The Last Chronicle of Barset

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XV.

  UP IN LONDON.

  Some kind and attentive reader may perhaps remember that MissGrace Crawley, in a letter written by her to her friend Miss LilyDale, said a word or two of a certain John. "If it can only be asJohn wishes it!" And the same reader, if there be one so kind andattentive, may also remember that Miss Lily Dale had declared,in reply, that "about that other subject she would rather saynothing,"--and then she had added, "When one thinks of goingbeyond friendship,--even if one tries to do so,--there are so manybarriers!" From which words the kind and attentive reader, if suchreader be in such matters intelligent as well as kind and attentive,may have learned a great deal with reference to Miss Lily Dale.

  We will now pay a visit to the John in question,--a certain Mr. JohnEames, living in London, a bachelor, as the intelligent reader willcertainly have discovered, and cousin to Miss Grace Crawley. Mr. JohnEames at the time of our story was a young man, some seven or eightand twenty years of age, living in London, where he was supposed byhis friends in the country to have made his mark, and to be somethinga little out of the common way. But I do not know that he was verymuch out of the common way, except in the fact that he had had somefew thousand pounds left him by an old nobleman, who had been in noway related to him, but who had regarded him with great affection,and who had died some two years since. Before this, John Eames hadnot been a very poor man, as he filled the comfortable officialposition of private secretary to the Chief Commissioner of theIncome-tax Board, and drew a salary of three hundred and fifty poundsa year from the resources of his country; but when, in addition tothis source of official wealth, he became known as the undoubtedpossessor of a hundred and twenty-eight shares in one of the mostprosperous joint-stock banks in the metropolis, which property hadbeen left to him free of legacy duty by the lamented nobleman abovenamed, then Mr. John Eames rose very high indeed as a young manin the estimation of those who knew him, and was supposed to besomething a good deal out of the common way. His mother, who livedin the country, was obedient to his slightest word, never venturingto impose upon him any sign of parental authority; and to hissister, Mary Eames, who lived with her mother, he was almost a godupon earth. To sisters who have nothing of their own,--not evensome special god for their own individual worship,--generous,affectionate, unmarried brothers, with sufficient incomes, are godsupon earth.

  And even up in London Mr. John Eames was somebody. He was soespecially at his office; although, indeed, it was remembered by manya man how raw a lad he had been when he first came there, not sovery many years ago; and how they had laughed at him and playedhim tricks; and how he had customarily been known to be without ashilling for the last week before pay-day, during which period hewould borrow sixpence here and a shilling there with great energy,from men who now felt themselves to be honoured when he smiled uponthem. Little stories of his former days would often be told of himbehind his back; but they were not told with ill-nature, becausehe was very constant in referring to the same matters himself.And it was acknowledged by every one at the office, that neitherthe friendship of the nobleman, nor the fact of the privatesecretaryship, nor the acquisition of his wealth, had made him proudto his old companions or forgetful of old friendships. To the youngmen, lads who had lately been appointed, he was perhaps a littlecold; but then it was only reasonable to conceive that such a oneas Mr. John Eames was now could not be expected to make an intimateacquaintance with every new clerk that might be brought into theoffice. Since competitive examinations had come into vogue, there wasno knowing who might be introduced; and it was understood generallythrough the establishment,--and I may almost say by the civil serviceat large, so wide was his fame,--that Mr. Eames was very averseto the whole theory of competition. The "Devil take the hindmost"scheme, he called it; and would then go on to explain that hindmostcandidates were often the best gentlemen, and that, in this way, theDevil got the pick of the flock. And he was respected the more forthis opinion, because it was known that on this subject he had foughtsome hard battles with the chief commissioner. The chief commissionerwas a great believer in competition, wrote papers about it, which heread aloud to various bodies of the civil service,--not at all totheir delight,--which he got to be printed here and there, and whichhe sent by post all over the kingdom. More than once this chiefcommissioner had told his private secretary that they must partcompany, unless the private secretary could see fit to alter hisview, or could, at least, keep his views to himself. But the privatesecretary would do neither; and, nevertheless, there he was, stillprivate secretary. "It's because Johnny has got money," said one ofthe young clerks, who was discussing this singular state of thingswith his brethren at the office. "When a chap has got money, he maydo what he likes. Johnny has got lots of money, you know." The youngclerk in question was by no means on intimate terms with Mr. Eames,but there had grown up in the office a way of calling him Johnnybehind his back, which had probably come down from the early days ofhis scrapes and his poverty.

