WHAT MR. LANG THOUGHT.
As Mrs. Werner drove home a cruel pain seemed tearing her heart to
pieces. She had loved Dolly as child, as girl, as woman, with a love
almost equalling that of a mother. She had longed for Dolly to be
different, desired to see her grasp life with a firmer hand, and learn
the lessons taught by experience as something more real than an idle
jest. Dolly's frivolity had chafed her spirit even in the old Dassell
days, but it had vexed her more since the time of her own marriage.
If she regarded the journey of existence as a serious affair, what right
had Mr. Gerace's daughter to comport herself along the way as though
she were but one of a picnic party, as though it were always first of
May and fine weather with her?
Life should have been just as momentous a business at Homewood as at the
West-End, where Henry Werner had set up his domestic gods; but Dolly
could never be brought to see the iniquity of her own light-heartedness;
and Mrs. Werner, who frequently found the hours and the days pass
heavily enough in the ponderous atmosphere of respectability which her
husband affected, could often have found it in her heart to box Dolly's
ears for her levity of deportment and lightness of heart.
And now Dolly was serious enough, and yet Mrs. Werner felt
dissatisfied--more than dissatisfied. She was in despair; the ideal
Dolly she had always regarded as possible if not probable; but the
frivolous, light-hearted, smiling Dolly she had foolishly desired to
change, could never come back with her gay tones, with her laughing
face, on this side Heaven.
Could Mrs. Werner at that moment have caught sight of the former Dolly,
she would not have rebuked her for undue merriment.
She might have talked her light, innocent, mocking talk for the length
of a summer's day without causing a shade to pass across her friend's
face; she might have laughed till the welkin rang, and Mrs. Werner would
not have marvelled how she could be so silly; she might have ridiculed
all the decorous people within a circle of fifty miles had it pleased
her, and Mrs. Werner would never have remarked she feared her powers of
mimicry would get her into trouble.
"And I thought myself better than Dolly," considered Mrs. Werner.
"Imagined I was a more faithful wife, a higher type of womanhood; I, who
could not endure what she has borne so patiently; I, who must have
compelled any man, sick or well, to bear the burden with me, who could
never forgive any man weak enough or wicked enough to compass such ruin
for his wife and family! My dear, the look in your poor face to-night,
as you sat with the firelight gleaming upon it, will haunt me till I
die."
The result of which meditation was that, the first thing on Christmas
morning, Mrs. Werner despatched this note to Dolly by a special
messenger,
"I wish, dear, you would give me a Christmas gift,--your promise
that so soon as Mr. Mortomley's presence can be dispensed with at
Salisbury House, you will go away from town for a short time. I am
quite certain your husband will never get well in London, and there
can be no doubt but that you require a change almost as much as he
does,
With fond love,
Yours,
LEONORA."
To which, detaining the messenger while she wrote, Mrs. Mortomley
replied,
"Dear Lenny,--Ere this, you will have received my note written last
night concerning your Christmas present, so I need say no more on
that subject. But oh! Lenny, how could you steal such a march upon
me?
"Yes, I will promise what you ask. We will leave London the moment
we can do so, and remain away as long as possible--if it rested with
me, for ever. I have no desire to remain here--I shall have none to
return here.
Always yours,
DOLLY.
"Rupert dragged Archie about last night with the idea of doing him
good, till he was quite exhausted, and the consequence is that he
does not feel nearly so well this morning. Good-bye, a merry
Christmas to you, my dear, and many, and many happy new years."
For Dolly, whatever the new year might hold in store, she made a very
pleasant Christmas for herself and others in that small house at
Clapton. Miss Gerace had sent up a hamper filled with farm-house produce
to her niece, and that hamper was supplemented by another filled with
game shot in Dassell woods.
The three--Rupert, Mortomley and Dolly--consequently sat down to as nice
a little dinner as could have been furnished at Elm Park, whither
Rupert was invited to eat turkeys and mince pies. But he preferred for
reasons of his own holding high festival with his uncle and aunt, and
Dolly rewarded him by proving as gracious and pleasant a hostess in
adversity as she had often been in the days of her prosperity.
The change Mrs. Werner beheld had been wrought almost under Rupert's
eyes by a process so gradual that it failed to affect him as it had
touched her friend.
He saw she grew thinner and paler. He knew she was more silent and
thoughtful than of old. He heard her laugh had lost its ringing
clearness, and that her smile, once so bright and sunny, had something
of a wintry gleam about it, but these changes were but the natural
consequence of what she had gone through, the legitimate scars left from
wounds received during the course of that weary battle which had been
fought out bravely if foolishly to the end.
