The manifestations of maternal vanity are apt to appear monotonous to
the indifferent spectator; but, in Mrs. Errington such manifestations
were, at least, not open to that reproach. Beethoven himself never
surpassed her in the power of producing variations on one simple theme.
And this surprising fertility of hers prevented her from being a mere
commonplace bore. She never told a story twice alike. There was always
an element of unexpectedness in her conversation, albeit the groundwork
and foundation of it varied but little. In the overflowing gratification
of her heart at Algernon's prospects, and under the excitement of his
imminent departure, she would fain have bestowed some of her eloquence
even on old Max, with whom her relations had been decidedly cool, since
the outbreak of rude temper on his part which has been recorded. But old
Max continued to be surly and taciturn for a while; he had been
bitterly mortified by Mrs. Errington's talk about the marriage her son
would be able to make, whenever it should please him to select a wife.
But then, after that, had come Miss Bodkin's frequent invitations to
Rhoda, which had greatly mollified the old man. And presently it
appeared as if Mrs. Errington had forgotten all about General Indigo's
daughters, and the heiress of the eminent drysalter. At all events, she
said no more on the subject of those ladies. And old Max gradually, and
not slowly, recurred to his former persuasion that the Erringtons would
be very glad to secure Rhoda's hand for Algernon, being well aware that
her money would balance her birth and connections. True, the young man
had, as yet, said nothing explicit. But, of course, he would feel it
necessary to have some settled prospect before asking permission to
engage himself formally to Rhoda.
"He is connected with the great ones of the earth, to be sure!"
reflected Mr. Maxfield, with some exultation. "And he is a comely young
chap to look upon, and full of all kinds of book-learning and
accomplishments--talks foreign tongues, and sings, and plays upon
instruments, and draws pictures!"
An uneasy thought crossed his mind at this point, that David Powell
would consider these things as leading to reprehensible frivolity and
worldliness; and that, moreover, most of his (Maxfield's) old friends
would agree with the preacher in so deeming. It was not to be expected
that the thoughts and habits of a lifetime could be so eradicated from
old Max's mind by the mere fact of going to worship at St. Chad's, as to
leave his conscience absolutely free on these and similar points. But
the ultimate effect of such inward feelings was always to embitter the
old man against Powell, and to make him clutch eagerly at any
circumstance which should tend to prove that Powell had been wrong and
himself right in their differing views of the Erringtons' intentions. He
was inexpressibly loath to consider himself mistaken. Indeed, for him to
be mistaken seemed to argue a general dislocation and turning
topsy-turvy of things, and a terrible unchaining of the powers of
darkness. If, after walking all his life in the paths of wisdom and
prosperity, he were to find himself suddenly astray, and blundering on a
point which nearly concerned the only tender feelings of his nature,
such a phenomenon must clearly be due to the direct interposition of
Satan. However, as he stood one evening in his storehouse, tying up a
great parcel of sugar in blue paper, Jonathan Maxfield was feeling
neither discontented nor self-distrustful. Mrs. Errington had just been
speaking to Rhoda in his presence, and had said:
"Well, little one, you have quite made a conquest of Mrs. Bodkin, as
well as Miss Minnie. She was praising you up to me the other day. She
particularly remarked your nice manners, and attributed them to my
influence----"
"I'm sure, ma'am, if there is anything nice in my manners, it was you
who taught it to me," Rhoda had said simply. Upon which Mrs. Errington
had been very gracious, and, without at all disclaiming the credit of
Rhoda's nice manners, had mellifluously assured Mr. Maxfield that his
little girl was wonderfully teachable, and had become a general
favourite amongst her (Mrs. Errington's) friends.
Now all this had seemed to Maxfield to be of good augury, and an
additional testimony--if any such were needed--to his own sagacity and
prudent behaviour.
"It'll come right, as I foresaw," thought he triumphantly. "Another man
might have been over hasty, and spoiled matters like a fool. But not
me!"
Some one pushed the half-door between the shop and the storehouse, and
set the bell jingling. Maxfield looked up and saw Algernon Errington,
bright, smiling, and debonair, as usual.
The ordinary expression of old Max's face was not winning; and now, as
he looked up with his grey eyebrows drawn into a shaggy frown, and his
jaws clenched so as to hold the end of a string which he had just drawn
into a knot round the parcel of sugar, he presented a countenance
ill-calculated to reassure a stranger or invite his confidence. But Algy
was not a stranger, and did not intend to bestow any confidence, so he
came forward with the graceful self-possession which sat so well on him,
and said, "How are you, Mr. Maxfield? I have not seen you for ever so
long!"
"It doesn't seem very long ago to me, since we spoke together," returned
old Max, tugging at the string of his parcel.
"You know I'm off to-morrow, Mr. Maxfield?"
The old man shot a hard keen glance at him from beneath the shaggy
eyebrows, and nodded.
"I go by the early coach in the morning, so I must say all my farewells
to-day."
Maxfield gave a sound like a grunt, and nodded again.
"It's a wonderful piece of luck, Lord Seely's taking me up so, isn't
it?"
"Ah! if he means to do anything for you in earnest. So far as I can
learn, his taking you up hasn't cost him much yet."
Algernon laughed frankly. "Not a bit of it, Mr. Maxfield!" he cried.
"And, after all, why should he do anything that would cost him much, for
a poor devil like me? No; the beauty of it is, that he can do great
things for me which shall cost him nothing! He is hand and glove with
the present ministry, and a regular big-wig at court, and all that sort
of thing. The fact of my having good blood in my veins, and being called
Ancram Errington, is no merit of mine, of course--just an accident; but
it's a deuced lucky accident. I daresay Lord Seely is a stupid old
hunks, but then he is Lord Seely, you see. I don't mind saying all this
to you, Mr. Maxfield, because you know the world, and you and I are old
friends."
