BEARDING THE LION.
When Reggie entered the Bank just before nine o'clock on the following
morning, his heart was going pit-a-pat, for he knew his chief well
enough to be certain that it was impossible to count upon how he would
look at yesterday's happenings. He might never think of the occurrence
again, or he might refer to it with an easy laugh at Reggie's stricter
principles, or he might be riding the high horse and resent the
interference to an extent which Reggie knew would be long enduring, if
it ever ceased at all.
[Illustration: "'I wish, if you aren't engaged, you would come home to
supper with us.'"--_Page 118._]
So much depended on how Mrs. Gray had dealt with the matter, and on how
long her husband had remained with his convivial friends, and on these
two points Reggie had no knowledge. Yet much of the success which
attended his efforts for Mr. Gray this morning, had their beginning in
the fact that Mrs. Gray had received her husband late the night before,
with no word of reproach, but had treated him with unusual gentleness
and affection, and he had come down to his work this morning softened by
love, and not hardened by bitter words or arguments. Reggie chided
himself for thinking so much of the harm he might have done his own
future, but with another morning's post in, and no birthday letter from
Gertrude, he felt more sore and more uneasy. If his prospects at the
Bank became gloomy, what would be his chances of securing Gertrude?
But when he went into Mr. Gray's private room, nothing was written so
plainly on the Manager's face as headache and dejection; and a great
wave of pity and desire, swept away from Reggie all thought of himself
and of his own happiness.
What could he do to help this man who was slipping down into the
bondage of strong drink?
What _had_ Mrs. Gray said and done, he wondered, as he listened to the
dull, listless voice in which Mr. Gray bade him take the omnibus at
once, and proceed to the house of a wealthy client who lived three
miles out of the town, and who had been taken ill and wished to
transact some business.
There was no opportunity now to think of anything but the matters to
be arranged with the wealthy client, which were important and urgent,
and the minutes before the omnibus started were few, so the moment
Reggie was sure he understood his errand he took his hat, relocked
his desk and stepped out from the Bank, well pleased to be leaving the
town for a country outing, on such a lovely April morning.
But as he glanced down the long, sunny street, he saw something which
suddenly arrested his footsteps.
Only a gentleman crossing the road and coming towards him, but a
gentleman whose identity was unmistakable even at this distance, by
reason of a very peculiar lameness. A gentleman who was one of the
largest shareholders, and had much influence in the Bank--a man who
was so stern a teetotaller that he could forgive any sin sooner than
intemperance.
In one instant Reggie was back in the Bank, Mr. Gray's hat was in his
hand, and he was standing beside the astonished Manager. "Quick!" he
said breathlessly. "You go down to Muirend House instead of me--here's
your hat! Don't ask any questions, and when you get outside, turn
to the left and don't look behind you on any account. Never mind the
omnibus; it will do you good to walk! Quick--or you'll be too late."
"What?" demanded Mr. Gray, "are you going wrong in the head, Reggie?"
Reggie repeated his request, still breathlessly, and there was
something so insistent in his manner, so beseeching in his eyes,
and his three years of patient faithful work, so rose up to help his
influence, that the Manager actually stood up, laid down his pen and
took his hat.
"I suppose you know what you are playing at," said he, a little
coldly. "What is it I am to do? Turn to the left and not look behind
me!"
"Yes! that's it," said Reggie eagerly; "oh, be quick, or it will be
too late."
"And I'm to walk, though it's three miles," said the Manager. "Well!
take care of the Bank; it appears to me that it has a new Manager!"
He passed out through the swing doors, and a couple of minutes went
by and he did not return, and Reggie began to breathe freely, till the
fear struck him that after all, his efforts had been of no use if Mr.
Bowles, the lame gentleman, had just caught Mr. Gray on the pavement
outside, but even as the thought darted into his mind, the doors swung
open again, and the lame gentleman entered and looked round. "Mr.
Gray?" said he, interrogatively, as Reggie came forward.
"Mr. Gray has just gone down to Muirend to see Mr. Collins, who is
very ill."
"It is very inconvenient of him," said Mr. Bowles irritably, "I wrote
so that he should get the letter by the first post this morning."
Reggie glanced down at the pile of letters he had just brought from
Mr. Gray's room to open.
"It will be here, I expect," he said politely, "can I take your
instructions?"
Mr. Bowles grunted and scowled, but nevertheless he followed Reggie
into the Manager's room and ran through what he had come to say, and
watched Reggie's careful noting down of the points.
"So Lily Jarrold got married yesterday," he said abruptly, as Reggie
finished. "I suppose champagne ran like rivers, and half you fellows
got drunk, and the girls did not know what they were laughing at, eh?