She could be pleasant and lively enough still, he decided, as she talked
and laughed while nibbling like a squirrel as he suggested, the walnuts
he prepared for her delectation.
Aye, and she could be wise and strong too, he thought as he met her
brown eyes fixed gravely on his, while she solemnly touched his
wine-glass with her own, and hoped in a tone, which was almost a prayer,
that the coming year might prove a happier and more prosperous one to
them all.
She was vexed with Rupert for having allowed and indeed encouraged her
husband to over-exert himself, but she was pleased with Rupert for
having relinquished the gaieties of Elm Park in their favour.
It is always a pleasant thing for a woman to know or imagine her society
is preferred to that of some other woman, even though that other woman
should occupy the humble position of a man's sister, and Dolly, much as
she loved her husband, did feel gratified that on the occasion of their
first Christmas dinner after leaving Homewood, they were not compelled
to take that meal _tete-a-tete_.
True, they had invitations by the dozen, but then that was a different
matter.
The people who sent those invitations, although they understood Mr.
Mortomley was ruined, did not, could not realize the length and breadth,
and height and depth of the gulf which divided the Mortomleys of Clapton
from the Mortomleys of Homewood.
Now Rupert did understand, and she felt the better pleased with his
self-proffered company.
And as he was there she rejoiced that her aunt had sent up so
well-stocked a hamper, and she inwardly blessed Lord Darsham for having
ordered such a supply of game to be left at Eglantine Cottage; and she
was glad Rupert should see there seemed no lack of anything in their
temporary home, small though its limits might be; and above all she felt
thankful for the cheque lying safely in her new purse, which removed
such a weight and load of care from her.
"One hundred pounds," she kept mentally repeating to herself, while her
heart throbbed joyfully in accord with the air her mind was
singing--"Why, one hundred pounds properly managed--and I do now
understand how to manage money--will last for ever."
Poor Dolly, she was not such a simpleton as her ideas might lead any one
to imagine; already she had formed her plans for the future, and Rupert,
looking at her sparkling face, guessed that some good had come to or was
expected by her.
"She would never be so cheerful as she is," the young man decided, "with
only five pounds between them and beggary, unless she had got more or
knew where to get it. I will put my idea to the test presently."
And so, when after dinner and coffee Mortomley had fallen into that
evening sleep now become habitual, and which the doctor told Dolly to
encourage, Rupert drew his chair near to his companion and said in a low
tone,
"Dolly, are you rich enough to lend me fifteen pounds? I can repay you
in a fortnight or three weeks. Of course Dean would lend me that amount,
but then I do not care to ask a favour from him. Talking about money to
you and Archie never seems the same evil thing as talking about money
to other people."
Dolly looked up at him frankly. "You do not want it to-night, I
suppose?"
"No; any time within a few days, will do."
"You can have it on Thursday," she said, "that is if the weather be fine
enough for me to go to town, and I shall not want it again at present.
You need not repay me for a couple of months if you are short."
"She _has_ discovered a gold mine," decided Rupert, but he only said
aloud, "Thank you, Dolly, very much. He who gives quickly gives twice,
and you always had that grace, my dear."
Next day Mrs. Mortomley had a visitor, one who came when the afternoon
was changing into evening, and who sent up a mysterious message to Mrs.
Mortomley by Susan to the effect that "a person wanted to speak to her."
"It is Lang, ma'am," whispered Susan, as she followed her mistress
across the hall; "but he charged me not to mention his name before Mr.
Rupert. He says if you wouldn't mind stepping down and speaking to him,
he would take it as a kindness."
When Mrs. Mortomley entered the kitchen, she beheld Lang standing in
front of a bright fire, his hands crossed behind him, his face turned
towards the darkness closing outside.
"How do you do, ma'am," he began. "I hope you will excuse the liberty,
but I leave to-morrow, and I felt I could not go without just mentioning
that matter to you again."
Mrs. Mortomley at the first glance understood Mr. Lang had been
drinking--paying his last footing for a time on English soil, and
toasting prosperity to number one in a foreign land. But this made no
difference in the cordiality of her reception--sober or not sober, and
she had seen him in both states, she knew Lang could speak to the
purpose. That unhappy glass too much which overtakes the best and
cleverest of our skilled labourers on occasion, was not so rare an
accident in Mr. Lang's life that Dolly feared any forgetfulness of
etiquette in consequence.
"Pray sit down," she said, pointing to a chair, and then she would have
drawn down the blind and lit the gas had not Lang prevented her.
