During the past six weeks events had galloped. To Iglesias it appeared
that changes were in course of arriving in battalions. He neither
hailed nor deplored them, but met them with a stoical patience. To
realise them clearly, in all their bearings, would have been to add to
the sense of fatigue from which he too constantly suffered. More than
sufficient to each day was the labour thereof. So he looked beyond, to
the greater repose and freedom which, as he trusted, lay ahead.
Upon the morning immediately in question he had closed his work at the
bank. Sir Abel's demeanour had been characteristic. His clothes, it is
true, still hung loosely upon him. His library chair and extensive
writing-table appeared a world too big. For he was shrunken and had
become an old man. Yet, though signs of chastening thus outwardly
declared themselves, in spirit he had regained tone and returned to his
former high estate. Along with the revival of financial security had
come a revival of pomposity, an addiction to patronage in manner and
platitudes in speech. He had ceased to be humble and human,
self-righteous self-complacency again loudly announcing itself.
"So you propose to retire, you ask to be relieved of your duties, my
good friend?" he asked of Iglesias, who had requested the favour of an
interview in his private room. "Let us, then, congratulate ourselves
upon the fact that I have returned from my sojourn upon the continent
with so far renovated health that I feel equal to meeting the arduous
responsibilities of my position unaided; and am not, consequently,
compelled, out of a sense of duty either to myself or to my colleagues,
to offer any objection to your retirement. Before we part I should,
however, wish to place it clearly on record that my confidence, both in
the soundness of my own judgment and in our capacity, as capitalists,
to meet any strain put upon our resources, was not misplaced. This no
one can, I think, fail to admit. Our house emerges from this period of
trial with the hall-mark of public sympathy and esteem upon it. And, in
this connection, it is instructive to note the working of the law of
compensation. This war, for example, which to the ordinary mind might
have appeared an unmixed evil, since it threatened to jeopardise our
position among the leading financiers of the capital of the civilised
world, has, in the event, served, not only to consolidate our position,
but to unmask the practices of that unscrupulous and self-seeking
member of our firm, my unhappy nephew Reginald, and afford us
legitimate excuse for his removal. We appeared to touch on disaster;
but, by that very means, we have been enabled to rid ourselves of a
canker. Still this must remain a painful subject."
Sir Abel became pensive, fixing his gaze, the while, upon the portrait
adorning the wall over against him. To an acute observer the said
portrait had always been subtly ironical. Now it had become coarsely
so--a merciless caricature of the shrivelled old gentleman whom it
represented, and to whom it bore much the same resemblance as a balloon
soaring skywards, fully inflated, bears to that same object with half
the gas let out of it in a condition of flabby and wobbling
semi-collapse.
"A painful subject," he repeated nobly--"I refrain from enlarging upon
it, and pass to other matters. As to the part you yourself have borne
in the history of our recent anxieties, Iglesias, I feel I cannot do
less than tender you the thanks of myself and my co-partners. I do not
disguise from you that a tendency existed to criticise my action in
summoning you, to dub your business methods antiquated, and question
your ability to march with the times. But these objections proved, I am
happy to think, unfounded. The faith I reposed in you has been
justified. And I may tell you, in confidence, that, should the occasion
for doing so arise, my colleagues will in future have as little
hesitation in calling upon your services as I should have myself."
The speaker paused, as for applause. And Dominic, who had remained
standing during this prolonged oration--no suggestion having been made
on the present occasion that he should be seated--proceeded to
acknowledge the peculiar compliment just paid him, with somewhat
sardonic courtesy.
"Your words are extremely reassuring, Sir Abel," he remarked calmly.
The gentleman addressed regarded him sharply for a moment, as though
doubtful of the exact purport of his words. Then, suspicion of covert
sarcasm being clearly inadmissible, Sir Abel spoke again in his largest
platform manner, although the tones of his voice, like his person, were
shrunken, docked of the fulness of their former rotundity and unction.
"It has ever been my effort to reward merit by encouragement," he
replied. "And, were testimony to the wisdom of my practice, in this
particular, needed, I should point, I candidly tell you, my good
friend, to the excellent results of my recent demand upon your
cooperation and support." He leaned sideways in his chair, assuming the
posture of the portrait, conscious of having really said a very
handsome thing indeed to his ex-head-clerk. "For," he added, "I
sincerely believe in the worth of example. It is hardly too much to
assert that a generous and high-minded employer eventually stamps the
employed with a reflection, at least, of his own superior qualities."
Again he paused. But truth to tell, Dominic Iglesias had not only grown
very weary of discourse and discourser, but somewhat impatient also. He
had hoped better things of the man after the nasty shaking fortune had
recently given him. Consequently he was disappointed; for it was very
effectually borne in upon him that only absence of feathers makes for
grace in a goose. Once the nudity of the foolish bird covered, it
hisses, and that loudly, to the old tune. Hence, in the interests of
Christian charity, he agreed with himself to cut short the interview,
lest anger should get the better of toleration.
"I think we have now discussed all questions calling for your personal
attention, Sir Abel," he said, "and all documents and correspondence
relating to affairs during your absence have been placed in your hands.
If therefore you have nothing further to ask me, I need not encroach
any longer upon your valuable time."
With that, after a brief pause, he moved towards the door; but the
other man, half rising from his chair, called after him.
"Iglesias, your attention for one moment--that matter of a salary?"
"I supposed I had made my terms perfectly clear, Sir Abel," Dominic
remarked coldly.
"No doubt, in the first instance. But should you have reconsidered your
decision, and should you think the pension you enjoy an insufficient
remuneration, I am empowered to make you the offer, in addition, of a
fixed salary for the past six months."
