Complete Works of George Moore

by George Moore

  Lady Helen waited to see if he would recognise what she had done to help him to this sum of money, but he did not say a word of thanks, and she watched him with irritated eyes as he walked up and down the room admiring himself physically, whenever he passed the glass, intellectually, as he repeated the words, “nearly twelve hundred pounds;” yet notwithstanding the twelve hundred, Lady Helen found herself obliged to write to her dressmaker for time, and apply the thirty which she drew quarterly from the funds to paying these bills.

  She made this sacrifice without grumbling; she still loved her husband passionately and tenderly, although she had heard many stories which had considerably altered her faith in him. Lord Senton, who had become one of their most intimate friends, had told her a hundred tales of Lewis’s bachelor days. Although they stabbed her like daggers, Lady Helen encouraged these confidences, and Lord Senton, blind to every consideration but his own flirtations, would probably have given her date, name, and address, had he been able. He had lately bought, besides his own portrait, two pictures from Lewis; nevertheless, she was at home to him less frequently, and unflinchingly discouraged all allusions to the tender passion. She could not forgive him for having awakened without having satisfied her doubts, and her life now became one prolonged agonising question. Lewis still held his empire over her, she still trembled neath his touch, but when he was not near her she almost hated him. Now his little feminine ways exasperated her, and very often the merest trifle, even a remark about her dress, would provoke a violent scene of tears, anger and recrimination. She never knew for certain whom he had and whom he had not loved; and she fancied every second woman she shook hands with had flirted at some time or another with Lewis. Even Gwynnie did not escape her suspicion, and remembering the anxiety the girl had shown to see his picture in the Academy, Lady Helen, in her exasperation, often thought of getting rid of her maid.

  CHAPTER XXXIV.

  FRIEND OR WIFE.

  THE BABY THAT was born in the beginning of the third year of their marriage patched up the differences which had spoiled the last six months of their married life. There was little that was paternal about Lewis, but the pallor and languor of Lady Helen’s convalescence touched him with its poetry, and in the pleasures of home life she forgot her jealousies, and remembered only that he was the father of her child.

  But as the months passed by full of delicate tenderness, their affairs grew daily more embarrassed. Debts grew pressing, and it became clearer than ever that they were living beyond their income. Last year had been a good one; Lewis had made nearly two thousand pounds, but the upholsterers had been only paid three hundred on account.

  And there were hundreds of other bills: Lewis owed his tailor a hundred; Lady Helen had not paid her dressmaker for the last year and a half. This was a very gloomy look out; and Lewis declared that, at his present prices, he did not see how he ever would be able to meet his engagements. He said he could not work more than six hours a day, even that was killing in the hot weather; and as for his portraits, he began to loathe the sight of a satin dress. To have half-a-dozen perpetually before your eyes, in various stages of completion, was sickening. So long as the ladies were there, the time passed pleasantly enough, and the painting of the faces and hands was, of course, always amusing; but then there were the long hours in the afternoons, all alone in the studio copying a bit of lace hung on a squat, lay figure. Besides, everything seemed to be turning out badly. His Academy picture was not sold; it had not been too well noticed; and he had only a few orders in hand. Lady Helen urged him to work, but as their difficulties increased, he grew idler instead of more industrious. But this could not go on for ever, and one morning he received a packet of very disagreeable letters.

  Lady Helen was more resolute than Lewis, and after reading the letters she said:

  “It is clear that we are living beyond our income, we must see how much we owe, clear off our debt, and live within our means, whatever they are.”

  “I quite agree with you, my dear,” said Lewis, who was quite sick of work, and would gladly have exchanged his fine house for a cottage where he could idle.

  The duties of motherhood had wrought a change in Lady Helen, and the necessities of the situation rapidly developed the clear logical intelligence which her passions had obscured.

  After having gone into the accounts carefully she found that they owed three thousand pounds. Lewis was perfectly aghast.

  “What shall we do?” he exclaimed, pale with fright.

  “There is only one thing to do,” returned Lady Helen who had carefully considered the matter from all points of view.