"I think I can do that much at any rate," he remarked; but whether his
observation had a special or a particular application, Dolly was unable
to tell.
It appeared, however, as though he was able to do "that much," for he
lit the gas and drew down the blinds, and then placed a seat for Mrs.
Mortomley.
"If you will excuse me, ma'am," he said, "but I believe it is as cheap
to sit as to stand."
"Certainly it is," agreed Dolly, and accepted the proffered civility,
Mr. Lang seating himself on the other side of the hearth.
"Yes, I am going away to-morrow," repeated Mr. Lang, with that harking
back, without a previous link to a first idea, which is so curious a
peculiarity of his class.
"I hope you will make a great success," said Dolly. With the peculiarity
of her class, she was able to appear utterly indifferent, while her
heart was aching till she heard Lang's next words.
"I shall make some money, of that I have no doubt," answered the man. "I
have the knowledge, and knowledge is what people want now-a-days; but,
bless you, I know what they'll do--they'll pick my brains and then throw
me aside like a sucked orange," he finished, with a singular involvement
of metaphor.
Mrs. Mortomley did not answer. She had some knowledge of his class,
derived from that insight which a clever woman who personally relieves
those who make their living by labour, when they are sick or distressed,
must acquire almost unconsciously, and she did not wish to lose a point
in her game by precipitancy.
"Like a sucked orange as that blackguard Swanland would have liked to
do," Mr. Lang kindly explained.
"I suppose you will start in business on your own account when you
return to England," said Mrs. Mortomley, seeing some reply was expected
from her.
"No," answered Mr. Lang slowly and solemnly; "no, no, that ain't good
enough for me, not by no means. If I can earn enough in foreign parts (I
want no secrets from a lady like you) I will put the wife into a
business. That there new Act is a jolly good thing for such as us; and
then, if you have no call for me, I'll try to get a berth as foreman.
Mrs. Mortomley," he added almost in a whisper, and bending his head
eagerly forward, "_have you found anything yet_?"
"No," she answered; "nevertheless, I think it is to be done. Lang," and
rising in her earnestness she went on, "are you true or are you false?
Can I trust you or can I not?"
"True before God, ma'am," he replied rising likewise. "And you may trust
me to the death."
"That is enough," she answered; then added imperatively, "Sit down. If
you are going to-morrow, I must speak to you now."
"Is--is there a drop of cold tea about anywhere, ma'am?" he asked,
feeling he needed something perfectly to steady his senses, and yet
fearing to touch water as though he were a mad dog.
Dolly laughed; the experience tickled her, and going to a cupboard which
held Susan's treasures, produced a pot from which she poured a cup of
cold tea.
"Milk and sugar?" she asked.
"Milk will do, thank you," said Mr. Lang, and he drank half a pint off
at a draught.
Mrs. Mortomley watched him finish with a grave smile; then she said,
"If you and I are ever to row in the same boat, Lang, you must take
less--cold tea."
"I'd take the pledge if you asked me," he answered eagerly, but Dolly
shook her head.
"Whenever Mr. Mortomley has to attend no longer at Salisbury House," she
said, "I mean to leave London."
"Well, our work can be done anywhere," said Lang reflectively.
"That is precisely what I think," agreed Mrs. Mortomley; "but before we
go further I want you to understand one thing clearly. Through
misadventure I am not going to sell my husband a second time. If I ever
find those formulae, or if I am ever able to extract them from Mr.
Mortomley's memory, I shall keep them to myself. Do you understand? If
you like to work with me on that condition, well and good; if not, let
us wish each other fortune's best gifts, and part now, you to go to
Germany, I to do the best I can in England."
Mr. Lang paused. This was a move he had not expected; but aided,
perhaps, by the cold tea, he recovered himself immediately.
"I am quite willing to work with you and for you, ma'am, on those
conditions. If I serve you faithful, I am sure you won't leave my name
out when your books are balanced. Look here, ma'am, I did think to go in
with you share and share alike in everything, but--"
"Look _you_ here, Lang," Mrs. Mortomley interrupted, speaking very
decidedly, "My husband's brains are all that are left to him now, and I
will help no man to steal them, neither will I suffer any one to steal
them, you may depend. I am thankful to remember Mr. Swanland when he
took his business from him, was unable to take his trade secrets as
well, and I will put it in the power of no person to use Mr. Mortomley's
processes without his knowledge and permission. So now, as I said
before, if you do not like my conditions, let us abandon your plan.
