aside as +though he were forgotten,—and that Hetta would soon perceive it to +be her interest to marry her cousin. With such a prospect +before her, Lady Carbury thought it to be her duty as a mother to +show no tendency to sympathize with her girl's sorrow. Such +heart-breakings were occurring daily in the world around +them. Who were the happy people that were driven neither by +ambition, nor poverty, nor greed, nor the cross purposes of unhappy +love, to stifle and trample upon their feelings? She had +known no one so blessed. She had never been happy after that +fashion. She herself had within the last few weeks refused to +join her lot with that of a man she really liked, because her +wicked son was so grievous a burden on her shoulders. A +woman, she thought, if she were unfortunate enough to be a lady +without wealth of her own, must give up everything, her body, her +heart,—her very soul if she were that way troubled,—to the +procuring of a fitting maintenance for herself. Why should +Hetta hope to be more fortunate than others? And then the +position which chance now offered to her was fortunate. This +cousin of hers, who was so devoted to her, was in all respects +good. He would not torture her by harsh restraint and cruel +temper. He would not drink. He would not spend his +money foolishly. He would allow her all the belongings of a +fair, free life. Lady Carbury reiterated to herself the +assertion that she was manifestly doing a mother's duty by her +endeavours to constrain her girl to marry such a man. With a +settled purpose she was severe and hard. But when she found +how harsh her daughter could be in response to this,—how gloomy, +how silent, and how severe in retaliation,—she was almost +frightened at what she herself was doing. She had not known +how stern and how enduring her daughter could be. "Hetta," +she said, "why don't you speak to me?" On this very day it +was Hetta's purpose to visit Mrs Hurtle at Islington. She had +said no word of her intention to any one. She had chosen the +Friday because on that day she knew her mother would go in the +afternoon to her publisher. There should be no deceit. +Immediately on her return she would tell her mother what she had +done. But she considered herself to be emancipated from +control. Among them they had robbed her of her lover. +She had submitted to the robbery, but she would submit to nothing +else. "Hetta, why don't you speak to me?" said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Because, mamma, there is nothing we can talk about without +making each other unhappy." + +<p>"What a dreadful thing to say! Is there no subject in the +world to interest you except that wretched young man?" + +<p>"None other at all," said Hetta obstinately. + +<p>"What folly it is,—I will not say only to speak like that, but +to allow yourself to entertain such thoughts!" + +<p>"How am I to control my thoughts? Do you think, mamma, +that after I had owned to you that I loved a man,—after I had +owned it to him and, worst of all, to myself,—I could have myself +separated from him, and then not think about it? It is a +cloud upon everything. It is as though I had lost my eyesight +and my speech. It is as it would be to you if Felix were to +die. It crushes me." + +<p>There was an accusation in this allusion to her brother which +the mother felt,—as she was intended to feel it,—but to which she +could make no reply. It accused her of being too much +concerned for her son to feel any real affection for her +daughter. "You are ignorant of the world, Hetta," she said. + +<p>"I am having a lesson in it now, at any rate," + +<p>"Do you think it is worse than others have suffered before +you? In what little you see around you do you think that +girls are generally able to marry the men upon whom they set their +hearts?" She paused, but Hetta made no answer to this. +"Marie Melmotte was as warmly attached to your brother as you can +be to Mr Montague." + +<p>"Marie Melmotte!" + +<p>"She thinks as much of her feelings as you do of yours. +The truth is you are indulging a dream. You must wake from +it, and shake yourself, and find out that you, like others, have +got to do the best you can for yourself in order that you may +live. The world at large has to eat dry bread, and cannot get +cakes and sweetmeats. A girl, when she thinks of giving +herself to a husband, has to remember this. If she has a +fortune of her own she can pick and choose, but if she have none +she must allow herself to be chosen." + +<p>"Then a girl is to marry without stopping even to think whether +she likes the man or not?" + +<p>"She should teach herself to like the man, if the marriage be +suitable. I would not have you take a vicious man because he +was rich, or one known to be cruel and imperious. Your cousin +Roger, you know—" + +<p>"Mamma," said Hetta, getting up from her seat, "you may as well +believe me. No earthly inducement shall ever make me marry my +cousin Roger. It is to me horrible that you should propose it +to me when you know that I love that other man with my whole +heart." + +<p>"How can you speak so of one who has treated you with the utmost +contumely?" + +<p>"I know nothing of any contumely. What reasons have I to +be offended because he has liked a woman whom he knew before he +ever saw me? It has been unfortunate, wretched, miserable; +but I do not know that I have any right whatever to be angry with +Mr Paul Montague." Having so spoken she walked out of the +room without waiting for a further reply. + +<p>It was all very sad to Lady Carbury. She perceived now +that she had driven her daughter to pronounce an absolution of Paul +Montague's sins, and that in this way she had lessened and loosened +the barrier which she had striven to construct between them. +But that which pained her most was the unrealistic, romantic view +of life which pervaded all Hetta's thoughts. How was any girl +to live in this world who could not be taught the folly of such +idle dreams? + +<p>That afternoon Hetta trusted herself all alone to the mysteries +of the Marylebone underground railway, and emerged with accuracy at +King's Cross. She had studied her geography, and she walked +from thence to Islington. She knew well the name of the +street and the number at which Mrs Hurtle lived. But when she +reached the door she did not at first dare to stand and raise the +knocker. She passed on to the end of the silent, vacant +street, endeavouring to collect her thoughts, striving to find and +to arrange the words with which she would commence her strange +petition. And she endeavoured to dictate to herself some +defined conduct should the woman be insolent to her. +Personally she was not a coward, but she doubted her power of +replying to a rough speech. She could at any rate +escape. Should the worst come to the worst, the woman would +hardly venture to impede her departure. Having gone to the +end of the street, she returned with a very quick step and knocked +at the door. It was opened almost immediately by Ruby +Ruggles, to whom she gave her name. + +<p>"Oh laws,—Miss Carbury!" said Ruby, looking up into the +stranger's face. Yes,—sure enough she must be Felix's +sister. But Ruby did not dare to ask any question. She +had admitted to all around her that Sir Felix should not be her +lover any more, and that John Crumb should be allowed to +return. But, nevertheless, her heart twittered as she showed +Miss Carbury up to the lodger's sitting-room. + +<p>Though it was midsummer Hetta entered the room with her veil +down. She adjusted it as she followed Ruby up the stairs, +moved by a sudden fear of her rival's scrutiny. Mrs Hurtle +rose from her chair and came forward to greet her visitor, putting +out both her hands to do so. She was dressed with the most +scrupulous care,—simply, and in black, without an ornament of any +kind, without a ribbon or a chain or a flower. But with some +woman's purpose at her heart she had so attired herself as to look +her very best. Was it that she thought that she would +vindicate to her rival their joint lover's first choice, or that +she was minded to teach the English girl that an American woman +might have graces of her own? As she came forward she was +gentle and soft in her movements, and a pleasant smile played round +her mouth. Hetta, at the first moment, was almost dumbfounded +by her beauty,—by that and by her ease and exquisite +self-possession. "Miss Carbury," she said with that low, rich +voice which in old days had charmed Paul almost as much as her +loveliness, "I need not tell you how interested I am in seeing +you. May I not ask you to lay aside your veil, so that we may +look at each other fairly?" Hetta, dumbfounded, not knowing +how to speak a word, stood gazing at the woman when she had removed +her veil. She had had no personal description of Mrs Hurtle, +but had expected something very different from this! She had +thought that the woman would be coarse and big, with fine eyes and +a bright colour. As it was they were both of the same +complexion, both dark, with hair nearly black, with eyes of the +same colour. Hetta thought of all that at the moment,—but +acknowledged to herself that she had no pretension to beauty such +as that which this woman owned. "And so you have come to see +me," said Mrs Hurtle. "Sit down so that I may look at +you. I am glad that you have come to see me, Miss Carbury." + +<p>"I am glad at any rate that you are not angry." + +<p>"Why should I be angry? Had the idea been distasteful to +me I should have declined. I know not why, but it is a sort +of pleasure to me to see you. It is a poor time we women +have,—is it not,—in becoming playthings to men? So this +Lothario that was once mine, is behaving badly to you also. +Is it so? He is no longer mine, and you may ask me freely for +aid, if there be any that I can give you. If he were an +American I should say that he had behaved badly to me;—but as he +is an Englishman perhaps it is different. Now tell me;—what +can I do, or what can I say?" + +<p>"He told me that you could tell me the truth." + +<p>"What truth? I will certainly tell you nothing that is not +true. You have quarrelled with him too. It is not so?" + +<p>"Certainly I have quarrelled with him." + +<p>"I am not curious;—but perhaps you had better tell me of +that. I know him so well that I can guess that he should give +offence. He can be full of youthful ardour one day, and +cautious as old age itself the next. But I do not suppose +that there has been need for such caution with you. What is +it, Miss Carbury?" + +<p>Hetta found the telling of her story to be very difficult. + +<p>"Mrs Hurtle," she said, "I had never heard your name when he +first asked me to be his wife." + +<p>"I dare say not. Why should he have told you anything of +me?" + +<p>"Because,—oh, because—. Surely he ought, if it is true +that he had once promised to marry you." + +<p>"That is certainly true." + +<p>"And you were here, and I knew nothing of it. Of course I +should have been very different to him had I known +that,—that,—that—" + +<p>"That there was such a woman as Winifred Hurtle interfering with +him. Then you heard it by chance, and you were +offended. Was it not so?" + +<p>"And now he tells me that I have been unjust to him and he bids +me ask you. I have not been unjust." + +<p>"I am not so sure of that. Shall I tell you what I +think? I think that he has been unjust to me, and that +therefore your injustice to him is no more than his due. I +cannot plead for him, Miss Carbury. To me he has been the +last and worst of a long series of, I think, undeserved +misfortune. But whether you will avenge my wrongs must be for +you to decide." + +<p>"Why did he go with you to Lowestoft?" + +<p>"Because I asked him,—and because, like many men, he cannot be +ill-natured although he can be cruel. He would have given a +hand not to have gone, but he could not say me nay. As you +have come here, Miss Carbury, you may as well know the truth. +He did love me, but he had been talked out of his love by my +enemies and his own friends long before he had ever seen you. +I am almost ashamed to tell you my own part of the story, and yet I +know not why I should be ashamed. I followed him here to +England—because I loved him. I came after him, as perhaps a +woman should not do, because I was true of heart. He had told +me that he did not want me;—but I wanted to be wanted, and I hoped +that I might lure him back to his troth. I have utterly +failed, and I must return to my own country,—I will not say a +broken-hearted woman, for I will not admit of such a +condition,—but a creature with a broken spirit. He has +misused me foully, and I have simply forgiven him; not because I am +a Christian, but because I am not strong enough to punish one that +I still love. I could not put a dagger into him,—or I would; +or a bullet,—or I would. He has reduced me to a nothing by +his falseness, and yet I cannot injure him! I, who have sworn +to myself that no man should ever lay a finger on me in scorn +without feeling my wrath in return, I cannot punish him. But +if you choose to do so it is not for me to set you against such an +act of justice." Then she paused and looked up to Hetta as +though expecting a reply. + +<p>But Hetta had no reply to make. All had been said that she +had come to hear. Every word that the woman had spoken had in +truth been a comfort to her. She had told herself that her +visit was to be made in order that she might be justified in her +condemnation of her lover. She had believed that it was her +intention to arm herself with proof that she had done right in +rejecting him. Now she was told that however false her lover +might have been to this other woman he had been absolutely true to +her. The woman had not spoken kindly of Paul,—had seemed to +intend to speak of him with the utmost severity; but she had so +spoken as to acquit him of all sin against Hetta. What was it +to Hetta that her lover had been false to this American +stranger? It did not seem to her to be at all necessary that +she should be angry with her lover on that bead. Mrs Hurtle +had told her that she herself must decide whether she would take +upon herself to avenge her rival's wrongs. In saying that, +Mrs Hurtle had taught her to feel that there were no other wrongs +which she need avenge. It was all done now. If she +could only thank the woman for the pleasantness of her demeanour, +and then go, she could, when alone, make up her mind as to what she +would do next. She had not yet told herself she would submit +herself again to Paul Montague. She had only told herself +that, within her own breast, she was bound to forgive him. +"You have been very kind," she said at last,—speaking only because +it was necessary that she should say something. + +<p>"It is well that there should be some kindness where there has +been so much that is unkind. Forgive me, Miss Carbury, if I +speak plainly to you. Of course you will go back to +him. Of course you will be his wife. You have told me +that you love him dearly, as plainly as I have told you the same +story of myself. Your coming here would of itself have +declared it, even if I did not see your satisfaction at my account +of his treachery to me." + +<p>"Oh, Mrs Hurtle, do not say that of me!" + +<p>"But it is true, and I do not in the least quarrel with you on +that account. He has preferred you to me, and as far as I am +concerned there is an end of it. You are a girl, whereas I am +a woman,—and he likes your youth. I have undergone the cruel +roughness of the world, which has not as yet touched you; and +therefore you are softer to the touch. I do not know that you +are very superior in other attractions; but that has sufficed, and +you are the victor. I am strong enough to acknowledge that I +have nothing to forgive in you;—and am weak enough to forgive all +his treachery." Hetta was now holding the woman by the hand, +and was weeping, she knew not why. "I am so glad to have seen +you," continued Mrs Hurtle, "so that I may know what his wife was +like. In a few days I shall return to the States, and then +neither of you will ever be troubled further by Winifred +Hurtle. Tell him that if he will come and see me once before +I go, I will not be more unkind to him than I can help." + +<p>When Hetta did not decline to be the bearer of this message she +must have at any rate resolved that she would see Paul Montague +again,—and to see him would be to tell him that she was again his +own. She now got herself quickly out of the room, absolutely +kissing the woman whom she had both dreaded and despised. As +soon as she was alone in the street she tried to think of it +all. How full of beauty was the face of that American +female,—how rich and glorious her voice in spite of a slight taint +of the well-known nasal twang;—and above all how powerful and at +the same time how easy and how gracious was her manner! That +she would be an unfit wife for Paul Montague was certain to Hetta, +but that he or any man should have loved her and have been loved by +her, and then have been willing to part from her, was +wonderful. And yet Paul Montague had preferred herself, Hetta +Carbury, to this woman! Paul had certainly done well for his +own cause when he had referred the younger lady to the elder. + +<p>Of her own quarrel of course there must be an end. She had +been unjust to the man, and injustice must of course be remedied by +repentance and confession. As she walked quickly back to the +railway station she brought herself to love her lover more fondly +than she had ever done. He had been true to her from the +first hour of their acquaintance. What truth higher than that +has any woman a right to desire? No doubt she gave to him a +virgin heart. No other man had ever touched her lips, or been +allowed to press her hand, or to look into her eyes with unrebuked +admiration. It was her pride to give herself to the man she +loved after this fashion, pure and white as snow on which no foot +has trodden. But, in taking him, all that she wanted was that +he should be true to her now and henceforward. The future +must be her own work. As to the "now," she felt that Mrs +Hurtle had given her sufficient assurance. + +<p>She must at once let her mother know this change in her +mind. When she re-entered the house she was no longer sullen, +no longer anxious to be silent, very willing to be gracious if she +might be received with favour,—but quite determined that nothing +should shake her purpose. She went at once into her mother's +room, having heard from the boy at the door that Lady Carbury had +returned. + +<p>"Hetta, wherever have you been?" asked Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Mamma," she said, "I mean to write to Mr Montague and tell him +that I have been unjust to him." + +<p>"Hetta, you must do nothing of the kind," said Lady Carbury, +rising from her seat. + +<p>"Yes, mamma. I have been unjust, and I must do so." + +<p>"It will be asking him to come back to you." + +<p>"Yes, mamma:—that is what I mean. I shall tell him that +if he will come, I will receive him. I know he will +come. Oh, mamma, let us be friends, and I will tell you +everything. Why should you grudge me my love?" + +<p>"You have sent him back his brooch," said Lady Carbury hoarsely. + +<p>"He shall give it me again. Hear what I have done. I +have seen that American lady." + +<p>"Mrs Hurtle!" + +<p>"Yes;—I have been to her. She is a wonderful woman." + +<p>"And she has told you wonderful lies." + +<p>"Why should she lie to me? She has told me no lies. +She said nothing in his favour." + +<p>"I can well believe that. What can any one say in his +favour?" + +<p>"But she told me that which has assured me that Mr Montague has +never behaved badly to me. I shall write to him at +once. If you like I will show you the letter." + +<p>"Any letter to him, I will tear," said Lady Carbury, full of +anger. + +<p>"Mamma, I have told you everything, but in this I must judge for +myself." Then Hetta, seeing that her mother would not relent, +left the room without further speech, and immediately opened her +desk that the letter might be written. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="92"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCII. Hamilton K. Fisker Again</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Ten days had passed since the meeting narrated in the last +chapter,—ten days, during which Hetta's letter had been sent to +her lover, but in which she had received no reply,—when two +gentlemen met each other in a certain room in Liverpool, who were +seen together in the same room in the early part of this +chronicle. These were our young friend Paul Montague, and our +not much older friend Hamilton K. Fisker. Melmotte had died +on the 18th of July, and tidings of the event had been at once sent +by telegraph to San Francisco. Some weeks before this +Montague had written to his partner, giving his account of the +South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway Company,—describing its +condition in England as he then believed it to be,—and urging +Fisker to come over to London. On receipt of a message from +his American correspondent he had gone down to Liverpool, and had +there awaited Fisker's arrival, taking counsel with his friend Mr +Ramsbottom. In the meantime Hetta's letter was lying at the +Beargarden, Paul having written from his club and having omitted to +desire that the answer should be sent to his lodgings. Just +at this moment things at the Beargarden were not well +managed. They were indeed so ill managed that Paul never +received that letter,—which would have had for him charms greater +than those of any letter ever before written. + +<p>"This is a terrible business," said Fisker, immediately on +entering the room in which Montague was waiting him. "He was +the last man I'd have thought would be cut up in that way." + +<p>"He was utterly ruined." + +<p>"He wouldn't have been ruined,—and couldn't have thought so if +he'd known all be ought to have known. The South Central +would have pulled him through almost anything if he'd have +understood how to play it." + +<p>"We don't think much of the South Central here now," said Paul. + +<p>"Ah;—that's because you've never above half spirit enough for +a big thing. You nibble at it instead of swallowing it +whole,—and then, of course, folks see that you're only +nibbling. I thought that Melmotte would have had spirit." + +<p>"There is, I fear, no doubt that he had committed forgery. +It was the dread of detection as to that which drove him to destroy +himself." + +<p>"I call it dam clumsy from beginning to end;—dam clumsy. +I took him to be a different man, and I feel more than half ashamed +of myself because I trusted such a fellow. That chap +Cohenlupe has got off with a lot of swag. Only think of +Melmotte allowing Cohenlupe to get the better of him!" + +<p>"I suppose the thing will be broken up now at San Francisco," +suggested Paul. + +<p>"Bu'st up at Frisco! Not if I know it. Why should it +be bu'st up? D'you think we're all going to smash there +because a fool like Melmotte blows his brains out in London?" + +<p>"He took poison." + +<p>"Or p'ison either. That's not just our way. I'll +tell you what I'm going to do; and why I'm over here so uncommon +sharp. These shares are at a'most nothing now in +London. I'll buy every share in the market. I wired for +as many as I dar'd, so as not to spoil our own game, and I'll make +a clean sweep of every one of them. Bu'st up! I'm sorry +for him because I thought him a biggish man;—but what he's done'll +just be the making of us over there. Will you get out of it, +or will you come back to Frisco with me?" + +<p>In answer to this Paul asserted most strenuously that he would +not return to San Francisco, and, perhaps too ingenuously, gave his +partner to understand that he was altogether sick of the great +railway, and would under no circumstances have anything more to do +with it. Fisker shrugged his shoulders, and was not +displeased at the proposed rupture. He was prepared to deal +fairly,—nay, generously,—by his partner, having recognized the +wisdom of that great commercial rule which teaches us that honour +should prevail among associates of a certain class; but he had +fully convinced himself that Paul Montague was not a fit partner +for Hamilton K. Fisker. Fisker was not only unscrupulous +himself, but he had a thorough contempt for scruples in +others. According to his theory of life, nine hundred and +ninety-nine men were obscure because of their scruples, whilst the +thousandth man predominated and cropped up into the splendour of +commercial wealth because he was free from such bondage. He +had his own theories, too, as to commercial honesty. That +which he had promised to do he would do, if it was within his +power. He was anxious that his bond should be good, and his +word equally so. But the work of robbing mankind in gross by +magnificently false representations, was not only the duty, but +also the delight and the ambition of his life. How could a +man so great endure a partnership with one so small as Paul +Montague? "And now what about Winifred Hurtle?" asked Fisker. + +<p>"What makes you ask? She's in London." + +<p>"Oh yes, I know she's in London, and Hurdle's at Frisco, +swearing that he'll come after her. He would, only he hasn't +got the dollars." + +<p>"He's not dead then?" muttered Paul. + +<p>"Dead!