IDLESSE.
George Dallas had relieved his conscience by despatching the money to
Routh, he felt that he had sufficiently discharged a moral duty to
enable him to lie fallow for a little time and reflect upon the
excellence of the deed, without immediately pushing forward on that
career of stern duty which he had prescribed for himself. In his
desultory frame of mind it afforded him the greatest pleasure to sit
apart in the quaintly-trimmed gardens, or on the shady quays, idly
looking on the life passing before him, thinking that he was no longer
in the power of those who had so long exercised an evil influence over
him, and recollecting that out of the balance of the sum which he had
received from Mr. Dieverbrug he had enough left to keep him without
any absolute necessity for resorting to work for some little time to
come. For George Dallas was essentially an idler and a dreamer, an
intending well-doer, but steeped to the lips in procrastination, and
without the smallest knowledge of the realities of life. He had hopes
and ambitions, newly kindled, as one might say; honest aspirations,
such as in most men would have proved spurs to immediate enterprise;
but George Dallas lay about on the seats of the public gardens, or
leaned against the huge trees bordering the canals, and as he puffed
into the air the light-blue smoke, and watched it curling and eddying
above his head, he thought how delightful it would be to see Clare
Carruthers blushing with delight at his literary success; he pictured
himself telling her how he had at last succeeded in making a name, and
how the desire of pleasing her had been his greatest incentive; he saw
his mother trembling and joyous, his stepfather with his arms open,
and his cheque-book at his stepson's disposal; he had a dim vision of
Amherst church, and flower-strewing maidens, and ringing bells, and
cheering populace,--and then he puffed out a little more smoke, and
thought that he really must begin to think about getting into harness
again.
As a first step to this desirable result, he paid his bill at the
Amsterdam hotel, and started off for the Hague, where he remained for
a fortnight, enjoying himself in the laziest and pleasantest manner,
lounging in the picture-gallery and the royal library, living
remarkably well, smoking a great deal, and thinking about Clare
Carruthers; and in odd half-hours, after breakfast or before he went
to bed, doing a little literary work--transcript of his day's
observations--which he sent to the _Mercury_, with a line to Grafton
Leigh, telling him that private affairs had necessitated his coming
abroad, but that when he returned he would keep the promise he had
made of constant contributions to the paper; meanwhile he sent a few
sketches, just to keep his hand in. In reply to this letter he
received a communication from his friend Cunningham, telling him that
his chief was much pleased with the articles, and would be glad, as
George was so near, if he would go over to Amsterdam, and write an
account of the starting of the fleet for the herring-fishery--an event
which was just about to come off, and which, owing to special
circumstances at the time, excited a peculiar interest in England. In
this letter Cunningham enclosed another, which he said had been for
some time lying at the office, and which, on opening, George found to
be from the proprietors of the _Piccadilly_, presenting their
compliments to Mr. Paul Ward, stating that they were recommended by
their "literary adviser," who was much struck by the brilliancy and
freshness of so much of Mr. Paul Ward's serial story as had been sent
in, to accept that story for their magazine; regretting that Mr.
Ward's name was not yet sufficiently well known to enable them to give
the sum he had named as his price, but offering him, on the whole,
very handsome terms.
So it had come at last! No longer to struggle on, a wretched outsider,
a component of the "ruck" in the great race for name and fame and
profit, but one of the select, taking the leading place in the leading
periodical of the day, with the chance, if fortune favoured him, and
he could only avail himself of the opportunity so long denied, and
call into action the influences so long prompting him, of rendering
himself from month to month an object of interest, a living something,
an actual necessity to thousands of people whose faces he should never
see, and who would yet know of him, and look with the deepest interest
on the ideal creatures of his fancy. Pardon the day-dream now, for the
good to be derived from action is now so real, so tangible, that the
lotos-leaves shall soon be cast aside. And yet how fascinating is the
vision which their charm has ever evoked for the young man bound under
their spell! Honour, wealth, fame, love!--not all your riches, Capel
Carruthers; not your county position, not your territorial influence,
not your magisterial dignity, nor anything else on which you pride
yourself, shall be half as sweet to you as the dignified pride of the
man who looks around him, and seeing himself possessed of all these
enviable qualities, says: "By my own hand, by the talent which God has
given me, and by His help alone, unaided by birth, or riches, or
influence, I have made myself what I am!" The crisis in George
Dallas's life had arrived; the ball was at his feet, and with the
opportunity so urgent on him, all his desultoriness, till his lazy
dilettanteism, vanished. He felt at last that life was real and
earnest, and determined to enter upon it at once. With what big
schemes his heart was filled, with what quixotic dreams his brain was
bursting! In his own mind his triumphant position in the future was so
assured that he could not resist taking an immediate foretaste of his
happiness; and so on the very day of the receipt of Cunningham's
letter a box containing some very rare Japanese fans, screens, and
china, was despatched anonymously, addressed to Miss Carruthers. The
cost of these trifles barely left George Dallas enough to pay his fare
back to Amsterdam. But what of that? Was he not on the high road to
fortune, and could he not make money as he liked?
