Ovington's Bank

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XIX

  The week in early June which witnessed Arthur's return to his seat atthe bank--that and the following week which saw his mother's fivethousand pounds paid over for his share in the concern--saw the tideof prosperity which during two years had been constantly swelling,reach its extreme point. The commerce and wealth of the country, asthey rose higher and higher in this flood-time of fortune, astonishedeven the casual observer. Their increase seemed to be without limit;they answered to every call. They not only filled the old channels,but over-ran them, irrigating, in appearance at least, a thousandfields hitherto untilled. Abroad, the flag of commerce was said to flywhere it had never flown before; its clippers brought merchandise notonly from the Indies, East and West, and tea from China, and wool fromSydney, and rich stuffs from the Levant, but Argosies laden withfreight still more precious were--or were reported to be--on their wayfrom that new Southern continent on the opening of which to Britishtrade so many hopes depended. The gold and silver of Peru, thediamonds of Brazil, the untapped wealth of the Plate were believed tobe afloat and ready to be exchanged for the produce of our looms andspindles, our ovens and forges.

  Nor was that produce likely to fail, for at home the glow offoundries, working night-shifts, lit up the northern sky, and inmany a Lancashire or Yorkshire dale, old factories, brought againinto service, shook, almost to falling, under the thunder of thepower-loom. Mills and mines, potteries and iron-works changed handsfrom day to day, at ever-rising prices. Men who had never investedbefore, save in the field at their gate, or the house under theireyes, rushed eagerly to take shares in these ventures, and inthousands of offices and parlors conned their securities, summed upthe swelling total of their gains, and rushed to buy and buy again,with a command of credit which seemed to have no bottom.

  To provide that credit, the banks widened their operations, increased,on the security of stocks ever rising in value, their over-drafts,issued batch after batch of fresh notes. The most cautious admittedthat accommodation must keep step with trade; and the huge strideswhich this was making, the changed conditions, the wider outlook, thecalling in of the new world to augment the wealth of the old--allseemed to demand an advance which promised to be as profitable as itwas warranted. To the ordinary eye the sun of prosperity shone in anunclouded sky. Even the experienced, though they scanned the heavenswith care, saw nothing to dismay them. Only here and there an oldfogey whose memory went back to the crisis of '93, or to the famousBlack Monday of twenty years earlier, uttered a note of warning; orsome mechanical clerk, of the stamp of Rodd, sunk in a rut of routine,muttered of Accommodation Bills where his employer saw only legitimatetrade. But their croakings, feeble at best, were lost in the joyousbabble of an Exchange, enriched by commissions, and drunk withsuccess.

  It was a new era. It was the age of gold. It was the fruit ofconditions long maturing. Men's labor, aided by machinery, washenceforth to be so productive that no man need be poor, all might berich. Experts, reviewing the progress which had been made and thechanges which had been wrought during the last fifty years, said thesethings; and the vulgar took them up and repeated them. The Bank ofEngland acted as if they were true. The rate of discount was low.

  And while all men thus stretched out their hands to catch the goldenmanna Aldersbury was not idle. The appetite for gain grows by what itfeeds upon and Aldersbury appetites had been whetted by earlysuccesses in their own field. The woollen mills, sharing in thegeneral prosperity of the last two years, had done well, and more thanone mill had changed hands at unheard-of prices. The Valleys were saidto be full of money which, or part of it, trickled into the town,improving a trade already brisk. Many had made large gains by outsidespeculations and had boasted of them. Report had multiplied theirprofits, others had joined in and they too had gained, and their gainshad fired the greed of their neighbors. Some had followed up theirfirst successes. Others prepared to extend their businesses, built newpremises, put in new-fangled glass windows, and by their action gavean impetus to subordinate trades, and spread still farther the senseof well-being.

  On the top of all this had come the Valleys Railroad Scheme, backed byOvington's Bank, and offering to everyone a chance of speculating onhis door-step: a scheme which while it appealed to local pride, had aspecious look of safety, since the railway was to be built under theshareholders' own eyes, across the fields they knew, and by men whomthey saw going in and out every day.

  There was a great run on it. Some of the gentry, following the oldSquire's example, held aloof, but others put their hundreds into it,not much believing in it but finding it an amusing gamble. Thetownsfolk took it more seriously, with the result that a week afterallotment the shares were changing hands at a premium of thirtyshillings and there was still a busy market in them. Some who, temptedby the premium, sold at a profit suspected as soon as they had soldthat they had thrown away their one chance of wealth, and went intothe market and bought again, and so the rise was maintained and evenextended. More than once Ovington put in a word of caution, remindinghis customers that the first sod was not yet cut, that all the workwas to do, that even the Bill was not yet passed. But his warningswere disregarded.

