Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER VIII.

  NEW YEAR'S DAY.

  Crocker had by no means as yet got through his evening. Having dinedwith his friends in the City, and "drank tea" with the lady of hislove, he was disposed to proceed, if not to pleasanter delights, atany rate to those which might be more hilarious. Every Londoner,from Holloway up to Gower Street, in which he lived, would be seeingthe New Year in,--and beyond Gower Street down in Holborn, and fromthence all across to the Strand, especially in the neighbourhood ofCovent Garden and the theatres, there would be a whole world of happyrevellers engaged in the same way. On such a night as this therecould certainly be no need of going to bed soon after twelve forsuch a one as Samuel Crocker. In Paradise Row he again encounteredTribbledale, and suggested to that young man that they should firsthave a glass of something at the "Duchess" and then proceed to moreexalted realms in a hansom. "I did think of walking there this finestarlight night," said Tribbledale, mindful of the small stipend atwhich his services were at present valued by Pogson and Littlebird.But Crocker soon got the better of all this. "I'll stand Sammy forthis occasion," said he. "The New Year comes in only once in twelvemonths." Then Tribbledale went into "The Duchess," and after that wasas indifferent, while his money lasted him, as was Crocker himself."I've loved that girl for three years," said Tribbledale, as soon asthey had left "The Duchess" and were again in the open air.

  It was a beautiful night, and Crocker thought that they might as wellwalk a little way. It was pleasant under the bright stars to hear ofthe love adventures of his new friend, especially as he himself wasnow the happy hero. "For three years?" he asked.

  "Indeed I have, Crocker." That glass of hot whiskey-and-water, thoughit enhanced the melancholy tenderness of the young man, robbed him ofhis bashfulness, and loosened the strings of his tongue. "For threeyears! And there was a time when she worshipped the very stool onwhich I sat at the office. I don't like to boast."

  "You have to be short, sharp, and decisive if you mean to get a girllike that to travel with you."

  "I should have taken the ball at the hop, Crocker; that's what Iought to have done. But I see it all now. She's as fickle as she isfair;--fickler, perhaps, if anything."

  "Come, Tribbledale; I ain't going to let you abuse her, you know."

  "I don't want to abuse her. God knows I love her too well in spite ofall. It's your turn now. I can see that. There's a great many of themhave had their turns."

  "Were there now?" asked Crocker anxiously.

  "There was Pollocky;--him at the Highbury Gas Works. He came afterme. It was because of him she dropped me."

  "Was that going on for a marriage?"

  "Right ahead, I used to think. Pollocky is a widower with fivechildren."

  "Oh Lord!"

  "But he's the head of all the gas, and has four hundred a year.It wasn't love as carried her on with him. I could see that. Shewouldn't go and meet him anywhere about the City, as she did me. Isuppose Pollocky is fifty, if he's a day."

  "And she dropped him also?"

  "Or else it was he." On receipt of this information Crocker whistled."It was something about money," continued Tribbledale. "The old womanwouldn't part."

  "There is money I suppose?"

  "The old woman has a lot."

  "And isn't the niece to have it?" asked Crocker.

  "No doubt she will; because there never was a pair more loving. Butthe old lady will keep it herself as long as she is here." Then thereentered an idea into Crocker's head that if he could manage to makeClara his own, he might have power enough to manage the aunt as wellas the niece. They had a little more whiskey-and-water at the Angelat Islington before they got into the cab which was to take them downto the Paphian Music-Hall, and after that Tribbledale passed from therealm of partial fact to that of perfect poetry. "He would never," hesaid, "abandon Clara Demijohn, though he should live to an age beyondthat of any known patriarch. He quite knew all that there was againsthim. Crocker he thought might probably prevail. He rather hopedthat Crocker might prevail;--for why should not so good a fellow bemade happy, seeing how utterly impossible it was that he, DanielTribbledale, should ever reach that perfect bliss in dreaming ofwhich he passed his miserable existence. But as to one thing he hadquite made up his mind. The day that saw Clara Demijohn a bride wouldmost undoubtedly be the last of his existence."

