The week that followed was one of great anxiety to Nansie, springing
less from the pecuniary circumstances of their position than from the
state of Kingsley's health. The privations and the sufferings he had
endured told upon him now that the excitement of the reunion with his
wife was over, and for some days he was too weak to leave the house.
He himself made light of his sickness, and would not admit that there
was anything seriously the matter with him. They made no endeavor to
impress this upon him, but he gathered it from the evidences of care
and attention by which he was surrounded.
There was in the neighborhood a doctor of great skill, who could have
practised successfully in fashionable quarters at high fees, but who
had deliberately chosen to remain among the poor, whom he loved and
attended to with as much devotion as he would have displayed to the
highest in the land. His fee was fixed at a shilling; when this was
not forthcoming he was content with sixpence, and in many cases with
nothing, making no complaints against tardy debtors. This man was
always cheerful, ready, and willing, at whatever hour of the day or
night; and, without ostentation, he played the part of a true minister
to those who needed it most. It is pleasant to be able to limn, even
thus briefly, the character of one in whose life and career were
exhibited the noblest attributes of human nature. He and Mr. Loveday
were friends, and shortly after Nansie came to live with her uncle Dr.
Perriera was greatly attracted to her, no less by her gentle manners
than by the display of attainments superior to those among whom she
lived. When Mr. Loveday was burned out Dr. Perriera was the first to
express sympathy with him; he would also have been the first to offer
practical assistance had it not been that he was very poor, a fact
which troubled him not at all so far as regarded himself, but
frequently disturbed him when he came into contact with distress which
it was not in his power to relieve. After the fire, when he attended
Nansie of his own free will and prompting, he declined to receive any
fee whatever, and to this Mr. Loveday did not demur.
As his name indicated, Dr. Perriera was of Spanish descent, and could,
indeed, trace his genealogical record back to the days when Spain was
first among the nations of the world in art, literature, and science.
But the dark and heavy hand of bigotry effectually scotched the fair
promise which lay before the favored nation, and with the exodus of
the Jews--to which race Dr. Perriera belonged--commenced the decay of
a mighty nation.
On the day succeeding that of Kingsley's return Mr. Loveday called
upon Dr. Perriera, and told him of it.
"I am greatly pleased," said Dr. Perriera; "it will be better medicine
for Mrs. Manners than the finest drugs in the Pharmacop[oe]ia."
Then, in order that Dr. Perriera might be in possession of all
necessary information, Mr. Loveday made him acquainted with the
particulars of Kingsley's association with Mr. Seymour, following
those up with the intelligence of the strange hallucination under
which Kingsley was laboring with respect to his long absence from
home. To Mr. Loveday's surprise, Dr. Perriera showed an intimate
knowledge of the movements of the so-called Mr. Seymour, as well as of
the secret societies in the interests of which it was said that he
travelled.
"Of Mr. Manners," said Dr. Perriera, "I know nothing. In Mr. Seymour's
transactions he was little better than a cipher, and was probably used
as an innocent decoy, or as a means to avert suspicion from the doings
of his chief."
"How have you become acquainted with these affairs," asked Mr.
Loveday; "you, who seem to have no spare moments of time apart from
your professional offices?"
"I have time and to spare for much," replied Dr. Perriera, smiling. "I
keep up rather an extensive correspondence with many European
societies which have for their object the advancement of science and
humanity."
"Humanity!" exclaimed Mr. Loveday.
"I call it by that name," said Dr. Perriera. "Were it possible that
the ends aimed at could be reached, the toilers of the world would be
undoubtedly benefited. The advocated means are frequently pernicious
and indefensible; but this occasionally arises from the fact that men
of keen intellectual power are goaded to madness by the tyranny of old
systems. However, enough of this; I think much but speak little of
such matters. I have my small part to play in the world as to the
larger and grander movements of which I can simply look on and
observe."