  “I must see Worthing, tell him the truth, show him the accounts, and ask him to let me sell out of the funds sufficient money to pay off our debts; then we must give up this house, it is too large and expensive for us, take a cheaper one, and live within our means.”

  Lewis had nothing to say against this proposition, and to avoid further annoyance, he left his wife to work it out her own way.

  Lord Worthing was dreadfully shocked when he heard of the difficulty his niece was in, and, of course, reproached her with her marriage, and reminded her how she had been warned. She let him have his say, and then showed, by means of the accounts with which she had come armed, how much Lewis had made, that, in point of fact, he had even done more than he said he could do; and that it was her extravagance that had got him into this trouble.

  Lord Worthing looked surprised. He had never suspected her of so much decision of character.

  Lady Helen explained that if he would not allow her to sell three thousand out of the funds, there was nothing left for them to do but to go through the Bankruptcy Court, “And that will ruin us every way,” said Lady Helen, “both socially and financially, but it can’t be helped.”

  The threat of bankruptcy seemed to frighten Lord Worthing, who at first had refused to listen to her proposition of drawing upon her capital.

  Lady Helen explained how she had already arranged to give up her house, and had her eye on another which would suit them just as well, and was a hundred and fifty a year cheaper; that she had determined to put down her carriage; and how she not only hoped, but had reason to believe, that instead of living above her income, they would then be living within it, even if Lewis’s artistic position only remained what it was, a thing which she said was highly improbable, for his pictures were yearly being more and more talked about.

  “Ah,” said Lord Worthing, in answer to Lady Helen, “you remind me of something I was going to write to you about. Have you heard that Stevens, the A.R.A., is dead?”

  Lady Helen had not heard it, and then Lord Worthing proceeded to explain that the thing to do would be to use all their influence to get Lewis elected. As for the President, they were sure of him. He would at once put Lewis’s name down, if he had not already done so; and then they would have to work up the other men. Lady Helen’s face flushed with pleasure. He was her husband, and it was her duty to help him.

  Lord Worthing then began to count up the names of the academicians whom they thought could be depended on to vote for Lewis. Together they reckoned up about half-a-dozen, and their faces beamed until Lady Helen spoke of Mr. Holt. This was clearly the rock on which they might split. Holt had a lot of friends who believed in him, and who would follow his vote.

  “When does the election take place?” asked Lady Helen, suddenly.

  “Two or three months hence, probably in October; we have time, but we must not let the grass grow under our feet; I will call on Sir Henry to-day.”

  “Thanks, very much, uncle; but what about the three thousand?” asked Lady Helen.

  “Well, you know, I can’t do anything without the consent of the other trustees. I will write to your father; he will be awfully annoyed, but I will put the matter to him in the most favourable light.”

  “Be sure you don’t say it is Lewis’s fault.”

  “I will forward him a copy of the accounts, which will prove that your husband
is not to blame.”

  Lady Helen remained some time longer, explaining and repeating her story, so that Lord Worthing should make no mistake. Then they again discussed the chances of Lewis’s election, till the servant announced that lunch was ready.

  But Lady Helen would not stop, and bidding her uncle goodbye, she got into her carriage. From the expression of her face, it was clear that she was thinking out the details of some project.

  For some time her uncertainty was evident, but at last with an effort she made up her mind; the struggle was over, and, determined to act before her resolution cooled down, she put her head out of the window, and told the coachman to drive to Orchard Villa, Grove Road, St. John’s Wood.

  Mr. Holt was painting when the servant handed him Lady Helen’s card; he looked at it, and wondered why she had come to see him. “It is impossible,” he thought, “that Seymour’s not aware that I oppose his pictures whenever I get a chance; in fact we haven’t spoken to each other for years; what, then, can his wife have come here for?”

  Mr. Holt was a timid man, and when the servant ushered Lady Helen into the studio, she saw that so far the advantage was on her side. He asked her to sit down, but she declined, begged him to go on painting, and asked to be allowed to look at the pictures.

  “Surely,” thought Holt, “she hasn’t come here only to see my pictures.”