  "Oh, no, damme; you won't," said Crocker turning round upon him inthe cab.

  "I shall!" said Tribbledale with emphasis. "And I've made up my mindhow to do it too. They've caged up the Monument, and you're so lookedafter on the Duke of York's, that there isn't a chance. But there'snothing to prevent you from taking a header at the Whispering Galleryof Saint Paul's. You'd be more talked of that way, and the vergerswould be sure to show the stains made on the stones below. 'It washere young Tribbledale fell,--a clerk at Pogson and Littlebird's,who dashed out his brains for love on the very day as Clara Demijohngot herself married.' I'm of that disposition, Crocker, as I'd doanything for love;--anything." Crocker was obliged to reply that hetrusted he might never be the cause of such a fatal attempt at glory;but he went on to explain that in the pursuit of love a man could notin any degree give way to friendship. Even though numberless loversmight fall from the Whispering Gallery in a confused heap of mangledbodies, he must still tread the path which was open to him. Thesewere his principles, and he could not abandon them even for the sakeof Tribbledale. "Nor would I have you," shouted Tribbledale, leaningout over the door of the cab. "I would not delay you not for aday, not for an hour. Were to-morrow to be your bridal morning itwould find me prepared. My only request to you is that a boy mightbe called Daniel after me. You might tell her it was an uncleor grandfather. She would never think that in her own child wasperpetuated a monument of poor Daniel Tribbledale." Crocker, as hejumped out of the cab with a light step in front of the Paphian Hall,promised that in this particular he would attend to the wishes of hisfriend.

  The performances at the Paphian Hall on that festive occasion neednot be described here with accuracy. The New Year had been seen wellin with music, dancing, and wine. The seeing of it in was continuedyet for an hour, till an indulgent policeman was forced to interfere.It is believed that on the final ejection of our two friends, theforlorn lover, kept steady, no doubt, by the weight of his woe, didfind his way home to his own lodgings. The exultant Crocker was lessfortunate, and passed his night without the accommodation of sheetsand blankets somewhere in the neighbourhood of Bow Street. The factis important to us, as it threatened to have considerable effect uponour friend's position at his office. Having been locked up in a cellduring the night, and kept in durance till he was brought on thefollowing morning before a magistrate, he could not well be in hisroom at ten o'clock. Indeed when he did escape from the hands of thePhilistines, at about two in the day, sick, unwashed and unfed, hethought it better to remain away altogether for that day. The greatsin of total absence would be better than making an appearance beforeMr. Jerningham in his present tell-tale condition. He well knew hisown strength and his own weakness. All power of repartee would begone from him for the day. Mr. Jerningham would domineer over him,and Aeolus, should the violent god be pleased to send for him, wouldat once annihilate him. So he sneaked home to Gower Street, took ahair of the dog that bit him, and then got the old woman who lookedafter him to make him some tea and to fry a bit of bacon for him.In this ignominious way he passed New Year's Day,--at least so muchof it as was left to him after the occurrences which have beendescribed.

  But on the next morning the great weight of his troubles fell uponhim heavily. In his very heart of hearts he was afraid of Aeolus. Inspite of his "brummagem" courage the wrath of the violent god wastremendous to him. He knew what it was to stand with his hand on thelock of the door and tremble before he dared to enter the room. Therewas something in the frown of the god which was terrible to him.There was something worse in the god's smile. He remembered how hehad once been unable to move himself out of the room when the god hadtold him that
he need not remain at the office, but might go home andamuse himself just as he pleased. Nothing crushes a young man so muchas an assurance that his presence can be dispensed with without lossto any one. Though Crocker had often felt the mercies of Aeolus, andhad told himself again and again that the god never did in truth liftup his hand for final irrevocable punishment, still he trembled as heanticipated the dread encounter.