The polyglot waiter received him, if not with open arms, at least with
a smiling face and a babble of many-tongued welcomes, and placed in
his hands a letter which had been more than a week awaiting him.
George glanced at its superscription, and a shadow crossed his face as
he recognized Routh's hand-writing. He had looked upon that connection
as so completely cut asunder, that he had forgotten his last
communication necessitated a reply--an acknowledgment of the receipt
of the money, at least--and he opened the letter with an undefined
sensation of annoyance. He read as follows:
S. M.-street, June --, 18--.
"Your letter, my dear George, and its enclosure is 'to hand,' as we
say in Tokenhouse-yard; and I flatter myself that you, who know
something of me, and who have seen inside my waistcoat, know that I am
highly pleased at the return you have made for what you ridiculously
term my 'enormous kindness,' and at the feeling which has prompted
you, at, I am certain, some self-sacrifice, to return me the sum
which I was only too pleased to be able to place at your disposal I am
a bad hand, as you, great author, literary swell, &c., &c., will soon
see--I am a bad hand at fencing off what I have got to say, and
therefore I must out with it at once. I know it ought to be put in a
postscript--just dropped _par hazard_, as though it were an
after-thought, and not the real gist of the letter--but I do not
understand that kind of 'caper,' and so must say what I have got to
say in my own way. So look here! I am ten years older than you in
years, and thirty years in experience; and I know what heart-burnings
and worries, not merely for yourself alone, but for others very, very
dear to you, you have had in raising this money which you have sent to
me. You thought it a debt of honour, and consequently moved heaven and
earth to discharge it; and you knew that I was hard up--a fact which
had an equally irritating effect on you. Now look here! (I have said
that before, I see; but never mind!) As to the honour--well, not to
mince matters, it was a gambling debt, _pur et simple_; and when I
reflect, as I do sometimes--Harriet knows that, and will tell you
so--I know well enough that but for me you would never have been led
into gambling. I am not preaching, old fellow; I am simply speaking
the honest truth. Well, the thought that you have had all this to go
through, and such a large sum of money to pay, yerks me, and goes
against the grain. And then, as to my being hard up, don't mind
telling you--of course in the strictest confidence--that
Tokenhouse-yard is a tremendous success! It was a tight time some
months ago, and no mistake; but I think we have weathered the storm,
and the money is rolling in there splendidly; so splendidly and so
rapidly, that--again in the strictest confidence--I am thinking of
launching out a little, and taking up the position which--you'll know
I'm not bragging, old boy--my birth and education warrant me in
assuming. I have grovelled on long enough, heaven knows, and I want to
see myself, and above all, I want to see my wife, out of the reach
of--well, I need not dilate to you on what circumstances have lowered
us to, and what we will now float above. So, as good luck is nothing
unless one's friends share in it, I want to say to you, as delicately
as I can, 'Share in mine!' Don't be in a hurry to send me back that
money, don't be too proud--that's not the word, George--I should say,
don't fear to remain in my debt; and, if occasion should arise, let me
be your banker for further sums. I can stand the racket, and shall be
only too glad to be called upon to do so, as some slight way of
atoning for having led you into what cannot be looked upon by any one,
I am afraid, as a reputable life. I won't say any more on this head,
because there is no need. You will know that I am in earnest in what I
have said, and you will receive the fifty pounds which I have enclosed
herein in the spirit in which they are sent--that of true friendship.
