Gentlemen, I hear for the first time, youve claims against my poor father. Nobody shall ever say he died, and any man was the worse for it. Ill meet you next week, and Ill bind myself by law. Heres Lawyer Perkins. No; Mr. Perkins. Ill pay off every penny. Gentlemen, look upon me as your debtor, and not my father.
Delivering this with tolerable steadiness, Dandy asked, Will that do?
That will do, said Mrs. Mel. Ill send you up some tea presently. Lie down, Dandy.
The house was dark and silent when Evan, refreshed by his rest, descended to seek his mother. She was sitting alone in the parlour. With a tenderness which Mrs. Mel permitted rather than encouraged, Evan put his arm round her neck, and kissed her many times. One of the symptoms of heavy sorrow, a longing for the signs of love, made Evan fondle his mother, and bend over her yearningly. Mrs. Mel said once: Dear Van; good boy! and quietly sat through his caresses.
Sitting up for me, mother? he whispered.
Yes, Van; we may as well have our talk out.
Ah! he took a chair close by her side, tell me my fathers last words.
He said he hoped you would never be a tailor.
Evans forehead wrinkled up. Theres not much fear of that, then!
His mother turned her face on him, and examined him with a rigorous placidity; all her features seeming to bear down on him. Evan did not like the look.
You object to trade, Van?
Yes, decidedly, mother-hate it; but thats not what I want to talk to you about. Didnt my father speak of me much?
He desired that you should wear his militia sword, if you got a commission.
I have rather given up hope of the Army, said Evan.
Mrs. Mel requested him to tell her what a colonels full pay amounted to; and again, the number of years it required, on a rough calculation, to attain that grade. In reply to his statement she observed: A tailor might realize twice the sum in a quarter of the time.
What if he does-double, or treble? cried Evan, impetuously; and to avoid the theme, and cast off the bad impression it produced on him, he rubbed his hands, and said: I want to talk to you about my prospects, mother.
What are they? Mrs. Mel inquired.
The severity of her mien and sceptical coldness of her speech caused him to inspect them suddenly, as if she had lent him her eyes. He put them by, till the gold should recover its natural shine, saying: By the way, mother, I ve written the half of a History of Portugal.
Have you? said Mrs. Mel. For Louisa?
No, mother, of course not: to sell it. Albuquerque! what a splendid fellow he was!
Informing him that he knew she abominated foreign names, she said: And your prospects are, writing Histories of Portugal?
No, mother. I was going to tell you, I expect a Government appointment. Mr. Jocelyn likes my workI think he likes me. You know, I was his private secretary for ten months.
You write a good hand, his mother interposed.
And Im certain I was born for diplomacy.
For an easy chair, and an ink-dish before you, and lacqueys behind. Whats to be your income, Van?
Evan carelessly remarked that he must wait and see.
A very proper thing to do, said Mrs. Mel; for now that she had fixed him to some explanation of his prospects, she could condescend in her stiff way to banter.
Slightly touched by it, Evan pursued, half laughing, as men do who wish to propitiate common sense on behalf of what seems tolerably absurd: It s not the immediate income, you know, mother: one thinks of ones future. In the diplomatic service, as Louisa says, you come to be known to Ministers gradually, I mean. That is, they hear of you; and if you show you have some capacityLouisa wants me to throw it up in time, and stand for Parliament. Andrew, she thinks, would be glad to help me to his seat. Once in Parliament, and known to Ministers, youyour career is open to you.
In justice to Mr. Evan Harrington, it must be said, he built up this extraordinary card-castle to dazzle his mothers mind: he had lost his right grasp of her character for the moment, because of an undefined suspicion of something she intended, and which sent him himself to take refuge in those flimsy structures; while the very altitude he reached beguiled his imagination, and made him hope to impress hers.
Mrs. Mel dealt it one fillip. And in the meantime how are you to live, and pay the creditors?
Though Evan answered cheerfully, Oh, they will wait, and I can live on anything, he was nevertheless floundering on the ground amid the ruins of the superb edifice; and his mother, upright and rigid, continuing, You can live on anything, and they will wait, and call your father a rogue, he started, grievously bitten by one of the serpents of earth.
Good heaven, mother! what are you saying?
That they will call your father a rogue, and will have a right to, said the relentless woman.
Not while I live! Evan exclaimed.