  Now the entire life of Mr. John Eames was pervaded by a great secret;and although he never, in those days, alluded to the subject inconversation with any man belonging to the office, yet the secret wasknown to them all. It had been historical for the last four or fiveyears, and was now regarded as a thing of course. Mr. John Eames wasin love, and his love was not happy. He was in love, and had longbeen in love, and the lady of his love was not kind to him. Thelittle history had grown to be very touching and pathetic, havingreceived, no doubt, some embellishments from the imaginations of thegentlemen of the Income-tax Office. It was said of him that he hadbeen in love from his early boyhood, that at sixteen he had beenengaged, under the sanction of the nobleman now deceased and of theyoung lady's parents, that contracts of betrothals had been drawn up,and things done very unusual in private families in these days, andthat then there had come a stranger into the neighbourhood just asthe young lady was beginning to reflect whether she had a heart ofher own or not, and that she had thrown her parents, and the noblelord, and the contract, and poor Johnny Eames to the winds, and had--Here the story took different directions, as told by different men.Some said the lady had gone off with the stranger, and that there hadbeen a clandestine marriage, which afterwards turned out to be nomarriage at all; others, that the stranger suddenly took himself off,and was no more seen by the young lady; others that he owned at lastto having another wife,--and so on. The stranger was very well knownto be one Mr. Crosbie, belonging to another public office; and therewere circumstances in his life, only half known, which gave rise tothese various rumours. But there was one thing certain, one pointas to which no clerk in the Income-tax Office had a doubt, one factwhich had conduced much to the high position which Mr. John Eames nowheld in the estimation of his brother clerks,--he had given this Mr.Crosbie such a thrashing that no man had ever received such treatmentbefore and had lived through it. Wonderful stories were toldabout that thrashing, so that it was believed, even by the leastenthusiastic in such matters, that the poor victim had only draggedon a crippled existence since the encounter. "For nine weeks he neversaid a word or eat a mouthful," said one young clerk to a youngerclerk who was just entering the office; "and even now he can't speakabove a whisper, and has to take all his food in pap." It will beseen, therefore, that Mr. John Eames had about him much of theheroic.

  That he was still in love, and in love with the same lady, was knownto every one in the office. When it was declared of him that in theway of amatory expressions he had never in his life opened his mouthto another woman, there were those in the office who knew that thiswas an exaggeration. Mr. Cradell, for instance, who in his earlyyears had been very intimate with John Eames, and who still kept upthe old friendship,--although, being a domestic man, with a wife andsix young children, and living on a small income, he did not go muchout among his friends,--could have told a very different story; forMrs. Cradell herself had, in days before Cradell had made good hisclaim upon her, been not unadmired by Cradell's fellow-clerk. But theconstancy of Mr. Eames
's present love was doubted by none who knewhim. It was not that he went about with his stockings ungartered, orany of the old acknowledged signs of unrequited affection. In hismanner he was rather jovial than otherwise, and seemed to live ahappy, somewhat luxurious life, well contented with himself and theworld around him. But still he had this passion within his bosom,and I am inclined to think that he was a little proud of his ownconstancy.