  When the morning came, and while he was yet in his bed, he struggledto bethink himself of some strategy by which he might evade the evilhour. Could he have been sent for suddenly into Cumberland? But inthis case he would of course have telegraphed to the Post Office onthe preceding day. Could he have been taken ill with a fit,--so asto make his absence absolutely necessary, say for an entire week?He well knew that they had a doctor at the Post Office, a crafty,far-seeing, obdurate man, who would be with him at once and wouldshow him no mercy. He had tried these schemes all round, and hadfound that there were none left with which Aeolus was not betteracquainted than was he himself. There was nothing for it but to goand bear the brunt.

  Exactly at ten o'clock he entered the room, hung his hat up on theaccustomed peg, and took his seat on the accustomed chair before anyone spoke a word to him. Roden on the opposite seat took no notice ofhim. "Bedad, he's here anyhow this morning," whispered Geraghty toBobbin, very audibly. "Mr. Crocker," said Mr. Jerningham, "you wereabsent throughout the entire day yesterday. Have you any accountto give of yourself?" There was certainly falsehood implied inthis question, as Mr. Jerningham knew very well what had become ofCrocker. Crocker's misadventure at the police office had found itsway into the newspapers, and had been discussed by Aeolus with Mr.Jerningham. I am afraid that Mr. Jerningham must have intended totempt the culprit into some false excuse.

  "I was horribly ill," said Crocker, without stopping the pen withwhich he was making entries in the big book before him. This no doubtwas true, and so far the trap had been avoided.

  "What made you ill, Mr. Crocker?"

  "Headache."

  "It seems to me, Mr. Crocker, you're more subject to such attacks asthese than any young man in the office."

  "I always was as a baby," said Crocker, resuming something of hiscourage. Could it be possible that Aeolus should not have heard ofthe day's absence?

  "There is ill-health of so aggravated a nature," said Mr. Jerningham,"as to make the sufferer altogether unfit for the Civil Service."

  "I'm happy to say I'm growing out of them gradually," said Crocker.Then Geraghty got up from his chair and whispered the whole truthinto the sufferer's ears. "It was all in the _Pall Mall_ yesterday,and Aeolus knew it before he went away." A sick qualm came upon thepoor fellow as though it were a repetition of yesterday's sufferings.But still it was necessary that he should say something. "New Year'sDay comes only once a year, I suppose."

  "It was only a few weeks since that you remained a day behind yourtime when you were on leave. But Sir Boreas has taken the matter up,and I have nothing to say to it. No doubt Sir Boreas will send foryou." Sir Boreas Bodkin was that great Civil servant in the GeneralPost Office whom men were wont to call Aeolus.

  It was a wretched morning for poor Crocker. He was not sent for tillone o'clock, just at the moment when he was going to eat his lunch!That horrid sickness, the combined result of the dinner in the City,of Mrs. Demijohn's brandy, and of the many whiskies which followed,still clung to him. The mutton-chop and porter which he had promisedhimself would have relieved him; but now he was obliged to appearbefore the god in all his weakness. Without a word he followed amessenger who had summoned him, with his tail only too visiblybetween his legs. Aeolus was writing a note when he was ushered intothe room, and did not condescend to arrest himself in the progressmerely because Crocker was present. Aeolus well knew the effect on asinner of having to stand silent and all alone in the presence of anoffended deity.

  "So, Mr. Crocker," said Aeolus at last, looking up from his completedwork; "no doubt you saw the Old Year out on Wednesday night." Thejokes of the god were infinitely worse to bear than his most furiousblasts. "Like some other great men," continued Aeolus, "you havecontrived to have your festivities chronicled in the newspapers."Crocker found it impossible to utter a word. "You have probably seenthe _Pall Mall_ of yesterday, and the _Standard_ of this morning?"

  "I haven't looked at the newspaper, sir, since--"

  "Since the festive occasion," suggested Aeolus.

  "Oh, Sir Boreas--"

  "Well, Mr. Crocker; what is it that you have to say for yourself?"

  "I did dine with a few friends."

  "And kept it up tolerably late, I should think."

