CHAPTER LII.
What Occurred in Suffolk Street, Pall Mall.
Mr. Tombe had gained nothing for the cause by his crafty silence.George Vavasor felt perfectly certain, as he walked out from thelittle street which runs at the back of Doctors' Commons, that themoney which he had been using had come, in some shape, through thehands of John Grey. He did not care much to calculate whether thepayments had been made from the personal funds of his rival, orwhether that rival had been employed to dispense Alice's fortune.Under either view of the case his position was sufficiently bitter.The truth never for a moment occurred to him. He never dreamed thatthere might be a conspiracy in the matter, of which Alice was asignorant as he himself had been. He never reflected that his uncleJohn, together with John, the lover, whom he so hated, might be theconspirators. To him it seemed to be certain that Alice and Mr. Greywere in league;--and if they were in league, what must he think ofAlice, and of her engagement with himself!
There are men who rarely think well of women,--who hardly thinkwell of any woman. They put their mothers and sisters into thebackground,--as though they belonged to some sex or race apart,--andthen declare to themselves and to their friends that all women arefalse,--that no woman can be trusted unless her ugliness protecther; and that every woman may be attacked as fairly as may game ina cover, or deer on a mountain, What man does not know men who haveso thought? I cannot say that such had been Vavasor's creed,--notentirely such. There had been periods of his life when he hadbelieved implicitly in his cousin Alice;--but then there had beenother moments in which he had ridiculed himself for his Quixotismin believing in any woman. And as he had grown older the moments ofhis Quixotism had become more rare. There would have been no suchQuixotism left with him now, had not the various circumstances whichI have attempted to describe, filled him, during the last twelvemonths, with a renewed desire to marry his cousin. Every man tries tobelieve in the honesty of his future wife; and, therefore, Vavasorhad tried, and had in his way, believed. He had flattered himself,too, that Alice's heart had, in truth, been more prone to him than tothat other suitor. Grey, as he thought, had been accepted by her coldprudence; but he thought, also, that she had found her prudence tobe too cold, and had therefore returned where she had truly loved.Vavasor, though he did not love much himself, was willing enough tobe the object of love.
This idea of his, however, had been greatly shaken by Alice'streatment of himself personally; but still he had not, hitherto,believed that she was false to him. Now, what could he believe ofher? What was there within the compass of such a one to believe?As he walked out into St. Paul's Churchyard he called her by everyname which is most offensive to a woman's ears. He hated her at thismoment with even a more bitter hatred than that which he felt towardsJohn Grey. She must have deceived him with unparalleled hypocrisy,and lied to him and to his sister Kate as hardly any woman had everlied before. Or could it be that Kate, also, was lying to him? If so,Kate also should be included in the punishment.
But why should they have conspired to feed him with these moneys?There had been no deceit, at any rate, in reference to the poundssterling which Scruby had already swallowed. They had been supplied,whatever had been the motives of the suppliers; and he had no doubtthat more would be supplied if he would only keep himself quiet. Hewas still walking westward as he thought of this, down Ludgate Hill,on his direct line towards Suffolk Street; and he tried to persuadehimself that it would be well that he should hide his wrath tillafter provision should have been made for this other election. Theywere his enemies,--Alice and Mr. Grey,--and why should he keep anyterms with his enemies? It was still a trouble to him to thinkthat he should have been in any way beholden to John Grey; but theterrible thing had been done, the evil had occurred. What would hegain by staying his hand now? Still, however, he walked on quicklyalong Fleet Street, and along the Strand, and was already crossingunder the Picture Galleries towards Pall Mall East before he haddefinitely decided what steps he would take on this very day. Exactlyat the corner of Suffolk Street he met John Grey.
"Mr. Grey," he said, stopping himself suddenly, "I was this momentgoing to call on you at your lodgings."
"At my lodgings, were you? Shall I return with you?"