—no, nor likely to die. She'll have a bad time of +it with him yet." + +<p>"But she divorced him." + +<p>"She got a Kansas lawyer to say so, and he's got a Frisco lawyer +to say that there's nothing of the kind. She hasn't played +her game badly neither, for she's had the handling of her own +money, and has put it so that he can't get hold of a dollar. +Even if it suited other ways, you know, I wouldn't marry her myself +till I saw my way clearer out of the wood." + +<p>"I'm not thinking of marrying her,—if you mean that." + +<p>"There was a talk about it in Frisco;—that's all. And I +have heard Hurtle say when he was a little farther gone than usual +that she was here with you, and that he meant to drop in on you +some of these days." To this Paul made no answer, thinking +that he had now both heard enough and said enough about Mrs Hurtle. + +<p>On the following day the two men, who were still partners, went +together to London, and Fisker immediately became immersed in the +arrangement of Melmotte's affairs. He put himself into +communication with Mr Brehgert, went in and out of the offices in +Abchurch Lane and the rooms which had belonged to the Railway +Company, cross-examined Croll, mastered the books of the Company as +far as they were to be mastered, and actually summoned both the +Grendalls, father and son, up to London. Lord Alfred, and +Miles with him, had left London a day or two before Melmotte's +death,—having probably perceived that there was no further +occasion for their services. To Fisker's appeal Lord Alfred +was proudly indifferent. Who was this American that he should +call upon a director of the London Company to appear? Does +not every one know that a director of a company need not direct +unless he pleases? Lord Alfred, therefore, did not even +condescend to answer Fisker's letter;—but he advised his son to +run up to town. "I should just go, because I'd taken a salary +from the d–––– Company," said the careful +father, "but when there I wouldn't say a word." So Miles +Grendall, obeying his parent, reappeared upon the scene. + +<p>But Fisker's attention was perhaps most usefully and most +sedulously paid to Madame Melmotte and her daughter. Till +Fisker arrived no one had visited them in their solitude at +Hampstead, except Croll, the clerk. Mr Brehgert had +abstained, thinking that a widow, who had become a widow under such +terrible circumstances, would prefer to be alone. Lord +Nidderdale had made his adieux, and felt that he could do no +more. It need hardly be said that Lord Alfred had too much +good taste to interfere at such a time, although for some months he +had been domestically intimate with the poor woman, or that Sir +Felix would not be prompted by the father's death to renew his suit +to the daughter. But Fisker had not been two days in London +before he went out to Hampstead, and was admitted to Madame +Melmotte's presence,—and he had not been there four days before he +was aware that in spite of all misfortunes, Marie Melmotte was +still the undoubted possessor of a large fortune. + +<p>In regard to Melmotte's effects generally the Crown had been +induced to abstain from interfering,—giving up the right to all +the man's plate and chairs and tables which it had acquired by the +finding of the coroner's verdict,—not from tenderness to Madame +Melmotte, for whom no great commiseration was felt, but on behalf +of such creditors as poor Mr Longestaffe and his son. But +Marie's money was quite distinct from this. She had been +right in her own belief as to this property, and had been right, +too, in refusing to sign those papers,—unless it may be that that +refusal led to her father's act. She herself was sure that it +was not so, because she had withdrawn her refusal, and had offered +to sign the papers before her father's death. What might have +been the ultimate result had she done so when he first made the +request, no one could now say. That the money would have gone +there could be no doubt. The money was now hers,—a fact +which Fisker soon learned with that peculiar cleverness which +belonged to him. + +<p>Poor Madame Melmotte felt the visits of the American to be a +relief to her in her misery. The world makes great mistakes +as to that which is and is not beneficial to those whom Death has +bereaved of a companion. It may be, no doubt sometimes it is +the case, that grief shall be so heavy, so absolutely crushing, as +to make any interference with it an additional trouble, and this is +felt also in acute bodily pain, and in periods of terrible mental +suffering. It may also be, and, no doubt, often is the case, +that the bereaved one chooses to affect such overbearing sorrow, +and that friends abstain, because even such affectation has its own +rights and privileges. But Madame Melmotte was neither +crushed by grief nor did she affect to be so crushed. She had +been numbed by the suddenness and by the awe of the +catastrophe. The man who had been her merciless tyrant for +years, who had seemed to her to be a very incarnation of cruel +power, had succumbed, and shown himself to be powerless against his +own misfortunes. She was a woman of very few words, and had +spoken almost none on this occasion even to her own daughter; but +when Fisker came to her, and told her more than she had ever known +before of her husband's affairs, and spoke to her of her future +life, and mixed for her a small glass of brandy-and-water warm, and +told her that Frisco would be the fittest place for her future +residence, she certainly did not find him to be intrusive. + +<p>And even Marie liked Fisker, though she had been wooed and +almost won both by a lord and a baronet, and had understood, if not +much, at least more than her mother, of the life to which she had +been introduced. There was something of real sorrow in her +heart for her father. She was prone to love,—though, perhaps, +not prone to deep affection. Melmotte had certainly been +often cruel to her, but he had also been very indulgent. And +as she had never been specially grateful for the one, so neither +had she ever specially resented the other. Tenderness, care, +real solicitude for her well-being, she had never known, and had +come to regard the unevenness of her life, vacillating between +knocks and knick-knacks, with a blow one day and a jewel the next, +as the condition of things which was natural to her. When her +father was dead she remembered for a while the jewels and the +knickknacks, and forgot the knocks and blows. But she was not +beyond consolation, and she also found consolation in Mr Fisker's +visits. + +<p>"I used to sign a paper every quarter," she said to Fisker, as +they were walking together one evening in the lanes round +Hampstead. + +<p>"You'll have to do the same now, only instead of giving the +paper to any one you'll have to leave it in a banker's hands to +draw the money for yourself." + +<p>"And can that be done over in California?" + +<p>"Just the same as here. Your bankers will manage it all +for you without the slightest trouble. For the matter of that +I'll do it, if you'll trust me. There's only one thing +against it all, Miss Melmotte." + +<p>"And what's that?" + +<p>"After the sort of society you've been used to here, I don't +know how you'll get on among us Americans. We're a pretty +rough lot, I guess. Though, perhaps, what you lose in the +look of the fruit, you'll make up in the flavour." This +Fisker said in a somewhat plaintive tone, as though fearing that +the manifest substantial advantages of Frisco would not suffice to +atone for the loss of that fashion to which Miss Melmotte had been +used. + +<p>"I hate swells," said Marie, flashing round upon him. + +<p>"Do you now?" + +<p>"Like poison. What's the use of 'em? They never mean +a word that they say,—and they don't say so many words either. +They're never more than half awake, and don't care the least about +anybody. I hate London." + +<p>"Do you now?" + +<p>"Oh, don't I?" + +<p>"I wonder whether you'd hate Frisco?" + +<p>"I rather think it would be a jolly sort of place." + +<p>"Very jolly I find it. And I wonder whether you'd +hate—me?" + +<p>"Mr Fisker, that's nonsense. Why should I hate anybody?" + +<p>"But you do. I've found out one or two that you don't +love. If you do come to Frisco, I hope you won't just hate +me, you know." Then he took her gently by the arm;—but she, +whisking herself away rapidly, bade him behave himself. Then +they returned to their lodgings, and Mr Fisker, before he went back +to London, mixed a little warm brandy-and-water for Madame +Melmotte. I think that upon the whole Madame Melmotte was +more comfortable at Hampstead than she had been either in Grosvenor +Square or Bruton Street, although she was certainly not a thing +beautiful to look at in her widow's weeds. + +<p>"I don't think much of you as a book-keeper, you know," Fisker +said to Miles Grendall in the now almost deserted Board-room of the +South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway. Miles, remembering +his father's advice, answered not a word, but merely looked with +assumed amazement at the impertinent stranger who dared thus to +censure his performances. Fisker had made three or four +remarks previous to this, and had appealed both to Paul Montague +and to Croll, who were present. He had invited also the +attendance of Sir Felix Carbury, Lord Nidderdale, and Mr +Longestaffe, who were all Directors;—but none of them had +come. Sir Felix had paid no attention to Fisker's +letter. Lord Nidderdale had written a short but +characteristic reply. "Dear Mr Fisker,—I really don't know +anything about it. Yours, Nidderdale." Mr Longestaffe, +with laborious zeal, had closely covered four pages with his +reasons for non-attendance, with which the reader shall not be +troubled, and which it may be doubted whether even Fisker perused +to the end. "Upon my word," continued Fisker, "it's +astonishing to me that Melmotte should have put up with this kind +of thing. I suppose you understand something of business, Mr +Croll?" + +<p>"It vas not my department, Mr Fisker," said the German. + +<p>"Nor anybody else's either," said the domineering +American. "Of course it's on the cards, Mr Grendall, that we +shall have to put you into a witness-box, because there are certain +things we must get at." Miles was silent as the grave, but at +once made up his mind that he would pass his autumn at some +pleasant but economical German retreat, and that his autumnal +retirement should be commenced within a very few days;—or perhaps +hours might suffice. + +<p>But Fisker was not in earnest in his threat. In truth the +greater the confusion in the London office, the better, he thought, +were the prospects of the Company at San Francisco. Miles +underwent purgatory on this occasion for three or four hours, and +when dismissed had certainly revealed none of Melmotte's +secrets. He did, however, go to Germany, finding that a +temporary absence from England would be comfortable to him in more +respects than one,—and need not be heard of again in these pages. + +<p>When Melmotte's affairs were ultimately wound up there was found +to be nearly enough of property to satisfy all his proved +liabilities. Very many men started up with huge claims, +asserting that they had been robbed, and in the confusion it was +hard to ascertain who had been robbed, or who had simply been +unsuccessful in their attempts to rob others. Some, no doubt, +as was the case with poor Mr Brehgert, had speculated in dependence +on Melmotte's sagacity, and had lost heavily without +dishonesty. But of those who, like the Longestaffes, were +able to prove direct debts, the condition at last was not very +sad. Our excellent friend Dolly got his money early in the +day, and was able, under Mr Squercum's guidance, to start himself +on a new career. Having paid his debts, and with still a +large balance at his bankers, he assured his friend Nidderdale that +he meant to turn over an entirely new leaf. "I shall just +make Squercum allow me so much a month, and I shall have all the +bills and that kind of thing sent to him, and he will do +everything, and pull me up if I'm getting wrong. I like +Squercum." + +<p>"Won't he rob you, old fellow?" suggested Nidderdale, + +<p>"Of course he will;—but be won't let any one else do it. +One has to be plucked, but it's everything to have it done on a +system. If he'll only let me have ten shillings out of every +sovereign I think I can get along." Let us hope that Mr +Squercum was merciful, and that Dolly was enabled to live in +accordance with his virtuous resolutions, + +<p>But these things did not arrange themselves till late in the +winter,—long after Mr Fisker's departure for California. +That, however, was protracted till a day much later than he +anticipated before he had become intimate with Madame Melmotte and +Marie. Madame Melmotte's affairs occupied him for a while +almost exclusively. The furniture and plate were of course +sold for the creditors, but Madame Melmotte was allowed to take +whatever she declared to be specially her own property;—and, +though much was said about the jewels, no attempt was made to +recover them. Marie advised Madame Melmotte to give them up, +assuring the old woman that she should have whatever she wanted for +her maintenance. But it was not likely that Melmotte's widow +would willingly abandon any property, and she did not abandon her +jewels. It was agreed between her and Fisker that they were +to be taken to New York. "You'll get as much there as in +London, if you like to part with them; and nobody'll say anything +about it there. You couldn't sell a locket or chain here +without all the world talking about it." + +<p>In all these things Madame Melmotte put herself into Fisker's +hands with the most absolute confidence,—and, indeed, with a +confidence that was justified by its results. It was not by +robbing an old woman that Fisker intended to make himself +great. To Madame Melmotte's thinking, Fisker was the finest +gentleman she had ever met,—so infinitely pleasanter in his manner +than Lord Alfred even when Lord Alfred had been most gracious, with +so much more to say for himself than Miles Grendall, understanding +her so much better than any man had ever done,—especially when he +supplied her with those small warm beakers of sweet +brandy-and-water. "I shall do whatever he tells me," she said +to Marie. "I'm sure I've nothing to keep me here in this +country." + +<p>"I'm willing to go," said Marie. "I don't want to stay in +London." + +<p>"I suppose you'll take him if he asks you?" + +<p>"I don't know anything about that," said Marie. "A man may +be very well without one's wanting to marry him. I don't +think I'll marry anybody. What's the use? It's only +money. Nobody cares for anything else. Fisker's all +very well; but he only wants the money. Do you think Fisker'd +ask me to marry him if I hadn't got anything? Not he! +He ain't slow enough for that." + +<p>"I think he's a very nice young man," said Madame Melmotte. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="93"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCIII. A True Lover</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Hetta Carbury, out of the fullness of her heart, having made up +her mind that she had been unjust to her lover, wrote to him a +letter full of penitence, full of love, telling him at great length +all the details of her meeting with Mrs Hurtle, and bidding him +come back to her, and bring the brooch with him. But this +letter she had unfortunately addressed to the Beargarden, as he had +written to her from that club; and partly through his own fault, +and partly through the demoralization of that once perfect +establishment, the letter never reached his hands. When, +therefore, he returned to London he was justified in supposing that +she had refused even to notice his appeal. He was, however, +determined that he would still make further struggles. He +had, he felt, to contend with many difficulties. Mrs Hurtle, +Roger Carbury, and Hetta's mother were, he thought, all inimical to +him. Mrs Hurtle, though she had declared that she would not +rage as a lioness, could hardly be his friend in the matter. +Roger had repeatedly declared his determination to regard him as a +traitor. And Lady Carbury, as he well knew, had always been +and always would be opposed to the match. But Hetta had owned +that she loved him, had submitted to his caresses, and had been +proud of his admiration. And Paul, though he did not probably +analyse very carefully the character of his beloved, still felt +instinctively that, having so far prevailed with such a girl, his +prospects could not be altogether hopeless. And yet how +should he continue the struggle? With what weapons should he +carry on the fight? The writing of letters is but a +one-sided, troublesome proceeding, when the person to whom they are +written will not answer them; and the calling at a door at which +the servant has been instructed to refuse a visitor admission, +becomes disagreeable,—if not degrading,—after a time. + +<p>But Hetta had written a second epistle,—not to her lover, but +to one who received his letters with more regularity. When +she rashly and with precipitate wrath quarrelled with Paul +Montague, she at once communicated the fact to her mother, and +through her mother to her cousin Roger. Though she would not +recognize Roger as a lover, she did acknowledge him to be the head +of her family, and her own special friend, and entitled in some +special way to know all that she herself did, and all that was done +in regard to her. She therefore wrote to her cousin, telling +him that she had made a mistake about Paul, that she was convinced +that Paul had always behaved to her with absolute sincerity, and, +in short, that Paul was the best, and dearest, and most ill-used of +human beings. In her enthusiasm she went on to declare that +there could be no other chance of happiness for her in this world +than that of becoming Paul's wife, and to beseech her dearest +friend and cousin Roger not to turn against her, but to lend her an +aiding hand. There are those whom strong words in letters +never affect at all,—who, perhaps, hardly read them, and take what +they do read as meaning no more than half what is said. But +Roger Carbury was certainly not one of these. As he sat on +the garden wall at Carbury, with his cousin's letter in his hand, +her words had their full weight with him. He did not try to +convince himself that all this was the verbiage of an enthusiastic +girl, who might soon be turned and trained to another mode of +thinking by fitting admonitions. To him now, as he read and +re-read Hetta's letter sitting on the wall, there was not at any +rate further hope for himself. Though he was altogether +unchanged himself, though he was altogether incapable of +change,—though he could not rally himself sufficiently to look +forward to even a passive enjoyment of life without the girl whom +he had loved,—yet he told himself what he believed to be the +truth. At last he owned directly and plainly that, whether +happy or unhappy, he must do without her. He had let time +slip by with him too fast and too far before he had ventured to +love. He must now stomach his disappointment, and make the +best he could of such a broken, ill-conditioned life as was left to +him. But, if he acknowledged this,—and he did acknowledge +it,—in what fashion should he in future treat the man and woman +who had reduced him so low? + +<p>At this moment his mind was tuned to high thoughts. If it +were possible he would be unselfish. He could not, indeed, +bring himself to think with kindness of Paul Montague. He +could not say to himself that the man had not been treacherous to +him, nor could he forgive the man's supposed treason. But he +did tell himself very plainly that in comparison with Hetta the man +was nothing to him. It could hardly be worth his while to +maintain a quarrel with the man if he were once able to assure +Hetta that she, as the wife of another man, should still be dear to +him as a friend might be dear. He was well aware that such +assurance, such forgiveness, must contain very much. If it +were to be so, Hetta's child must take the name of Carbury, and +must be to him as his heir,—as near as possible his own +child. In her favour he must throw aside that law of +primogeniture which to him was so sacred that he had been hitherto +minded to make Sir Felix his heir in spite of the absolute +unfitness of the wretched young man. All this must be +changed, should he be able to persuade himself to give his consent +to the marriage. In such case Carbury must be the home of the +married couple, as far as he could induce them to make it so. +There must be born the future infant to whose existence he was +already looking forward with some idea that in his old age he might +there find comfort. In such case, though he should never +again be able to love Paul Montague in his heart of hearts, he must +live with him for her sake on affectionate terms. He must +forgive Hetta altogether,—as though there had been no fault; and +he must strive to forgive the man's fault as best he might. +Struggling as he was to be generous, passionately fond as he was of +justice, yet he did not know how to be just himself. He could +not see that he in truth had been to no extent ill-used. And +ever and again, as he thought of the great prayer as to the +forgiveness of trespasses, he could not refrain from asking himself +whether it could really be intended that he should forgive such +trespass as that committed against him by Paul Montague! +Nevertheless, when he rose from the wall he had resolved that Hetta +should be pardoned entirely, and that Paul Montague should be +treated as though he were pardoned. As for himself,—the +chances of the world had been unkind to him, and he would submit to +them! + +<p>Nevertheless he wrote no answer to Hetta's letter. Perhaps +he felt, with some undefined but still existing hope, that the +writing of such a letter would deprive him of his last +chance. Hetta's letter to himself hardly required an +immediate answer,—did not, indeed, demand any answer. She +had simply told him that, whereas she had for certain reasons +quarrelled with the man she had loved, she had now come to the +conclusion that she would quarrel with him no longer. She had +asked for her cousin's assent to her own views, but that, as Roger +felt, was