Dr. Perriera called to see Kingsley, and of his own accord visited him
daily. He gave Nansie kindly hope and sympathy, but did not enter into
the peculiarities of her husband's case. With Mr. Loveday he was more
open.
"It is a singular condition," he said. "The loss of memory is not at
all uncommon, nor, either, is its recovery; but in most instances this
loss is a total loss, time, well-known incidents, relative
circumstances, the names of friends and acquaintances, even one's own
name, being plunged for a period into absolute obscurity. But here the
loss of memory is partial, and the singular phase of it is that it
affects only those circumstances of the past which it would be
disagreeable to recall. He remembers all that is pleasant and happy in
his life, but forgets all that has brought trouble upon him. It
belongs to this phase that he is incapable of realizing the privations
of the life which seems to lie before him. His temperament is
exceptionally bright and cheerful; he looks upon the happy side of
nature, and every hopeful sentiment which passes his lips seems to
blossom into flower at the moment of its utterance. I can imagine no
happier condition of being; but in a poor man it has its grave and
most serious side."
"How?" inquired Mr. Loveday.
"In the fact," replied Dr. Perriera, "that it allows no room for
effort, that it affords no incentive to it, that it creates a sure
contentment even for a crust of bread, and an utter obliviousness to
what may be necessary for those who, he being the head of the family,
are naturally dependent upon him."
"That is to say," observed Mr. Loveday, "that there is no hope of his
being the bread-winner."
"None," said Dr. Perriera, "until there is a radical change in him;
and I confess to being at a loss as to how this can be effected."
The correctness of the good doctor's diagnosis was verified by an
incident which did not come to the ears of Nansie or her uncle until
after its occurrence. Stronger in body, and able to walk abroad
without assistance, Kingsley soon made himself acquainted with all the
intricacies of the neighborhood; and on a certain morning he wended
his steps to the West-end of the city, and stood before his father's
house. Without hesitation he knocked and rang, and upon the door being
opened pushed his way past the astonished servant, and walked straight
to his father's study. There sat Mr. Manners, who gazed at his son
with sternness and some inward agitation which he was successful in
concealing.
"Good-morning, father," said Kingsley, drawing a chair to the table,
and seating himself; then glancing at the papers scattered about,
added, in a tone of inquiry, "Fresh contracts?"
Mr. Manners did not reply to the question.
"What brings you here?" he asked.
Kingsley had grown thinner since he last saw him, and that
circumstance and the shabbiness of Kingsley's appearance suddenly
inspired in the heart of Mr. Manners the hope that his son had come to
him in submission.
"I was anxious about you, father," said Kingsley, in an affectionate
tone, "it seems so long since we saw each other. A son must not be
forgetful of his duties."
"Ah," said Mr. Manners, his hope growing, "you recognize that at
last?"
"At last!" said Kingsley, in a tone of cheerful surprise. "I have
always recognized it. I cannot recall that I have ever been wanting in
my duty to you."
Mr. Manners stared at his son, debating now within himself what kind
of part Kingsley had come to play. There was a silence of a few
moments, during which Kingsley gazed at the familiar objects of the
room with great calmness, and quite at his ease.
"The object of your visit?" demanded Mr. Manners.
"I have told you, father. Are you well?"
"Yes, I am well."
"And happy?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Manners, setting his teeth, "and happy. That
knowledge will hurt you, perhaps."
"Why, no, father, it delights me. Everything, as usual, prospers with
you, of course."
"Everything, as usual, prospers with me," said Mr. Manners,
mechanically. "Did you inquire of the servant if I was at home?"
"No, why should I? It was my home once as well as yours."
"But is no longer," said Mr. Manners, with a deepening frown.
"Oh, well, no, in a certain sense," said Kingsley, "not directly, but
indirectly still my home as well as yours. There are ties which can
never be broken, and which you, in the goodness of your heart, would
never wish to be broken. I should not like to hear from any man's lips
that you think otherwise; I am afraid I should say something
unpleasant to him."