You may stop one mouth with your fist, but you wont stop a dozen, Van.
Evan jumped up and walked the room.
What am I to do? he cried. I will pay everything. I will bind myself to pay every farthing. What more can I possibly do?
Make the money, said Mrs. Mels deep voice.
Evan faced her: My dear mother, you are very unjust and inconsiderate. I have been working and doing my best. I promisewhat do the debts amount to?
Something like L5000 in all, Van.
Very well. Youth is not alarmed by the sound of big sums. Very wellI will pay it.
Evan looked as proud as if he had just clapped down the full amount on the table.
Out of the History of Portugal, half written, and the prospect of a Government appointment?
Mrs. Mel raised her eyelids to him.
In time-in time, mother!
Mention your proposal to the creditors when you meet them this day week, she said.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes. Then Evan came close to her, saying:
What is it you want of me, mother?
I want nothing, VanI can support myself.
But what would you have me do, mother?
Be honest; do your duty, and dont be a fool about it.
I will try, he rejoined. You tell me to make the money. Where and how can I make it? I am perfectly willing to work.
In this house, said Mrs. Mel; and, as this was pretty clear speaking, she stood up to lend her figure to it.
Here? faltered Evan. What! be a
Tailor! The word did not sting her tongue.
I? Oh, thats quite impossible! said Evan. And visions of leprosy, and Rose shrinking her skirts from contact with him, shadowed out and away in his mind.
Understand your choice! Mrs. Mel imperiously spoke. What are brains given you for? To be played the fool with by idiots and women? You have L5000 to pay to save your father from being called a rogue. You can only make the money in one way, which is open to you. This business might produce a thousand pounds a-year and more. In seven or eight years you may clear your fathers name, and live better all the time than many of your bankrupt gentlemen. You have told the creditors you will pay them. Do you think theyre gaping fools, to be satisfied by a History of Portugal? If you refuse to take the business at once, they will sell me up, and quite right too. Understand your choice. Theres Mr. Goren has promised to have you in London a couple of months, and teach you what he can. He is a kind friend. Would any of your gentlemen acquaintance do the like for you? Understand your choice. You will be a beggarthe son of a rogueor an honest man who has cleared his fathers name!
During this strenuously uttered allocution, Mrs. Mel, though her chest heaved but faintly against her crossed hands, showed by the dilatation of her eyes, and the light in them, that she felt her words. There is that in the aspect of a fine frame breathing hard facts, which, to a youth who has been tumbled headlong from his card-castles and airy fabrics, is masterful, and like the pressure of a Fate. Evan drooped his head.
Now, said Mrs. Mel, you shall have some supper.
Evan told her he could not eat.
I insist upon your eating, said Mrs. Mel; empty stomachs are foul counsellors.
Mother! do you want to drive me mad? cried Evan.
She looked at him to see whether the string she held him by would bear the slight additional strain: decided not to press a small point.
Then go to bed and sleep on it, she saidsure of himand gave her cheek for his kiss, for she never performed the operation, but kept her mouth, as she remarked, for food and speech, and not for slobbering mummeries.
Evan returned to his solitary room. He sat on the bed and tried to think, oppressed by horrible sensations of self-contempt, that caused whatever he touched to sicken him.
There were the Douglas and the Percy on the wall. It was a happy and a glorious time, was it not, when men lent each other blows that killed outright; when to be brave and cherish noble feelings brought honour; when strength of arm and steadiness of heart won fortune; when the fair stars of earthsweet womenwakened and warmed the love of squires of low degree. This legacy of the dead mans hand! Evan would have paid it with his blood; but to be in bondage all his days to it; through it to lose all that was dear to him; to wear the length of a loathed existence!we should pardon a young mans wretchedness at the prospect, for it was in a time before our joyful era of universal equality. Yet he never cast a shade of blame upon his father.
The hours moved on, and he found himself staring at his small candle, which struggled more and more faintly with the morning light, like his own flickering ambition against the facts of life.
