THE PICTURE.
Meanwhile Bideabout was on his way to the town of Guildford. He
made slow progress, for old Clutch had no mind for speed. The horse
was mistrustful as to whither he was going, and how he would be
treated on reaching his destination. No amount of beating availed.
He had laid on his winter growth of hair, which served as a mat,
breaking the force of the strokes administered. He was proof against
kicks, for whenever Jonas extended his legs for the purpose of
bringing his heels sharply against the sides of Clutch, the old
horse drew a deep inspiration and blew himself out; thus blunting
the force of the heels driven into him.
At length, however, Jonas and old Clutch did reach Guildford. To
old Clutch's great astonishment he found himself in a town new to
him, more populous than Godalming; and being strongly convinced
that he had done enough, and that every house was an inn open to
receive him, and being eager to make himself comfortable, he
endeavored to carry his master into a china-shop, then into a
linen-draper's shop, and next into a green-grocer's.
Jonas was constrained to stable his obstinate steed in the first
tavern he came to, and to make the rest of his way on foot.
Guildford is, to this day, a picturesque old town, dominated by
the ruins of a fine royal castle, and with a quaint Grammar School
and hospital. At the present time it is going through immense
transformation. It has become a favorite retiring place for old
officers of the army, supplanting in this respect Cheltenham. But
at the period of this tale it was a sleepy, ancient, county town
that woke to life on market days, and rested through the remainder
of the week. It did not work six days and keep one Sabbath, but
held the Sabbath for six days and woke to activity on one only.
Now nobody quite knows who are all the new people that flow into
the villas, and flood the suburbs. At the period whereof we tell
there were no invaders of the place. Everybody knew every one else
in his own clique, and knew of and looked down on every one else in
the clique below him, and thanked God that he only knew of him,
and did not know him; and looked up at and slandered every one
else in the clique above him.
At the time of which we tell there was no greater joy to those in
each of the many cliques than to be able to stare at those who
belonged to a clique esteemed lower, and to ask who those people
were, and profess never to have heard their names, and to wonder
out of what dungheap they had sprung.
At that time the quintessence of society in the town consisted of
such as were called upon and returned the calls of the county
families. Now, alas, almost every country gentleman's house in the
neighborhood is no longer occupied by its ancient proprietors, and
is sold or let to successful tradespeople, so that the quintessence
of society in the town plumes itself on not knowing the occupants
of these stately mansions.
At that time the family that inhabited a house which had been
built fifty years before regarded with contempt those who occupied
one built only thirty years before. At that time those who had a
remote connection by cousinship twice removed with an Honorable,
deemed themselves justified in considering every one else, not so
privileged, as dishonorable.
Now all this is past, or is in process of passing away, and in
Guildford and its suburbs, as elsewhere, the old order changeth,
and the poll of a Parish Council teaches men their levels in the
general estimation.
Without much difficulty, Jonas Kink was able to discover where the
artist, Iver Verstage, had his house and his studio. The house was
small, in a side street, and the name was on the door.
Jonas was ushered into the workshop by an elderly maid, and then
saw Iver in a blouse with his arms tied about with string; a
mahl-stick in one hand and a brush in the other.
Iver was surprised to see the Broom-Squire, and indisposed to
welcome him. He purposely retained stick and brush in his hands,
so as not to be able to strike palms with the man who had deprived
him of the woman he admired and loved best in the world; and whom
he suspected of misusing her.
Jonas looked about the studio, and his eye was caught by a picture
of Mehetabel at the well head. The young artist had devoted his
best efforts to finishing his study, and working it up into an
effective and altogether charming painting.
The Broom-Squire held in the right hand the stick wherewith he had
thrashed old Clutch, and this he now transferred to the left,
whilst extending his right hand and forcing a smile on his leathery
face. The artist made a pretence of seeking out some place where
he could put down the articles encumbering his hands, but finding
none, he was unable to return the salutation.
"Let bygones be bygones," said Jonas, and he dropped his hand.
"Fine pictur' that, very like my wife. What, now, have you sold
that for?"
"It is not sold at all. I do not think I shall part with the
painting."
"Why not?" asked Jonas, with a malevolent twinkle in his eyes and
a flush on his cheek-bones.
"Because it is a good sample of my ability which I can show to
such as come as customers, and also because it reminds me of an
old friend."
"Then you may take my portrait," said Jonas, "and sell this. Mine
will do as well, and you knowed me afore you did Matabel."
"That is true," laughed Iver, "but I am not sure that you would
make so striking subject, so inspiring to the artist. Did you
come all the way from the Punch-Bowl to see the painting?"
"No, I didn't," answered Jonas.
"Then had you business in the town?"
"None particular."
"Was it to give me the pleasure of seeing you and asking after
old friends at Thursley?"