  It might be presumed that when Miss Dale wrote to her friend GraceCrawley about going beyond friendship, pleading that there were somany "barriers," she had probably seen her way over most of them. Butthis was not so; nor did John Eames himself at all believe that thebarriers were in a way to be overcome. I will not say that he hadgiven the whole thing up as a bad job, because it was the law ofhis life that the thing never should be abandoned as long as hopewas possible. Unless Miss Dale should become the wife of somebodyelse, he would always regard himself as affianced to her. He had sodeclared to Miss Dale herself and to Miss Dale's mother, and to allthe Dale people who had ever been interested in the matter. And therewas an old lady living in Miss Dale's neighbourhood, the sister ofthe lord who had left Johnny Eames the bank shares, who always foughthis battles for him, and kept a close look-out, fully resolved thatJohn Eames should be rewarded at last. This old lady was connectedwith the Dales by family ties, and therefore had means of closeobservation. She was in constant correspondence with John Eames, andnever failed to acquaint him when any of the barriers were, in herjudgment, giving way. The nature of some of the barriers may possiblybe made intelligible to my readers by the following letter from LadyJulia De Guest to her young friend.

  Guestwick Cottage, -- December, 186--.

  MY DEAR JOHN,--

  I am much obliged to you for going to Jones's. I send stamps for two shillings and fourpence, which is what I owe you. It used only to be two shillings and twopence, but they say everything has got to be dearer now, and I suppose pills as well as other things. Only think of Pritchard coming to me, and saying she wanted her wages raised, after living with me for twenty years! I was _very_ angry, and scolded her roundly; but as she acknowledged she had been wrong, and cried and begged my pardon, I did give her two guineas a year more.

  I saw dear Lily just for a moment on Sunday, and upon my word I think she grows prettier every year. She had a young friend with her,--a Miss Crawley,--who, I believe, is the cousin I have heard you speak of. What is this sad story about her father, the clergyman? Mind you tell me all about it.

  It is quite true what I told you about the De Courcys. Old Lady De Courcy is in London, and Mr. Crosbie is going to law with her about his wife's money. He has been at it in one way or the other ever since poor Lady Alexandrina died. I wish she had lived, with all my heart. For though I feel sure that our Lily will never willingly see him again, yet the tidings of her death disturbed her, and set her thinking of things that were fading from her mind. I rated her soundly, not mentioning your name, however; but she only kissed me, and told me in her quiet drolling way that I didn't mean a word of what I said.

  You can come here whenever you please after the tenth of January. But if you come early in January you must go to your mother first, and come to me for the last week of your holiday. Go to Blackie's in Regent Street, and bring me down all the colours in wool that I ordered. I said you would call. And tell them at Dolland's the last spectacles don't suit at all, and I won't keep them. They had better send me down, by you, one or two more pairs to try. And you had better see Smithers and Smith, in Lincoln's Inn Fields, No. 57--but you have been there before,--and beg them to let me know how my poor dear brother's matters are to be settled at last. As far as I can see I shall be dead before I shall know what income I have got to spend. As to my cousins at the manor, I never see them; and as to talking to them about business, I should not dream of it. She hasn't come to me since she first called, and she may be _quite sure_ I shan't go to her till she does. Indeed I think we shall like each other apart quite as much as we should together. So let me know when you're coming, and _pray_ don't forget to call at Blackie's; nor yet at Dolland's, which is much more important than the wool, because of my eyes getting so weak. But what I want you specially to remember is about Smithers and Smith. How is a woman to live if she doesn't know how much she has got to spend?

  Believe me to be, my dear John, Your most sincere friend,

  JULIA DE GUEST.