Kingsley's cordial manner and cheerful voice would have mystified most
men with a weaker order of mind than Mr. Manners's; but although this
was not the case with the great contractor, he was certainly at a loss
to account for them. He knew that Kingsley possessed a soul of
frankness and honesty, and he could not readily bring himself to
believe that it was cunning and duplicity which had induced his son to
seek this interview. Still, for the exhibition of these qualities he
would have been, as he always was with all men, perfectly prepared,
but not for the ingenuousness with which he was now confronted. He
thought to turn the tables upon Kingsley.
"Are you well?" he asked.
"Quite well, father," replied Kingsley.
"And happy?"
"Quite happy, father."
"And prosperous?"
"To be quite well and happy," said Kingsley, in no spirit of evasion,
"is not that a prosperous state?"
"You are quibbling with me," said Mr. Manners, "and I am not in the
mood, and have no time for trifling."
"I shall not detain you long, father; you have eased my mind, and I
shall go away presently, quite contented. As to quibbling, you, who
know me so well and have been so good to me, must know that I am
incapable of such conduct."
"I decline to argue with you. Come to the point at once. You wish to
make some kind of appeal to me. I did hope that you had come in
submission."
"I have, father; submission in all things that accord with one's
duty."
"With your duty to me?"
"To you and to others who are dear to me."
"I will not listen," said Mr. Manners, "to anything concerning them."
"I will not force it upon you. There shall be nothing discordant
between us. But what do you mean by 'appeal?'"
"You are here to ask for money, as those who have separated us have
been here before you."
"Indeed, you are quite wrong. There has been, there shall be, no
separation between us. I love you as I have always done, as I always
shall love you. And they appealed to you for money! Did you give it to
them?"
"No, nor will I to you."
"Oh, but I need none. You have been since my earliest remembrance most
liberal to me, but you cannot accuse me of being mercenary. I should
like you to know my wife, I should like you to know and love our
child. If you are too busy for that now, we will wait; when you visit
us, which surely you will do some day, you will be pleased at the
manner in which we shall receive you; all the honor that is due to you
shall be cheerfully rendered."
"This mockery must end," said Mr. Manners; "go! But, before you leave,
it will, perhaps, be as well for me to say what is in my mind."
"Yes, father," said Kingsley, gently.
"I do not know," said Mr. Manners, in a set, hard tone, "whether I
should ever have been inclined to forgive your disobedience and
undutifulness; I do not know, after what has passed, whether, you
being my son upon whom once all my hopes were centred, I should have
been disposed to once more hold out my hand to you. I think it would
not have been possible, but there may have been, at least, some remote
chance of a partial reconciliation. If there was such a chance, you
have utterly destroyed it by your conduct during the past few months."
"What conduct do you refer to?" asked Kingsley, smiling. "You surely
are laboring under some delusion!"
"It is no delusion," said Mr. Manners, "that you have been travelling
for some time with a person of infamous character and designs!"
"Surely it must be, father. Does the man live? If he does, he will
disprove it."
"I will fall in with your humor," said Mr. Manners, "and will pay no
attention to your amazing evasions; all the more amazing, all the more
inexcusable, when adopted towards a man like myself. Do you pretend
that you are unacquainted with the person who travelled under the name
of Seymour? Do you pretend that travelling in close association with
him as you did for so long a time, you had no connection with the
designs he was wishful to promote?"
"You remind me strangely," replied Kingsley, "of something which has
been troubling me--no, I am wrong in saying troubling me, I mean that
has been interesting me. There have undoubtedly been some such designs
as you refer to, mysterious and inexplicable enough to me, but the
interesting part of the matter is, how did it ever come into my mind
that I could have been associated with them? Clearly, I must have
evolved the idea out of a too vivid imagination; because I cannot
trace the slightest actual connection between me and them. Similarly,
too, with the name you have mentioned--Seymour. How did it come into
my mind that I knew such a gentleman? Clearly, he must have existed;
and now there occurs to me a dim remembrance of a railway accident in
which a gentleman of the name of Seymour was killed, and many were
injured. How comes the knowledge of that circumstance to me? May I not
also have evolved that from my imagination? Anyway, I shall not allow
myself to be troubled by matters which I cannot directly trace, though
I cannot avoid being interested in them. But what you have said has
another bearing, as though I had done something to disgrace my name.