About money, if we make any, I shall not be niggardly; but if you stay
with me for twenty years, you will know no more of Mr. Mortomley's
secrets than you do to-night."
Lang sat silent for a minute. He had not bargained for this. He had felt
willing enough to prosecute the plan he himself had suggested to Mrs.
Mortomley without any immediate revelations being made to him concerning
the manipulation of those choicer colours for which the Mortomleys had
long been famous, but he was not prepared for the frank assurance that
Mrs. Mortomley intended to leave him out in the cold for ever. He
intended to be utterly true to the Mortomleys; but, at the same time, he
desired naturally to serve himself, and he believed he could never hope
to do that effectually unless he were made acquainted with the means
whereby his late employer had produced those effects which rendered the
Homewood works celebrated wherever colours were bought and sold.
Who would have supposed that a lady who twelve months before could not
have told ochre from umber should all at once develop such an amount of
business capacity as to understand precisely which way Mr. Lang's
desires led, and at once put a padlock on the gate by which he hoped to
reach his goal?
Mr. Lang sat and thought this over as thoroughly as the state of his
head would permit, and Dolly sat and watched him anxiously. She was
determined not to yield a point; and yet if Lang decided to have nothing
to do with those still unopened works, the idea of which had been
originated by himself, she failed to see what she should unaided be able
to accomplish.
At last Lang spoke. "I think you are hard upon me, ma'am. If I do my
best to work up a business for Mr. Mortomley, it seems only justice I
should have some benefit from it."
"That is quite true," agreed Mrs. Mortomley.
"But I cannot have any tangible benefit unless--"
"Go on," said Dolly as he paused, "or shall I finish the sentence for
you--unless we take you so far into our confidence that we could not
safely throw you over."
"I do not think, ma'am, you ought to put it in that way," remarked Lang,
who naturally disliked such explicit utterances.
"If you can suggest any better way in which to put it, pray do so," she
replied. "The fact is, Lang, one or other of us must have faith--you in
me, or I in you. Now I think it is you who ought to have faith in me,
because so far as anything is mine to trust, you shall have perfect
control over it. I must put the most utter confidence in your honesty,
your skill, and your industry. The only trust I withhold is that which
is not mine to give, which belongs entirely to my husband; but this
much I will say, Lang,--if hereafter, when Mr. Mortomley's health is
re-established, differences should arise among us, and you desire to
leave, I would most earnestly ask him to mark his sense of all you have
done and tried to do for me by giving you two or three receipts, which
might enable you to carry on a small business successfully on your own
account."
"You would do that, ma'am?"
"Most certainly," she answered.
"Would you mind giving me your hand on it?"
Dolly laughed, and held out her hand. What a bit of a hand it was! Mr.
Lang took it in his as he might have taken a fragile piece of china, and
appeared excessively uncomfortable now he had got what he desired.
"There is one thing more I would wish to say, ma'am," he remarked, when,
this ceremony concluded, an awkward pause seemed impending.
"Why do you not say it then?" asked Mrs. Mortomley.
"Because I am afraid of offending. But I may just observe that I hope
you won't think of making Mr. Rupert one of our firm."
"Mr. Rupert!" she repeated in surprise. "He has done with business for
ever. He would never wish to be connected with it again."
"But if he did, ma'am?"
"I should not wish it," Mrs. Mortomley answered. Then added, "I would
not have Mr. Rupert in any business in which I had any interest. I am
certain he would do his best to serve me or his uncle, but I do not
think he has any especial genius for colour making."
"They do say at Swanland's," observed Mr. Lang, coughing
apologetically, "that there is a great talk of Mr. Rupert going into
business with Mr. Brett. They do say there Mr. Rupert knows all Mr.
Mortomley's processes; and if so be as how such is the case, Mr. Brett
and he will make a good thing of it."
Dolly sat silent for a minute; then she asked,
"Did Mr. Rupert know anything of the business when we were at Homewood,
Lang?"
"No, that I will take my oath he did not," was the prompt reply.
"Then by what means could he have learned anything of it since?"
"That is best known to himself, ma'am. If he found anything at Homewood,
and kept it--"
"He could not, Lang. My husband was always most careful about his
papers."
"Or if he has been able to pump Mr. Mortomley since you left Homewood."
"That is not likely either," said Dolly, and yet as she spoke she
remembered that not five minutes before Susan came to tell her Lang was
below, her husband had thrust a piece of paper over to Rupert, saying,
"There is something out of which money might be made, though I shall
never make it," and like a simpleton she had attached little importance
to the utterance, until Lang's words revealed its significance to her.