Listening to which tardy and awkward recognition of his own rather
princely dealings, Mr. Iglesias' temper began to rise, his jaw to grow
rigid, and his eyes dangerously alight.
"I am not in the habit of changing my mind, Sir Abel," he said. "I
proposed to make you a free gift of my time and such experience as I
may possess. Nothing has occurred to alter or modify that intention.
There are circumstances, into which I do not choose to enter, which
would render it extremely distasteful to me to accept anything--over
and above my pension--from yourself or from any member of your family
or firm."
Here Sir Abel, who had been standing, sagged down,
half-empty-balloon-like, into his chair. Again he eyed Iglesias
sharply, doubtful of the exact purport of his speech. But again
suspicion of covert sarcasm, still more of covert rebuke, being to him
quite inconceivable, he rejoined with a condescension which he could
not but feel was altogether praiseworthy:
"Enough, enough, my good friend. That is sufficient. I will detain you
no longer; but will merely add that I commend your reticence while
appreciating the sentiments which dictate your refusal. These it is
easy to interpret. They shall not be forgotten, since they constitute a
very suitable acknowledgment of the advantages and benefits which have
accrued to you during you long association with my partners and myself."
Later, journeying westward upon the 'bustop, Dominic Iglesias meditated
in a spirit of humorous pity upon the above conversation. He was very
glad he had not lost his temper. Eyes blinded by self-worship, an
inpenetrable hide, these things, too, have their uses in time--very
practical uses, which it would be silly to ignore. Why, then, be angry?
The truly wise man, as Dominic told himself with a somewhat mournful
smile, learns to leave such time-wise fools as Sir Abel Barking to
Almighty God for chastisement, because--if it can be said without
irreverence--the Almighty alone has wit enough to deal with them. And,
for his comfort on lower levels, he reminded himself that though the
house of Barking might show him scant gratitude, and attribute its
financial resurrection to its own inherent virtue, this was not the
opinion held by outsiders. The manager of Pavitt's Bank, and certain
members of Goome, Hills, Murray & Co., had congratulated Iglesias,
personally, upon his admirable conduct of affairs during the crisis,
and assured him of the high respect they had conceived for his
judgment, his probity, and business acumen. In this there was
satisfaction of a silent but deep-seated sort--satisfaction of pride,
since he had accomplished that which he had set forth to accomplish:
satisfaction of honour through unbiassed and unsolicited commendation.
With that satisfaction he bade himself rest thankfully content, while
turning his thoughts to other and more edifying subjects.
And, in this connection, it was inevitable that a former journeying
westward upon a 'bustop should occur to him, with its strange record of
likeness and unlikeness in circumstance and outlook. Then, as now,
somewhat outworn in mind and in health, he had closed a period of
labour and faced new conditions, new habits, unaccustomed freedom and
leisure. But now on matters of vital, because of eternal, importance,
his mind was at rest. Loneliness and on-coming old age had ceased to
disquiet him. The ship of his individual fate no longer drifted
rudderless or risked danger of stranding, but steered steadily,
fearlessly, towards the promise of a secure and lovely harbourage. The
voyage might be long or short. At this moment Dominic supposed himself
indifferent in the matter, since he believed--not presumptuously, but
through the outreaching of a great faith--that the end was certain. And
meditating, just now, upon that gracious conviction, while the
red-painted half-empty omnibus fared onward down Piccadilly, a sense of
the unusual graciousness of things immediate and visible took hold on
him.
For to-day the monstrous mother, London-town, wore a pensive and
delicate aspect. The tender melancholy of early autumn was upon her,
she looking etherealised and even youthful, as does a penitent cleansed
from the soil of past transgressions by fasting and tears. No doubt she
would sin again and befoul herself, for the melting moods of a great
city are transient; yet for the moment she showed very meek and mild.
The atmosphere was clear, with the exquisite clarity which follows
abundant and welcome rain after a spell of heat and drought. The trees,
somewhat sparse in foliage, were distinct with infinite gradations of
blonde, golden, and umber tints, as of burnished metal, against their
black branches and stems. The endless vista of grey and red buildings,
outlined finely yet without harshness, towered up into a thin, sad,
blue sky overspread with long-drawn shoals and islands, low-shored and
sinuous, of pale luminous cloud. Upon the grey pavements the
bright-coloured dress of a woman--mauve, green, or pink--took on a
peculiar value here and there, amid the generality of darkly clad
pedestrians. And in the traffic, too, the white tilt of a van or rather
barbaric reds and yellows of the omnibuses, stood away from the sombre
hues of the mass of vehicles. The air, as Iglesias met it--he occupying
the seat on the right immediately behind that of the driver--was soft,
yet with a perceptible freshness of moisture in it; a cool, wistful
wind seeming to hail from very far, the wings of it laden less with
hopeful promise than with rare unspoken farewells, gentle yet
penetrating regrets; so that Dominic, even while welcoming the
refreshment of it, was moved in spirit with impressions of impending
finality as though it spoke to him of things finished, laid aside, not
wholly without sorrow relinquished and--so far as outward seeming
went--forgot.
Involuntarily his eyes filled with tears. Then he reproached himself.
Of what had he to complain? The will must indeed be weak, the spiritual
vision reprehensively clouded, if these vague voices of nature could so
disturb the serenity of the soul. Thus he reasoned with himself, almost
sternly. But, just then, the flaming rose-scarlet bill on the
knife-board of a passing omnibus attracted his attention, along with
the announcement, in big letters, which it set forth. To-night the
Twentieth Century Theatre opened its winter season with a new piece by
that admirable but all too indolent and intermittent dramatist, Antony
Hammond; and in it Poppy St. John played the leading lady's part.