  "And then afterwards went to a tea-party," said Crocker.

  "A tea-party!"

  "It was not all tea," said Crocker, with a whine.

  "I should think not. There was a good deal besides tea, I shouldsay." Then the god left off to smile, and the blasts began to blow."Now, Mr. Crocker, I should like to know what you think of yourself.After having read the accounts of your appearance before themagistrate in two newspapers, I suppose I may take it for grantedthat you were abominably drunk out in the streets on Wednesdaynight." It is very hard for a young man to have to admit underany circumstances that he has been abominably drunk out in thestreets;--so that Crocker stood dumb before his accuser. "I choose tohave an answer, sir. I must either have your own acknowledgment, ormust have an official account from the police magistrate."

  "I had taken something, sir."

  "Were you drunk? If you will not answer me you had better go, and Ishall know how to deal with you." Crocker thought that he had perhapsbetter go and leave the god to deal with him. He remained quitesilent. "Your personal habits would be nothing to me, sir," continuedAeolus, "if you were able to do your work and did not bring disgraceon the department. But you neglect the office. You are unable to doyour work. And you do bring disgrace on the department. How long isit since you remained away a day before?"

  "I was detained down in Cumberland for one day, after my leave ofabsence."

  "Detained in Cumberland! I never tell a gentleman, Mr. Crocker, thatI do not believe him,--never. If it comes to that with a gentleman,he must go." This was hard to bear; but yet Crocker was aware thathe had told a fib on that occasion in reference to the day's hunting.Then Sir Boreas took up his pen and again had recourse to his paper,as though the interview was over. Crocker remained standing, notquite knowing what he was expected to do. "It's of no use yourremaining there," said Sir Boreas. Whereupon Crocker retired, and,with his tail still between his legs, returned to his own desk.Soon afterwards Mr. Jerningham was sent for, and came back with anintimation that Mr. Crocker's services were no longer required, atany rate for that day. When the matter had been properly representedto the Postmaster-General, a letter would be written to him. Theimpression made on the minds of Bobbin and Geraghty was that poorCrocker would certainly be dismissed on this occasion. Roden, too,thought that it was now over with the unfortunate young man, asfar as the Queen's service was concerned, and could not abstainfrom shaking hands with the unhappy wretch as he bade them all amelancholy good-bye. "Good afternoon," said Mr. Jerningham to himseverely, not condescending to shake hands with him at all.

  But Mr. Jerningham heard the last words which the god had spokenon the subject, and was not therefore called upon to be speciallysoft-hearted. "I never saw a poor devil look so sick in my life,"Aeolus had said.

  "He must have been very bad, Sir Boreas."

  Aeolus was fond of a good dinner himself, and had a sympathy forconvivial offences. Indeed for all offences he had a sympathy. Noman less prone to punish ever lived. But what is a man to do withinveterate offenders? Aeolus would tear his hair sometimes in dismaybecause he knew that he was retaining in the service men whom hewould have been bound to get rid of had he done his duty. "You hadbetter tell him to go home," said Aeolus,--"for to-day, you know."

  "And what then, Sir Boreas?"

  "I suppose he'll sleep it off by to-morrow. Have a lett
er written tohim,--to frighten him, you know. After all, New Year's Day only doescome once a year." Mr. Jerningham, having thus received instructions,went back to his room and dismissed Crocker in the way we have seen.As soon as Crocker's back was turned Roden was desired to write theletter.

  SIR,

  Your conduct in absenting yourself without leave from the office yesterday is of such a nature as to make it necessary for me to inform you, that should it be repeated I shall have no alternative but to bring your name under the serious consideration of my Lord the Postmaster-General.

  I am, sir, Your obedient servant,

  (Signed) BOREAS BODKIN.

  In the same envelope was a short note from one of his brother clerks.

  DEAR CROCKER,

  You had better be here sharp at ten to-morrow. Mr. Jerningham bids me tell you.

  Yours truly,

  BART. BOBBIN.

  Thus Crocker got through his troubles on this occasion.