  Lady Julia always directed her letters for her young friend to hisoffice, and there he received the one now given to the reader. Whenhe had read it he made a memorandum as to the commissions, andthen threw himself back in his arm-chair to think over the tidingscommunicated to him. All the facts stated he had known before; thatLady De Courcy was in London, and that her son-in-law, Mr. Crosbie,whose wife,--Lady Alexandrina,--had died some twelve months sinceat Baden Baden, was at variance with her respecting money which hesupposed to be due to him. But there was that in Lady Julia's letterwhich was wormwood to him. Lily Dale was again thinking of thisman, whom she had loved in old days, and who had treated her withmonstrous perfidy! It was all very well for Lady Julia to be surethat Lily Dale would never desire to see Mr. Crosbie again; butJohn Eames was by no means equally certain that it would be so."The tidings of her death disturbed her!" said Johnny, repeating tohimself certain words out of the old lady's letter. "I know theydisturbed me. I wish she could have lived for ever. If he everventures to show himself within ten miles of Allington, I'll see if Icannot do better than I did the last time I met him!" Then there camea knock at the door, and the private secretary, finding himself tobe somewhat annoyed by the disturbance at such a moment, bade theintruder enter in angry voice. "Oh, it's you, Cradell, is it? Whatcan I do for you?" Mr. Cradell, who now entered, and who, as beforesaid, was an old ally of John Eames, was a clerk of longer standingin the department than his friend. In age he looked to be much older,and he had left with him none of that appearance of the gloss ofyouth which will stick for many years to men who are fortunate intheir worldly affairs. Indeed it may be said that Mr. Cradell wasalmost shabby in his outward appearance, and his brow seemed to beladen with care, and his eyes were dull and heavy.

  "I thought I'd just come in and ask you how you are," said Cradell.

  "I'm pretty well, thank you; and how are you?"

  "Oh, I'm pretty well,--in health, that is. You see one has so manythings to think of when one has a large family. Upon my word, Johnny,I think you've been lucky to keep out of it."

  "I have kept out of it, at any rate; haven't I?"

  "Of course; living with you as much as I used to do, I know the wholestory of what has kept you single."

  "Don't mind about that, Cradell; what is it you want?"

  "I mustn't let you suppose, Johnny, that I'm grumbling about my lot.Nobody knows better than you what a trump I got in my wife."

  "Of course you did;--an excellent woman."

  "And if I cut you out a little there, I'm sure you never felt maliceagainst me for that."

  "Never for a moment, old fellow."

  "We all have our luck, you know."

  "Your luck has been a wife and family. My luck has been to be abachelor."

  "You may say a family," said Cradell. "I'm sure that Amelia does thebest she can; but we are desperately pushed some times,--desperatelypushed. I never was so bad, Johnny, as I am now."

  "So you said the last time."

  "Did I? I don't remember it. I didn't think I was so bad then.But, Johnny, if you can let me have one more fiver now I have madearrangements with Amelia how I'm to pay you off by thirty shillings amonth,--as I get my salary. Indeed I have. Ask her else."

  "I'll be shot if I do."

  "Don't say that, Johnny."

  "It's no good your Johnnying me, for I won't be Johnnyed out ofanother shilling. It comes too often, and there's no reason why Ishould do it. And what's more, I can't afford it. I've people
of myown to help."

  "But oh, Johnny, we all know how comfortable you are. And I'm sure noone rejoiced as I did when the money was left to you. If it had beenmyself I could hardly have thought more of it. Upon my solemn wordand honour if you'll let me have it this time, it shall be the last."

  "Upon my word and honour then, I won't. There must be an end toeverything."

  Although Mr. Cradell would probably, if pressed, have admitted thetruth of this last assertion, he did not seem to think that the endhad as yet come to his friend's benevolence. It certainly had notcome to his own importunity. "Don't say that, Johnny; pray don't."

  "But I do say it."

  "When I told Amelia yesterday evening that I didn't like to go to youagain, because of course a man has feelings, she told me to mentionher name. 'I'm sure he'd do it for my sake,' she said."

  "I don't believe she said anything of the kind."

  "Upon my word she did. You ask her."

  "And if she did, she oughtn't to have said it."

  "Oh, Johnny, don't speak in that way of her. She's my wife, and youknow what your own feelings were once. But look here,--we are in thatstate at home at this moment, that I must get money somewhere beforeI go home. I must, indeed. If you'll let me have three pounds thisonce, I'll never ask you again. I'll give you a written promise ifyou like, and I'll pledge myself to pay it back by thirty shillingsa time out of the two next months' salary. I will, indeed." Andthen Mr. Cradell began to cry. But when Johnny at last took out hischeque-book and wrote a cheque for three pounds, Mr. Cradell's eyesglistened with joy. "Upon my word I am so much obliged to you! Youare the best fellow that ever lived. And Amelia will say the samewhen she hears of it."