"If you please," said Vavasor, leading the way up Suffolk Street.There had been no other greeting than this between them. Mr. Greyhimself, though a man very courteous in his general demeanour, wouldprobably have passed Vavasor in the street with no more than thebarest salutation. Situated as they were towards each other therecould hardly be any show of friendship between them; but when Vavasorhad spoken to him, he had dressed his face in that guise of civilitywhich men always use who do not intend to be offensive;--but Vavasordressed his as men dress theirs who do mean to be offensive; and Mr.Grey had thoroughly appreciated the dressing.
"If you will allow me, I have the key," said Grey. Then they bothentered the house, and Vavasor followed his host up-stairs. Mr. Grey,as he went up, felt almost angry with himself in having admitted hisenemy into his lodgings. He was sure that no good could come of it,and remembered, when it was too late, that he might easily have savedhimself from giving the invitation while he was still in the street.There they were, however, together in the sitting-room, and Grey hadnothing to do but to listen. "Will you take a chair, Mr. Vavasor?" hesaid. "No," said Vavasor; "I will stand up." And he stood up, holdinghis hat behind his back with his left hand, with his right legforward, and the thumb of his right hand in his waistcoat-pocket. Helooked full into Grey's face, and Grey looked full into his; and ashe looked the great cicatrice seemed to open itself and to becomepurple with fresh blood stains.
"I have come here from Mr. Tombe's office in the City," said Vavasor,"to ask you of what nature has been the interference which you havetaken in my money matters?"
This was a question which Mr. Grey could not answer very quickly. Inthe first place it was altogether unexpected; in the next place hedid not know what Mr. Tombe had told, and what he had not told; andthen, before he replied, he must think how much of the truth he wasbound to tell in answer to a question so put to him.
"Do you say that you have come from Mr. Tombe?" he asked.
"I think you heard me say so. I have come here direct from Mr. Tombe'schambers. He is your lawyer, I believe?"
"He is so."
"And I have come from him to ask you what interference you havelately taken in my money matters. When you have answered that, Ishall have other questions to ask you."
"But, Mr. Vavasor, has it occurred to you that I may not be disposedto answer questions so asked?"
"It has not occurred to me to think that you will prevaricate. Ifthere has been no such interference, I will ask your pardon, and goaway; but if there has been such interference on your part, I have aright to demand that you shall explain to me its nature."
Grey had now made up his mind that it would be better that he shouldtell the whole story,--better not only for himself, but for all theVavasors, including this angry man himself. The angry man evidentlyknew something, and it would be better that he should know the truth."There has been such interference, Mr. Vavasor, if you choose to callit so. Money, to the extent of two thousand pounds, I think, has bymy directions been paid to your credit by Mr. Tombe."
"Well," said Vavasor, taking his right hand away from his waistcoat,and tapping the round table with his fingers impatiently.
"I hardly know how to explain all the circumstances under which thishas been done."
"I dare say not; but, nevertheless, you must explain them."
Grey was a man tranquil in temperament, very little prone toquarrelling, with perhaps an exaggerated idea of the evil resultsof a row,--a man who would take infinite trouble to avoid any suchscene as that which now seemed to be imminent; but he was a man whosecourage was quite as high as that of his opponent. To bully or bebullied were alike contrary to his nature. It was clear enough nowthat Vavasor intended to bully him, and he made up his mind at oncethat if the quarrel were forced upon
him it should find him readyto take his own part. "My difficulty in explaining it comes fromconsideration for you," he said.
"Then I beg that your difficulty will cease, and that you will haveno consideration for me. We are so circumstanced towards each otherthat any consideration must be humbug and nonsense. At any rate, Iintend to have none for you. Now, let me know why you have meddledwith my matters."
"I think I might, perhaps, better refer you to your uncle."
"No, sir; Mr. Tombe is not my uncle's lawyer. My uncle never heard hisname, unless he heard of it from you."
"But it was by agreement with your uncle that I commissioned Mr. Tombeto raise for you the money you were desirous of borrowing from yourcousin. We thought it better that her fortune should not be for themoment disturbed."