to be given rather by the discontinuance of opposition +than by any positive action, Roger's influence with her mother was +the assistance which Hetta really wanted from him, and that +influence could hardly be given by the writing of any letter. +Thinking of all this, Roger determined that he would again go up to +London. He would have the vacant hours of the journey in +which to think of it all again, and tell himself whether it was +possible for him to bring his heart to agree to the marriage;—and +then he would see the people, and perhaps learn something further +from their manner and their words, before he finally committed +himself to the abandonment of his own hopes and the completion of +theirs. + +<p>He went up to town, and I do not know that those vacant hours +served him much. To a man not accustomed to thinking there is +nothing in the world so difficult as to think. After some +loose fashion we turn over things in our mind and ultimately reach +some decision, guided probably by our feelings at the last moment +rather than by any process of ratiocination;—and then we think +that we have thought. But to follow out one argument to an +end, and then to found on the base so reached the commencement of +another, is not common to us. Such a process was hardly +within the compass of Roger's mind,—who when he was made wretched +by the dust, and by a female who had a basket of objectionable +provisions opposite to him, almost forswore his charitable +resolutions of the day before; but who again, as he walked lonely +at night round the square which was near to his hotel, looking up +at the bright moon with a full appreciation of the beauty of the +heavens, asked himself what was he that he should wish to interfere +with the happiness of two human beings much younger than himself +and much fitter to enjoy the world. But he had had a bath, +and had got rid of the dust, and had eaten his dinner. + +<p>The next morning he was in Welbeck Street at an early +hour. When he knocked he had not made up his mind whether he +would ask for Lady Carbury or her daughter, and did at last inquire +whether "the ladies" were at home. The ladies were reported +as being at home, and he was at once shown into the drawing-room, +where Hetta was sitting. She hurried up to him, and he at +once took her in his arms and kissed her. He had never done +such a thing before. He had never even kissed her hand. +Though they were cousins and dear friends, he had never treated her +after that fashion. Her instinct told her immediately that +such a greeting from him was a sign of affectionate compliance with +her wishes. That this man should kiss her as her best and +dearest relation, as her most trusted friend, as almost her +brother, was certainly to her no offence. She could cling to +him in fondest love,—if he would only consent not to be her +lover. "Oh, Roger, I am so glad to see you," she said, +escaping gently from his arms. + +<p>"I could not write an answer, and so I came." + +<p>"You always do the kindest thing that can be done." + +<p>"I don't know. I don't know that I can do anything +now,—kind or unkind. It is all done without any aid from +me. Hetta, you have been all the world to me." + +<p>"Do not reproach me," she said. + +<p>"No;—no. Why should I reproach you? You have +committed no fault. I should not have come had I intended to +reproach any one." + +<p>"I love you so much for saying that." + +<p>"Let it be as you wish it,—if it must. I have made up my +mind to bear it, and there shall be an end of it." As he said +this he took her by the hand, and she put her head upon his +shoulder and began to weep. "And still you will be all the +world to me," he continued, with his arm round her waist. "As +you will not be my wife, you shall be my daughter." + +<p>"I will be your sister, Roger." + +<p>"My daughter rather. You shall be all that I have in the +world. I will hurry to grow old that I may feel for you as +the old feel for the young. And if you have a child, Hetta, +he must be my child." As he thus spoke her tears were +renewed. "I have planned it all out in my mind, dear. +There! If there be anything that I can do to add to your +happiness, I will do it. You must believe this of me,—that +to make you happy shall be the only enjoyment of my life." + +<p>It had been hardly possible for her to tell him as yet that the +man to whom he was thus consenting to surrender her had not even +condescended to answer the letter in which she had told him to come +back to her. And now, sobbing as she was, overcome by the +tenderness of her cousin's affection, anxious to express her +intense gratitude, she did not know how first to mention the name +of Paul Montague. "Have you seen him?" she said in a whisper. + +<p>"Seen whom?" + +<p>"Mr Montague." + +<p>"No;—why should I have seen him? It is not for his sake +that I am here." + +<p>"But you will be his friend?" + +<p>"Your husband shall certainly be my friend;—or, if not, the +fault shall not be mine. It shall all be forgotten, +Hetta,—as nearly as such things may be forgotten. But I had +nothing to say to him till I had seen you." At that moment +the door was opened and Lady Carbury entered the room, and, after +her greeting with her cousin, looked first at her daughter and then +at Roger. "I have come up," said he, "to signify my adhesion +to this marriage." Lady Carbury's face fell very low. +"I need not speak again of what were my own wishes. I have +learned at last that it could not have been so." + +<p>"Why should you say so?" exclaimed Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Pray, pray, mamma—," Hetta began, but was unable to find words +with which to go on with her prayer. + +<p>"I do not know that it need be so at all," continued Lady +Carbury. "I think it is very much in your own hands. Of +course it is not for me to press such an arrangement, if it be not +in accord with your own wishes." + +<p>"I look upon her as engaged to marry Paul Montague," said Roger. + +<p>"Not at all," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Yes; mamma,—yes," cried Hetta boldly. "It is so. I +am engaged to him." + +<p>"I beg to let your cousin know that it is not so with my +consent,—nor, as far as I can understand at present, with the +consent of Mr Montague himself." + +<p>"Mamma!" + +<p>"Paul Montague!" ejaculated Roger Carbury. "The consent of +Paul Montague! I think I may take upon myself to say that +there can be no doubt as to that." + +<p>"There has been a quarrel," said Lady Carbury. + +<p>"Surely he has not quarrelled with you, Hetta?" + +<p>"I wrote to him,—and he has not answered me," said Hetta +piteously. + +<p>Then Lady Carbury gave a full and somewhat coloured account of +what had taken place, while Roger listened with admirable +patience. "The marriage is on every account objectionable," +she said at last, "His means are precarious. His conduct with +regard to that woman has been very bad. He has been sadly +mixed up with that wretched man who destroyed himself. And +now, when Henrietta has written to him without my sanction,—in +opposition to my express commands,—he takes no notice of +her. She, very properly, sent him back a present that he made +her, and no doubt he has resented her doing so. I trust that +his resentment may be continued." + +<p>Hetta was now seated on a sofa hiding her face and +weeping. Roger stood perfectly still, listening with +respectful silence till Lady Carbury had spoken her last +word. And even then he was slow to answer, considering what +he might best say. "I think I had better see him," he +replied. "If, as I imagine, he has not received my cousin's +letter, that matter will be set at rest. We must not take +advantage of such an accident as that. As to his +income,—that I think may be managed. His connection with Mr +Melmotte was unfortunate, but was due to no fault of his." At +this moment he could not but remember Lady Carbury's great anxiety +to be closely connected with Melmotte, but he was too generous to +say a word on that head. "I will see him, Lady Carbury, and +then I will come to you again." + +<p>Lady Carbury did not dare to tell him that she did not wish him +to see Paul Montague. She knew that if he really threw +himself into the scale against her, her opposition would weigh +nothing. He was too powerful in his honesty and greatness of +character,—and had been too often admitted by herself to be the +guardian angel of the family,—for her to stand against him. +But she still thought that had he persevered, Hetta would have +become his wife. + +<p>It was late that evening before Roger found Paul Montague, who +had only then returned from Liverpool with Fisker,—whose +subsequent doings have been recorded somewhat out of their turn. + +<p>"I don't know what letter you mean," said Paul. + +<p>"You wrote to her?" + +<p>"Certainly I wrote to her. I wrote to her twice. My +last letter was one which I think she ought to have answered. +She had accepted me, and had given me a right to tell my own story +when she unfortunately heard from other sources the story of my +journey to Lowestoft with Mrs Hurtle." Paul pleaded his own +case with indignant heat, not understanding at first that Roger had +come to him on a friendly mission. + +<p>"She did answer your letter." + +<p>"I have not had a line from her;—not a word!" + +<p>"She did answer your letter." + +<p>"What did she say to me?" + +<p>"Nay,—you must ask her that." + +<p>"But if she will not see me?" + +<p>"She will see you. I can tell you that. And I will +tell you this also;—that she wrote to you as a girl writes to the +lover whom she does wish to see." + +<p>"Is that true?" exclaimed Paul, jumping up. + +<p>"I am here especially to tell you that it is true. I +should hardly come on such a message if there were a doubt. +You may go to her, and need have nothing to fear,—unless, indeed, +it be the opposition of her mother." + +<p>"She is stronger than her mother," said Paul. + +<p>"I think she is. And now I wish you to hear what I have to +say." + +<p>"Of course," said Paul, sitting down suddenly. Up to this +moment Roger Carbury, though he had certainly brought glad tidings, +had not communicated them as a joyous, sympathetic messenger. +His face had been severe, and the tone of his voice almost harsh; +and Paul, remembering well the words of the last letter which his +old friend had written him, did not expect personal kindness. +Roger would probably say very disagreeable things to him, which he +must bear with all the patience which he could summon to his +assistance. + +<p>"You know my what feelings have been," Roger began, "and how +deeply I have resented what I thought to be an interference with my +affections. But no quarrel between you and me, whatever the +rights of it may be—" + +<p>"I have never quarrelled with you," Paul began. + +<p>"If you will listen to me for a moment it will be better. +No anger between you and me, let it arise as it might, should be +allowed to interfere with the happiness of her whom I suppose we +both love better than all the rest of the world put together." + +<p>"I do," said Paul. + +<p>"And so do I;—and so I always shall. But she is to be +your wife. She shall be my daughter. She shall have my +property,—or her child shall be my heir. My house shall be +her house,—if you and she will consent to make it so. You +will not be afraid of me. You know me, I think, too well for +that. You may now count on any assistance you could have from +me were I a father giving you a daughter in marriage. I do +this because I will make the happiness of her life the chief object +of mine. Now good night. Don't say anything about it at +present. By-and-by we shall be able to talk about these +things with more equable temper." Having so spoken he hurried +out of the room, leaving Paul Montague bewildered by the tidings +which had been announced to him. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="94"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCIV. John Crumb's Victory</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>In the meantime great preparations were going on down in Suffolk +for the marriage of that happiest of lovers, John Crumb. John +Crumb had been up to London, had been formally reconciled to +Ruby,—who had submitted to his floury embraces, not with the best +grace in the world, but still with a submission that had satisfied +her future husband,—had been intensely grateful to Mrs Hurtle, and +almost munificent in liberality to Mrs Pipkin, to whom he presented +a purple silk dress, in addition to the cloak which he had given on +a former occasion. During this visit he had expressed no +anger against Ruby, and no indignation in reference to the +baronite. When informed by Mrs Pipkin, who hoped thereby to +please him, that Sir Felix was supposed to be still "all one mash +of gore," he blandly smiled, remarking that no man could be much +worse for a "few sich taps as them." He only stayed a few +hours in London, but during these few hours he settled +everything. When Mrs Pipkin suggested that Ruby should be +married from her house, he winked his eye as he declined the +suggestion with thanks. Daniel Ruggles was old, and, under +the influence of continued gin and water, was becoming +feeble. John Crumb was of opinion that the old man should not +be neglected, and hinted that with a little care the five hundred +pounds which had originally been promised as Ruby's fortune, might +at any rate be secured. He was of opinion that the marriage +should be celebrated in Suffolk,—the feast being spread at Sheep's +Acre farm, if Dan Ruggles could be talked into giving it,—and if +not, at his own house. When both the ladies explained to him +that this last proposition was not in strict accordance with the +habits of the fashionable world, John expressed an opinion that, +under the peculiar circumstances of his marriage, the ordinary laws +of the world might be suspended. "It ain't jist like other +folks, after all as we've been through," said he,—meaning probably +to imply that having had to fight for his wife, he was entitled to +give a breakfast on the occasion if he pleased. But whether +the banquet was to be given by the bride's grandfather or by +himself he was determined that there should be a banquet, and that +he would bid the guests. He invited both Mrs Pipkin and Mrs +Hurtle, and at last succeeded in inducing Mrs Hurtle to promise +that she would bring Mrs Pipkin down to Bungay, for the occasion. + +<p>Then it was necessary to fix the day, and for this purpose it +was of course essential that Ruby should be consulted. During +the discussion as to the feast and the bridegroom's entreaties that +the two ladies would be present, she had taken no part in the +matter in hand. She was brought up to be kissed, and having +been duly kissed she retired again among the children, having only +expressed one wish of her own,—namely, that Joe Mixet might not +have anything to do with the affair. But the day could not be +fixed without her, and she was summoned. Crumb had been +absurdly impatient, proposing next Tuesday,—making his proposition +on a Friday. They could cook enough meat for all Bungay to +eat by Tuesday, and he was aware of no other cause for delay. +"That's out of the question," Ruby had said decisively, and as the +two elder ladies had supported her Mr Crumb yielded with a good +grace. He did not himself appreciate the reasons given +because, as he remarked, gowns can be bought ready made at any +shop. But Mrs Pipkin told him with a laugh that he didn't +know anything about it, and when the 14th of August was named he +only scratched his head and, muttering something about Thetford +fair, agreed that he would, yet once again, allow love to take +precedence of business. If Tuesday would have suited the +ladies as well he thought that he might have managed to combine the +marriage and the fair, but when Mrs Pipkin told him that he must +not interfere any further, he yielded with a good grace. He +merely remained in London long enough to pay a friendly visit to +the policeman who had locked him up, and then returned to Suffolk, +revolving in his mind how glorious should be the matrimonial +triumph which he had at last achieved. + +<p>Before the day arrived, old Ruggles had been constrained to +forgive his granddaughter, and to give a general assent to the +marriage. When John Crumb, with a sound of many trumpets, +informed all Bungay that he had returned victorious from London, +and that after all the ups and downs of his courtship Ruby was to +become his wife on a fixed day, all Bungay took his part, and +joined in a general attack upon Mr Daniel Ruggles. The +cross-grained old man held out for a long time, alleging that the +girl was no better than she should be, and that she had run away +with the baronite. But this assertion was met by so strong a +torrent of contradiction, that the farmer was absolutely driven out +of his own convictions. It is to be feared that many lies +were told on Ruby's behalf by lips which had been quite ready a +fortnight since to take away her character. But it had become +an acknowledged fact in Bungay that John Crumb was ready at any +hour to punch the head of any man who should hint that Ruby Ruggles +had, at any period of her life, done any act or spoken any word +unbecoming a young lady; and so strong was the general belief in +John Crumb, that Ruby became the subject of general eulogy from all +male lips in the town. And though perhaps some slight +suspicion of irregular behaviour up in London might be whispered by +the Bungay ladies among themselves, still the feeling in favour of +Mr Crumb was so general, and his constancy was so popular, that the +grandfather could not stand against it. "I don't see why I +ain't to do as I likes with my own," he said to Joe Mixet, the +baker, who went out to Sheep's Acre Farm as one of many deputations +sent by the municipality of Bungay. + +<p>"She's your own flesh and blood, Mr Ruggles," said the baker. + +<p>"No; she ain't;—no more than she's a Pipkin. She's taken +up with Mrs Pipkin jist because I hate the Pipkinses. Let Mrs +Pipkin give 'em a breakfast." + +<p>"She is your own flesh and blood,—and your name, too, Mr +Ruggles. And she's going to be the respectable wife of a +respectable man, Mr Ruggles." + +<p>"I won't give 'em no breakfast;—that's flat," said the farmer. + +<p>But he had yielded in the main when he allowed himself to base +his opposition on one immaterial detail. The breakfast was to +be given at the King's Head, and, though it was acknowledged on all +sides that no authority could be found for such a practice, it was +known that the bill was to be paid by the bridegroom. Nor +would Mr Ruggles pay the five hundred pounds down as in early days +he had promised to do. He was very clear in his mind that his +undertaking on that head was altogether cancelled by Ruby's +departure from Sheep's Acre. When he was reminded that he had +nearly pulled his granddaughter's hair out of her head, and had +thus justified her act of rebellion, he did not contradict the +assertion, but implied that if Ruby did not choose to earn her +fortune on such terms as those, that was her fault. It was +not to be supposed that he was to give a girl, who was after all as +much a Pipkin as a Ruggles, five hundred pounds for nothing. +But, in return for that night's somewhat harsh treatment of Ruby, +he did at last consent to have the money settled upon John Crumb at +his death,—an arrangement which both the lawyer and Joe Mixet +thought to be almost as good as a free gift, being both of them +aware that the consumption of gin and water was on the +increase. And he, moreover, was persuaded to receive Mrs +Pipkin and Ruby at the farm for the night previous to the +marriage. This very necessary arrangement was made by Mr +Mixet's mother, a most respectable old lady, who went out in a fly +from the inn attired in her best black silk gown and an +overpowering bonnet, an old lady from whom her son had inherited +his eloquence, who absolutely shamed the old man into +compliance,—not, however, till she had promised to send out the +tea and white sugar and box of biscuits which were thought to be +necessary for Mrs Pipkin on the evening preceding the +marriage. A private sitting-room at the inn was secured for +the special accommodation of Mrs Hurtle,—who was supposed to be a +lady of too high standing to be properly entertained at Sheep's +Acre Farm. + +<p>On the day preceding the wedding one trouble for a moment +clouded the bridegroom's brow. Ruby had demanded that Joe +Mixet should not be among the performers, and John Crumb, with the +urbanity of a lover, had assented to her demand,—as far, at least, +as silence can give consent. And yet he felt himself unable +to answer such interrogatories as the parson might put to him +without the assistance of his friend, although he devoted much +study to the matter. "You could come in behind like, Joe, +just as if I knew nothin' about it," suggested Crumb. + +<p>"Don't you say a word of me, and she won't say nothing, you may +be sure. You ain't going to give in to all her cantraps that +way, John?" John shook his head and rubbed the meal about on +his forehead. "It was only just something for her to +say. What have I done that she should object to me?" + +<p>"You didn't ever go for to—kiss her,—did you, Joe?" + +<p>"What a one'er you are! That wouldn't 'a set her again +me. It is just because I stood up and spoke for you like a +man that night at Sheep's Acre, when her mind was turned the other +way. Don't you notice nothing about it. When we're all +in the church she won't go back because Joe Mixet's there. +I'll bet you a gallon, old fellow, she and I are the best friends +in Bungay before six months are gone." + +<p>"Nay, nay; she must have a better friend than thee, Joe, or I +must know the reason why." But John Crumb's heart was too big +for jealousy, and he agreed at last that Joe Mixet should be his +best man, undertaking to "square it all" with Ruby, after the +ceremony. + +<p>He met the ladies at the station and,—for him,—was quite +eloquent in his welcome to Mrs Hurtle and Mrs Pipkin. To Ruby +he said but little. But he looked at her in her new hat, and +generally bright in subsidiary wedding garments, with great +delight. "Ain't she bootiful now?" he said aloud to Mrs +Hurtle on the platform, to the great delight of half Bungay, who +had accompanied him on the occasion. Ruby, hearing her +praises thus sung, made a fearful grimace as she turned round to +Mrs Pipkin, and whispered to her aunt, so that those only who were +within a yard or two could hear her: "He is such a fool!" +Then he conducted Mrs Hurtle in an omnibus up to the Inn, and +afterwards himself drove Mrs Pipkin and Ruby out to Sheep's Acre; +in the performance of all which duties he was dressed in the green +cutaway coat with brass buttons which had been expressly made for +his marriage. "Thou'rt come back then, Ruby," said the old +man. + +<p>"I ain't going to trouble you long, grandfather," said the girl. + +<p>"So best;—so best. And this is Mrs Pipkin?" + +<p>"Yes, Mr Ruggles; that's my name." + +<p>"I've heard your name. I've heard your name, and I don't +know as I ever want to hear it again. But they say as you've +been kind to that girl as 'd 'a been on the town only for that." + +<p>"Grandfather, that ain't true," said Ruby with energy. The +old man made no rejoinder, and Ruby was allowed to take her aunt up +into the bedroom which they were both to occupy. "Now, Mrs +Pipkin, just you say," pleaded Ruby, "how was it possible for any +girl to live with an old man like that?" + +<p>"But, Ruby, you might always have gone to live with the young +man instead when you pleased." + +<p>"You mean John Crumb." + +<p>"Of course I mean John Crumb, Ruby." + +<p>"There ain't much to choose between 'em. What one says is +all spite; and the other man says nothing at all." + +<p>"Oh Ruby, Ruby," said Mrs