  "I don't believe she'll say anything of the kind, Cradell. If Iremember anything of her, she has a stouter heart than that." Cradelladmitted that his wife had a stouter heart than himself, and thenmade his way back to his own part of the office.

  This little interruption to the current of Mr. Eames's thoughts was,I think, for the good of the service, as, immediately on his friend'sdeparture, he went to his work; whereas, had not he been thus calledaway from his reflections about Miss Dale, he would have sat thinkingabout her affairs probably for the rest of the morning. As it was, hereally did write a dozen notes in answer to as many private lettersaddressed to his chief, Sir Raffle Buffle, in all of which he madeexcellently-worded false excuses for the non-performance of variousrequests made to Sir Raffle by the writers. "He's about the besthand at it that I know," said Sir Raffle, one day, to the secretary;"otherwise you may be sure I shouldn't keep him there." "I will allowthat he is clever," said the secretary. "It isn't cleverness, so muchas tact. It's what I call tact. I hadn't been long in the servicebefore I mastered it myself; and now that I've been at the trouble toteach him I don't want to have the trouble to teach another. But uponmy word he must mind his _p_'s and _q_'s; upon my word he must; andyou had better tell him so." "The fact is, Mr. Kissing," said theprivate secretary the next day to the secretary,--Mr. Kissing was atthat time secretary to the board of commissioners for the receiptof income tax--"The fact is, Mr. Kissing, Sir Raffle should neverattempt to write a letter himself. He doesn't know how to do it. Healways says twice too much, and yet not half enough. I wish you'dtell him so. He won't believe me." From which it will be seen Mr.Eames was proud of his special accomplishment, but did not feel anygratitude to the master who assumed to himself the glory of havingtaught him. On the present occasion John Eames wrote all his lettersbefore he thought again of Lily Dale, and was able to write themwithout interruption, as the chairman was absent for the day at theTreasury,--or perhaps at his club. Then, when he had finished, herang his bell, and ordered some sherry and soda-water, and stretchedhimself before the fire,--as though his exertions in the publicservice had been very great,--and seated himself comfortably in hisarm-chair, and lit a cigar, and again took out Lady Julia's letter.

  As regarded the cigar, it may be said that both Sir Raffle and Mr.Kissing had given orders that on no account should cigars be litwithin the precincts of the Income-tax Office. Mr. Eames had takenupon himself to understand that such orders did not apply to aprivate secretary, and was well aware that Sir Raffle knew hishabit. To Mr. Kissing, I regret to say, he put himself in oppositionwhenever and wherever opposition was possible; so that men in theoffice said that one of the two must go at last. "But Johnny cando anything, you know, because he has got money." That was toofrequently the opinion finally expressed among the men.

  So John Eames sat down, and drank his soda-water, and smoked hiscigar, and read his letter; or rather, simply that paragraph of theletter which referred to Miss Dale. "The tidings of her death havedisturbed her, and set her thinking again of things that were fadingfrom her mind." He understood it all. And yet how could it possiblybe so? How could it be that she should not despise a man,--despisehim if she did not hate him,--who had behaved as this man had behavedto her? It was now four years since this Crosbie had been engaged toMiss Dale, and had jilted her so heartlessly as to incur the disgustof every man in London who had heard the story. He had married anearl's daughter, who had left him within a few months of theirmarriage, and now Mr. Crosbie's noble wife was dead. The wife wasdead, and simply because the man was free again, he, John Eames,was to be told that Miss Dale's mind was "disturbed," and that herthoughts were going back to things which had faded from her memory,and which should have been long since banished altogether from suchholy ground.

