CHAPTER LXVII.
SIR FELIX PROTECTS HIS SISTER.
Up to this period of his life Sir Felix Carbury had probably felt butlittle of the punishment due to his very numerous shortcomings. Hehad spent all his fortune; he had lost his commission in the army;he had incurred the contempt of everybody that had known him; he hadforfeited the friendship of those who were his natural friends, andhad attached to him none others in their place; he had pretty nearlyruined his mother and sister; but, to use his own language, he hadalways contrived "to carry on the game." He had eaten and drunk, hadgambled, hunted, and diverted himself generally after the fashionconsidered to be appropriate to young men about town. He had keptup till now. But now there seemed to him to have come an end to allthings. When he was lying in bed in his mother's house he counted upall his wealth. He had a few pounds in ready money, he still had alittle roll of Mr. Miles Grendall's notes of hand, amounting perhapsto a couple of hundred pounds,--and Mr. Melmotte owed him L600. Butwhere was he to turn, and what was he to do with himself? Graduallyhe learned the whole story of the journey to Liverpool,--how Mariehad gone there and had been sent back by the police, how Marie'smoney had been repaid to Mr. Melmotte by Mr. Broune, and how hisfailure to make the journey to Liverpool had become known. He wasashamed to go to his club. He could not go to Melmotte's house.He was ashamed even to show himself in the streets by day. He wasbecoming almost afraid even of his mother. Now that the brilliantmarriage had broken down, and seemed to be altogether beyond hope,now that he had to depend on her household for all his comforts, hewas no longer able to treat her with absolute scorn,--nor was shewilling to yield as she had yielded.
One thing only was clear to him. He must realise his possessions.With this view he wrote both to Miles Grendall and to Melmotte. Tothe former he said he was going out of town,--probably for some time,and he must really ask for a cheque for the amount due. He went onto remark that he could hardly suppose that a nephew of the Duke ofAlbury was unable to pay debts of honour to the amount of L200;--butthat if such was the case he would have no alternative but to applyto the Duke himself. The reader need hardly be told that to thisletter Mr. Grendall vouchsafed no answer whatever. In his letter toMr. Melmotte he confined himself to one matter of business in hand.He made no allusion whatever to Marie, or to the great man's anger,or to his seat at the board. He simply reminded Mr. Melmotte thatthere was a sum of L600 still due to him, and requested that a chequemight be sent to him for that amount. Melmotte's answer to this wasnot altogether unsatisfactory, though it was not exactly what SirFelix had wished. A clerk from Mr. Melmotte's office called at thehouse in Welbeck Street, and handed to Felix railway scrip in theSouth Central Pacific and Mexican Railway to the amount of the sumclaimed,--insisting on a full receipt for the money before he partedwith the scrip. The clerk went on to explain, on behalf of hisemployer, that the money had been left in Mr. Melmotte's hands forthe purpose of buying these shares. Sir Felix, who was glad to getanything, signed the receipt and took the scrip. This took place onthe day after the balloting at Westminster, when the result was notyet known,--and when the shares in the railway were very low indeed.Sir Felix had asked as to the value of the shares at the time.The clerk professed himself unable to quote the price,--but therewere the shares if Sir Felix liked to take them. Of course he tookthem;--and hurrying off into the City found that they might perhapsbe worth about half the money due to him. The broker to whom heshowed them could not quite answer for anything. Yes;--the scriphad been very high; but there was a panic. They might recover,--or,more probably, they might go to nothing. Sir Felix cursed the GreatFinancier aloud, and left the scrip for sale. That was the firsttime that he had been out of the house before dark since his littleaccident.
But he was chiefly tormented in these days by the want of amusement.He had so spent his life hitherto that he did not know how to getthrough a day in which no excitement was provided for him. He neverread. Thinking was altogether beyond him. And he had never done aday's work in his life. He could lie in bed. He could eat and drink.He could smoke and sit idle. He could play cards; and could amusehimself with women,--the lower the culture of the women, the betterthe amusement. Beyond these things the world had nothing for him.Therefore he again took himself to the pursuit of Ruby Ruggles.
