Those of my readers who have read their Virgil will most likely remember
an observation made by one of the gentlemen who figure conspicuously in
the story of the _Aeneid_. He dreaded his hereditary enemies, the
Greeks, under any circumstances; but he never dreaded them so much as
when they came and offered him presents!
This was pretty much my feeling when I was told that my debt to Wallop
had been paid for me by Hawkesbury.
There had been a time in my life when I almost liked Hawkesbury. More
recently I had suspected him of being not quite the angel I once
believed him. Later still I had felt my suspicion grow to very decided
dislike. And now, at the moment when he made me his debtor for thirty
shillings, I positively loathed him.
I could not guess his motive. I was certain it was not out of pure love
for me or pity for Wallop. Indeed, I was pretty certain there was far
more mischief than good in the action. I would sooner have owed Wallop
thirty pounds than Hawkesbury thirty shillings. He knew it, too, and
for that very reason paid my debt to Wallop.
"Whatever business of Hawkesbury's is it?" I demanded of Wallop, as
soon as I could find words to express myself.
"Goodness knows," replied Wallop, with a laugh.
"But I won't let him do it. I don't want him to pay my debts. You must
give him the money back, Wallop." Wallop grinned delightedly.
"Oh, quite so. It's rather likely, when I've been waiting for my money
the best part of a year, I should decline to receive it when I've got
the chance! No, my boy, you can settle with Hawkesbury now. You owe
him the thirty bob, not me!"
What was I to do? I demanded an explanation of Hawkesbury as soon as he
appeared.
"Wallop tells me you've paid him the thirty shillings I owed him," said
I.
"Oh, he shouldn't have told you," said Hawkesbury, with the meek air of
a benevolent man who doesn't like to hear his own good deeds talked
about.
"I wish you hadn't done it," said I.
"Oh, you mustn't think of it," said he, blandly. "It was only because I
heard him threaten to get you into trouble if you didn't pay him, and I
should have been so sorry if that had happened."
"Thank you, but really I prefer to pay my own debts!"
He laughed as if it was a joke.
"I'm sure you do; but as I knew you couldn't do it, I thought it would
be a relief to you if I did it for you."
Could he be in earnest? He talked as if I ought to be grateful to him
instead of in a rage, as I was. Certainly it was a queer position to be
in--storming at a fellow who has just saved you from debt, perhaps
disgrace, possibly ruin, I _couldn't_ make out what to think of it.
"I daresay you thought you were doing me a good turn," I said as civilly
as I could, "but as it happens I wish you had let the thing alone."
He sighed forgivingly and went to his desk.
The moment Jack and I got outside at dinner-time I unburdened my woes to
him.
He was in as great if not a greater commotion than I was.
"What does he mean by it?" he exclaimed. "Fred, you must pay him back
at once, whatever it costs you!"
"All very well," said I, "but you know I've nothing."
"Can't you pawn anything? can't you get a job of some sort to do?
anything to pay him off. I shall be miserable as long as you owe him a
farthing!"
He spoke with a vehemence that quite astonished me.--"You don't mean to
say you're going to let yourself stop in his debt?" he exclaimed, when I
did not answer.
"Not a second after I can get the money."
"When will you hear from your uncle?"
"To-morrow morning if he writes by return. But I've no hopes from him."
"I suppose it would not do to ask the partners," said Jack.
I was thunderstruck at the very idea. For Jack to entertain it for a
moment only showed how desperately in earnest he was.
We could get no light on the subject, and I had the pleasure of being
reminded by Hawkesbury's smile all day long that I was in his power, and
saw no way out.
That whole evening Jack and I sat and discussed the situation. We even
rose early, to consult Mr Smith the elder on his return to the
lodgings. He soon appreciated our difficulty; but he could suggest no
relief. For he was as poor as either of us, and had as few friends.
My uncle's letter did not come that day or the next.
Meanwhile I knew no peace. Hawkesbury's manner was more suave and
condescending than ever.
To the rest of my fellow-clerks during those two days I was the most
cross-grained and obnoxious comrade conceivable. My only relief seemed
to be in quarrelling with somebody, and as they all laid themselves out
to bait and tease me one way or another I had a pretty lively time of
it.
My chief hope was (and Jack shared in it), that if my uncle had been
determined not to help me at all he would probably have written by
return. The delay might mean he was at least considering the matter.
At last, on the third day of my waiting, the postman knocked at our
door. With beating heart I rushed to receive the letter which I knew
must be for me.
It was, but it was not from my uncle, it was from Hawkesbury.
"My Dear Batchelor," he wrote, "I am very sorry to see that I have given
you offence by settling your debt with Wallop. I really meant it for
the best, because I knew you could not pay, and I was afraid if it came
to my uncle's or Mr Barnacle's knowledge it might be awkward for you,
for I happen to know my uncle feels very strongly about clerks getting
into debt, especially through gambling. I'm afraid I can't undo what
has been done, for Wallop will hardly give me back the money. So I
write to tell you how sorry I am, and to say I hope you will forgive me.
Please do not trouble about the repayment of the loan; you must take
whatever time suits you. I trust this little matter will not make us
worse friends than before.
"Yours sincerely,--
"E. Hawkesbury.
"P.S.--I write this as I shall be away from the office the next two
days, while we are moving to our new house. When we are settled in I
hope you will come and see us."
What was I to think of it? For the last three days I had been losing no
opportunity of snubbing this fellow, and to demonstrate to him that, so
far from feeling obliged to him, I disliked him all the more for what he
had done. In return for which he now writes me this beautiful letter,
breathing forgiveness and considerateness, and absolutely apologising
for having paid thirty shillings to save me from ruin!