  If Lily Dale were now to marry Mr. Crosbie, anything so perverselycruel as the fate of John Eames would never yet have been told inromance. That was his own idea on the matter as he sat smoking hiscigar. I have said that he was proud of his constancy, and yet, insome sort, he was also ashamed of it. He acknowledged the fact of hislove, and believed himself to have out-Jacobed Jacob; but he feltthat it was hard for a man who had risen in the world as he had doneto be made a plaything of by a foolish passion. It was now four yearsago,--that affair of Crosbie,--and Miss Dale should have accepted himlong since. Half-a-dozen times he had made up his mind to be verystern to her; and he had written somewhat sternly,--but the firstmoment that he saw her he was conquered again. "And now that brutewill reappear, and everything will be wrong again," he said tohimself. If the brute did reappear, something should happen of whichthe world should hear the tidings. So he lit another cigar, and beganto think what that something should be.

  As he did so he heard a loud noise, as of harsh, rattling winds inthe next room, and he knew that Sir Raffle had come back from theTreasury. There was a creaking of boots, and a knocking of chairs,and a ringing of bells, and then a loud angry voice,--a voice thatwas very harsh, and on this occasion very angry. Why had not histwelve-o'clock letters been sent up to him to the West End? Why not?Mr. Eames knew all about it. Why did Mr. Eames know all about it? Whyhad not Mr. Eames sent them up? Where was Mr. Eames? Let Mr. Eamesbe sent to him. All which Mr. Eames heard standing with the cigar inhis mouth and his back to the fire. "Somebody has been bullying oldBuffle, I suppose. After all he has been at the Treasury to-day,"said Eames to himself. But he did not stir till the messenger hadbeen to him, nor even then, at once. "All right, Rafferty," he said;"I'll go in just now." Then he took half-a-dozen more whiffs from thecigar, threw the remainder into the fire, and opened the door whichcommunicated between his room and Sir Raffle's.

  The great man was standing with two unopened epistles in his hand."Eames," said he, "here are letters--" Then he stopped himself, andbegan upon another subject. "Did I not give express orders that Iwould have no smoking in the office?"

  "I think Mr. Kissing said something about it, sir."

  "Mr. Kissing! It was not Mr. Kissing at all. It was I. I gave theorder myself."

  "You'll find it began with Mr. Kissing."

  "It did not begin with Mr. Kissing; it began and ended with me. Whatare you going to do, sir?" John Eames had stepped towards the bell,and his hand was already on the bell-pull.

  "I was going to ring for the papers,
sir."

  "And who told you to ring for the papers? I don't want the papers.The papers won't show anything. I suppose my word may be takenwithout the papers. Since you're so fond of Mr. Kissing--"

  "I'm not fond of Mr. Kissing at all."

  "You'll have to go back to him, and let somebody come here who willnot be too independent to obey my orders. Here are two most importantletters have been lying here all day, instead of being sent up to meat the Treasury."

  "Of course they have been lying there. I thought you were at theclub."

  "I told you I should go to the Treasury. I have been there all themorning with the chancellor,"--when Sir Raffle spoke officially ofthe chancellor he was not supposed to mean the Lord Chancellor--"andhere I find letters which I particularly wanted lying upon my desknow. I must put an end to this kind of thing. I must, indeed. If youlike the outer office better say so at once, and you can go."

  "I'll think about it, Sir Raffle."

  "Think about it! What do you mean by thinking about it? But I can'ttalk about that now. I'm very busy, and shall be here till pastseven. I suppose you can stay?"

  "All night, if you wish it, sir."

  "Very well. That will do for the present.--I wouldn't have had theseletters delayed for twenty pounds."

  "I don't suppose it would have mattered one straw if both of themremained unopened till next week." This last little speech, however,was not made aloud to Sir Raffle, but by Johnny to himself in thesolitude of his own room.

  Very soon after that he went away, Sir Raffle having discovered thatone of the letters in question required his immediate return to theWest End. "I've changed my mind about staying. I shan't stay now. Ishould have done if these letters had reached me as they ought."

  "Then I suppose I can go?"

  "You can do as you like about that," said Sir Raffle.

  Eames did do as he liked, and went home, or to his club; and ashe went he resolved that he would put an end, and at once, to thepresent trouble of his life. Lily Dale should accept him or rejecthim; and, taking either the one or the other alternative, she shouldhear a bit of his mind plainly spoken.