Poor Ruby had endured a very painful incarceration at her aunt'shouse. She had been wrathful and had stormed, swearing that she wouldbe free to come and go as she pleased. Free to go, Mrs. Pipkin toldher that she was;--but not free to return if she went out otherwisethan as she, Mrs. Pipkin, chose. "Am I to be a slave?" Ruby asked,and almost upset the perambulator which she had just dragged in atthe hall door. Then Mrs. Hurtle had taken upon herself to talk toher, and poor Ruby had been quelled by the superior strength of theAmerican lady. But she was very unhappy, finding that it did not suither to be nursemaid to her aunt. After all John Crumb couldn't havecared for her a bit, or he would have come to look after her. Whileshe was in this condition Sir Felix came to Mrs. Pipkin's house, andasked for her at the door. It happened that Mrs. Pipkin herself hadopened the door,--and, in her fright and dismay at the presence of sopernicious a young man in her own passage, had denied that Ruby wasin the house. But Ruby had heard her lover's voice, and had rushed upand thrown herself into his arms. Then there had been a great scene.Ruby had sworn that she didn't care for her aunt, didn't care forher grandfather, or for Mrs. Hurtle, or for John Crumb,--or for anyperson or anything. She cared only for her lover. Then Mrs. Hurtlehad asked the young man his intentions. Did he mean to marry Ruby?Sir Felix had said that he "supposed he might as well some day.""There," said Ruby, "there!"--shouting in triumph as though an offerhad been made to her with the completest ceremony of which such anevent admits. Mrs. Pipkin had been very weak. Instead of callingin the assistance of her strong-minded lodger, she had allowed thelovers to remain together for half-an-hour in the dining-room. I donot know that Sir Felix in any way repeated his promise during thattime, but Ruby was probably too blessed with the word that had beenspoken to ask for such renewal. "There must be an end of this," saidMrs. Pipkin, coming in when the half-hour was over. Then Sir Felixhad gone, promising to come again on the following evening. "Youmust not come here, Sir Felix," said Mrs. Pipkin, "unless you putsit in writing." To this, of course, Sir Felix made no answer. As hewent home he congratulated himself on the success of his adventure.Perhaps the best thing he could do when he had realised the money forthe shares would be to take Ruby for a tour abroad. The money wouldlast for three or four months,--and three or four months ahead wasalmost an eternity.
That afternoon before dinner he found his sister alone in thedrawing-room. Lady Carbury had gone to her own room after hearingthe distressing story of Paul Montague's love, and had not seenHetta since. Hetta was melancholy, thinking of her mother's hardwords,--thinking perhaps of Paul's poverty as declared by her mother,and of the ages which might have to wear themselves out before shecould become his wife; but still tinting all her thoughts with a rosyhue because of the love which had been declared to her. She could notbut be happy if he really loved her. And she,--as she had told himthat she loved him,--would be true to him through everything! In herpresent mood she could not speak of herself to her brother, but shetook the opportunity of making good the promise which Marie Melmottehad extracted from her. She gave him some short account of the party,and told him that she had talked with Marie. "I promised to give youa message," she said.
"It's all of no use now," said Felix.
"But I must tell you what she said. I think, you know, that shereally loves you."
"But what's the good of it? A man can't marry a girl when all thepolicemen in the country are dodging her."
"She wants you to let her know what,--what you intend to do. If youmean to give her up, I think you should tell her."
"How can I tell her? I don't suppose they would let her receive aletter."
"Shall I write to her;--or shall I see her?"
"Just as you like. I don't care."
"Felix, you are very heartless."
"I don't suppose I'm much worse than other men;--or for the matter ofthat, worse than a great many women either. You all of you here putme up to marry her."
"I never put you up to it."
"Mother did. And now because it did not go off all serene, I am tohear nothing but reproaches. Of course I never cared so very muchabout her."
"Oh, Felix, that is so shocking!"
"Awfully shocking I dare say. You think I am as black as the verymischief, and that sugar wouldn't melt in other men's mouths. Othermen are just as bad as I am,--and a good deal worse too. You believethat there is nobody on earth like Paul Montague." Hetta blushed, butsaid nothing. She was not yet in a condition to boast of her loverbefore her brother, but she did, in very truth, believe that but fewyoung men were as true-hearted as Paul Montague. "I suppose you'd besurprised to hear that Master Paul is engaged to marry an Americanwidow living at Islington."
"Mr. Montague--engaged--to marry--an American widow! I don't believeit."
"You'd better believe it if it's any concern of yours, for it's true.And it's true too that he travelled about with her for ever so longin the United States, and that he had her down with him at the hotelat Lowestoft about a fortnight ago. There's no mistake about it."
"I don't believe it," repeated Hetta, feeling that to say even asmuch as that was some relief to her. It could not be true. It wasimpossible that the man should have come to her with such a lie inhis mouth as that. Though the words astounded her, though she feltfaint, almost as though she would fall in a swoon, yet in her heartof hearts she did not believe it. Surely it was some horrid joke,--orperhaps some trick to divide her from the man she loved. "Felix, howdare you say things so wicked as that to me?"