"Suppose we leave Mr. Rupert out of the question altogether," she
suggested.
"Well, ma'am, I don't see how that can well be, if Mr. Rupert is to get
the information we want and use it against us," Lang replied.
"He shall not," was the reply. "He may have caught a hint or two, but he
shall catch no more. If he and Mr. Brett go into partnership, it shall
not be with Mr. Mortomley's inventions."
"Are you sure, ma'am?"
"Perfectly sure. Mr. Mortomley is not in a state of health to detail the
methods he has employed to any one. I do not mean to say Mr. Rupert may
not have got some information, but I do say he would require as much
more to make it available, and I will take care he has no chance of
obtaining any more."
"I hope you will, ma'am," was the frank reply, "for if I may make so
free as to give you my opinion about Mr. Rupert, I think, fine young
gentleman as he is, he would sell the nearest belonging to him for a ten
pound-note."
"You have no right to say anything against Mr. Rupert,"
answered Mrs. Mortomley, "and there is no necessity for you to express
any opinion concerning him. He will have nothing to do with our
business, and therefore you need not trouble yourself about his
character."
"I meant no offence, ma'am."
"And I have taken none, but I want to talk to you about business, and we
are wasting time in speaking of extraneous matters. When shall you come
back to England?"
"Whenever you want me."
"But you have certain work to finish abroad?"
"That is true; still, I can take a run over when you are ready to start
our work. We shall have a good deal to prepare before we can begin in
earnest, and I shall set a man I can depend on to do all that, and have
everything ready for me by the time I am clear. You find the place,
ma'am, and the money, and we need not delay matters an hour."
"Want of money is no obstacle now," she answered. "I can give you
enough at any time."
"And where do you think of going?" he asked.
"Into Hertfordshire if I can find a house cheap enough. I shall look for
the house first, and the shed you require afterwards."
"Remember, we must have water," he said. "Good water and a continuous
supply."
"I shall not forget," was the reply.
"And you think you can find the memoranda?"
"I do not think I can. I think that from time to time I may be able to
obtain all particulars from Mr. Mortomley."
Lang groaned. "You do not know, ma'am, on what a trifle success hangs in
the colour trade. If you could only have got hold of the receipts the
governor wrote out when he was at his best--"
"I do not believe he ever wrote out any," said Mrs. Mortomley.
"He must have done it," was the reply. "No memory, let it be good as
might be, could carry things like that."
"If there had been a book such as you suppose, it would have gone up to
Salisbury House with the rest of my husband's books and papers. If it
ever existed Mr. Swanland has it."
"I don't think it, ma'am. If Mr. Swanland knows nothing except about
accountants' work, he has those in his employ who would have understood
the value of such a book as that."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Dolly pettishly. "Do you suppose any one in
Mr. Swanland's office ever waded through the mass of papers Meadows sent
up to town? Why, there were tons of letters, and books and papers, in
the offices at Homewood."
"That may well be," agreed Lang; "but Mr. Mortomley never kept his
secrets among the office papers. Had he not desks and writing-tables,
and the like?"
"Yes; but we left everything in them untouched. I should have liked to
look over the papers after Meadows came, but I was afraid to meddle with
them."
"Well, it cannot be helped," remarked the man resignedly. "Mayhap, by
the time we are ready, Mr. Mortomley will be able to help us; if not, we
must depend on the colours I know something about."
And having uttered this consolatory reflection, Mr. Lang arose to
depart.
"I expect I'll have to be backwards and forwards," he observed; "and if
I am, I'll call to know how things are going on; but if not, you'll
write, ma'am."
"I will write," she answered; and so they separated.
Thinking it possible her husband might have fallen asleep, Mrs.
Mortomley, when she went upstairs, opened the drawing-room door so
gently that no one heard her enter.
At a glance she saw her husband, though awake, was lost in reverie, and
that Rupert was copying the formula Mortomley had written out into his
pocket-book.
"What are you so busy about, Rupert?" she asked, startling him by her
question.
He turned a leaf over rapidly and answered, "Making a sketch, of Archie
in a 'brown study.'"
"When you come to the accessories of the drawing, let me fill them in,"
she suggested, lifting the paper as she spoke from the table and looking
Rupert steadily in the face.
"I have no doubt you would do so better than I," he replied with
imperturbable composure. "A woman's imagination is always so much
livelier than that of a man."
She made no reply to this. She only folded up the formula and placed it
carefully beside Mrs. Werner's cheque in the pretty purse her friend had
given her.