Pipkin, with solemnly persuasive +voice, "I hope you'll come to learn some day, that a loving heart +is better nor a fickle tongue,—specially with vittels certain." + +<p>On the following morning the Bungay church bells rang merrily, +and half its population was present to see John Crumb made a happy +man. He himself went out to the farm and drove the bride and +Mrs Pipkin into the town, expressing an opinion that no hired +charioteer would bring them so safely as he would do himself; nor +did he think it any disgrace to be seen performing this task before +his marriage. He smiled and nodded at every one, now and then +pointing back with his whip to Ruby when he met any of his +specially intimate friends, as though he would have said, "see, +I've got her at last in spite of all difficulties." Poor +Ruby, in her misery under this treatment, would have escaped out of +the cart had it been possible. But now she was altogether in +the man's hands and no escape was within her reach. "What's +the odds?" said Mrs Pipkin as they settled their bonnets in a room +at the Inn just before they entered the church. "Drat +it,—you make me that angry I'm half minded to cuff you. +Ain't he fond o' you? Ain't he got a house of his own? +Ain't he well to do all round? Manners! What's +manners? I don't see nothing amiss in his manners. He +means what he says, and I call that the best of good manners." + +<p>Ruby, when she reached the church, had been too completely +quelled by outward circumstances to take any notice of Joe Mixet, +who was standing there, quite unabashed, with a splendid nosegay in +his button-hole. She certainly had no right on this occasion +to complain of her husband's silence. Whereas she could +hardly bring herself to utter the responses in a voice loud enough +for the clergyman to catch the familiar words, he made his +assertions so vehemently that they were heard throughout the whole +building. "I, John,—take thee Ruby,—to my wedded wife,—to +'ave and to 'old,—from this day forrard,—for better nor +worser,—for richer nor poorer"; and so on to the end. And +when he came to the "worldly goods" with which he endowed his Ruby, +he was very emphatic indeed. Since the day had been fixed he +had employed all his leisure-hours in learning the words by heart, +and would now hardly allow the clergyman to say them before +him. He thoroughly enjoyed the ceremony, and would have liked +to be married over and over again, every day for a week, had it +been possible. + +<p>And then there came the breakfast, to which he marshalled the +way up the broad stairs of the inn at Bungay, with Mrs Hurtle on +one arm and Mrs Pipkin on the other. He had been told that he +ought to take his wife's arm on this occasion, but he remarked that +he meant to see a good deal of her in future, and that his +opportunities of being civil to Mrs Hurtle and Mrs Pipkin would be +rare. Thus it came to pass that, in spite of all that poor +Ruby had said, she was conducted to the marriage-feast by Joe Mixet +himself. Ruby, I think, had forgotten the order which she had +given in reference to the baker. When desiring that she might +see nothing more of Joe Mixet, she had been in her pride;—but now +she was so tamed and quelled by the outward circumstances of her +position, that she was glad to have some one near her who knew how +to behave himself. "Mrs Crumb, you have my best wishes for +your continued 'ealth and 'appiness," said Joe Mixet in a whisper. + +<p>"It's very good of you to say so, Mr Mixet." + +<p>"He's a good 'un; is he." + +<p>"Oh, I dare say." + +<p>"You just be fond of him and stroke him down, and make much of +him, and I'm blessed if you mayn't do a'most anything with +him,—all's one as a babby." + +<p>"A man shouldn't be all's one as a babby, Mr Mixet." + +<p>"And he don't drink hard, but he works hard, and go where he +will he can hold his own." Ruby said no more, and soon found +herself seated by her husband's side. It certainly was +wonderful to her that so many people should pay John Crumb so much +respect, and should seem to think so little of the meal and flour +which pervaded his countenance. + +<p>After the breakfast, or "bit of dinner," as John Crumb would +call it, Mr Mixet of course made a speech. "He had had the +pleasure of knowing John Crumb for a great many years, and the +honour of being acquainted with Miss Ruby Ruggles,—he begged all +their pardons, and should have said Mrs John Crumb,—ever since she +was a child." "That's a downright story," said Ruby in a +whisper to Mrs Hurtle. "And he'd never known two young people +more fitted by the gifts of nature to contribute to one another's +'appinesses. He had understood that Mars and Wenus always +lived on the best of terms, and perhaps the present company would +excuse him if he likened this 'appy young couple to them two +'eathen gods and goddesses. For Miss Ruby,—Mrs Crumb he +should say,—was certainly lovely as ere a Wenus as ever was; and +as for John Crumb, he didn't believe that ever a Mars among 'em +could stand again him. He didn't remember just at present +whether Mars and Wenus had any young family, but he hoped that +before long there would be any number of young Crumbs for the +Bungay birds to pick up. 'Appy is the man as 'as his quiver +full of 'em,—and the woman too, if you'll allow me to say so, Mrs +Crumb." The speech, of which only a small sample can be given +here, was very much admired by the ladies and gentlemen +present,—with the single exception of poor Ruby, who would have +run away and locked herself in an inner chamber had she not been +certain that she would be brought back again. + +<p>In the afternoon John took his bride to Lowestoft, and brought +her back to all the glories of his own house on the following +day. His honeymoon was short, but its influence on Ruby was +beneficent. When she was alone with the man, knowing that he +was her husband, and thinking something of all that he had done to +win her to be his wife, she did learn to respect him. "Now, +Ruby, give a fellow a buss,—as though you meant it," he said, when +the first fitting occasion presented itself. + +<p>"Oh, John,—what nonsense!" + +<p>"It ain't nonsense to me, I can tell you. I'd sooner have +a kiss from you than all the wine as ever was swallowed." +Then she did kiss him, "as though she meant it;" and when she +returned with him to Bungay the next day, she had made up her mind +that she would endeavour to do her duty by him as his wife. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="95"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCV. The Longestaffe Marriages</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>In another part of Suffolk, not very far from Bungay, there was +a lady whose friends had not managed her affairs as well as Ruby's +friends had done for Ruby. Miss Georgiana Longestaffe in the +early days of August was in a very miserable plight. Her +sister's marriage with Mr George Whitstable was fixed for the first +of September, a day which in Suffolk is of all days the most +sacred; and the combined energies of the houses of Caversham and +Toodlam were being devoted to that happy event. Poor +Georgey's position was in every respect wretched, but its misery +was infinitely increased by the triumph of those hymeneals. +It was but the other day that she had looked down from a very great +height on her elder sister, and had utterly despised the squire of +Toodlam. And at that time, still so recent, this contempt +from her had been accepted as being almost reasonable. Sophia +had hardly ventured to rebel against it, and Mr Whitstable himself +had been always afraid to encounter the shafts of irony with which +his fashionable future sister-in-law attacked him. But all +that was now changed. Sophia in her pride of place had become +a tyrant, and George Whitstable, petted in the house with those +sweetmeats which are always showered on embryo bridegrooms, +absolutely gave himself airs. At this time Mr Longestaffe was +never at home. Having assured himself that there was no +longer any danger of the Brehgert alliance he had remained in +London, thinking his presence to be necessary for the winding up of +Melmotte's affairs, and leaving poor Lady Pomona to bear her +daughter's ill humour. The family at Caversham consisted +therefore of the three ladies, and was enlivened by daily visits +from Toodlam. It will be owned that in this state of things +there was very little consolation for Georgiana. + +<p>It was not long before she quarrelled altogether with her +sister,—to the point of absolutely refusing to act as +bridesmaid. The reader may remember that there had been a +watch and chain, and that two of the ladies of the family had +expressed an opinion that these trinkets should be returned to Mr +Brehgert who had bestowed them. But Georgiana had not sent +them back when a week had elapsed since the receipt of Mr +Brehgert's last letter. The matter had perhaps escaped Lady +Pomona's memory, but Sophia was happily alive to the honour of her +family. "Georgey," she said one morning in their mother's +presence, "don't you think Mr Brehgert's watch ought to go back to +him without any more delay?" + +<p>"What have you got to do with anybody's watch? The watch +wasn't given to you." + +<p>"I think it ought to go back. When papa finds that it has +been kept I'm sure he'll be very angry." + +<p>"It's no business of yours whether he's angry or not." + +<p>"If it isn't sent, George will tell Dolly. You know what +would happen then." + +<p>This was unbearable! That George Whitstable should +interfere in her affairs,—that he should talk about her watch and +chain. "I never will speak to George Whitstable again the +longest day that ever I live," she said, getting up from her chair. + +<p>"My dear, don't say anything so horrible as that," exclaimed the +unhappy mother. + +<p>"I do say it. What has George Whitstable to do with +me? A miserably stupid fellow! Because you've landed +him, you think he's to ride over the whole family." + +<p>"I think Mr Brehgert ought to have his watch and chain back," +said Sophia. + +<p>"Certainly he ought," said Lady Pomona. "Georgiana, it +must be sent back. It really must,—or I shall tell your +papa." + +<p>Subsequently, on the same day, Georgiana brought the watch and +chain to her mother, protesting that she had never thought of +keeping them, and explaining that she had intended to hand them +over to her papa as soon as he should have returned to +Caversham. Lady Pomona was now empowered to return them, and +they were absolutely confided to the hands of the odious George +Whitstable, who about this time made a journey to London in +reference to certain garments which he required. But +Georgiana, though she was so far beaten, kept up her quarrel with +her sister. She would not be bridesmaid. She would +never speak to George Whitstable. And she would shut herself +up on the day of the marriage. + +<p>She did think herself to be very hardly used. What was +there left in the world that she could do in furtherance of her +future cause? And what did her father and mother expect would +become of her? Marriage had ever been so clearly placed +before her eyes as a condition of things to be achieved by her own +efforts, that she could not endure the idea of remaining tranquil +in her father's house and waiting till some fitting suitor might +find her out. She had struggled and struggled, struggling +still in vain,—till every effort of her mind, every thought of her +daily life, was pervaded by a conviction that as she grew older +from year to year, the struggle should be more intense. The +swimmer when first he finds himself in the water, conscious of his +skill and confident in his strength, can make his way through the +water with the full command of all his powers. But when he +begins to feel that the shore is receding from him, that his +strength is going, that the footing for which he pants is still far +beneath his feet,—that there is peril where before he had +contemplated no danger,—then he begins to beat the water with +strokes rapid but impotent, and to waste in anxious gaspings the +breath on which his very life must depend. So it was with +poor Georgey Longestaffe. Something must be done at once, or +it would be of no avail. Twelve years had been passed by her +since first she plunged into the stream,—the twelve years of her +youth,—and she was as far as ever from the bank; nay, farther, if +she believed her eyes. She too must strike out with rapid +efforts, unless, indeed, she would abandon herself and let the +waters close over her head. But immersed as she was here at +Caversham, how could she strike at all? Even now the waters +were closing upon her. The sound of them was in her +ears. The ripple of the wave was already round her lips; +robbing her of breath. Ah!—might not there be some last +great convulsive effort which might dash her on shore, even if it +were upon a rock! + +<p>That ultimate failure in her matrimonial projects would be the +same as drowning she never for a moment doubted. It had never +occurred to her to consider with equanimity the prospect of living +as an old maid. It was beyond the scope of her mind to +contemplate the chances of a life in which marriage might be well +if it came, but in which unmarried tranquillity might also be well +should that be her lot. Nor could she understand that others +should contemplate it for her. No doubt the battle had been +carried on for many years so much under the auspices of her father +and mother as to justify her in thinking that their theory of life +was the same as her own. Lady Pomona had been very open in +her teaching, and Mr Longestaffe had always given a silent +adherence to the idea that the house in London was to be kept open +in order that husbands might be caught. And now when they +deserted her in her real difficulty,—when they first told her to +live at Caversham all the summer, and then sent her up to the +Melmottes, and after that forbade her marriage with Mr +Brehgert,—it seemed to her that they were unnatural parents who +gave her a stone when she wanted bread, a serpent when she asked +for a fish. She had no friend left. There was no one +living who seemed to care whether she had a husband or not. +She took to walking in solitude about the park, and thought of many +things with a grim earnestness which had not hitherto belonged to +her character. + +<p>"Mamma," she said one morning when all the care of the household +was being devoted to the future comforts,—chiefly in regard to +linen,—of Mrs George Whitstable, "I wonder whether papa has any +intention at all about me." + +<p>"In what sort of way, my dear?" + +<p>"In any way. Does he mean me to live here for ever and +ever?" + +<p>"I don't think he intends to have a house in town again." + +<p>"And what am I to do?" + +<p>"I suppose we shall stay here at Caversham." + +<p>"And I'm to be buried just like a nun in a convent,—only that +the nun does it by her own consent and I don't! Mamma, I +won't stand it. I won't indeed." + +<p>"I think, my dear, that that is nonsense. You see company +here, just as other people do in the country;—and as for not +standing it, I don't know what you mean. As long as you are +one of your papa's family of course you must live where he lives." + +<p>"Oh, mamma, to hear you talk like that!—It is +horrible—horrible! As if you didn't know! As if you +couldn't understand! Sometimes I almost doubt whether papa +does know, and then I think that if he did he would not be so +cruel. But you understand it all as well as I do +myself. What is to become of me? Is it not enough to +drive me mad to be going about here by myself, without any prospect +of anything? Should you have liked at my age to have felt +that you had no chance of having a house of your own to live +in? Why didn't you, among you, let me marry Mr +Breghert?" As she said this she was almost eloquent with +passion. + +<p>"You know, my dear," said Lady Pomona, "that your papa wouldn't +hear of it." + +<p>"I know that if you would have helped me I would have done it in +spite of papa. What right has he to domineer over me in that +way? Why shouldn't I have married the man if I chose? I +am old enough to know surely. You talk now of shutting up +girls in convents as being a thing quite impossible. This is +much worse. Papa won't do anything to help me. Why +shouldn't he let me do something for myself?" + +<p>"You can't regret Mr Brehgert!" + +<p>"Why can't I regret him? I do regret him. I'd have +him to-morrow if he came. Bad as it might be, it couldn't be +so bad as Caversham." + +<p>"You couldn't have loved him, Georgiana." + +<p>"Loved him! Who thinks about love nowadays? I don't +know any one who loves any one else. You won't tell me that +Sophy is going to marry that idiot because she loves him. Did +Julia Triplex love that man with the large fortune? When you +wanted Dolly to marry Marie Melmotte you never thought of his +loving her. I had got the better of all that kind of thing +before I was twenty." + +<p>"I think a young woman should love her husband." + +<p>"It makes me sick, mamma, to hear you talk in that way. It +does indeed. When one has been going on for a dozen years +trying to do something,—and I have never had any secrets from +you,—then that you should turn round upon me and talk about +love! Mamma, if you would help me I think I could still +manage with Mr Brehgert." Lady Pomona shuddered. "You +have not got to marry him." + +<p>"It is too horrid." + +<p>"Who would have to put up with it? Not you, or papa, or +Dolly. I should have a house of my own at least, and I should +know what I had to expect for the rest of my life. If I stay +here I shall go mad or die." + +<p>"It is impossible." + +<p>"If you will stand to me, mamma, I am sure it may be done. +I would write to him, and say that you would see him." + +<p>"Georgiana, I will never see him." + +<p>"Why not?" + +<p>"He is a Jew!" + +<p>"What abominable prejudice,—what wicked prejudice! As if +you didn't know that all that is changed now! What possible +difference can it make about a man's religion? Of course I +know that he is vulgar, and old, and has a lot of children. +But if I can put up with that, I don't think that you and papa have +a right to interfere. As to his religion it cannot signify." + +<p>"Georgiana, you make me very unhappy. I am wretched to see +you so discontented. If I could do anything for you, I +would. But I will not meddle about Mr Brehgert. I +shouldn't dare to do so. I don't think you know how angry +your papa can be." + +<p>"I'm not going to let papa be a bugbear to frighten me. +What can he do? I don't suppose he'll beat me. And I'd +rather he would than shut me up here. As for you, mamma, I +don't think you care for me a bit. Because Sophy is going to +be married to that oaf, you are become so proud of her that you +haven't half a thought for anybody else." + +<p>"That's very unjust, Georgiana." + +<p>"I know what's unjust,—and I know who's ill-treated. I +tell you fairly, mamma, that I shall write to Mr Brehgert and tell +him that I am quite ready to marry him. I don't know why he +should be afraid of papa. I don't mean to be afraid of him +any more, and you may tell him just what I say." + +<p>All this made Lady Pomona very miserable. She did not +communicate her daughter's threat to Mr Longestaffe, but she did +discuss it with Sophia. Sophia was of opinion that Georgiana +did not mean it, and gave two or three reasons for thinking +so. In the first place had she intended it she would have +written her letter without saying a word about it to Lady +Pomona. And she certainly would not have declared her purpose +of writing such letter after Lady Pomona had refused her +assistance. And moreover,—Lady Pomona had received no former +hint of the information which was now conveyed to her,—Georgiana +was in the habit of meeting the curate of the next parish almost +every day in the park. + +<p>"Mr Batherbolt!" exclaimed Lady Pomona. + +<p>"She is walking with Mr Batherbolt almost every day." + +<p>"But he is so very strict." + +<p>"It is true, mamma." + +<p>"And he's five years younger than she! And he's got +nothing but his curacy! And he's a celibate! I heard +the bishop laughing at him because he called himself a celibate." + +<p>"It doesn't signify, mamma. I know she is with him +constantly. Wilson has seen them,—and I know it. +Perhaps papa could get him a living. Dolly has a living of +his own that came to him with his property." + +<p>"Dolly would be sure to sell the presentation," said Lady +Pomona. + +<p>"Perhaps the bishop would do something," said the anxious +sister, "when he found that the man wasn't a celibate. +Anything, mamma, would be better than the Jew." To this +latter proposition Lady Pomona gave a cordial assent. "Of +course it is a come-down to marry a curate,—but a clergyman is +always considered to be decent." + +<p>The preparations for the Whitstable marriage went on without any +apparent attention to the intimacy which was growing up between Mr +Batherbolt and Georgiana. There was no room to apprehend +anything wrong on that side. Mr Batherbolt was so excellent a +young man, and so exclusively given to religion, that, even should +Sophy's suspicion be correct, he might be trusted to walk about the +park with Georgiana. Should he at any time come forward and +ask to be allowed to make the lady his wife, there would be no +disgrace in the matter. He was a clergyman and a +gentleman,—and the poverty would be Georgiana's own affair. + +<p>Mr Longestaffe returned home only on the eve of his eldest +daughter's marriage, and with him came Dolly. Great trouble +had been taken to teach him that duty absolutely required his +presence at his sister's marriage, and he had at last consented to +be there. It is not generally considered a hardship by a +young man that he should have to go into a good partridge country +on the 1st of September, and Dolly was an acknowledged +sportsman. Nevertheless, he considered that he had made a +great sacrifice to his family, and he was received by Lady Pomona +as though he were a bright example to other sons. He found +the house not in a very comfortable position, for Georgiana still +persisted in her refusal either to be a bridesmaid or to speak to +Mr Whitstable; but still his presence, which was very rare at +Caversham, gave some assistance: and, as at this moment his money +affairs had been comfortably arranged, he was not called upon to +squabble with his father. It was a great thing that one of +the girls should be married, and Dolly had brought down an +enormous china dog, about five feet high, as a wedding present, +which added materially to the happiness of the meeting. Lady +Pomona had determined that she would tell her husband of those +walks in the park, and of other signs of growing intimacy which had +reached her ears;—but this she would postpone until after the +Whitstable marriage. + +<p>But at nine o'clock on the morning set apart for that marriage, +they were all astounded by the news that Georgiana had run away +with Mr Batherbolt. She had been up before six. He had +met her at the park gate, and had driven her over to catch the +early train at Stowmarket. Then it appeared, too, that, by +degrees, various articles of her property had been conveyed to Mr +Batherbolt's lodgings in the adjacent village, so that Lady +Pomona's fear that Georgiana would not have a thing to wear was +needless. When the fact was first known it was almost felt, +in the consternation of the moment, that the Whitstable marriage +must be postponed. But Sophia had a word to say to her mother +on that head, and she said it. The marriage was not +postponed. At first Dolly talked of going after his younger +sister, and the father did dispatch various telegrams. But +the fugitives could not be brought back, and with some little +delay,—which made the marriage perhaps uncanonical but not +illegal,—Mr George Whitstable was made a happy man. + +<p>It need only he added that in about a month's time Georgiana +returned to Caversham as Mrs Batherbolt, and that she resided there +with her husband in much connubial bliss for the next six +months. At the end of that time they removed to a small +living, for the purchase of which Mr Longestaffe had managed to +raise the necessary money. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="96"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCVI. Where "The Wild Asses Quench Their Thirst"</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>We must now go back a little in our story,—about three +weeks,—in order that the reader may be told how affairs were +progressing at the Beargarden. That establishment had +received a terrible blow in the defection of Herr Vossner. It +was not only that he had robbed the club, and robbed every member +of the club who had ventured to have personal dealings with +him. Although a bad feeling in regard to him was no doubt +engendered in the minds of those who had suffered deeply, it was +not that alone which cast an almost funereal gloom over the +club. The sorrow was in this,—that with Herr Vossner all +their comforts had gone. Of course Herr Vossner had been a +thief. That no doubt had been known to them from the +beginning. A man does not consent to be called out of bed at +all hours in the morning to arrange the gambling accounts of young +gentlemen without being a thief. No one concerned with Herr +Vossner had supposed him to be an honest man. But then as a +thief he had been so comfortable that his absence was regretted +with a tenderness almost amounting to love even by those who had +suffered most severely from his rapacity. Dolly Longestaffe +had been robbed more outrageously than any other member of the +club, and yet Dolly Longestaffe had said since the departure of the +purveyor that London was not worth living in now that Herr Vossner +was gone. In a week the Beargarden collapsed,—as Germany +would collapse for a period if Herr Vossner's great compatriot were +suddenly to remove himself from the scene; but as Germany would +strive to live even without Bismarck, so did the club make its new +efforts. But here the parallel must cease. Germany no +doubt would at last succeed, but the Beargarden had received a blow +from which it seemed that there was no recovery. At first it +was proposed that three men should be appointed as +trustees,—trustees for paying Vossner's debts, trustees for +borrowing more money, trustees for the satisfaction of the landlord +who was beginning to be anxious as to his future rent. At a +certain very triumphant general meeting of the club it was +determined that such a plan should be arranged, and the members +assembled were unanimous. It was at first thought that there +might be a little jealousy as to the trusteeship. The club +was so popular and the authority conveyed by the position would be +so great, that A, B, and C might feel aggrieved at seeing so much +power conferred on D, E, and F. When at the meeting above +mentioned one or two names were suggested, the final choice was +postponed, as a matter of detail to be arranged privately, rather +from this consideration than with any idea that there might be a +difficulty in finding adequate persons. But even the leading +members of the Beargarden hesitated when the proposition was +submitted to them with all its honours and all its +responsibilities. Lord Nidderdale declared from the beginning +that he would have nothing to do with it,—pleading his poverty +openly. Beauchamp Beauclerk was of opinion that he himself +did not frequent the club often enough. Mr Lupton professed +his inability as a man of business. Lord Grasslough pleaded +his father. The club from the first had been sure of Dolly +Longestaffe's services;—for were not Dolly's pecuniary affairs now +in process of satisfactory arrangement, and was it not known by all +men that his courage never failed him in regard to money? But +even he declined. "I have spoken to Squercum," he said to the +Committee, "and Squercum won't hear of it. Squercum has made +inquiries and he thinks the club very shaky." When one of the +Committee made a remark as to Mr Squercum which was not +complimentary,—insinuated indeed that Squercum without injustice +might be consigned to the infernal deities,—Dolly took the matter +up warmly. "That's all very well for you, Grasslough; but if +you knew the comfort of having a fellow who could keep you straight +without preaching sermons at you you wouldn't despise +Squercum. I've tried to go alone and I find that does not +answer. Squercum's my coach, and I mean to stick pretty close +to him." Then it came to pass that the triumphant project as +to the trustees fell to the ground, although Squercum himself +advised that the difficulty might be lessened if three gentlemen +could be selected who lived well before the world and yet had +nothing to lose. Whereupon Dolly suggested Miles +Grendall. But the committee shook its heads, not thinking it +possible that the club could be re-established on a basis of three +Miles Grendalls. + +<p>Then dreadful rumours were heard. The Beargarden must +surely be abandoned. "It is such a pity," said Nidderdale, +"because there never has been anything like it." + +<p>"Smoke all over the house!" said Dolly. + +<p>"No horrid nonsense about closing," said Grasslough, "and no +infernal old fogies wearing out the carpets and paying for +nothing." + +<p>"Not a vestige of propriety, or any beastly rules to be +kept! That's what I liked," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"It's an old story," said Mr Lupton, "that if you put a man into +Paradise he'll make it too hot to hold him. That's what +you've done here." + +<p>"What we ought to do," said Dolly, who was pervaded by a sense +of his own good fortune in regard to Squercum, "is to get some +fellow like Vossner, and make him tell us how much he wants to +steal above his regular pay. Then we could subscribe that +among us. I really think that might be done. Squercum +would find a fellow, no doubt." But Mr Lupton was of opinion +that the new Vossner might perhaps not know, when thus consulted, +the extent of his own cupidity. + +<p>One day, before the Whitstable marriage, when it was understood +that the club would actually be closed on the 12th August unless +some new heaven-inspired idea might be forthcoming for its +salvation, Nidderdale, Grasslough, and Dolly were hanging about the +hall and the steps, and drinking sherry and bitters preparatory to +dinner, when Sir Felix Carbury came round the neighbouring corner +and, in a creeping, hesitating fashion, entered the hall +door. He had nearly recovered from his wounds, though be +still wore a bit of court plaster on his upper lip, and had not yet +learned to look or to speak as though he had not had two of his +front teeth knocked out. He had heard little or nothing of +what had been done at the Beargarden since Vossner's defection, It +was now a month since he had been seen at the club. His +thrashing had been the wonder of perhaps half nine days, but +latterly his existence had been almost forgotten. Now, with +difficulty, he had summoned courage to go down to his old haunt, so +completely had he been cowed by the latter circumstances of his +life; but he had determined that he would pluck up his courage, and +talk to his old associates as though no evil thing had befallen +him. He had still money enough to pay for his dinner and to +begin a small rubber of whist. If fortune should go against +him he might glide into I.O.U.'s,—as others had done before, so +much to his cost. "By George, here's Carbury!" said +Dolly. Lord Grasslough whistled, turned his back, and walked +upstairs; but Nidderdale and Dolly consented to have their hands +shaken by the stranger. + +<p>"Thought you were out of town," said Nidderdale, "Haven't seen +you for the last ever so long." + +<p>"I have been out of town," said Felix,—lying; "down in +Suffolk. But I'm back now. How are things going on +here?" + +<p>"They're not going at all;—they're gone," said Dolly. +"Everything is smashed," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"We shall all have to pay, I don't know how much." + +<p>"Wasn't Vossner ever caught?" asked the baronet. + +<p>"Caught!" ejaculated Dolly. "No;—but he has caught +us. I don't know that there has ever been much idea of +catching Vossner. We close altogether next Monday, and the +furniture is to be gone to law for. Flatfleece says it +belongs to him under what he calls a deed of sale. Indeed, +everything that everybody has seems to belong to Flatfleece. +He's always in and out of the club, and has got the key of the +cellar." + +<p>"That don't matter," said Nidderdale, "as Vossner took care that +there shouldn't be any wine." + +<p>"He's got most of the forks and spoons, and only lets us use +what we have as a favour." + +<p>"I suppose one can get a dinner here?" + +<p>"Yes; to-day you can, and perhaps to-morrow," + +<p>"Isn't there any playing?" asked Felix with dismay. + +<p>"I haven't seen a card this fortnight," said Dolly. "There +hasn't been anybody to play. Everything has gone to the +dogs. There has been the affair of Melmotte, you +know;—though, I suppose, you do know all about that." + +<p>"Of course I know he poisoned himself." + +<p>"Of course that had effect," said Dolly, continuing his +history. "Though why fellows shouldn't play cards because +another fellow like that takes poison, I can't understand. +Last year the only day I managed to get down in February, the +hounds didn't come because some old cove had died. What harm +could our hunting have done him? I call it rot." + +<p>"Melmotte's death was rather awful," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"Not half so awful as having nothing to amuse one. And now +they say the girl is going to be married to Fisker. I don't +know how you and Nidderdale like that. I never went in for +her myself. Squercum never seemed to see it." + +<p>"Poor dear!" said Nidderdale. "She's welcome for me, and I +dare say she couldn't do better with herself. I was very fond +of her;—I'll be shot if I wasn't." + +<p>"And Carbury too, I suppose," said Dolly. + +<p>"No; I wasn't. If I'd really been fond of her I suppose it +would have come off. I should have had her safe enough to +America, if I'd cared about it." This was Sir Felix's view of +the matter. + +<p>"Come into the smoking-room, Dolly," said Nidderdale. "I +can stand most things, and I try to stand everything; but, by +George, that fellow is such a cad that I cannot stand him. +You and I are bad enough,—but I don't think we're so heartless as +Carbury." + +<p>"I don't think I'm heartless at all," said Dolly. "I'm +good-natured to everybody that is good-natured to me,—and to a +great many people who ain't. I'm going all the way down to +Caversham next week to see my sister married, though I hate the +place and hate marriages, and if I was to be hung for it I couldn't +say a word to the fellow who is going to be my +brother-in-law. But I do agree about Carbury. It's very +hard to be good-natured to him." + +<p>But, in the teeth of these adverse opinions Sir Felix managed to +get his dinner-table close to theirs and to tell them at dinner +something of his future prospects. He was going to travel and +see the world. He had, according to his own account, +completely run through London life and found that it was all +barren. + +<blockquote> +<blockquote> +<font size="-1"> + "In life I've rung all changes through,<br> + Run every pleasure down,<br> + 'Midst each excess of folly too,<br> + And lived with half the town."<br> +</font> +</blockquote> +</blockquote> + +<p>Sir Felix did not exactly quote the old song, probably having +never heard the words. But that was the burden of his present +story. It was his determination to seek new scenes, and in +search of them to travel over the greater part of the known world. + +<p>"How jolly for you!" said Dolly. + +<p>"It will be a change, you know." + +<p>"No end of a change. Is any one going with you?" + +<p>"Well;—yes. I've got a travelling companion;—a very +pleasant fellow, who knows a lot, and will be able to coach me up +in things. There's a deal to be learned by going abroad, you +know." + +<p>"A sort of a tutor," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"A parson, I suppose," said Dolly. + +<p>"Well;—he is a clergyman. Who told you?" + +<p>"It's only my inventive genius. Well;—yes; I should say +that would be nice,—travelling about Europe with a +clergyman. I shouldn't get enough advantage out of it to make +it pay, but I fancy it will just suit you." + +<p>"It's an expensive sort of thing;—isn't it?" asked Nidderdale. + +<p>"Well;—it does cost something. But I've got so sick of +this kind of life;—and then that railway Board coming to an end, +and the club smashing up, and—" + +<p>"Marie Melmotte marrying Fisker," suggested Dolly. + +<p>"That too, if you will. But I want a change, and a change +I mean to have. I've seen this side of things, and now I'll +have a look at the other." + +<p>"Didn't you have a row in the street with some one the other +day?" This question was asked very abruptly by Lord +Grasslough, who, though he was sitting near them, had not yet +joined in the conversation, and who had not before addressed a word +to Sir Felix. "We heard something about it, but we never got +the right story." Nidderdale glanced across the table at +Dolly, and Dolly whistled. Grasslough looked at the man he +addressed as one does look when one expects an answer. Mr +Lupton, with whom Grasslough was dining, also sat expectant. +Dolly and Nidderdale were both silent. + +<p>It was the fear of this that had kept Sir Felix away from the +club. Grasslough, as he had told himself, was just the fellow +to ask such a question,—ill-natured, insolent, and +obtrusive. But the question demanded an answer of some +kind. "Yes," said he; "a fellow attacked me in the street, +coming behind me when I had a girl with me. He didn't get +much the best of it though." + +<p>"Oh;—didn't he?" said Grasslough. "I think, upon the +whole, you know, you're right about going abroad." + +<p>"What business is it of yours?" asked the baronet. + +<p>"Well;—as the club is being broken up, I don't know that it is +very much the business of any of us." + +<p>"I was speaking to my friends, Lord Nidderdale and Mr +Longestaffe, and not to you." + +<p>"I quite appreciate the advantage of the distinction," said Lord +Grasslough, "and am sorry for Lord Nidderdale and Mr Longestaffe." + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" said Sir Felix, rising from his +chair. His present opponent was not horrible to him as had +been John Crumb, as men in clubs do not now often knock each +others' heads or draw swords one upon another. + +<p>"Don't let's have a quarrel here," said Mr Lupton. "I +shall leave the room if you do." + +<p>"If we must break up, let us break up in peace and quietness," +said Nidderdale. + +<p>"Of course, if there is to be a fight, I'm good to go out with +anybody," said Dolly. "When there's any beastly thing to be +done, I've always got to do it. But don't you think that kind +of thing is a little slow?" + +<p>"Who began it?" said Sir Felix, sitting down again. +Whereupon Lord Grasslough, who had finished his dinner, walked out +of the room. "That fellow is always wanting to quarrel." + +<p>"There's one comfort, you know," said Dolly. "It wants two +men to make a quarrel." + +<p>"Yes; it does," said Sir Felix, taking this as a friendly +observation; "and I'm not going to be fool enough to be one of +them." + +<p>"Oh, yes, I meant it fast enough," said Grasslough afterwards up +in the card-room. The other men who had been together had +quickly followed him, leaving Sir Felix alone, and they had +collected themselves there not with the hope of play, but thinking +that they would be less interrupted than in the smoking-room. +"I don't suppose we shall ever any of us be here again, and as he +did come in I thought I would tell him my mind." + +<p>"What's the use of taking such a lot of trouble?" said +Dolly. "Of course he's a bad fellow. Most fellows are +bad fellows in one way or another." + +<p>"But he's bad all round," said the bitter enemy. + +<p>"And so this is to be the end of the Beargarden," said Lord +Nidderdale with a peculiar melancholy. "Dear old place! +I always felt it was too good to last. I fancy it doesn't do +to make things too easy;—one has to pay so uncommon dear for +them. And then, you know, when you've got things easy, then +they get rowdy;—and, by George, before you know where you are, you +find yourself among a lot of blackguards. If one wants to +keep one's self straight, one has to work hard at it, one way or +the other. I suppose it all comes from the fall of Adam." + +<p>"If Solomon, Solon, and the Archbishop of Canterbury were rolled +into one, they couldn't have spoken with more wisdom," said Mr +Lupton. + +<p>"Live and learn," continued the young lord. "I don't think +anybody has liked the Beargarden so much as I have, but I shall +never try this kind of thing again. I shall begin reading +blue books to-morrow, and shall dine at the Carlton. Next +session I shan't miss a day in the House, and I'll bet anybody a +flyer that I make a speech before Easter. I shall take to +claret at 20s. a dozen, and shall go about London on the top of an +omnibus." + +<p>"How about getting married?" asked Dolly. + +<p>"Oh;—that must be as it comes. That's the governor's +affair. None of you fellows will believe me, but, upon my +word, I liked that girl; and I'd've stuck to her at last,—only +there are some things a fellow can't do. He was such a +thundering scoundrel!" + +<p>After a while Sir Felix followed them upstairs, and entered the +room as though nothing unpleasant had happened below. "We can +make up a rubber can't we?" said he. + +<p>"I should say not," said Nidderdale. + +<p>"I shall not play," said Mr Lupton. + +<p>"There isn't a pack of cards in the house," said Dolly. +Lord Grasslough didn't condescend to say a word. Sir Felix +sat down with his cigar in his mouth, and the others continued to +smoke in silence. + +<p>"I wonder what has become of Miles Grendall," asked Sir +Felix. But no one made any answer, and they smoked on in +silence. "He hasn't paid me a shilling yet of the money he +owes me." Still there was not a word. "And I don't +suppose he ever will." There was another pause. "He is +the biggest scoundrel I ever met," said Sir Felix. + +<p>"I know one as big," said Lord Grasslough,—"or, at any rate, +as little." + +<p>There was another pause of a minute, and then Sir Felix left the +room muttering something as to the stupidity of having no +cards;—and so brought to an end his connection with his associates +of the Beargarden. From that time forth he was never more +seen by them,—or, if seen, was never known. + +<p>The other men remained there till well on into the night, +although there was not the excitement of any special amusement to +attract them. It was felt by them all that this was the end +of the Beargarden, and, with a melancholy seriousness befitting the +occasion, they whispered sad things in low voices, consoling +themselves simply with tobacco. "I never felt so much like +crying in my life," said Dolly, as he asked for a glass of +brandy-and-water at about midnight. "Good-night, old fellows; +good-bye. I'm going down to Caversham, and I shouldn't wonder +if I didn't drown myself." + +<p>How Mr Flatfleece went to law, and tried to sell the furniture, +and threatened everybody, and at last singled out poor Dolly +Longestaffe as his special victim; and how Dolly Longestaffe, by +the aid of Mr Squercum, utterly confounded Mr Flatfleece, and +brought that ingenious but unfortunate man, with his wife and small +family, to absolute ruin, the reader will hardly expect to have +told to him in detail in this chronicle. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="97"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCVII. Mrs Hurtle's Fate</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>Mrs Hurtle had consented at the joint request of Mrs Pipkin and +John Crumb to postpone her journey to New York and to go down to +Bungay and grace the marriage of Ruby Ruggles, not so much from any +love for the persons concerned, not so much even from any desire to +witness a phase of English life, as from an irresistible tenderness +towards Paul Montague. She not only longed to see him once +again, but she could with difficulty bring herself to leave the +land in which he was living. There was no hope for her. +She was sure of that. She had consented to relinquish +him. She had condoned his treachery to her,—and for his sake +had even been kind to the rival who had taken her place. But +still she lingered near him. And then, though, in all her +very restricted intercourse with such English people as she met, +she never ceased to ridicule things English, yet she dreaded a +return to her own country. In her heart of hearts she liked +the somewhat stupid tranquillity of the life she saw, comparing it +with the rough tempests of her past days. Mrs Pipkin, she +thought, was less intellectual than any American woman she had ever +known; and she was quite sure that no human being so heavy, so +slow, and so incapable of two concurrent ideas as John Crumb had +ever been produced in the United States;—but, nevertheless, she +liked Mrs Pipkin, and almost loved John Crumb. How different +would her life have been could she have met a man who would have +been as true to her as John Crumb was to his Ruby! + +<p>She loved Paul Montague with all her heart, and she despised +herself for loving him. How weak he was;—how inefficient; +how unable to seize glorious opportunities; how swathed and +swaddled by scruples and prejudices;—how unlike her own countrymen +in quickness of apprehension and readiness of action! But yet +she loved him for his very faults, telling herself that there was +something sweeter in his English manners than in all the smart +intelligence of her own land. The man had been false to +her,—false as hell; had sworn to her and had broken his oath; had +ruined her whole life; had made everything blank before her by his +treachery! But then she also had not been quite true with +him. She had not at first meant to deceive;—nor had +he. They had played a game against each other; and he, with +all the inferiority of his intellect to weigh him down, had +won,—because he was a man. She had much time for thinking, +and she thought much about these things. He could change his +love as often as he pleased, and be as good a lover at the end as +ever;—whereas she was ruined by his defection. He could look +about for a fresh flower and boldly seek his honey; whereas she +could only sit and mourn for the sweets of which she had been +rifled. She was not quite sure that such mourning would not +be more bitter to her in California than in Mrs Pipkin's solitary +lodgings at Islington. + +<p>"So he was Mr Montague's partner,—was he now?" asked Mrs Pipkin +a day or two after their return from the Crumb marriage. For +Mr Fisker had called on Mrs Hurtle, and Mrs Hurtle had told Mrs +Pipkin so much. "To my thinking now he's a nicer man than Mr +Montague." Mrs Pipkin perhaps thought that as her lodger had +lost one partner she might be anxious to secure the other;—perhaps +felt, too, that it might be well to praise an American at the +expense of an Englishman. + +<p>"There's no accounting for tastes, Mrs Pipkin." + +<p>"And that's true, too, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"Mr Montague is a gentleman." + +<p>"I always did say that of him, Mrs Hurtle." + +<p>"And Mr Fisker is—an American citizen." Mrs Hurtle when +she said this was very far gone in tenderness. + +<p>"Indeed now!" said Mrs Pipkin, who did not in the least +understand the meaning of her friend's last remark. + +<p>"Mr