  To the majority it seemed a short and easy way to fortune, and theywondered that they had been so simple in the past as to know nothingof it. It was by this way, they now saw, that Ovington had risen towealth, while they, poor fools, not yet admitted to the secret, hadgaped and wondered. And what a secret it was! To rise in the morningricher by fifty pounds than they had gone to bed! To retire at nightwith another fifty as good as in the bank, or in the old and nowdespised stocking! The slow increment of trade seemed mean anddespicable beside their hourly growing profits, made while men sleptor dined, made, as a leading tradesman pithily said, while they woreout their breeches on their chairs! Few troubled themselves about theBill, or the cutting of the first sod, or considered how long it wouldbe before the railroad was at work! Fewer still asked themselveswhether this untried scheme would ever pay. It was enough for themthat the shares were ever rising, that men were always to be found tobuy them at the current price, and that they themselves were growingricher week by week.

  For the directors these were great days! They walked Bride Hill andthe Market Place with their heads high and their toes turned out. Theytalked in loud voices in the streets. They got together in corners andwhispered, their brows heavy with the weight of affairs. They weregreat men. The banker, it is true, did not like the pitch to which thething was being carried, but it was his business to wear a cheerfulface, and he had no misgivings to speak of, though he knew thatsuccess was a long way off. And even on him the prosperity of theventure had some effect. Sir Charles and Acherley, too, were not ofthose who openly exulted; it is possible that the latter sold a fewshares, or even a good many shares.

  But Purslow and Grounds and Wolley? Who shall describe the importancewhich sat upon their brows, the dignity of their strut, the gravity oftheir nod, the mock humility of their reticence? Never did they go inor go out without the consciousness that the eyes of passers-by wereupon them! Theirs to make men's fortunes by a hint--and their bearingbetrayed that they knew it. Purslow's apron was discarded, no longerdid he come out to customers in the street; if he still rubbed onehand over the other it was in self-content. Grounds was dazzled, andwore his Sunday clothes on week-days. Wolley, always a braggart,swaggered and talked, closed his eyes to his commitments andremembered only his gains. He talked of buying another mill, he evenentered into a negotiation with that in view. He was convinced thatsafety lay in daring, and that this was the golden moment, if he wouldfree himself from the net of debt that for years had been weavingitself about him.

  He assumed the airs of a rich man, but he was not the worst. Thedraper, if more honest, had less brains, and success threw him off hisbalance. "A little country 'ouse," he said, speaking among hisfamiliars. "I'm thinking of buying a little country 'ouse. Two milesfrom town. A nice distance." He recalled the fact that the
founder ofSir Charles's family had been Mayor of Aldersbury in the days of QueenBess, and had bought the estate with money made in the town. "Whoknows," with humility--"my lad's a good lad--what may come of it?After all there is nothing like land."

  Grounds shook his head. "I don't know. It doesn't double----"

  "Double itself in a month, Grounds? No. But all in good time. All ingood time. 'Istory repeats itself. My lad may be a parliament-man,yet. I saw Ovington this morning." Two months before it would havebeen "Mr. Ovington." "He's sold those Anglo-Mexicans for me and itbeats all! A gold-mine! Bought at forty, sold at seventy-two! Hewanted me to pay off the bank, but not I, Grounds. When you can borrowat seven and double the money in a month! No, no! Truth is, he'sjealous. He gets only seven per cent. and sees me coining! Of coursehe wants his money. No, no, I said."

  Grounds looked doubtful. He was too cautious to operate on borrowedmoney. "I don't know. After all, enough is as good as a feast,Purslow."

  Purslow prodded him playfully. "Ay, but what is enough?" he chuckled."No. We've been let in and I mean to stay in. There's plenty of foolsgrubbing along in the old way, but you and me, we are inside now,Grounds, and I mean to stay in. The days of five per cent are gone foryou and me. Gone! 'Twarn't by five per cent. that Ovington got wherehe is."

  "My wife wants a silk dress."

  "Let 'er 'ave it! And come to me for it! You can afford it!" Hestrutted off. "Grounds all over!" he muttered. "Close; d--d close!Hasn't the pluck of a mouse--and a year ago he could buy me twiceover!" In fancy he saw his Jack a college-man and counsellor, and byand by he passed various parks and halls before his mental vision andsaw Jack seated in them, saw him Sir John Purslow, saw him Member forAldersbury. He held his head high as he marched across the street tohis shop, jingling the silver in his fob. Queen Bess, indeed, whatwere Queen Bess's days to these?