You will be a great gun some day, if you fulfil the promise made for
you by those who ought to know about it; and then you will repay me.
Meanwhile, depend on it that any draft of yours on me will be duly
honoured.
"And so you are not coming back to London for some time? It seems an
ungenerous thing in a friend to say, but upon my soul I think the
wisest thing you can do is to remain abroad, and widen your knowledge
of life. You have youth and health, at your time of life the powers of
observation are at their freshest and strongest, all you will want is
money, and that you shan't want, if you accede to the suggestion I
have just made. You will store your mind in experience, you will see
all sorts and varieties of men and as you have nothing particular to
bind you to England, you could thoroughly enjoy your freedom, and
return with a valuable stock of ideas for the future benefit of the
British reading public. Allez toujours, la jeunesse! which, under its
familiar translation of 'Go it while you're young!' is the best advice
I can give yon, George, my dear boy. During your absence, you will
have shaken off all your old associations, and who knows but that the
great bashaw, your stepfather, may clasp you to his bosom, and leave
all his acres to his dearly-beloved stepson, G. D.? Only one thing!
You must not forget Harry, and you must not forget me! If all works
right, you will find us very differently situated from what you have
ever known us, and you won't be ashamed to recognize us as friends.
You would laugh if you could see me now, emphatically a 'City man,'
wearing Oxford-mixture trousers and carrying a shabby fat umbrella,
which is an infallible sign of wealth, eating chops in the middle of
the day, solemnly rebuking my young clerks for late attendance at the
office, and comporting myself generally with the greatest gravity and
decorum. And to think that we once used to 'back the caster,' and
have, in our time, held point, quint, and quatorze. Tell it not in
Gath! 'By advices last received, the produce of the mines has been
twenty-two thousand oitavas, the gain whereof is, &c. &c.' That's the
style now!
"Harriet is well, and, as ever, my right hand. To see her at work over
the books at night, one would think she had been born in the Brazils,
and had never heard of anything but silver mines. She sends kindest
regards, and is fully of my opinion as to the expediency of your
staying away from London. No news of Deane; but that does not surprise
me. His association with us was entirely one of concurrence, and he
always talked of himself as a wanderer--a bird of passage. I suppose
he did not give you any hint of his probable movements on the day of
the dinner, when I had the ill-luck to offend him by not coming? No
one ever knew where he lived, or how, so I can't make any inquiries.
However, it's very little matter.
"And now I must make an end of this long story. Good-bye my dear
George. All sorts of luck, and jollity, and happiness attend you, but
in the enjoyment of them all don't forget the pecuniary proposition I
have made to you, and think sometimes kindly of
"Your sincere
"Stewart Routh."
A little roll of paper had dropped from the letter when George opened
it. He picked it up, and found two Bank-of-England notes for twenty
pounds, and one for ten pounds.
It is no discredit to George Dallas to avow that when he had finished
the perusal of this quaint epistle, and when he looked at its
enclosure, he had a swelling in his throat, a quivering in the muscles
of his mouth, and thick heavy tears in his eyes. He was very young,
you see, and very impressionable, swaying hither and thither with the
wind and the stream, unstable as water, and with very little power of
adhering to any determination, however right and laudable it seemed at
the first blush. There are few of us--in early youth, at all events,
let us trust--who are so clear-headed, and far-seeing, and
right-hearted, as to be able to do exactly what Duty prescribes to
us--the shutting out all promptings of inclination! Depend upon it the
good boys in the children's story-books, those juvenile patterns who
went unwaveringly to the Sunday-school, shutting their eyes to the
queen-cakes and toffy so temptingly displayed on the road-side, and
who were adamant in the matter of telling a fib, though by so doing
they might have saved their schoolfellow a flogging--depend upon it
they turned out, for the most part, very bad men, who robbed the
orphans and ground the faces of the widows. George Dallas was but a
man, very warm-hearted, very impressionable, and when he read Stewart
Routh's letter he repented of his harshness to his friend, and accused
himself of having been precipitate and ungenerous. Here was the
blackleg, the sharper, the gambler, actually returning some of his
legitimate winnings, and placing his purse at his acquaintance's
disposal, while his stepfather--But then that would not bear thinking
about! Besides, his stepfather was Clare's uncle; no kindness of
Routh's would ever enable him, George, to make progress in that
direction, and therefore--And yet it was deuced kind in Routh to be so
thoughtful. The money came so opportunely, too, just when, what with
his Hague excursion and his purchases, he had spent the balance of the
sum derived from the sale of the bracelet, and it would have been
scarcely decent to ask for an advance from the _Mercury_ office or the
_Piccadilly_ people. But it was a great thing that Routh advised him
to keep away from England for a time--a corroboration, too, of Routh's
statement that he was going into a different line of life--for of
course with his new views an intimacy with Routh would be impossible,
whereas, he could now let it drop quietly. He would accept the money
so kindly sent him, and he would do the account of the herring fishery
for the _Mercury_, and he would get on with the serial story for the
_Piccadilly_, and-- Well, he would remain where he was, and see what
turned up. The quiet, easy-going, dreamy life suited George to a
nicety; and if he had been a little older, and had never seen Clare
Carruthers, he might, on very little provocation, have accepted the
Dutch _far niente_ as the realization of human bliss.