"What is there wicked in it? If you have been fool enough to becomefond of the man, it is only right you should be told. He is engagedto marry Mrs. Hurtle, and she is lodging with one Mrs. Pipkin inIslington. I know the house, and could take you there to-morrow, andshow you the woman. There," said he, "that's where she is;"--and hewrote Mrs. Hurtle's name down on a scrap of paper.
"It is not true," said Hetta, rising from her seat, and standingupright. "I am engaged to Mr. Montague, and I am sure he would nottreat me in that way."
"Then, by heaven, he shall answer it to me," said Felix, jumping up."If he has done that, it is time that I should interfere. As true asI stand here, he is engaged to marry a woman called Mrs. Hurtle whomhe constantly visits at that place in Islington."
"I do not believe it," said Hetta, repeating the only defence for herlover which was applicable at the moment.
"By George, this is beyond a joke. Will you believe it if RogerCarbury says it's true? I know you'd believe anything fast enoughagainst me, if he told you."
"Roger Carbury will not say so?"
"Have you the courage to ask him? I say he will say so. He knows allabout it,--and has seen the woman."
"How can you know? Has Roger told you?"
"I do know, and that's enough. I will make this square with MasterPaul. By heaven, yes! He shall answer to me. But my mother mustmanage you. She will not scruple to ask Roger, and she will believewhat Roger tells her."
"I do not believe a word of it," said Hetta, leaving the room.But when she was alone she was very wretched. There must be somefoundation for such a tale. Why should Felix have referred to RogerCarbury? And she did feel that there was something in her brother'smanner which forbade her to reject the whole story as beingaltogether baseless. So she sat upon her bed and cried, and thoughtof all the tales she had heard of faithless lovers. And yet whyshould the man have come to her, not only with soft words of love,but asking her hand in marriage, if it really were true that he wasin daily communication with another woman whom he had promised tomake his wife?
Nothing on the subject was said at dinner. Hetta with difficulty toherself sat at the table, and did not speak. Lady Carbury and her sonwere nearly as silent. Soon after dinner Felix slunk away to somemusic hall or theatre in quest probably of some other Ruby Ruggles.Then Lady Carbury, who had now been told as much as her son knew,again attacked her daughter. Very much of the story Felix had learnedfrom Ruby. Ruby had of course learned that Paul was engaged to Mrs.Hurtle. Mrs. Hurtle had at once declared the fact to Mrs. Pipkin, andMrs. Pipkin had been proud of the position of her lodger. Ruby hadherself seen Paul Montague at the house, and had known that he hadtaken Mrs. Hurtle to Lowestoft. And it had also become known to thetwo women, the aunt and her niece, that Mrs. Hurtle had seen RogerCarbury on the sands at Lowestoft. Thus the whole story with most ofits details,--not quite with all,--had come round to Lady Carbury'sears. "What he has told you, my dear, is true. Much as I disapproveof Mr. Montague, you do not suppose that I would deceive you."
"How can he know, mamma?"
"He does know. I cannot explain to you how. He has been at the samehouse."
"Has he seen her?"
"I do not know that he has, but Roger Carbury has seen her. If Iwrite to him you will believe what he says?"
"Don't do that, mamma. Don't write to him."
"But I shall. Why should I not write if he can tell me? If this otherman is a villain am I not bound to protect you? Of course Felix isnot steady. If it came only from him you might not credit it. Andhe has not seen her. If your cousin Roger tells you that it istrue,--tells me that he knows the man is engaged to marry this woman,then I suppose you will be contented."
"Contented, mamma!"
"Satisfied that what we tell you is true."
"I shall never be contented again. If that is true, I will neverbelieve anything. It can't be true. I suppose there is something, butit can't be that."
The story was not altogether displeasing to Lady Carbury, though itpained her to see the agony which her daughter suffered. But she hadno wish that Paul Montague should be her son-in-law, and she stillthought that if Roger would persevere he might succeed. On that verynight before she went to bed she wrote to Roger, and told him thewhole story. "If," she said, "you know that there is such a person asMrs. Hurtle, and if you know also that Mr. Montague has promised tomake her his wife, of course you will tell me." Then she declared herown wishes, thinking that by doing so she could induce Roger Carburyto give such real assistance in this matter that Paul Montaguewould certainly be driven away. Who could feel so much interestin doing this as Roger, or who be so closely acquainted with allthe circumstances of Montague's life? "You know," she said, "whatmy wishes are about Hetta, and how utterly opposed I am to Mr.Montague's interference. If it is true, as Felix says, that he isat the present moment entangled with another woman, he is guilty ofgross insolence; and if you know all the circumstances you can surelyprotect us,--and also yourself."
The Way We Live Now Page 69