  Lady Helen talked volubly of things in general, but Mr. Holt was not a conversationalist, and after having tried vainly to lead up gradually to what she wanted to say, she found herself obliged to come straight to the point.

  “I dare say, Mr. Holt,” she said, “that my visit surprises you, but I have come to see you with a very definite purpose.”

  Mr. Holt bowed, looked embarrassed, and tried to mumble something about the honour.

  “I have come,” said Lady Helen, “for neither more nor less than to ask you to vote for my husband at the next election.”

  Mr. Holt’s face expressed so much astonishment that, notwithstanding the gravity of the situation, Lady Helen could not help smiling. But the academician’s feelings of surprise soon gave way to that of anger, and he answered curtly that his vote was promised. Never in all his life did he remember having felt so indignant. For years his dream had been to get Thompson elected; it had been talked over and discussed, until it took in his mind the force of a hobby. For years “The moderns” had laughed at him for even dreaming of the possibility of such a thing, and since Stevens’s death he had been secretly thinking what a surprise it would be if he could succeed in getting a sufficient number of votes to cany the election. Consequently Lady Helen’s request appeared almost in the light of a joke, or an insult. He looked at her, and wondering when she would take her leave, said:

  “Besides, I thought it was known that, in art, my tastes are so diametrically opposite to Mr. Seymour’s that—”

  “I am well aware,” interrupted Lady Helen, “that you have not many sympathies in common, but in this case I hoped you might promise me your vote.”

  Mr. Holt’s look of anger now gave way to one of complete bewilderment “I really don’t see what you mean,” he answered bluntly; “why should I in this case promise you my vote?”

  “Because there are services I could render you in return,” replied Lady Helen, nervously; “social services; do you not guess what I mean!”

  Lady Helen blushed, and trembled. She knew Holt hated her husband’s painting, but she had often heard that it was the sorrow of his life that he could not bring his wife into society; she hoped that the latter would prove the stronger motive.

  Mrs. Holt used often to tell her husband that she was quite happy as she was, and that it was silly of him to trouble about introducing her to a lot of people she had no wish to know. This was partly true; but although she never complained, Mrs. Holt often regretted her isolation, and her husband knew it.

  Lady Helen had therefore been rightly informed: the sorest point in Holt’s life was his wife’s position; he loved her, he was proud of her, and the certainty that she could make herself liked, were she to get a chance, rendered every snub she received doubly annoying.

  He had understood Lady Helen’s proposition, and his face for a moment had flushed with pleasure, for he knew that if once his wife were taken up by the Grandervilles and Worthings, there would be an end to all the petty slights from which he so perpetually suffered. He felt he would give anything to avail himself of this chance; but his antipathy to Lewis’s painting, and the treachery of throwing over Thompson, made him irresolute.

  He did not answer Lady Helen at once, but remained thinking. She saw that he was struggling between desires so evenly balanced that the smallest word or thought might decide him either way. To vote for Lewis was the bitterest sacrifice that he could make. His whole soul was bound up in the new school, and he looked to Thompson’s election as one of the achievements of his life; to give up the man whose talent, perseverance, and courage he admired more than any other, for this wretched creature with his women, and his licked-up painting, seemed to him the basest of treasons. But, on the other hand, he loved his wife, and to see her fêted, courted, and admired was the dearest wish of his heart.

  “What you ask of me is a very serious thing; you must know that Thompson is my dearest friend.”

  Lady Helen feared to say a word, and Mr. Holt hesitated, and was on the point of telling her that he could not throw over his friend, when he remembered that if he didn’t, he would be throwing over his wife. He was on the horns of a dilemma, and after some consideration he resolved to put it to his wife and to vote which way she liked. “After all,” he thought, “she is one of the parties most concerned in the matter, and should be consulted: if she asks me to behave dishonourably, I will; but not for anybody else.” Having come to this resolution, he was just going to ask Lady Helen to give him a day to think over her proposition, when the door opened and Mrs. Holt entered.