"But what had you to do with it? Why should you have done it? In thefirst place, I don't believe your story; it is altogether improbable.But why should he come to you of all men to raise money on hisdaughter's behalf?"
"Unless you can behave yourself with more discretion, Mr. Vavasor, youmust leave the room," said Mr. Grey. Then, as Vavasor simply sneeredat him, but spoke nothing, he went on. "It was I who suggested toyour uncle that this arrangement should be made. I did not wish tosee Miss Vavasor's fortune squandered."
"And what was her fortune to you, sir? Are you aware that she isengaged to me as my wife? I ask you, sir, whether you are aware thatMiss Vavasor is to be my wife?"
"I must altogether decline to discuss with you Miss Vavasor's presentor future position."
"By heavens, then, you shall hear me discuss it! She was engaged toyou, and she has given you your dismissal. If you had understoodanything of the conduct which is usual among gentlemen, or if youhad had any particle of pride in you, sir, you would have left herand never mentioned her name again. I now find you meddling with hermoney matters, so as to get a hold upon her fortune."
"I have no hold upon her fortune."
"Yes, sir, you have. You do not advance two thousand pounds withoutknowing that you have security. She has rejected you; and in orderthat you may be revenged, or that you may have some further holdupon her,--that she may be in some sort within your power, you havecontrived this rascally pettifogging way of obtaining power over herincome. The money shall be repaid at once, with any interest that canbe due; and if I find you interfering again, I will expose you."
"Mr. Vavasor," said Grey very slowly, in a low tone of voice, but withsomething in his eye which would have told any bystander that he wasmuch in earnest, "you have used words in your anger which I cannotallow to pass. You must recall them."
"What were the words? I said that you were a pettifogging rascal. Inow repeat them." As he spoke he put on his hat, so as to leave bothhis hands ready for action if action should be required.
Grey was much the larger man and much the stronger. It may be doubtedwhether he knew himself the extent of his own strength, but such asit was he resolved that he must now use it. "There is no help forit," he said, as he also prepared for action. The first thing he didwas to open the door, and as he did so he became conscious that hismouth was full of blood from a sharp blow upon his face. Vavasorhad struck him with his fist, and had cut his lip against his teeth.Then there came a scramble, and Grey was soon aware that he had hisopponent in his hands. I doubt whether he had attempted to strike ablow, or whether he had so much as clenched his fist. Vavasor hadstruck him repeatedly, but the blows had fallen on his body or hishead, and he was unconscious of them. He had but one object now inhis mind, and that object was the kicking his assailant down thestairs. Then came a scramble, as I have said, and Grey had a hold ofthe smaller man by the nape of his neck. So holding him he forcedhim back through the door on to the landing, and there succeeded inpushing him down the first flight of steps. Grey kicked at him ashe went, but the kick was impotent. He had, however, been so farsuccessful that he had thrust his enemy out of the room, and had thesatisfaction of seeing him sprawling on the landing-place.
Vavasor, when he raised himself, prepared to make another rush atthe room, but before he could do so a man from below, hearing thenoise, had come upon him and interrupted him. "Mr. Jones," said Grey,speaking from above, "if that gentleman does not leave the house, Imust get you to search for a policeman."
Vavasor, though the lodging-house man had hold of the collar of hiscoat, made no attempt to turn upon his new enemy. When two dogs arefighting, any bystander may attempt to separate them with impunity.The brutes are so anxious to tear each other that they have noenergies left for other purposes. It never occurs to them to turntheir teeth upon newcomers in the quarrel. So it was with GeorgeVavasor. Jones was sufficient to prevent his further attack upon thefoe up-stairs, and therefore he had no alternative but to relinquishthe fight.