"Old friends," sneered Bideabout; "much the like o' you cares for
them as is old. It's the young and the bloomin' as is to your
fancy. And I reckon it ain't friends as you would ask about, but
a friend, and that's Matabel. Well, I don't mind tellin' of yer
that she's got a baby, but I s'pose you've heard that, and the
child ain't over strong and healthy, such as ort to be in the
Punch-Bowl, where we're all hard as nails."
"Aye, not in physique only?"
"I don't know nothin about physic. I didn't take it when I were
poorly, and nobody ever did in the Punch-Bowl as I've heard tell
on. I sent once to Gorlmyn (Godalming) for a sleepin' draught,
when I were bad wi' that shot in my shoulder as you knows of. But
I never took it, not I."
"So you've come to see me?"
"Oh, yes, I've come, civil and neighbor-like, to see you."
"What about? Will you sit down?"
"Thanky, I just about like to stand. Yes, I've come to see you--on
business."
"On business!"
"Yes, on business. You're trustee, I hear, for the child."
"To be sure I am. Mother put away a hundred pounds, and father has
added fifty to it--and it is for your little one, some day."
"Well," said Jonas, "what I've come about is I wants it now."
"What, the hundred and fifty pounds?"
"Aye, I reckon the hundred and fifty pounds."
"But the money is not left to you."
"I know it b'aint; I want it for the child."
"You are not going to have it."
"Look here. Master Iver Verstage, you never ort to ha' been made
trustee for my child. It's so much as puttin' a slight and an
insult on me. If that child be mine then I'm the one as should
have the trust. Don't I know best what the child wants? Don't I
know best how to lay it out for its advantage? The money ort to
ha' been put in my hands and in none other. That's my opinion."
"Bideabout!" answered Iver, "it is not a question as to what my
father and mother should have done. I did not seek to be made
trustee. It was a freak on the part of my dear mother. As she has
done it, there it is; neither you nor I can alter that."
"Yes. You can renounce trusteeship."
"That will not help. Then I suppose the money would go into
Chancery, and would be consumed there without any of it reaching
the child."
Jonas considered, and then shook his head.
"You can hand it over to me."
"Then I should be held responsible and have to refund when the
little fellow comes of age."
"He may never come of age."
"That neither you nor I can tell."
"Now look here," said the Broom-Squire, assuming an air of
confidence, "between you and me, as old acquaintances, and
me as gave you the feathers out o' a snipe's wing to make your
first brush--and, so to speak, launched you in your career of
greatness--between you and me I'm in an awkward perdic'ment.
Through the failure of the Wealden Bank, of which you've heard
tell, I've lost pretty much everything as I had managed to save
through years of toil and frugality. And now I'm menaced in my
little property. I don't know as I shall be able to hold it,
unless some friend comes to the help. Well, now, who'll that
little property go to but my son--that there precious darlin'
baby as we're talkin' about. He'll grow out o' his squawlin',
and he'll want his property unincumbered and clear, as it came
to me. That I can't give him unless helped. I don't ask that
there hundred and fifty pounds for myself. I know very well that
I can't have it for myself. But I demand it for the child; it is
now or never can the little estate in the Punch-Bowl be saved
from fallin' into the hands of them darned lawyers. A stitch in
time saves nine, and a little help now may be all that is wanted
to keep the property clean and clear and unembarrassed wi' debt.
If once we get our heads under water we'll all get drowned, me
and Matabel and the kid--sure as crabs ain't garden apples."
"That may be very true, Bideabout," answered Iver, "but for all
that I cannot let the money out of my control."
"Ain't you bound to spend it on the child?"
"I am bound to reserve it whole and intact for the child."
"But can you not see," persisted Jonas, "that you are doing that
for the child, it would wish above all, when come to years of
discretion."
"That is possible, but my hands are tied."
"In truth you will not."
"I cannot."
"I don't believe you. It is because you want to spite me that you
will not help."
"Not at all, Bideabout. I wish well to the child and its mother,
and, of course, to you. But I cannot break a trust."
"You will not?"
"If no other word will suit you--be it so--I will not."
Jonas Kink fumed blood red.
"You think to have me there. I shouldn't be surprised but it's you
who are at the bottom of all--and will buy me up and buy me out,
that you and Matabel may have the place to yourselves. It shall
never be. I know what was meant when Sanna Verstage made you
trustee. I am to be reckoned with. I can assure you of that. I
shall find means to keep my property from you and my wife also."
He raised his stick and fell to beating the picture of Mehetabel
with it; till it was rent to rags.
"Not even her picture shall you have--and I would it were her I
were slashin' and breakin' to pieces as I've done to this picture.
It may come to that in the end--but out of my power and into your
hands she shall never go."