Fisker came to me with tidings from San Francisco which I +had not heard before, and has offered to take me back with +him." Mrs Pipkin's apron was immediately at her eyes. +"I must go some day, you knew." + +<p>"I suppose you must. I couldn't hope as you'd stay here +always. I wish I could. I never shall forget the +comfort it's been. There hasn't been a week without +everything settled; and most ladylike,—most ladylike! You +seem to me, Mrs Hurtle, just as though you had the bank in your +pocket." All this the poor woman said, moved by her sorrow to +speak the absolute truth. + +<p>"Mr Fisker isn't in any way a special friend of mine, but I hear +that he will be taking other ladies with him, and I fancy I might +as well join the party. It will be less dull for me, and I +shall prefer company just at present for many reasons. We +shall start on the first of September." As this was said +about the middle of August there was still some remnant of comfort +for poor Mrs Pipkin. A fortnight gained was something; and as +Mr Fisker had come to England on business, and as business is +always uncertain, there might possibly be further delay. Then +Mrs Hurtle made a further communication to Mrs Pipkin, which, +though not spoken till the latter lady had her hand on the door, +was, perhaps, the one thing which Mrs Hurtle had desired to +say. "By-the-bye, Mrs Pipkin I expect Mr Montague to call +to-morrow at eleven. Just show him up when he comes." +She had feared that unless some such instructions were given, there +might be a little scene at the door when the gentleman came. + +<p>"Mr Montague;—oh! Of course, Mrs Hurtle,—of +course. I'll see to it myself." Then Mrs Pipkin went +away abashed,—feeling that she had made a great mistake in +preferring any other man to Mr Montague, if, after all, recent +difficulties were to be adjusted. + +<p>On the following morning Mrs Hurtle dressed herself with almost +more than her usual simplicity, but certainly with not less than +her usual care, and immediately after breakfast seated herself at +her desk, nursing an idea that she would work as steadily for the +next hour as though she expected no special visitor. Of +course she did not write a word of the task which she had +prescribed to herself. Of course she was disturbed in her +mind, though she had dictated to herself absolute quiescence. + +<p>She almost knew that she had been wrong even to desire to see +him. She had forgiven him, and what more was there to be +said? She had seen the girl, and had in some fashion approved +of her. Her curiosity had been satisfied, and her love of +revenge had been sacrificed. She had no plan arranged as to +what she would now say to him, nor did she at this moment attempt +to make a plan. She could tell him that she was about to +return to San Francisco with Fisker, but she did not know that she +had anything else to say. Then came the knock at the +door. Her heart leaped within her, and she made a last great +effort to be tranquil. She heard the steps on the stairs, and +then the door was opened and Mr Montague was announced by Mrs +Pipkin herself. Mrs Pipkin, however, quite conquered by a +feeling of gratitude to her lodger, did not once look in through +the door, nor did she pause a moment to listen at the +keyhole. "I thought you would come and see me once again +before I went," said Mrs Hurtle, not rising from her sofa, but +putting out her hand to greet him. "Sit there opposite, so +that we can look at one another. I hope it has not been a +trouble to you." + +<p>"Of course I came when you left word for me to do so." + +<p>"I certainly should not have expected it from any wish of your +own." + +<p>"I should not have dared to come, had you not bade me. You +know that." + +<p>"I know nothing of the kind;—but as you are here we will not +quarrel as to your motives. Has Miss Carbury pardoned you as +yet? Has she forgiven your sins?" + +<p>"We are friends,—if you mean that." + +<p>"Of course you are friends. She only wanted to have +somebody to tell her that somebody had maligned you. It +mattered not much who it was. She was ready to believe any +one who would say a good word for you. Perhaps I wasn't just +the person to do it, but I believe even I was sufficient to serve +the turn." + +<p>"Did you say a good word for me?" + +<p>"Well; no;" replied Mrs Hurtle. "I will not boast that I +did. I do not want to tell you fibs at our last +meeting. I said nothing good of you. What could I say +of good? But I told her what was quite as serviceable to you +as though I had sung your virtues by the hour without +ceasing. I explained to her how very badly you had behaved to +me. I let her know that from the moment you had seen her, you +had thrown me to the winds." + +<p>"It was not so, my friend." + +<p>"What did that matter? One does not scruple a lie for a +friend, you know! I could not go into all the little details +of your perfidies. I could not make her understand during one +short and rather agonizing interview how you had allowed yourself +to be talked out of your love for me by English propriety even +before you had seen her beautiful eyes. There was no reason +why I should tell her all my disgrace,—anxious as I was to be of +service. Besides, as I put it, she was sure to be better +pleased. But I did tell her how unwillingly you had spared me +an hour of your company;—what a trouble I had been to you;—how +you would have shirked me if you could!" + +<p>"Winifred, that is untrue." + +<p>"That wretched journey to Lowestoft was the great crime. +Mr Roger Carbury, who I own is poison to me—" + +<p>"You do not know him." + +<p>"Knowing him or not I choose to have my own opinion, sir. +I say that he is poison to me, and I say that he had so stuffed her +mind with the flagrant sin of that journey, with the peculiar +wickedness of our having lived for two nights under the same roof, +with the awful fact that we had travelled together in the same +carriage, till that had become the one stumbling-block on your path +to happiness." + +<p>"He never said a word to her of our being there." + +<p>"Who did then? But what matters? She knew it;—and, +as the only means of whitewashing you in her eyes, I did tell her +how cruel and how heartless you had been to me. I did explain +how the return of friendship which you had begun to show me, had +been frozen, harder than Wenham ice, by the appearance of Mr +Carbury on the sands. Perhaps I went a little farther and +hinted that the meeting had been arranged as affording you the +easiest means of escape from me." + +<p>"You do not believe that." + +<p>"You see I had your welfare to look after; and the baser your +conduct had been to me, the truer you were in her eyes. Do I +not deserve some thanks for what I did? Surely you would not +have had me tell her that your conduct to me had been that of a +loyal, loving gentleman. I confessed to her my utter +despair;—I abased myself in the dust, as a woman is abased who has +been treacherously ill-used, and has failed to avenge +herself. I knew that when she was sure that I was prostrate +and hopeless she would be triumphant and contented. I told +her on your behalf how I had been ground to pieces under your +chariot wheels. And now you have not a word of thanks to give +me!" + +<p>"Every word you say is a dagger." + +<p>"You know where to go for salve for such skin-deep scratches as +I make. Where am I to find a surgeon who can put together my +crushed bones? Daggers, indeed! Do you not suppose that +in thinking of you I have often thought of daggers? Why have +I not thrust one into your heart, so that I might rescue you from +the arms of this puny, spiritless English girl?" All this +time she was still seated, looking at him, leaning forward towards +him with her hands upon her brow. "But, Paul, I spit out my +words to you, like any common woman, not because they will hurt +you, but because I know I may take that comfort, such as it is, +without hurting you. You are uneasy for a moment while you +are here, and I have a cruel pleasure in thinking that you cannot +answer me. But you will go from me to her, and then will you +not be happy? When you are sitting with your arm round her +waist, and when she is playing with your smiles, will the memory of +my words interfere with your joy then? Ask yourself whether +the prick will last longer than the moment. But where am I to +go for happiness and joy? Can you understand what it is to +have to live only on retrospects?" + +<p>"I wish I could say a word to comfort you." + +<p>"You cannot say a word to comfort me, unless you will unsay all +that you have said since I have been in England. I never +expect comfort again. But, Paul, I will not be cruel to the +end. I will tell you all that I know of my concerns, even +though my doing so should justify your treatment of me. He is +not dead." + +<p>"You mean Mr Hurtle." + +<p>"Whom else should I mean? And he himself says that the +divorce which was declared between us was no divorce. Mr +Fisker came here to me with tidings. Though he is not a man +whom I specially love,—though I know that he has been my enemy +with you,—I shall return with him to San Francisco." + +<p>"I am told that he is taking Madame Melmotte with him, and +Melmotte's daughter." + +<p>"So I understand. They are adventurers,—as I am, and I do +not see why we should not suit each other." + +<p>"They say also that Fisker will marry Miss Melmotte." + +<p>"Why should I object to that? I shall not be jealous of Mr +Fisker's attentions to the young lady. But it will suit me to +have some one to whom I can speak on friendly terms when I am back +in California. I may have a job of work to do there which +will require the backing of some friends. I shall be +hand-and-glove with these people before I have travelled half +across the ocean with them." + +<p>"I hope they will be kind to you," said Paul. + +<p>"No;—but I will be kind to them. I have conquered others +by being kind, but I have never had much kindness myself. Did +I not conquer you, sir, by being gentle and gracious to you? +Ah, how kind I was to that poor wretch, till he lost himself in +drink! And then, Paul, I used to think of better people, +perhaps of softer people, of things that should be clean and sweet +and gentle,—of things that should smell of lavender instead of +wild garlic. I would dream of fair, feminine women,—of women +who would be scared by seeing what I saw, who would die rather than +do what I did. And then I met you, Paul, and I said that my +dreams should come true. I ought to have known that it could +not be so. I did not dare quite to tell you all the +truth. I know I was wrong, and now the punishment has come +upon me. Well;—I suppose you had better say good-bye to +me. What is the good of putting it off?" Then she rose +from her chair and stood before him with her arms hanging +listlessly by her side. + +<p>"God bless you, Winifred!" he said, putting out his hand to her. + +<p>"But he won't. Why should he,—if we are right in +supposing that they who do good will be blessed for their good, and +those who do evil cursed for their evil? I cannot do +good. I cannot bring myself now not to wish that you would +return to me. If you would come I should care nothing for the +misery of that girl,—nothing, at least nothing now, for the misery +I should certainly bring upon you. Look here;—will you have +this back?" As she asked this she took from out her bosom a +small miniature portrait of himself which he had given her in New +York, and held it towards him. + +<p>"If you wish it I will,—of course," he said. + +<p>"I would not part with it for all the gold in California. +Nothing on earth shall ever part me from it. Should I ever +marry another man,—as I may do,—he must take me and this +together. While I live it shall be next my heart. As +you know, I have little respect for the proprieties of life. +I do not see why I am to abandon the picture of the man I love +because he becomes the husband of another woman. Having once +said that I love you I shall not contradict myself because you have +deserted me. Paul, I have loved you, and do love you,—oh, +with my very heart of hearts." So speaking she threw herself +into his arms and covered his face with kisses. "For one +moment you shall not banish me. For one short minute I will +be here. Oh, Paul, my love;—my love!" + +<p>All this to him was simply agony,—though as she had truly said +it was an agony he would soon forget. But to be told by a +woman of her love,—without being able even to promise love in +return,—to be so told while you are in the very act of +acknowledging your love for another woman,—carries with it but +little of the joy of triumph. He did not want to see her +raging like a tigress, as he had once thought might be his fate; +but he would have preferred the continuance of moderate resentment +to this flood of tenderness. Of course he stood with his arm +round her waist, and of course he returned her caresses; but he did +it with such stiff constraint that she at once felt how chill they +were. "There," she said, smiling through her bitter +tears,—"there; you are released now, and not even my fingers shall +ever be laid upon you again. If I have annoyed you, at this +our last meeting, you must forgive me." + +<p>"No;—but you cut me to the heart." + +<p>"That we can hardly help;—can we? When two persons have +made fools of themselves as we have, there must I suppose be some +punishment. Yours will never be heavy after I am gone. +I do not start till the first of next month because that is the day +fixed by our friend, Mr Fisker, and I shall remain here till then +because my presence is convenient to Mrs Pipkin; but I need not +trouble you to come to me again. Indeed it will be better +that you should not. Good-bye." + +<p>He took her by the hand, and stood for a moment looking at her, +while she smiled and gently nodded her head at him. Then he +essayed to pull her towards him as though he would again kiss +her. But she repulsed him, still smiling the while. +"No, sir; no; not again; never again, never,—never,—never +again." By that time she had recovered her hand and stood +apart from him. "Good-bye, Paul;—and now go." Then he +turned round and left the room without uttering a word. + +<p>She stood still, without moving a limb, as she listened to his +step down the stairs and to the opening and the closing of the +door. Then hiding herself at the window with the scanty +drapery of the curtain she watched him as he went along the +street. When he had turned the corner she came back to the +centre of the room, stood for a moment with her arms stretched out +towards the walls, and then fell prone upon the floor. She +had spoken the very truth when she said that she had loved him with +all her heart. + +<p>But that evening she bade Mrs Pipkin drink tea with her and was +more gracious to the poor woman than ever. When the +obsequious but still curious landlady asked some question about Mr +Montague, Mrs Hurtle seemed to speak very freely on the subject of +her late lover,—and to speak without any great pain. They +had put their heads together, she said, and had found that the +marriage would not be suitable. Each of them preferred their +own country, and so they had agreed to part. On that evening +Mrs Hurtle made herself more than usually pleasant, having the +children up into her room, and giving them jam and +bread-and-butter. During the whole of the next fortnight she +seemed to take a delight in doing all in her power for Mrs Pipkin +and her family. She gave toys to the children, and absolutely +bestowed upon Mrs Pipkin a new carpet for the drawing-room. +Then Mr Fisker came and took her away with him to America; and Mrs +Pipkin was left,—a desolate but grateful woman. + +<p>"They do tell bad things about them Americans," she said to a +friend in the street, "and I don't pretend to know. But for a +lodger, I only wish Providence would send me another just like the +one I have lost. She had that good nature about her she liked +to see the bairns eating pudding just as if they was her own." + +<p>I think Mrs Pipkin was right, and that Mrs Hurtle, with all her +faults, was a good-natured woman. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="98"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCVIII. Marie Melmotte's Fate</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>In the meantime Marie Melmotte was living with Madame Melmotte +in their lodgings up at Hampstead, and was taking quite a new look +out into the world. Fisker had become her devoted +servant,—not with that old-fashioned service which meant making +love, but with perhaps a truer devotion to her material +interests. He had ascertained on her behalf that she was the +undoubted owner of the money which her father had made over to her +on his first arrival in England,—and she also had made herself +mistress of that fact with equal precision. It would have +astonished those who had known her six months since could they now +have seen how excellent a woman of business she had become, and how +capable she was of making the fullest use of Mr Fisker's +services. In doing him justice it must be owned that he kept +nothing back from her of that which he learned, probably feeling +that he might best achieve success in his present project by such +honesty,—feeling also, no doubt, the girl's own strength in +discovering truth and falsehood. "She's her father's own +daughter," he said one day to Croll in Abchurch Lane;—for Croll, +though he had left Melmotte's employment when he found that his +name had been forged, had now returned to the service of the +daughter in some undefined position, and had been engaged to go +with her and Madame Melmotte to New York. + +<p>"Ah; yees," said Croll, "but bigger. He vas passionate, +and did lose his 'ead; and vas blow'd up vid bigness." +Whereupon Croll made an action as though he were a frog swelling +himself to the dimensions of an ox. "'E bursted himself, Mr +Fisker. 'E vas a great man; but the greater he grew he vas +always less and less vise. 'E ate so much that he became too +fat to see to eat his vittels." It was thus that Herr Croll +analysed the character of his late master. "But +Ma'me'selle,—ah, she is different. She vill never eat too +moch, but vill see to eat alvays." Thus too he analysed the +character of his young mistress. + +<p>At first things did not arrange themselves pleasantly between +Madame Melmotte and Marie. The reader will perhaps remember +that they were in no way connected by blood. Madame Melmotte +was not Marie's mother, nor, in the eye of the law, could Marie +claim Melmotte as her father. She was alone in the world, +absolutely without a relation, not knowing even what had been her +mother's name,—not even knowing what was her father's true name, +as in the various biographies of the great man which were, as a +matter of course, published within a fortnight of his death, +various accounts were given as to his birth, parentage, and early +history. The general opinion seemed to be that his father had +been a noted coiner in New York,—an Irishman of the name of +Melmody,—and, in one memoir, the probability of the descent was +argued from Melmotte's skill in forgery. But Marie, though +she was thus isolated, and now altogether separated from the lords +and duchesses who a few weeks since had been interested in her +career, was the undoubted owner of the money,—a fact which was +beyond the comprehension of Madame Melmotte. She could +understand,—and was delighted to understand,—that a very large +sum of money had been saved from the wreck, and that she might +therefore look forward to prosperous tranquillity for the rest of +her life. Though she never acknowledged so much to herself, +she soon learned to regard the removal of her husband as the end of +her troubles. But she could not comprehend why Marie should +claim all the money as her own. She declared herself to be +quite willing to divide the spoil,—and suggested such an +arrangement both to Marie and to Croll. Of Fisker she was +afraid, thinking that the iniquity of giving all the money to Marie +originated with him, in order that he might obtain it by marrying +the girl. Croll, who understood it all perfectly, told her +the story a dozen times,—but quite in vain. She made a timid +suggestion of employing a lawyer on her own behalf, and was only +deterred from doing so by Marie's ready assent to such an +arrangement. Marie's equally ready surrender of any right she +might have to a portion of the jewels which had been saved had +perhaps some effect in softening the elder lady's heart. She +thus was in possession of a treasure of her own,—though a treasure +small in comparison with that of the younger woman; and the younger +woman had promised that in the event of her marriage she would be +liberal. + +<p>It was distinctly understood that they were both to go to New +York under Mr Fisker's guidance as soon as things should be +sufficiently settled to allow of their departure; and Madame +Melmotte was told, about the middle of August, that their places +had been taken for the 3rd of September. But nothing more was +told her. She did not as yet know whether Marie was to go out +free or as the affianced bride of Hamilton Fisker. And she +felt herself injured by being left so much in the dark. She +herself was inimical to Fisker, regarding him as a dark, designing +man, who would ultimately swallow up all that her husband had left +behind him,—and trusted herself entirely to Croll, who was +personally attentive to her. Fisker was, of course, going on +to San Francisco. Marie also had talked of crossing the +American continent. But Madame Melmotte was disposed to think +that for her, with her jewels, and such share of the money as Marie +might be induced to give her, New York would be the most fitting +residence. Why should she drag herself across the continent +to California? Herr Croll had declared his purpose of +remaining in New York. Then it occurred to the lady that as +Melmotte was a name which might be too well known in New York, and +which it therefore might be wise to change, Croll would do as well +as any other. She and Herr Croll had known each other for a +great many years, and were, she thought, of about the same +age. Croll had some money saved. She had, at any rate, +her jewels,—and Croll would probably be able to get some portion +of all that money, which ought to be hers, if his affairs were made +to be identical with her own. So she smiled upon Croll, and +whispered to him; and when she had given Croll two glasses of +Curaçao,—which comforter she kept in her own hands, as +safeguarded almost as the jewels,—then Croll understood her. + +<p>But it was essential that she should know what Marie intended to +do. Marie was anything but communicative, and certainly was +not in any way submissive. "My dear," she said one day, +asking the question in French, without any preface or apology, "are +you going to be married to Mr Fisker?" + +<p>"What makes you ask that?" + +<p>"It is so important I should know. Where am I to +live? What am I to do? What money shall I have? +Who will be a friend to me? A woman ought to know. You +will marry Fisker if you like him. Why cannot you tell me?" + +<p>"Because I do not know. When I know I will tell you. +If you go on asking me till to-morrow morning I can say no more." + +<p>And this was true. She did not know. It certainly +was not Fisker's fault that she should still be in the dark as to +her own destiny, for he had asked her often enough, and had pressed +his suit with all his eloquence. But Marie had now been wooed +so often that she felt the importance of the step which was +suggested to her. The romance of the thing was with her a +good deal worn, and the material view of matrimony had also been +damaged in her sight. She had fallen in love with Sir Felix +Carbury, and had assured herself over and over again that she +worshipped the