"What's it all about, sir?" said Jones, who kept a tailor'sestablishment, and, as a tailor, was something of a fighting manhimself. Of all tradesmen in London the tailors are, no doubt, themost combative,--as might be expected from the necessity which liesupon them of living down the general bad character in this respectwhich the world has wrongly given them. "What's it all about, sir?"said Jones, still holding Vavasor by his coat.
"That man has ill-used me, and I've punished him; that's all."
"I don't know much about punishing," said the tailor. "It seems to mehe pitched you down pretty clean out of the room above. I think thebest thing you can do now is to walk yourself off."
It was the only thing that Vavasor could do, and he did walk himselfoff. He walked himself off, and went home to his own lodgings inCecil Street, that he might smooth his feathers after the lateencounter before he went down to Westminster to take his seat in theHouse of Commons. I do not think that he was comfortable when he gotthere, or that he felt himself very well able to fight another battlethat night on behalf of the River Bank. He had not been hurt, but hehad been worsted. Grey had probably received more personal damagethan had fallen to his share; but Grey had succeeded in expelling himfrom the room, and he knew that he had been found prostrate on thelanding-place when the tailor first saw him.
But he might probably have got over the annoyance of this feelinghad he not been overwhelmed by a consciousness that everything wasgoing badly with him. He was already beginning to hate his seat inParliament. What good had it done for him, or was it likely to dofor him? He found himself to be associated there with Mr. Bott, anda few others of the same class,--men whom he despised; and even theydid not admit him among them without a certain show of superiorityon their part. Who has not ascertained by his own experience thedifferent lights through which the same events may be seen, accordingto the success, or want of success, which pervades the atmosphereat the moment? At the present time everything was unsuccessful withGeorge Vavasor; and though he told himself, almost from hour to hour,that he would go on with the thing which he had begun,--that he wouldpersevere in Parliament till he had obtained a hearing there andcreated for himself success, he could not himself believe in thepromises which he had made to himself. He had looked forward to hisentrance into that Chamber as the hour of his triumph; but he hadentered it with Mr. Bott, and there had been no triumph to him indoing so. He had sworn to himself that when there he would find mento hear him. Hitherto, indeed, he could not accuse himself of havingmissed his opportunities; his election had been so recent that hecould hardly yet have made the attempt. But he had been there longenough to learn to fancy that there was no glory in attempting. Thisart of speaking in Parliament, which had appeared to him to be sogrand, seemed already to be a humdrum, homely, dull affair. No oneseemed to listen much to what was said. To such as himself,--Memberswithout an acquired name,--men did not seem to listen at all. Mr.Palliser had once, in his hearing, spoken for two hours together, andall the House had treated his speech with respect,--had declared thatit was useful, solid, conscientious, and what not; but more than halfthe House had been asleep more than half the time that he was on hislegs. Vavasor had not as yet commenced his career as an orator; butnig
ht after night, as he sat there, the chance of commencing it withbrilliance seemed to be further from him, and still further. Twothousand pounds of his own money, and two thousand more of Alice'smoney,--or of Mr. Grey's,--he had already spent to make his way intothat assembly. He must spend, at any rate, two thousand more if heintended that his career should be prolonged beyond a three months'sitting;--and how was he to get this further sum after what had takenplace to-day?
He would get it. That was his resolve as he walked in by theapple-woman's stall, under the shadow of the great policeman, andbetween the two august lamps. He would get it;--as long as Alice hada pound over which he could obtain mastery by any act or violencewithin his compass. He would get it; even though it should comethrough the hands of John Grey and Mr. Tombe. He would get it; thoughin doing so he might destroy his cousin Alice and ruin his sisterKate. He had gone too far to stick at any scruples. Had he not oftendeclared how great had been that murderer who had been able to divesthimself of all such scruples,--who had scoured his bosom free fromall fears of the hereafter, and, as regarded the present, had daredto trust for everything to success? He would go to Alice and demandthe money from her with threats, and with that violence in his eyeswhich he knew so well how to assume. He believed that when he sodemanded it, the money would be forthcoming so as to satisfy, at anyrate, his present emergencies.