Were _you_ there?"
"I was there," answered Reggie, a trifle stiffly, "it was a very
pretty wedding, and she looked awfully happy."
"Humph!" said the old gentleman, "but wasn't it as I said,
afterwards?"
"I did not stay late--and I am an abstainer," said Reggie, wishing his
visitor would depart. He glanced at the pile of unopened letters he
had brought back with him, and Mr. Bowles intercepted the glance.
"Well! well!" said he, "that's a good hearing, my boy, and I see you
are wishing I'd be off and let you get at your work. Industry is of
the utmost importance, my lad, and you'll rise to be Manager, one
day! Tell Mr. Gray I need not see him till next week as he left such a
capable second. Good morning."
That was over. Reggie saw him out, opened the letters, and went
through the usual routine of his morning work, and welcomed back
his fellow clerk who had been away for the Easter. The clock ticked
peacefully on, till it was past noon, and then at last the swing doors
opened once more to admit the Manager.
He passed straight through to his room, closing the door behind him. A
moment later he opened it again.
"Mr. Alston!" he said.
"Now for it," thought Reggie.
Mr. Gray was seated at his table and he motioned Reggie to the seat
usually assigned to clients, and there was a pause. Reggie felt all
his courage oozing out at the toes of his boots. All that he had
thought it possible he _might_ say to Mr. Gray on this question, all
his arguments, all his reasons, his pleas, seemed to melt away into
thin air, and he wondered however he had dared to interfere in another
man's life, and that man his master, even to the degree of wishing to
help him and praying for him, much more in openly offering him coffee,
and sending him out of the sight of condemning eyes!
But with the remembrance of that four months of daily prayer for this
man, came the remembrance of words spoken long ago to faint-hearted
men. "The battle is not yours, but God's." That made all the
difference.
Then Mr. Gray spoke, coldly, hardly.
"And now, Mr. Alston, what is the meaning of all this?"
Reggie leant forward eagerly.
"Mr. Gray, don't be angry, it was just Mr. Bowles coming along. I
saw him as I got outside and--and--you know what he is, and--I
thought--you could do the Muirend business--and--oh, I _wish_ you
would give up this strong drink, it is going to ruin you, body and
soul!"
It was out. The bitter truth had been put into words; the young clerk
had told his Manager that he knew his sin and degradation. The words
had been spoken, and never again could things be as they had been
before they were spoken, and Reggie knew it, and he knew that the man
who sat before him with his face shaded with his hand, was a proud,
proud man.
The clock ticked on loudly and evenly. There seemed nothing more for
Reggie to say, and Mr. Gray did not break the silence. He was filling
in the details of Reggie's broken words and he knew Mr. Bowles well
enough to do it very accurately. He had reason to believe that Mr.
Bowles had made a special visit on this special morning with intent.
He knew, ah, far more truly than Reggie did, that this temptation was
ruining his worldly position. Reggie had saved his reputation for this
time and he could not but thank him, and yet--and yet--how hard it was
to humble himself to say so; and there stretched before his weary eyes
those times, coming oftener and oftener, when his reputation would not
be saved, and he would sink lower in men's estimation, and that would
come to be openly said, which was already a whisper, that the Bank
Manager _drank_.
His thoughts came back to Reggie with a start. Reggie had asked him to
give up strong drink!
"Reggie!" he said hoarsely, passing by all else that had been said,
"you don't know what you are asking!"
"Yes, I do!" said Reggie firmly, "and you'll want outside help."
"Ah!" said the manager sadly, "I have thought sometimes, that if we'd
had a child, Elaine and I, it would have made it easier. I might have
done it for the child's sake."
"Suppose that God did not dare to risk the child in your hands," said
Reggie solemnly, "suppose, if He sent a child, then you had not the
strength to give up the drink?"
And as the words fell from Reggie's lips there came a sound from the
outer office that made both the men start.
"Father!" said a little treble voice which rang through the Bank.
"Father! father! let me do it."
The manager raised himself so that he could see over the frosted glass
in the door which gave on to the front premises, but Reggie had no
need to look. He recognised the clear child's voice. He seemed to see
little Cyril Mackenzie's round, rosy face lifted confidingly to his
father's as he had seen it only last night. And Mr. Gray saw the
bright little lad, and he sat down again in his seat with a groan, and
hid his face in his hands.
"Suppose--" he said, "suppose I haven't the strength to give it up
_now_."
"It was the help of Jesus Christ, our Saviour, that I meant. He will
give you the strength if you will let Him, and I will help you all I
can, if you will let me," answered Reggie earnestly.