So, having to remain in Holland for some few days longer, and needing
some money for immediate spending, George Dallas bethought him of his
old friend, Mr. Schaub, and strolled to the Muiderstraat in search of
him. He found the old gentleman seated behind his counter, bending
over an enormous volume in the Hebrew character, over the top of which
he glared through the silver-rimmed spectacles at his visitor with
anything but an inviting glance. When, however, he recognized George,
which he did comparatively quickly, his forbidding look relaxed, he
put down the book, and began nodding in a galvanized manner, rubbing
the palms of his hands together, and showing the few fangs left in his
mouth.
"Vat? Vart--Paul Vart! you here still? Wass you not back gone to your
own land, Vart? You do no more vairks, Vart, you vaste your time in
Amsterdam, Vart--Paul Vart!"
"No; not that," said George, laughing; "I have not gone home,
certainly, but I've not lost my time. I've been seeing to your country
and studying character. I've been to the Hague."
"Ja, ja! the Hague! and, like your countrymen, you have bought their
die Japans, die dogues, and punch-bowls. Ja, ja!"
George admitted the fact as to japan-ware and china dogs, but denied
the punch-bowls.
"Ja, ja!" groaned Mr. Schaub; "and here in dis house I could have sold
you straight same, de straight same, and you save your money for
journey to Hague."
"Well, I haven't saved the money," said George with a laugh,
"but I dare say I shall be able to make something of what I saw
there. You'll be pleased to hear I am going to write a story for the
_Piccadilly_--they've engaged me."
"Wass Peek-a-teelies wass goot, ver goot," said Mr. Schaub; "better as
_Mercury_--bigger, higher, more stand!"
"Ah! but you mustn't run down the _Mercury_, either. They've asked
me to write a description of the sailing of your herring-fleet.
So I must stop here for a few days, and I want you to change me a
Bank-of-England note."
"Ja, ja! with pleasure! Wass always likes dis Bank-of-England notes;
ist goot, and clean, and so better as dirty Austrich Prussich money.
Ah! he is not the same as I give you other day! He is quite new and
clean for twenty pounds! Ja, ja!" he added, after holding the note up
to the light, "his vater-mark is raight! A. F.! Vot is A. F., 17
April? Ah, you don't know! You don't become it from A. F.? Course not!
Vell, vell, let me see die course of 'Change--denn I put him into my
leetle stock von English bank-note!"
The old man took up a newspaper that lay on the counter before him and
consulted it, made a rapid calculation on a piece of paper, and was
about to turn round towards the drawer where, as George remembered, he
kept his cash-box, when he stopped, handed George the pen from behind
his ear, dipped it into the ink, and said:
"Vell, just write his name, Vart--Paul Vart, on his back--m-ja? And
his date of month. So! Vart--Paul Vart!--m-ja! ist goot. Here's die
guldens."
George Dallas swept the gold pieces into his pocket, nodded to the old
man, and left the shop. Mr. Schaub carefully locked away the note,
made an entry of its number and amount in his ledger, and resumed his
reading.