CHAPTER VIII. INTRODUCES AN ECCENTRIC
At the Auroraone of those rare antiquated taverns, smelling of comfortable time and solid English fare, that had sprung up in the great coffee days, when taverns were clubs, and had since subsisted on the attachment of steady bachelor Templars there had been dismay, and even sorrow, for a month. The most constant patron of the establishmentan old gentleman who had dined there for seven-and-twenty years, four days in the week, off dishes dedicated to the particular days, and had grown grey with the landlady, the cook, and the head-waiterthis old gentleman had abruptly withheld his presence. Though his name, his residence, his occupation, were things only to be speculated on at the Aurora, he was very well known there, and as men are best to be known: that is to say, by their habits. Some affection for him also was felt. The landlady looked on him as a part of the house. The cook and the waiter were accustomed to receive acceptable compliments from him monthly. His precise words, his regular ancient jokes, his pint of Madeira and after-pint of Port, his antique bow to the landlady, passing out and in, his method of spreading his table-napkin on his lap and looking up at the ceiling ere he fell to, and how he talked to himself during the repast, and indulged in short chuckles, and the one look of perfect felicity that played over his features when he had taken his first sip of Portthese were matters it pained them at the Aurora to have to remember.
For three weeks the resolution not to regard him as of the past was general. The Aurora was the old gentlemans home. Men do not play truant from home at sixty years of age. He must, therefore, be seriously indisposed. The kind heart of the landlady fretted to think he might have no soul to nurse and care for him; but she kept his corner near the fire-place vacant, and took care that his pint of Madeira was there. The belief was gaining ground that he had gone, and that nothing but his ghost would ever sit there again. Still the melancholy ceremony continued: for the landlady was not without a secret hope, that in spite of his reserve and the mystery surrounding him, he would have sent her a last word. The cook and head-waiter, interrogated as to their dealings with the old gentleman, testified solemnly to the fact of their having performed their duty by him. They would not go against their interests so much as to forget one of his ways, they said-taking oath, as it were, by their lower nature, in order to be credited: an instinct men have of one another. The landlady could not contradict them, for the old gentleman had made no complaint; but then she called to memory that fifteen years back, in such and such a year, Wednesdays, dish had been, by shameful oversight, furnished him for Tuesdays, and he had eaten it quietly, but refused his Port; which pathetic event had caused alarm and inquiry, when the error was discovered, and apologized for, the old gentleman merely saying, Dont let it happen again. Next day he drank his Port, as usual, and the wheels of the Aurora went smoothly. The landlady was thus justified in averring that something had been done by somebody, albeit unable to point to anything specific. Women, who are almost as deeply bound to habit as old gentlemen, possess more of its spiritual element, and are warned by dreams, omens, creepings of the flesh, unwonted chills, suicide of china, and other shadowing signs, when a break is to be anticipated, or, has occurred. The landlady of the Aurora tavern was visited by none of these, and with that beautiful trust which habit gives, and which boastful love or vainer earthly qualities would fail in effecting, she ordered that the pint of Madeira should stand from six oclock in the evening till sevena small monument of confidence in him who was at one instant the poor old dear; at another, the naughty old gad-about; further, the faithless old-good-for-nothing; and again, the blessed pet of the landladys parlour, alternately and indiscriminately apostrophized by herself, her sister, and daughter.
On the last day of the month a step was heard coming up the long alley which led from the riotous scrambling street to the plentiful cheerful heart of the Aurora. The landlady knew the step. She checked the natural flutterings of her ribbons, toned down the strong simper that was on her lips, rose, pushed aside her daughter, and, as the step approached, curtsied composedly. Old Habit lifted his hat, and passed. With the same touching confidence in the Aurora that the Aurora had in him, he went straight to his corner, expressed no surprise at his welcome by the Madeira, and thereby apparently indicated that his appearance should enjoy a similar immunity.
As of old, he called Jonathan! and was not to be disturbed till he did so. Seeing that Jonathan smirked and twiddled his napkin, the old gentleman added, Thursday!
But Jonathan, a man, had not his mistresss keen intuition of the deportment necessitated by the case, or was incapable of putting the screw upon weak excited nature, for he continued to smirk, and was remarking how glad he was, he was sure, and something he had dared to think and almost to fear, when the old gentleman called to him, as if he were at the other end of the room, Will you order Thursday, or not, sir? Whereat Jonathan flew, and two or three cosy diners glanced up from their plates, or the paper, smiled, and pursued their capital occupation.
Glad to see me! the old gentleman muttered, querulously. Of course, glad to see a customer! Why do you tell me that? Talk! tattle! might as well have a woman to waitjust!