  But a man cannot talk big without paying for the luxury. The draper'sforeman asked for higher wages; his second hand also. Purslow gave therise, but, reminded that their pay was in arrear, "No, Jenkins, no,"he said. "You must wait. Hang it, man, do you think I've nothingbetter to do with my money in these days than pay you fellows to theday? 'Ere! 'ere's a pound on account. Let it run! Let it run! All ingood time, man. Fancy my credit's good enough?"

  And instead of meeting the last acceptance that he'd given to hiscloth-merchant, he took it up with another bill at two months--a thinghe had never done before. "Credit! Credit's the thing in these days,"he said, winking. "Cash? Excuse me! Out of date, man, with them thatknows. Credit's the 'orse!"

  Arthur Bourdillon wore his honors more modestly, and courted the meanwith success. But even he felt the intoxication of this noontideprosperity. At Garth he had doubted, and suffered scruples to weighwith him. But no sooner had he returned to the bank than theatmosphere of money enveloped him, and discerning that it was now inhis power to make the best of two worlds, hitherto inconsistent, heplunged with gusto into the business. As secretary of the company hewas a person to be courted; as a partner, now recognized, in the bank,he was more. He felt himself capable of all, for had not all succeededwith him? And awake to the fact that the times were abnormal--thoughhe did not deduce from this the lesson he should have drawn--hethanked his stars that he was there to profit by them, and to make themost of them.

  He was beyond doubt an asset to the bank. His birth, his manners, hisgood looks, the infection of his laugh made him a favorite with gentleand simple. And then he worked. He had energy, he was tireless, notask was too hard or too long for him. But he labored under onedisadvantage, though he did not know it. He had had experience of therise, not of the fall. As far back as he had been connected withOvington's, trade had continued to expand, things had gone well; andby nature he was sanguine and leant towards the bold policy. He threwhis weight on that side, and, able and self-confident, he made himselffelt. Even Ovington yielded to the thrust of his opinion, was swayedby him, and at times, perhaps, put a little out of his course.

  Not that Arthur was without his troubles. Naturally and inevitably acloud had fallen on the relation, friendly hitherto, between him andClement. Clement had grown cool to him, and the change was unwelcome,for it was in Arthur's nature to love popularity and to thrive and tobask in the sunshine of it. But it could not be helped. Withoutbreaking eggs one could not make omelettes. Clement blamed him, heknew, feeling, and with reason, that what he had done deservedacknowledgment, and that it lay with Arthur to see that justice wasdone. And Arthur, for his part, would have gladly acquitted himself ofthe debt had it consisted with his own interests. But it did not.

  Had he suspected the tie between Clement and Josina he might haveacted otherwise. He might have foreseen the possibility of Clement'sgaining the old man's ear, might have scented danger, and played amore cautious game. But he knew nothing of this. Garth and Clementstood apart in his mind. Clement and Josina were as far as he knewbarely acquainted. He was aware, therefore, of no special reason whyClement should desire to stand well at Garth, while he felt sure thathis friend was the last person to push a claim, or to thrust himselfuninvited on the Squire's gratitude.

  Accordingly, and the more as the banker had not himself taken up thequarrel, he put it aside as of no great importance. He shrugged hisshoulders and told himself that Clement would come round. The cloudwould pass, and its cause be forgotten.

  In the meantime he ignored it. He met Clement's hostility with blandunconsciousness, smiled and was pleasant. He was too busy a man to betroubled by trifles. He was not going to be turned from his course bythe passing frown of a silly fellow, who could not hold an advantagewhen he had won it.

  Betty was another matter. Betty was behaving ill and showing temper,in league apparently with her brother and sympathizing with him. Shewas changed from the Betty of old days. He had lost his hold upon her,and though this fell in well enough with the change in his views--orthe possible change, for he had not quite made up his mind--it prickedhis conceit as much as it surprised him. Moreover, the girl had asharp tongue and was not above using it, so that more than once hesmarted under its lash.

  "Fine feathers make fine birds!" she said, as Arthur came boundinginto the house one day and all but collided with her. "Only theyshould be your own, Mr. Daw!"

  "Oh, I give your father all the credit," he replied, "only I do someof the work. But you used not to be so critical, Betty."

  "No? Well, I'll tell you why if you like."

  "Oh, I don't want to know."

  "No, I don't think you do!" the girl retorted. "But I'll tell you. Ithought your feathers were your own then. Now--I should be uneasy if Iwere you."

  "Why?"

  "You might fall among crows and be plucked. I can tell you, you'd be asorry sight in your own feathers!"

