The Way We Live Now - 20

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.

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.

"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."

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.

"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 shouldn'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?"

"I suppose not."

"Medea did not weep when she was introduced to Creusa."

"Women are not all Medeas," he replied.

"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?"

"Certainly."

"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."

"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.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

DOLLY LONGESTAFFE GOES INTO THE CITY.


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.

"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.

"Of course you ought to have your money."

"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."

"Well; no. Poor Miles has got nothing to bless himself with. I
suppose I could get it, and so I ought to pay."

"That's no excuse for Grendall," said Sir Felix, shaking his head.

"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 within 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."

"By George, that'll be a grand thing for you, Dolly."

"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."

"You never lived at Pickering."

"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?"

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 plan 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.

"I can't bear him."

"There never was any love between you two, I know. But you used to
speak, and you've played with him all through."

"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."

"Is that the reason you haven't played the last two nights?"

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.


Wednesday Afternoon.

DEAREST FELIX,

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 that 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.

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.

Yours for ever and ever,

MARIE.


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.

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!"

"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.

"By George;--I don't know."

"What should you do?"

"Nothing at all. I shouldn't believe my own eyes. Or if I did, should
take care not to look at him."

"You wouldn't go on playing with him?"

"Yes I should. It'd be such a bore breaking up."

"But Dolly,--if you think of it!"

"That's all very fine, my dear fellow, but I shouldn't think of it."

"And you won't give me your advice."

"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?"

"He might have said, why didn't you tell Longestaffe?"

"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."

"That's nonsense, Dolly."

"Very well. I can't bear these kind of things. I feel all in a
twitter already."

"You mean to go on playing just the same?"

"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."

The man of money received them much more graciously than Sir 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 authorised 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.

"I suppose it's all right with him," said Sir Felix.

"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.




CHAPTER XXIX.

MISS MELMOTTE'S COURAGE.


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.

"And what did Mr. Melmotte say?"

"Say;--what should he say? He wanted to know what income I had got.
After all he's an old screw."

"Did he forbid you to come there any more?"

"Now, mother, it's no use your cross-examining me. If you'll let me
alone I'll do the best I can."

"She has accepted you, herself?"

"Of course she has. I told you that at Carbury."

"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."

"Fancy what it would be to be thrown over at last!" he exclaimed. "I
couldn't bear it. I think I should kill her."

"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."

"I couldn't live with him, you know. I couldn't do it."

"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."

"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."

"Of course you would marry her at once."

"I suppose so,--unless it were better to stay as we were, till the
money was settled."

"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--"

"The mother is nothing."

"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."

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.

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 hall 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 down-stairs," said the Marquis.

"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.

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
retirez."

"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.

"Qu'elle est méchante," said Madame Melmotte. "Oh, she is so bad. Sir
Felix, you had better go too. Yes,--indeed."

"No," said Marie, running to him, and taking hold of his arm. "Why
should he go? I want papa to know."

"Il vous tuera," said Madame Melmotte. "My God, yes."

"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?"

"Certainly," said Sir Felix, slipping his arm round her waist.

"Mamma," said Marie, "I will never have any other man but
him;--never, never, never. Oh, Felix, tell her that you love me."

"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.

"Oh, love! It is a beastliness," said Madame Melmotte. "Sir Felix,
you had better go. Yes, indeed. Will you be so obliging?"

"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?"

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."

"I wouldn't mind," said Marie. "I told papa to-day that I wouldn't
marry Lord Nidderdale."

"Was he angry with you?"

"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."

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.

"Mamma has gone away, and Miss Longestaffe went before mamma."

"Sir Felix, it is well that I should tell you that my daughter is
engaged to marry Lord Nidderdale."

"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."

"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 recognised;--or happy to see you in the
city at any time."

"Papa, he is my lover," said Marie.

"Pooh!"

"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."

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."


[Illustration: "Get to your room."]


"Of course I will go to bed, if you tell me, papa."

"I do tell you. How dare you take hold of him in that way before me!
Have you no idea of disgrace?"

"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.

"I am very sorry, Mr. Melmotte," said Sir Felix, "to have had a hand
in causing this disturbance."

"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