That wretched old man in Westmoreland! If he would but die, theremight yet be a hope remaining of permanent success! Even thoughthe estate might be entailed so as to give him no more than alife-interest, still money might be raised on it. His life-interestin it would be worth ten or twelve years' purchase. He had an ideathat his grandfather had not as yet made any such will when he leftthe place in Westmoreland. What a boon it would be if death could bemade to overtake the old man before he did so! On this very night hewalked about the lobbies of the House, thinking of all this. He wentby himself from room to room, roaming along passages, sitting now forten minutes in the gallery, and then again for a short space in thebody of the House,--till he would get up and wander again out intothe lobby, impatient of the neighbourhood of Mr. Bott. Certainly justat this time he felt no desire to bring before the House the subjectof the River Embankment.
Nor was Mr. Grey much happier when he was left alone, than was hisassailant. To give Vavasor his due, the memory of the affray itselfdid not long trouble him much. The success between the combatants hadbeen nearly equal, and he had, at any rate, spoken his mind freely.His misery had come from other sources. But the reflection that hehad been concerned in a row was in itself enough to make John Greywretched for the time. Such a misfortune had never hitherto befallenhim. In all his dealings with men words had been sufficient, andgenerally words of courtesy had sufficed. To have been personallyengaged in a fighting scramble with such a man as George Vavasor wasto him terrible. When ordering that his money might be expended withthe possible object of saving Alice from her cousin, he had neverfelt a moment's regret; he had never thought that he was doing morethan circumstances fairly demanded of him. But now he was almostdriven to utter reproach. "Oh, Alice! that this thing should havecome upon me through thy fault!"
When Vavasor was led away down stairs by the tailor, and Grey foundthat no more actual fighting would be required of him, he retiredinto his bedroom, that he might wash his mouth and free himself fromthe stains of the combat. He had heard the front door closed, andknew that the miscreant was gone,--the miscreant who had disturbedhis quiet. Then he began to think what was the accusation with whichVavasor had charged him. He had been told that he had advancedmoney on behalf of Alice, in order that he might obtain some powerover Alice's fortune, and thus revenge himself upon Alice for hertreatment of him. Nothing could be more damnably false than thisaccusation. Of that he was well aware. But were not the circumstancesof a nature to make it appear that the accusation was true? Securityfor the money advanced by him, of course, he had none;--of coursehe had desired none;--of course the money had been given out of hisown pocket with the sole object of saving Alice, if that might bepossible; but of all those who might hear of this affair, how manywould know or even guess the truth?
While he was in this wretched state of mind, washing his mouth, anddisturbing his spirit, Mr. Jones, his landlord, came up to him. Mr.Jones had known him for some years, and entertained a most profoundrespect for his character. A rather sporting man than otherwise wasMr. Jones. His father had been a tradesman at Cambridge, and in thisway Jones had become known to Mr. Grey. But though given to sport,by which he meant modern prize-fighting and the Epsom course on theDerby day, Mr. Jones was a man who dearly loved respectable customersand respectable lodgers. Mr. Grey, with his property at Nethercoats,and his august manners, and his reputation at Cambridge, was a mostrespectable lodger, and Mr. Jones could hardly understand how any onecould presume to raise his hand against such a man.
"Dear, dear, sir--this is a terrible affair!" he said, as he made hisway into the room.
"It was very disagreeable, certainly," said Grey.
"Was the gentleman known to you?" asked the tailor.
"Yes; I know who he is."
"Any quarrel, sir?"
"Well, yes. I should not have pushed him down stairs had he notquarrelled with me."
"We can have the police after him if you wish it, sir?"
"I don't wish it at all."
"Or we might manage to polish him off in any other way, you know."
It was some time before Mr. Grey could get rid of the tailor, but hedid so at last without having told any part of the story to thatwarlike, worthy, and very anxious individual.
Can You Forgive Her? Page 54