very ground on which he stood. But she had +taught herself this business of falling in love as a lesson, rather +than felt it. After her father's first attempts to marry her +to this and that suitor because of her wealth,—attempts which she +had hardly opposed amidst the consternation and glitter of the +world to which she was suddenly introduced,—she had learned from +novels that it would be right that she should be in love, and she +had chosen Sir Felix as her idol. The reader knows what had +been the end of that episode in her life. She certainly was +not now in love with Sir Felix Carbury. Then she had as it +were relapsed into the hands of Lord Nidderdale,—one of her early +suitors,—and had felt that as love was not to prevail, and as it +would be well that she should marry some one, he might probably be +as good as any other, and certainly better than many others. +She had almost learned to like Lord Nidderdale and to believe that +he liked her, when the tragedy came. Lord Nidderdale had been +very good-natured,—but he had deserted her at last. She had +never allowed herself to be angry with him for a moment. It +had been a matter of course that he should do so. Her fortune +was still large, but not so large as the sum named in the bargain +made. And it was moreover weighted with her father's +blood. From the moment of her father's death she had never +dreamed that he would marry her. Why should he? Her +thoughts in reference to Sir Felix were bitter enough;—but as +against Nidderdale they were not at all bitter. Should she +ever meet him again she would shake hands with him and smile,—if +not pleasantly as she thought of the things which were past,—at +any rate with good humour. But all this had not made her much +in love with matrimony generally. She had over a hundred +thousand pounds of her own, and, feeling conscious of her own power +in regard to her own money, knowing that she could do as she +pleased with her wealth, she began to look out into life seriously. + +<p>What could she do with her money, and in what way would she +shape her life, should she determine to remain her own +mistress? Were she to refuse Fisker how should she +begin? He would then be banished, and her only remaining +friends, the only persons whose names she would even know in her +own country, would be her father's widow and Herr Croll. She +already began to see Madame Melmotte's purport in reference to +Croll, and could not reconcile herself to the idea of opening an +establishment with them on a scale commensurate with her +fortune. Nor could she settle in her own mind any pleasant +position for herself as a single woman, living alone in perfect +independence. She had opinions of women's rights,—especially +in regard to money; and she entertained also a vague notion that in +America a young woman would not need support so essentially as in +England. Nevertheless, the idea of a fine house for herself +in Boston, or Philadelphia,—for in that case she would have to +avoid New York as the chosen residence of Madame Melmotte,—did not +recommend itself to her. As to Fisker himself,—she certainly +liked him. He was not beautiful like Felix Carbury, nor had +he the easy good-humour of Lord Nidderdale. She had seen +enough of English gentlemen to know that Fisker was very unlike +them. But she had not seen enough of English gentlemen to +make Fisker distasteful to her. He told her that he had a big +house at San Francisco, and she certainly desired to live in a big +house. He represented himself to be a thriving man, and she +calculated that he certainly would not be here, in London, +arranging her father's affairs, were he not possessed of commercial +importance. She had contrived to learn that, in the United +States, a married woman has greater power over her own money than +in England, and this information acted strongly in Fisker's +favour. On consideration of the whole subject she was +inclined to think that she would do better in the world as Mrs +Fisker than as Marie Melmotte,—if she could see her way clearly +in the matter of her own money. + +<p>"I have got excellent berths," Fisker said to her one morning at +Hampstead. At these interviews, which were devoted first to +business and then to love, Madame Melmotte was never allowed to be +present. + +<p>"I am to be alone?" + +<p>"Oh, yes. There is a cabin for Madame Melmotte and the +maid, and a cabin for you. Everything will be +comfortable. And there is another lady going,—Mrs +Hurtle,—whom I think you will like." + +<p>"Has she a husband?" + +<p>"Not going with us," said Mr Fisker evasively. + +<p>"But she has one?" + +<p>"Well, yes;—but you had better not mention him. He is not +exactly all that a husband should be." + +<p>"Did she not come over here to marry some one else?"—For +Marie in the days of her sweet intimacy with Sir Felix Carbury had +heard something of Mrs Hurtle's story. + +<p>"There is a story, and I dare say I shall tell you all about it +some day. But you may be sure I should not ask you to +associate with any one you ought not to know." + +<p>"Oh,—I can take care of myself." + +<p>"No doubt, Miss Melmotte,—no doubt. I feel that quite +strongly. But what I meant to observe was this,—that I +certainly should not introduce a lady whom I aspire to make my own +lady to any lady whom a lady oughtn't to know. I hope I make +myself understood, Miss Melmotte." + +<p>"Oh, quite." + +<p>"And perhaps I may go on to say that if I could go on board that +ship as your accepted lover, I could do a deal more to make you +comfortable, particularly when you land, than just as a mere +friend, Miss Melmotte. You can't doubt my heart." + +<p>"I don't see why I shouldn't. Gentlemen's hearts are +things very much to be doubted as far as I've seen 'em. I +don't think many of 'em have 'em at all." + +<p>"Miss Melmotte, you do not know the glorious west. Your +past experiences have been drawn from this effete and stone-cold +country in which passion is no longer allowed to sway. On +those golden shores which the Pacific washes man is still +true,—and woman is still tender." + +<p>"Perhaps I'd better wait and see, Mr Fisker." + +<p>But this was not Mr Fisker's view of the case. There might +be other men desirous of being true on those golden shores. +"And then," said he, pleading his cause not without skill, "the +laws regulating woman's property there are just the reverse of +those which the greediness of man has established here. The +wife there can claim her share of her husband's property, but hers +is exclusively her own. America is certainly the country for +women,—and especially California." + +<p>"Ah;—I shall find out all about it, I suppose, when I've been +there a few months." + +<p>"But you would enter San Francisco, Miss Melmotte, under such +much better auspices,—if I may be allowed to say so,—as a married +lady or as a lady just going to be married." + +<p>"Ain't single ladies much thought of in California?" + +<p>"It isn't that. Come, Miss Melmotte, you know what I +mean." + +<p>"Yes, I do." + +<p>"Let us go in for life together. We've both done uncommon +well. I'm spending 30,000 dollars a year,—at that rate,—in +my own house. You'll see it all. If we put them both +together,—what's yours and what's mine,—we can put our foot out +as far as about any one there, I guess." + +<p>"I don't know that I care about putting my foot out. I've +seen something of that already, Mr Fisker. You shouldn't put +your foot out farther than you can draw it in again." + +<p>"You needn't fear me as to that, Miss Melmotte. I +shouldn't be able to touch a dollar of your money. It would +be such a triumph to go into Francisco as man and wife." + +<p>"I shouldn't think of being married till I had been there a +while and looked about me." + +<p>"And seen the house! Well;—there's something in +that. The house is all there, I can tell you. I'm not a +bit afraid but what you'll like the house. But if we were +engaged, I could do everything for you. Where would you be, +going into San Francisco all alone? Oh, Miss Melmotte, I do +admire you so much!" + +<p>I doubt whether this last assurance had much efficacy. But +the arguments with which it was introduced did prevail to a certain +extent. "I'll tell you how it must be then," she said. + +<p>"How shall it be?" and as be asked the question he jumped up and +put his arm round her waist. + +<p>"Not like that, Mr Fisker," she said, withdrawing herself. +"It shall be in this way. You may consider yourself engaged +to me." + +<p>"I'm the happiest man on this continent," he said, forgetting in +his ecstasy that he was not in the United States. + +<p>"But if I find when I get to Francisco anything to induce me to +change my mind, I shall change it. I like you very well, but +I'm not going to take a leap in the dark, and I'm not going to +marry a pig in a poke." + +<p>"There you're quite right," he said,—"quite right." + +<p>"You may give it out on board the ship that we're engaged, and +I'll tell Madame Melmotte the same. She and Croll don't mean +going any farther than New York." + +<p>"We needn't break our hearts about that;—need we?" + +<p>"It don't much signify. Well;—I'll go on with Mrs Hurtle, +if she'll have me." + +<p>"Too much delighted she'll be." + +<p>"And she shall be told we're engaged." + +<p>"My darling!" + +<p>"But if I don't like it when I get to Frisco, as you call it, +all the ropes in California shan't make me do it. Well—yes; +you may give me a kiss I suppose now if you care about it." +And so,—or rather so far,—Mr Fisker and Marie Melmotte became +engaged to each other as man and wife. + +<p>After that Mr Fisker's remaining business in England went very +smoothly with him. It was understood up at Hampstead that he +was engaged to Marie Melmotte,—and it soon came to be understood +also that Madame Melmotte was to be married to Herr Croll. No +doubt the father of the one lady and the husband of the other had +died so recently as to make these arrangements subject to certain +censorious objections. But there was a feeling that Melmotte +had been so unlike other men, both in his life and in his death, +that they who had been concerned with him were not to be weighed by +ordinary scales. Nor did it much matter, for the persons +concerned took their departure soon after the arrangement was made, +and Hampstead knew them no more. + +<p>On the 3rd of September Madame Melmotte, Marie, Mrs Hurtle, +Hamilton K. Fisker, and Herr Croll left Liverpool for New York; and +the three ladies were determined that they never would revisit a +country of which their reminiscences certainly were not +happy. The writer of the present chronicle may so far look +forward,—carrying his reader with him,—as to declare that Marie +Melmotte did become Mrs Fisker very soon after her arrival at San +Francisco. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="99"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER XCIX. Lady Carbury and Mr Broune</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>When Sir Felix Carbury declared to his friends at the Beargarden +that he intended to devote the next few months of his life to +foreign travel, and that it was his purpose to take with him a +Protestant divine,—as was much the habit with young men of rank +and fortune some years since,—he was not altogether lying. +There was indeed a sounder basis of truth than was usually to be +found attached to his statements. That he should have +intended to produce a false impression was a matter of course,—and +nearly equally so that he should have made his attempt by asserting +things which he must have known that no one would believe. He +was going to Germany, and he was going in company with a clergyman, +and it had been decided that he should remain there for the next +twelve months. A representation had lately been made to the +Bishop of London that the English Protestants settled in a certain +commercial town in the north-eastern district of Prussia were +without pastoral aid, and the bishop had stirred himself in the +matter. A clergyman was found willing to expatriate himself, +but the income suggested was very small. The Protestant +English population of the commercial town in question, though +pious, was not liberal. It had come to pass that the "Morning +Breakfast Table" had interested itself in the matter, having +appealed for subscriptions after a manner not unusual with that +paper. The bishop and all those concerned in the matter had +fully understood that if the "Morning Breakfast Table" could be got +to take the matter up heartily, the thing would be done. The +heartiness had been so complete that it had at last devolved upon +Mr Broune to appoint the clergyman; and, as with all the aid that +could be found, the income was still small, the Rev. Septimus +Blake,—a brand snatched from the burning of Rome,—had been +induced to undertake the maintenance and total charge of Sir Felix +Carbury for a consideration. Mr Broune imparted to Mr Blake +all that there was to know about the baronet, giving much counsel +as to the management of the young man, and specially enjoining on +the clergyman that he should on no account give Sir Felix the means +of returning home. It was evidently Mr Broune's anxious wish +that Sir Felix should see as much as possible of German life, at a +comparatively moderate expenditure, and under circumstances that +should be externally respectable if not absolutely those which a +young gentleman might choose for his own comfort or profit;—but +especially that those circumstances should not admit of the speedy +return to England of the young gentleman himself. + +<p>Lady Carbury had at first opposed the scheme. Terribly +difficult as was to her the burden of maintaining her son, she +could not endure the idea of driving him into exile. But Mr +Broune was very obstinate, very reasonable, and, as she thought, +somewhat hard of heart. "What is to be the end of it then?" +he said to her, almost in anger. For in those days the great +editor, when in presence of Lady Carbury, differed very much from +that Mr Broune who used to squeeze her hand and look into her +eyes. His manner with her had become so different that she +regarded him as quite another person. She hardly dared to +contradict him, and found herself almost compelled to tell him what +she really felt and thought. "Do you mean to let him eat up +everything you have to your last shilling, and then go to the +workhouse with him?" + +<p>"Oh, my friend, you know how I am struggling! Do not say +such horrid things." + +<p>"It is because I know how you are struggling that I find myself +compelled to say anything on the subject. What hardship will +there be in his living for twelve months with a clergyman in +Prussia? What can he do better? What better chance can +he have of being weaned from the life he is leading?" + +<p>"If he could only be married!" + +<p>"Married! Who is to marry him? Why should any girl +with money throw herself away upon him?" + +<p>"He is so handsome." + +<p>"What has his beauty brought him to? Lady Carbury, you +must let me tell you that all that is not only foolish but +wrong. If you keep him here you will help to ruin him, and +will certainly ruin yourself. He has agreed to go;—let him +go." + +<p>She was forced to yield. Indeed, as Sir Felix had himself +assented, it was almost impossible that she should not do so. +Perhaps Mr Broune's greatest triumph was due to the talent and +firmness with which he persuaded Sir Felix to start upon his +travels. "Your mother," said Mr Broune, "has made up her mind +that she will not absolutely beggar your sister and herself in +order that your indulgence may be prolonged for a few months. +She cannot make you go to Germany of course. But she can turn +you out of her house, and, unless you go, she will do so." + +<p>"I don't think she ever said that, Mr Broune." + +<p>"No;—she has not said so. But I have said it for her in +her presence; and she has acknowledged that it must necessarily be +so. You may take my word as a gentleman that it will be +so. If you take her advice £175 a year will be paid for +your maintenance;—but if you remain in England not a shilling +further will be paid." He had no money. His last +sovereign was all but gone. Not a tradesman would give him +credit for a coat or a pair of boots. The key of the door had +been taken away from him. The very page treated him with +contumely. His clothes were becoming rusty. There was +no prospect of amusement for him during the coming autumn or +winter. He did not anticipate much excitement in Eastern +Prussia, but he thought that any change must be a change for the +better. + +<p>He assented, therefore, to the proposition made by Mr Broune, +was duly introduced to the Rev. Septimus Blake, and, as he spent +his last sovereign on a last dinner at the Beargarden, explained +his intentions for the immediate future to those friends at his +club who would no doubt mourn his departure. + +<p>Mr Blake and Mr Broune between them did not allow the grass to +grow under their feet. Before the end of August Sir Felix, +with Mr and Mrs Blake and the young Blakes, had embarked from Hull +for Hamburg,—having extracted at the very hour of parting a last +five pound note from his foolish mother. "It will be just +enough to bring him home," said Mr Broune with angry energy when he +was told of this. But Lady Carbury, who knew her son well, +assured him that Felix would be restrained in his expenditure by no +such prudence as such a purpose would indicate. "It will be +gone," she said, "long before they reach their destination." + +<p>"Then why the deuce should you give it him?" said Mr Broune. + +<p>Mr Broune's anxiety had been so intense that he had paid half a +year's allowance in advance to Mr Blake out of his own +pocket. Indeed, he had paid various sums for Lady +Carbury,—so that that unfortunate woman would often tell herself +that she was becoming subject to the great editor, almost like a +slave. He came to her, three or four times a week, at about +nine o'clock in the evening, and gave her instructions as to all +that she should do. "I wouldn't write another novel if I were +you," he said. This was hard, as the writing of novels was +her great ambition, and she had flattered herself that the one +novel which she had written was good. Mr Broune's own critic +had declared it to be very good in glowing language. The +"Evening Pulpit" had of course abused it,—because it is the nature +of the "Evening Pulpit" to abuse. So she had argued with +herself, telling herself that the praise was all true, whereas the +censure had come from malice. After that article in the +"Breakfast Table," it did seem hard that Mr Broune should tell her +to write no more novels. She looked up at him piteously but +said nothing. "I don't think you'd find it answer. Of +course you can do it as well as a great many others. But then +that is saying so little!" + +<p>"I thought I could make some money." + +<p>"I don't think Mr Leadham would hold out to you very high +hopes;—I don't, indeed. I think I would turn to something +else." + +<p>"It is so very hard to get paid for what one does." + +<p>To this Mr Broune made no immediate answer; but, after sitting +for a while, almost in silence, he took his leave. On that +very morning Lady Carbury had parted from her son. She was +soon about to part from her daughter, and she was very sad. +She felt that she could hardly keep up that house in Welbeck Street +for herself, even if her means permitted it. What should she +do with herself? Whither should she take herself? +Perhaps the bitterest drop in her cup had come from those words of +Mr Broune forbidding her to write more novels. After all, +then, she was not a clever woman,—not more clever than other women +around her! That very morning she had prided herself on her +coming success as a novelist, basing all her hopes on that review +in the "Breakfast Table." Now, with that reaction of spirits +which is so common to all of us, she was more than equally +despondent. He would not thus have crushed her without a +reason. Though he was hard to her now,—he who used to be so +soft,—he was very good. It did not occur to her to rebel +against him. After what he had said, of course there would be +no more praise in the "Breakfast Table,"—and, equally of course, +no novel of hers could succeed without that. The more she +thought of him, the more omnipotent he seemed to be. The more +she thought of herself, the more absolutely prostrate she seemed to +have fallen from those high hopes with which she had begun her +literary career not much more than twelve months ago. + +<p>On the next day he did not come to her at all, and she sat idle, +wretched, and alone. She could not interest herself in +Hetta's coming marriage, as that marriage was in direct opposition +to one of her broken schemes. She had not ventured to confess +so much to Mr Broune, but she had in truth written the first pages +of the first chapter of a second novel. It was impossible now +that she should even look at what she had written. All this +made her very sad. She spent the evening quite alone; for +Hetta was staying down in Suffolk, with her cousin's friend, Mrs +Yeld, the bishop's wife; and as she thought of her life past and +her life to come, she did, perhaps, with a broken light, see +something of the error of her ways, and did, after a fashion, +repent. It was all "leather or prunello," as she said to +herself;—it was all vanity,—and vanity,—and vanity! What +real enjoyment had she found in anything? She had only taught +herself to believe that some day something would come which she +would like;—but she had never as yet in truth found anything to +like. It had all been in anticipation,—but now even her +anticipations were at an end. Mr Broune had sent her son +away, had forbidden her to write any more novels,—and had been +refused when he had asked her to marry him! + +<p>The next day he came to her as usual, and found her still very +wretched. "I shall give up this house," she said. "I +can't afford to keep it; and in truth I shall not want it. I +don't in the least know where to go, but I don't think that it much +signifies. Any place will be the same to me now." + +<p>"I don't see why you should say that." + +<p>"What does it matter?" + +<p>"You wouldn't think of going out of London." + +<p>"Why not? I suppose I had better go wherever I can live +cheapest." + +<p>"I should be sorry that you should be settled where I could not +see you," said Mr Broune plaintively. + +<p>"So shall I,—very. You have been more kind to me than +anybody. But what am I to do? If I stay in London I can +live only in some miserable lodgings. I know you will laugh +at me, and tell me that I am wrong; but my idea is that I shall +follow Felix wherever he goes, so that I may be near him and help +him when he needs help. Hetta doesn't want me. There is +nobody else that I can do any good to." + +<p>"I want you," said Mr Broune, very quietly. + +<p>"Ah,—that is so kind of you. There is nothing makes one +so good as goodness;—nothing binds your friend to you so firmly as +the acceptance from him of friendly actions. You say you want +me, because I have so sadly wanted you. When I go you will +simply miss an almost daily trouble, but where shall I find a +friend?" + +<p>"When I said I wanted you, I meant more than that, Lady +Carbury. Two or three months ago I asked you to be my +wife. You declined, chiefly, if I understood you rightly, +because of your son's position. That has been altered, and +therefore I ask you again. I have quite convinced +myself,—not without some doubts, for you shall know all; but, +still, I have quite convinced myself,—that such a marriage will +best contribute to my own happiness. I do not think, dearest, +that it would mar yours." + +<p>This was said with so quiet a voice and so placid a demeanour, +that the words, though they were too plain to be misunderstood, +hardly at first brought themselves