  “Will you come upstairs, dear, and have some tea?” she said, but seeing Lady Helen, she stopped, confused.

  This was an opportunity not to be lost: seeing her advantage, Lady Helen asked Mr. Holt to introduce her to his wife.

  Mr. Holt did so, not knowing whether it would be better to give right out the reason of Lady Helen’s visit. Half because he thought it would humiliate his wife, half because it was a most embarrassing explanation to make, he waited, and in a few seconds the two women were chatting quite affably. He had lost his chance.

  Lady Helen could be extremely fascinating when she liked; she said pleasant things, praised the portrait Mr. Holt was doing of his wife, asked Mr. Holt’s assistance for a charity bazaar, and with the most perfect assurance explained that that was the reason of her visit. There was not a grain of malice in Mrs. Holt; when she liked a person she showed it. Lady Helen she thought charming, and at the end of five minutes asked her up to tea in the drawing-room. Mr. Holt remained behind, feeling sure that the women would settle it between them. He saw that his wife liked Lady Helen, and he thought what a good wife she had been to him, and of the pleasure it would give her to be received by nice people, and to wipe out once and for ever the memory of an unpleasant past. He remembered what a difference it would make to his little daughter when the time came to bring her out, then he came to the opinion that it was his duty to vote for Lewis Seymour, and throw over his old friend. It was most abominably disagreeable, he thought, but he felt sure it was his duty; and, firm in that belief, he went upstairs.

  He found Lady Helen and his wife delighted with each other; and when he conducted the former downstairs, she said: “Have I your promise to vote for my husband?”

  “You have.”

  “Thanks, a thousand times; but you have a great deal of influence with the other academicians, can I count on that also?”

  “I never do things by halves, Lady Helen; I will do all I can to secure Mr. Seymour’s election.”

  “Thanks, it is so good of you, Mr. Holt.”

  Three days afte
rwards Mr and Mrs. Holt received an invitation to dine at the Seymours.

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  VEILS FALL FROM THEIR EYES.

  THE TWENTY-NINTH OF October, 1882, was the day on which the academicians would meet at Burlington House to decide if Lewis should be admitted as an A.R.A.; on account of the condition of the two parties, the president’s and Mr. Holt’s, his election was considered almost a certainty. The news that not only was Holt going to vote for Seymour, but was using all his influence to get him votes, fell like a thunderbolt on artistic London.

  At first every kind of conjecture was put forward to account for his extraordinary change of front; but gradually the truth began to be suspected, and the wiseacres predicted that if Seymour were elected, Mrs. Holt and Lady Helen would be seen driving in the park together.

  Holt knew that it was useless to try to convince his friends that he liked Seymour’s work better than Thompson’s; and he remembered with regret that it was no later than last year that he had spoken of Seymour’s Academy pictures with disdain. He told his embarrassment to Lady Helen, who in turn explained it to Lord Worthing, who in turn communicated it to Sir Thomas, who very kindly solved the difficulty by taking Thompson’s name off the list. This materially facilitated matters, though Holt still felt himself in a very awkward position; but his friends, guessing the truth, made it easy for him, and without questioning him as to why and how he had so suddenly changed his opinions, promised to vote for Lewis Seymour.

  As for Lady Helen, she patiently waited the result of the election; there was a great deal to do, and everything devolved upon her. She had to write innumerable letters to her father, explaining the necessity of allowing her to sell three thousand out of the funds, so that they might pay their debts. Lord Granderville had written in a very alarmed strain to Lord Worthing. Then Lady Granderville wrote, denouncing the whole thing, and declaring that they had better go through the Bankruptcy Court. All this was very harassing, and she had to keep her uncle up to the mark, and insist on his taking her view of the matter. Finally her father put it into Lord Worthing’s hands, who, of course, did not like to bear so much responsibility. At last it was done, and the money placed in the bank. But even then her troubles were not nearly over. She had to look into all the bills, make them up, and when this was done, she had to decide how she would distribute the money, for she found she was three hundred short. Then she had to look out for a new house, and see how much it was possible to get for two hundred a year, she was resolved to give no more.