Of course such a thing would be impossible, and if I am indebted to
any ill-natured person for having aroused in you any suspicion to my
hurt, I make him my hearty acknowledgments without bearing the
slightest ill-will against him, because, after all, father, a serious
calumny should not be allowed to have weight unless an absolute
foundation of fact can be brought forward, as cannot be done in my
case. Man must be judged by his own actions, not by what people say of
him. You infer that this Mr. Seymour travelled to promote infamous
designs with which you suppose me to be in sympathy. What designs,
father?"
"Republicanism," said Mr. Manners, not displeased at being brought to
the point, "Socialism, Communism, and the overthrow of existing
institutions, which are a blessing to mankind."
"Ah, but there, you know," said Kingsley, with no departure from his
light mood, "you open up debatable matter. It is not disagreeable to
me. I was always fond of argument, although I have been accused of too
freely wandering away from one upon the slightest excuse. You condemn
Republicanism, but I think I would sooner live under a republic than a
monarchy."
"What you say confirms the accusation I and others bring against you."
"Not at all. I am merely expressing my view of a large matter. You
see, father, there is so much misery in the world, so much undeserved
suffering, so much compulsory poverty, such astounding inequalities in
the social condition of the people, that a fair-minded man cannot
possibly avoid wishing to remedy these ills. What are you touching the
bell for?"
"For the servant to show you to the door."
"I do not need him; I know my way out. Your time is valuable, and it
is inconsiderate of me to take up so much of it. Is my mother in?"
"No."
"I am sorry; I wished to see her. She is well, I hope."
"Quite well. She has not a sorrow in the world. And now, for the last
time, leave the room--and the house."
His peremptory, harsh tone had no effect upon Kingsley, who, with a
genial nod and a "Good-morning, father," left the house with a light
step.
In the evening he informed Nansie and Mr. Loveday of his visit to his
father, and, to their astonishment, described it as one of a pleasant
character. Their astonishment was all the greater when they read a
letter which was delivered personally to Kingsley. It was from a firm
of lawyers, and was written in accordance with instructions received
from Mr. Manners. In the first place it conveyed an intimation that
Kingsley would not be allowed again to enter his father's house; in
the second place it contained a warning that if he made any further
endeavor to force himself into his father's presence, proceedings
would be taken against him for the trespass.
"I think," said Kingsley, "that lawyers must have been invented
expressly to torment mankind; they never can put a thing pleasantly.
My father, I suppose, is too busy to write to me himself, so he told
his lawyers to do so, and they, wishing to make things as unpleasant
as possible, send me a communication couched in terms which my father
would certainly resent. Of course I shall not go to him again until he
sends for me."
So saying, he tore up the letter and put it into the fire.
A few days afterwards it was announced in the papers that Mr. Manners
had broken up his London establishment, and with his wife and his
nephew, Mr. Mark Inglefield, had started on a foreign tour, which was
likely to be of long duration. This paragraph was read by Kingsley,
and caused in him the first spark of resentment he had exhibited since
his return.
"I am sorry," he said, "that my father has taken up with such a man as
Mark Inglefield. He is dangerous and coldblooded, and, I am afraid, no
friend of mine. Not that I want him for a friend, but that, being with
my father, he may say something against us. However, to use your dear
mother's saying, Nansie, 'Everything will come right in the end.'"
With this comfortable assurance he dismissed the matter from his mind,
as was his habit.
And here the course of our story renders it necessary that the curtain
shall fall for a certain time. When it rises again seventeen years
will have passed away.