home to her. Of course he +had renewed his offer of marriage, but he had done so in a tone +which almost made her feel that the proposition could not be an +earnest one. It was not that she believed that he was joking +with her or paying her a poor insipid compliment. When she +thought about it at all, she knew that it could not be so. +But the thing was so improbable! Her opinion of herself was +so poor, she had become so sick of her own vanities and +littlenesses and pretences, that she could not understand that such +a man as this should in truth want to make her his wife. At +this moment she thought less of herself and more of Mr Broune than +either perhaps deserved. She sat silent, quite unable to look +him in the face, while he kept his place in his arm-chair, lounging +back, with his eyes intent on her countenance. "Well," he +said; "what do you think of it? I never loved you better than +I did for refusing me before, because I thought that you did so +because it was not right that I should be embarrassed by your son." + +<p>"That was the reason," she said, almost in a whisper. + +<p>"But I shall love you better still for accepting me now if you +will accept me." + +<p>The long vista of her past life appeared before her eyes. +The ambition of her youth which had been taught to look only to a +handsome maintenance, the cruelty of her husband which had driven +her to run from him, the further cruelty of his forgiveness when +she returned to him; the calumny which had made her miserable, +though she had never confessed her misery; then her attempts at +life in London, her literary successes and failures, and the +wretchedness of her son's career;—there had never been happiness, +or even comfort, in any of it. Even when her smiles had been +sweetest her heart had been heaviest. Could it be that now at +last real peace should be within her reach, and that tranquillity +which comes from an anchor holding to a firm bottom? Then she +remembered that first kiss,—or attempted kiss,—when, with a sort +of pride in her own superiority, she had told herself that the man +was a susceptible old goose. She certainly had not thought +then that his susceptibility was of this nature. Nor could +she quite understand now whether she had been right then, and that +the man's feelings, and almost his nature, had since changed,—or +whether he had really loved her from first to last. As he +remained silent it was necessary that she should answer him. +"You can hardly have thought of it enough," she said. + +<p>"I have thought of it a good deal too. I have been thinking of it for +six months at least." + +<p>"There is so much against me." + +<p>"What is there against you?" + +<p>"They say bad things of me in India." + +<p>"I know all about that," replied Mr Broune. + +<p>"And Felix!" + +<p>"I think I may say that I know all about that also." + +<p>"And then I have become so poor!" + +<p>"I am not proposing to myself to marry you for your money. +Luckily for me,—I hope luckily for both of us,—it is not +necessary that I should do so." + +<p>"And then I seem so to have fallen through in everything. +I don't know what I've got to give to a man in return for all that +you offer to give to me." + +<p>"Yourself," he said, stretching out his right hand to her. + +<p>And there he sat with it stretched out,—so that she found +herself compelled to put her own into it, or to refuse to do so +with very absolute words. Very slowly she put out her own, +and gave it to him without looking at him. Then he drew her +towards him, and in a moment she was kneeling at his feet, with her +face buried on his knees. Considering their ages perhaps we +must say that their attitude was awkward. They would +certainly have thought so themselves had they imagined that any one +could have seen them. But how many absurdities of the kind +are not only held to be pleasant, but almost holy,—as long as they +remain mysteries inspected by no profane eyes! It is not that +Age is ashamed of feeling passion and acknowledging,—it but that +the display of it is without the graces of which Youth is proud, +and which Age regrets. + +<p>On that occasion there was very little more said between +them. He had certainly been in earnest, and she had now +accepted him. As he went down to his office he told himself +now that he had done the best, not only for her but for himself +also. And yet I think that she had won him more thoroughly by +her former refusal than by any other virtue. + +<p>She, as she sat alone, late into the night, became subject to a +thorough reaction of spirit. That morning the world had been +a perfect blank to her. There was no single object of +interest before her. Now everything was rose-coloured. +This man who had thus bound her to him, who had given her such +assured proofs of his affection and truth, was one of the +considerable ones of the world; a man than whom few,—so she told +herself,—were greater or more powerful. Was it not a career +enough for any woman to be the wife of such a man, to receive his +friends, and to shine with his reflected glory? + +<p>Whether her hopes were realised, or,—as human hopes never are +realised,—how far her content was assured, these pages cannot +tell; but they must tell that, before the coming winter was over, +Lady Carbury became the wife of Mr Broune and, in furtherance of +her own resolve, took her husband's name. The house in +Welbeck Street was kept, and Mrs Broune's Tuesday evenings were +much more regarded by the literary world than had been those of +Lady Carbury. +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="100"></a> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CHAPTER C. Down in Suffolk</h3> +</center> +<br> +<p>It need hardly be said that Paul Montague was not long in +adjusting his affairs with Hetta after the visit which he received +from Roger Carbury. Early on the following morning he was +once more in Welbeck Street, taking the brooch with him; and though +at first Lady Carbury kept up her opposition, she did it after so +weak a fashion as to throw in fact very little difficulty in his +way. Hetta understood perfectly that she was in this matter +stronger than her mother and that she need fear nothing, now that +Roger Carbury was on her side. "I don't know what you mean to +live on," Lady Carbury said, threatening future evils in a +plaintive tone. Hetta repeated, though in other language, the +assurance which the young lady made who declared that if her future +husband would consent to live on potatoes, she would be quite +satisfied with the potato-peelings; while Paul made some vague +allusion to the satisfactory nature of his final arrangements with +the house of Fisker, Montague, and Montague. "I don't see +anything like an income," said Lady Carbury; "but I suppose Roger +will make it right. He takes everything upon himself now it +seems." But this was before the halcyon day of Mr Broune's +second offer. + +<p>It was at any rate decided that they were to be married, and the +time fixed for the marriage was to be the following spring. +When this was finally arranged Roger Carbury, who had returned to +his own home, conceived the idea that it would be well that Hetta +should pass the autumn and if possible the winter also down in +Suffolk, so that she might get used to him in the capacity which he +now aspired to fill; and with that object he induced Mrs Yeld, the +Bishop's wife, to invite her down to the palace. Hetta +accepted the invitation and left London before she could hear the +tidings of her mother's engagement with Mr Broune. + +<p>Roger Carbury had not yielded in this matter,—had not brought +himself to determine that he would recognize Paul and Hetta as +acknowledged lovers,—without a fierce inward contest. Two +convictions had been strong in his mind, both of which were opposed +to this recognition,—the first telling him that he would be a +fitter husband for the girl than Paul Montague, and the second +assuring him that Paul had ill-treated him in such a fashion that +forgiveness would be both foolish and unmanly. For Roger, +though he was a religious man, and one anxious to conform to the +spirit of Christianity, would not allow himself to think that an +injury should be forgiven unless the man who did the injury +repented of his own injustice. As to giving his coat to the +thief who had taken his cloak,—he told himself that were he and +others to be guided by that precept honest industry would go naked +in order that vice and idleness might be comfortably clothed. +If any one stole his cloak he would certainly put that man in +prison as soon as possible and not commence his lenience till the +thief should at any rate affect to be sorry for his fault. +Now, to his thinking, Paul Montague had stolen his cloak, and were +he, Roger, to give way in this matter of his love, he would be +giving Paul his coat also. No! He was bound after some +fashion to have Paul put into prison; to bring him before a jury, +and to get a verdict against him, so that some sentence of +punishment might be at least pronounced. How then could he +yield? + +<p>And Paul Montague had shown himself to be very weak in regard to +women. It might be,—no doubt it was true,—that Mrs Hurtle's +appearance in England had been distressing to him. But still +he had gone down with her to Lowestoft as her lover, and, to +Roger's thinking, a man who could do that was quite unfit to be the +husband of Hetta Carbury. He would himself tell no tales +against Montague on that head. Even when pressed to do so he +had told no tale. But not the less was his conviction strong +that Hetta ought to know the truth, and to be induced by that +knowledge to reject her younger lover. + +<p>But then over these convictions there came a third,—equally +strong,—which told him that the girl loved the younger man and did +not love him, and that if he loved the girl it was his duty as a +man to prove his love by doing what he could to make her +happy. As he walked up and down the walk by the moat, with +his hands clasped behind his back, stopping every now and again to +sit on the terrace wall,—walking there, mile after mile, with his +mind intent on the one idea,—he schooled himself to feel that +that, and that only, could be his duty. What did love mean if +not that? What could be the devotion which men so often +affect to feel if it did not tend to self-sacrifice on behalf of +the beloved one? A man would incur any danger for a woman, +would subject himself to any toil,—would even die for her! +But if this were done simply with the object of winning her, where +was that real love of which sacrifice of self on behalf of another +is the truest proof? So, by degrees, he resolved that the +thing must be done. The man, though he had been bad to his +friend, was not all bad. He was one who might become good in +good hands. He, Roger, was too firm of purpose and too honest +of heart to buoy himself up into new hopes by assurances of the +man's unfitness. What right had he to think that he could +judge of that better than the girl herself? And so, when many +many miles had been walked, he succeeded in conquering his own +heart,—though in conquering it he crushed it,—and in bringing +himself to the resolve that the energies of his life should be +devoted to the task of making Mrs Paul Montague a happy +woman. We have seen how he acted up to this resolve when last +in London, withdrawing at any rate all signs of anger from Paul +Montague and behaving with the utmost tenderness to Hetta. + +<p>When he had accomplished that task of conquering his own heart +and of assuring himself thoroughly that Hetta was to become his +rival's wife, he was, I think, more at ease and less troubled in +his spirit than he had been during these months in which there had +still been doubt. The sort of happiness which he had once +pictured to himself could certainly never be his. That he +would never marry he was quite sure. Indeed he was prepared +to settle Carbury on Hetta's eldest boy on condition that such boy +should take the old name. He would never have a child whom he +could in truth call his own. But if he could induce these +people to live at Carbury, or to live there for at least a part of +the year, so that there should be some life in the place, he +thought that he could awaken himself again, and again take an +interest in the property. But as a first step to this he must +learn to regard himself as an old man,—as one who had let life +pass by too far for the purposes of his own home, and who must +therefore devote himself to make happy the homes of others. + +<p>So thinking of himself and so resolving, he had told much of his +story to his friend the Bishop, and as a consequence of those +revelations Mrs Yeld had invited Hetta down to the palace. +Roger felt that he had still much to say to his cousin before her +marriage which could be said in the country much better than in +town, and he wished to teach her to regard Suffolk as the county to +which she should be attached and in which she was to find her +home. The day before she came he was over at the palace with +the pretence of asking permission to come and see his cousin soon +after her arrival, but in truth with the idea of talking about +Hetta to the only friend to whom he had looked for sympathy in his +trouble. "As to settling your property on her or her +children," said the Bishop, "it is quite out of the question. +Your lawyer would not allow you to do it. Where would you be +if after all you were to marry?" + +<p>"I shall never marry." + +<p>"Very likely not,—but yet you may. How is a man of your +age to speak with certainty of what he will do or what he will not +do in that respect? You can make your will, doing as you +please with your property;—and the will, when made, can be +revoked." + +<p>"I think you hardly understand just what I feel," said Roger, +"and I know very well that I am unable to explain it. But I +wish to act exactly as I would do if she were my daughter, and as +if her son, if she had a son, would be my natural heir." + +<p>"But, if she were your daughter, her son wouldn't be your +natural heir as long as there was a probability or even a chance +that you might have a son of your own. A man should never put +the power, which properly belongs to him, out of his own +hands. If it does properly belong to you it must be better +with you than elsewhere. I think very highly of your cousin, +and I have no reason to think otherwise than well of the gentleman +whom she intends to marry. But it is only human nature to +suppose that the fact that your property is still at your own +disposal should have some effect in producing the more complete +observance of your wishes." + +<p>"I do not believe it in the least, my lord," said Roger somewhat +angrily. + +<p>"That is because you are so carried away by enthusiasm at the +present moment as to ignore the ordinary rules of life. There +are not, perhaps, many fathers who have Regans and Gonerils for +their daughters;—but there are very many who may take a lesson +from the folly of the old king. 'Thou hadst little wit in thy +bald crown,' the fool said to him, 'when thou gav'st thy golden one +away.' The world, I take it, thinks that the fool was right." + +<p>The Bishop did so far succeed that Roger abandoned the idea of +settling his property on Paul Montague's children. But he was +not on that account the less resolute in his determination to make +himself and his own interests subordinate to those of his +cousin. When he came over, two days afterwards, to see her he +found her in the garden, and walked there with her for a couple of +hours. "I hope all our troubles are over now," he said +smiling. + +<p>"You mean about Felix," said Hetta,—"and mamma?" + +<p>"No, indeed. As to Felix I think that Lady Carbury has +done the best thing in her power. No doubt she has been +advised by Mr Broune, and Mr Broune seems to be a prudent +man. And about your mother herself, I hope that she may now +be comfortable. But I was not alluding to Felix and your +mother. I was thinking of you—and of myself." + +<p>"I hope that you will never have any troubles." + +<p>"I have had troubles. I mean to speak very freely to you +now, dear. I was nearly upset,—what I suppose people call +broken-hearted,—when I was assured that you certainly would never +become my wife. I ought not to have allowed myself to get +into such a frame of mind. I should have known that I was too +old to have a chance." + +<p>"Oh, Roger,—it was not that." + +<p>"Well,—that and other things. I should have known it +sooner, and have got over my misery quicker. I should have +been more manly and stronger. After all, though love is a +wonderful incident in a man's life, it is not that only that he is +here for. I have duties plainly marked out for me; and as I +should never allow myself to be withdrawn from them by pleasure, so +neither should I by sorrow. But it is done now. I have +conquered my regrets, and I can say with safety that I look forward +to your presence and Paul's presence at Carbury as the source of +all my future happiness. I will make him welcome as though he +were my brother, and you as though you were my daughter. All +I ask of you is that you will not be chary of your presence +there." She only answered him by a close pressure on his +arm. "That is what I wanted to say to you. You will +teach yourself to regard me as your best and closest friend,—as he +on whom you have the strongest right to depend, of all,—except +your husband?" + +<p>"There is no teaching necessary for that," she said. + +<p>"As a daughter leans on a father I would have you lean on me, +Hetta. You will soon come to find that I am very old. I +grow old quickly, and already feel myself to be removed from +everything that is young and foolish." + +<p>"You never were foolish." + +<p>"Nor young either, I sometimes think. But now you must +promise me this. You will do all that you can to induce him +to make Carbury his residence." + +<p>"We have no plans as yet at all, Roger." + +<p>"Then it will be certainly so much the easier for you to fall +into my plan. Of course you will be married at Carbury?" + +<p>"What will mamma say?" + +<p>"She will come here, and I am sure will enjoy it. That I +regard as settled. Then, after that, let this be your +home,—so that you should learn really to care about and to love +the place. It will be your home really, you know, some of +these days. You will have to be Squire of Carbury yourself +when I am gone, till you have a son old enough to fill that exalted +position." With all his love to her and his good-will to them +both, he could not bring himself to say that Paul Montague should +be Squire of Carbury. + +<p>"Oh, Roger, please do not talk like that." + +<p>"But it is necessary, my dear. I want you to know what my +wishes are, and, if it be possible, I would learn what are +yours. My mind is quite made up as to my future life. +Of course, I do not wish to dictate to you,—and if I did, I could +not dictate to Mr Montague." + +<p>"Pray,—pray do not call him Mr Montague." + +<p>"Well, I will not;—to Paul then. There goes the last of +my anger." He threw his hands up as though he were scattering +his indignation to the air. "I would not dictate either to +you or to him, but it is right that you should know that I hold my +property as steward for those who are to come after me, and that +the satisfaction of my stewardship will be infinitely increased if +I find that those for whom I act share the interest which I shall +take in the matter. It is the only payment which you and he +can make me for my trouble." + +<p>"But Felix, Roger!" + +<p>His brow became a little black as he answered her. "To a +sister," he said very solemnly, "I will not say a word against her +brother; but on that subject I claim a right to come to a decision +on my own judgment. It is a matter in which I have thought +much, and, I may say, suffered much. I have ideas, +old-fashioned ideas, on the matter, which I need not pause to +explain to you now. If we are as much together as I hope we +shall be, you will, no doubt, come to understand them. The +disposition of a family property, even though it be one so small as +mine, is, to my thinking, a matter which a man should not make in +accordance with his own caprices,—or even with his own +affections. He owes a duty to those who live on his land, and +he owes a duty to his country. And, though it may seem +fantastic to say so, I think he owes a duty to those who have been +before him, and who have manifestly wished that the property should +be continued in the hands of their descendants. These things +are to me very holy. In what I am doing I am in some respects +departing from the theory of my life,—but I do so under a perfect +conviction that by the course I am taking I shall best perform the +duties to which I have alluded. I do not think, Hetta, that +we need say any more about that." He had spoken so seriously, +that, though she did not quite understand all that he had said, she +did not venture to dispute his will any further. He did not +endeavour to exact from her any promise, but having explained his +purposes, kissed her as he would have kissed a daughter, and then +left her and rode home without going into the house. + +<p>Soon after that, Paul Montague came down to Carbury, and the +same thing was said to him, though in a much less solemn +manner. Paul was received quite in the old way. Having +declared that he would throw all anger behind him, and that Paul +should be again Paul, he rigidly kept his promise, whatever might +be the cost to his own feelings. As to his love for Hetta, +and his old hopes, and the disappointment which had so nearly +unmanned him, he said not another word to his fortunate +rival. Montague knew it all, but there was now no necessity +that any allusion should be made to past misfortunes. Roger +indeed made a solemn resolution that to Paul he would never again +speak of Hetta as the girl whom he himself had loved, though he +looked forward to a time, probably many years hence, when he might +perhaps remind her of his fidelity. But he spoke much of the +land and of the tenants and the labourers, of his own farm, of the +amount of the income, and of the necessity of so living that the +income might always be more than sufficient for the wants of the +household. + +<p>When the spring came round, Hetta and Paul were married by the +Bishop at the parish church of Carbury, and Roger Carbury gave away +the bride. All those who saw the ceremony declared that the +squire had not seemed to be so happy for many a long year. +John Crumb, who was there with his wife,—= himself now one of +Roger's tenants, having occupied the land which had become vacant +by the death of old Daniel Ruggles,—declared that the wedding was +almost as good fun as his own. "John, what a fool you are!" +Ruby said to her spouse, when this opinion was expressed with +rather a loud voice. "Yes, I be," said John,—"but not such a +fool as to a missed a having o' you." "No, John; it was I was +the fool then," said Ruby. "We'll see about that when the +bairn's born," said John,—equally aloud. Then Ruby held her +tongue. Mrs Broune, and Mr Broune, were also at +Carbury,—thus doing great honour to Mr and Mrs Paul Montague, and +showing by their presence that all family feuds were at an +end. Sir Felix was not there. Happily up to this time +Mr Septimus Blake had continued to keep that gentleman as one of +his Protestant population in the German town,—no doubt not without +considerable trouble to himself. +<br> +<br> +<hr> +<pre> + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE WAY WE LIVE NOW *** + +This file should be named 8wwlv12h.htm or 8wwlv12h.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8wwlv13h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8wwlv12ah.htm + + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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