  He turned a dusky red. The shaft had gone home, but he tried to hidethe wound. "A dull bird, eh?" he said, affecting to misunderstand her."Well, I thought you liked dull birds. I couldn't be duller than Rodd,and you don't find fault with him."

  It was a return shot, aimed only to cover his retreat. But the shottold in a way that surprised him. Betty reddened to her hair, and hereyes snapped.

  "At any rate, Mr. Rodd is what he seems!" she cried.

  "Oh! oh!"

  "He's not hollow!"

  "No! Of course not. A most witty, bright, amusing gentleman, the pinkof fashion, and--what is it?--the mould of form! Hollow? Oh, no,Betty, very solid, I should say--and stolid!" with a grin. "Not aroaring blade, perhaps--I could hardly call him that, but a sound,substantial, wooden--gentleman! I am sure that your father values himhighly as a clerk, and would value him still more highly as----"

  "What?"

  "I need not put it into words--but it lies with you to qualify him forthe post. Rodd? Well, well, times are changed, Betty! But we live andlearn."

  "You have a good deal to learn," she cried, bristling with anger,"about women!"

  He got away then, retiring in good order and pleased that he had nothad the worst of it; hoping, too, that he had
closed the littlespitfire's mouth. But there he found himself mistaken. The young ladywas of a high courage, and perhaps had been a little spoiled. Whereshe once felt contempt she made no bones about showing it, andwhenever they met, her frankness, sharpened by a woman's intuition,kept him on tenter-hooks.

  "You seem to think very ill of me," he said once. "And yet you troubleyourself a good deal about me."

  "You make a mistake!" she replied. "I am not troubling myself aboutyou. I'm thinking of my father."

  "Ah! Now you are out of my reach. That's beyond me."

  "I wish he were!"

  "He knows his own business."

  "I hope he does!" she riposted. And though it was the memory of Rodd'swarning that supplied the dart, the animosity that sped it had anothersource. The truth was that her brother had at last taken her into hisconfidence.

  It was not without great unhappiness that he had seen all the hopeswhich he had built upon the Squire's gratitude come to nothing. He hadhoped, and for a time had been even confident; but nothing hadhappened, no message, no summons had reached him. The events of thatnight might have been a dream, as far as he was concerned. Yet hecould not see his way to blow his own trumpet, or proclaim what he haddone. He stood no better than before, and indeed his position wasworse.

  For as long as the Squire lay bedridden and ill he could not go tohim. Even when the report came that he was mending, Clement hesitated.To go to him, basing his claim on what had happened, to go to him andtell the story, as he must, with his own lips--this presenteddifficulties from which a man with delicate feelings might wellshrink!

  Meanwhile a veil had fallen between him and Josina. He had sworn thathe would not see her again until he could claim her, and he supposedher to be engrossed by her father's illness and tied to his bedside.He even, with a lover's insight, inferred the remorse which she feltand her recoil from a continuance of their relations. Meanwhile he didnot know what to do. He did not see any outlet. He was in an impassewith no prospect of delivery. And while he felt that Arthur hadbehaved ungenerously, while he even suspected that his friend hadtaken the credit which was his own due, he had no clue to his motives,or his schemes.

  It was Betty who first saw into the dark place. For one day, longingas lovers long for a confidante, he had told her all, from the firstmeeting with Josina to his final parting from the girl by the brook,and his brief and unfortunate interview with her father on the road.The romance charmed Betty, the audacity of it dazzled her; for, awoman, she perceived more clearly than Clement the gulf between thetown and the country, the new and the old. She listened to his talewith sighs and tears and little endearments, and led him on from onething to another. She could not hear too much of a story that hardly awoman alive could have heard with indifference. She praised Josina tothe top of his bent, and if she could not give him much hope, she gavesympathy.

  And, shrewdly, in her own mind she put things together. "Arthur is offwith the old love," she thought, "and on with the new." He had changedsides, and that explained many things. So, with hardly any premises,she jumped to a conclusion so nearly correct that, could Arthur haveread her mind, he would have winced even more than he did under thethrusts of her satire.

  But she did not tell Clement. Her suspicions were not founded onreason, and they would only alarm him, and he was gloomy enough as itwas. Instead, she cheered him and bade him be patient. Something mightturn up, and in no case could much be done until the Squire was wellenough to leave his room.

  At bottom she was not hopeful. She saw arrayed between Clement and hislove a host of difficulties, apart from Arthur's machinations. Thepride of class, the old man's obstinacy, the young girl's timidity,Josina's wealth--these were obstacles hard to surmount. And Arthur wason the spot ready to raise new barriers, should these be overcome.