It was certainly rather hard on Lord Seely to be spoken of as a stupid
old hunks by this lively young gentleman, who knew little more of him
than of his great-grandfather, deceased a century ago. But his lordship
did not hear the artless little speech, so it did not annoy him; whereas
old Max did hear it, and it gratified him considerably for several
reasons. It gratified him to be addressed confidentially as one who knew
the world; it gratified him to be called an old friend by this relation
of the great Lord Seely. And, oddly enough, whilst he was mentally
bowing down before the aristocratic magnificence of that nobleman, it
gratified him to be told that the bowing down was being performed to a
"stupid old hunks," altogether devoid of that wisdom which had been so
largely bestowed on himself, the Whitford grocer.
Pleasant and unaffected as was the young fellow's manner to his
landlord, there was a nonchalance about it which conveyed that he was
quite aware of the social distance between them. And this assumption of
superiority--never coarse or ponderous, like his mother's, but worn with
the airiest lightness--was far from displeasing to old Max. The more of
a gentleman born and bred Algernon Errington showed himself to be, the
higher would Rhoda's position be, if--but old Max had almost discarded
that form of presenting the future to his own mind; and was apt to say
to himself, "when Rhoda marries young Errington." And then the solid
advantages of the position were, so far at least, on old Max's side.
Wealth and wisdom made a powerful combination, he reflected. And he was
not at all afraid of being borne down or overwhelmed by any amount of
gentility. Nevertheless, his spirit was in some subjection to this
patrician youth, who sat opposite to him on a tea-chest, swinging his
legs so affably.
There was a pause. At length Maxfield said, "And how long do you think
o' being away? Or are you going to say good-bye to Whitford for
evermore?"
"Indeed I hope not!"
"Oh! Then there is some folks here as you would care to see again?" said
Maxfield slowly, beginning to tie up another parcel with sedulous care,
and not raising his eyes from it.
"Of course there are! I--I should think you must know that, Mr.
Maxfield! But I want to put myself in a better position with the world
before I can--before I come back to the people I most care for."
"Very good. But it's like to be some time first, I'm afraid."
"As to seeing dear old Whitford again, you know I mean to run down here
in the summer; or at least early in the autumn, when Parliament rises."
"Oh, you do?"
"To be sure! And then I hope to--to settle several things."
"Ah!"
"To a man of your experience, Mr. Maxfield, I needn't say how important
it is for me to go to Lord Seely, ready and willing to undertake any
employment he may offer me."
"Ah!"
"I mean, of course, that I should be absolutely free and unfettered, and
ready to--to--to avail myself of opportunities. You see that, of
course?"
Maxfield looked sage, and nodded. But he also looked a little glum. The
conversation had not taken the turn he expected.
"Once let me get something definite--a Government post, you know, such
as my cousin could get for me as easily as you could take an
apprentice--and then I may please myself. I may consider myself on the
first round of the ladder. And there won't be the same necessity for
deferring to this person and that person. But I don't know why I'm
saying all this to you, Mr. Maxfield. You understand the whole matter
better than I do. By Jove, I wish I'd some of your ballast in my noddle.
I'm such a feather-headed fellow!"
"You are young, Algernon, you are young," returned old Max, from whose
brow the frown had cleared away entirely. "I have had a special gift of
wisdom vouchsafed to me for many years past. It has been, I believe, a
peculiar grace, and it is the Lord's doing, thanks be! I am not easy
deceived."
"I shouldn't like to try it on, that's all I know!" exclaimed Algernon,
pleasantly smiling and nodding his head.
"Albeit there is some as mistrust my judgment; young and raw men without
much gift of clear-headedness, and puffed up with spiritual pride."
"Are there, really?" said Algernon, feeling somewhat at a loss what to
say.
"Yes, there are. I should like such to be convinced of error. It would
be a wholesome lesson."
"Not a doubt of it."
"I should like such to know--for their own soul's sake, and to teach 'em
Christian humility--as you and I quite understand each other, my young
friend; and as all is clear between us."
Algernon had a constitutional dislike to "clear understandings," except
such as were limited to his clear understanding of other people. So he
broke in at this point with one of his impulsive speeches about his
prospects, and his conviction of Mr. Maxfield's wisdom, and his regrets
at leaving Whitford, and his settled purpose to come back at the
end of the summer and have a look at the dear old place, and the
one or two persons in it who were still dearer to him. And he
contrived--"contrived," indeed, is too cold-blooded and Machiavelian a
word to express Algy's rapid mental process--to convey to old Max the
idea that he was on the high road to fortune; that he had a warm and
constant attachment to a certain person whom it was needless to name,
seeing that the certain person could be no other than his playmate,
pretty Rhoda; and that Mr. Jonathan Maxfield was so sagacious and
keen-sighted a personage as to require no wordy explanations such as
might have been needful for feebler intelligences. And then Algy said,
with a rueful sort of candour, and arching those fair childlike eyebrows
of his: "I say, Mr. Maxfield, I shall be awfully short of cash just at
first!"
The two hands of Jonathan Maxfield, which had been laid open, and palm
downwards, on the counter before him, as he listened, instinctively
doubled themselves into fists. He put them one on the top of the other,
and rested his chin on them.
"I don't bother my mother about it, poor dear soul, because I know she
has done all she can already. Of course, if I were to hint anything to
my cousin--to Lord Seely, you know--I might get helped directly. But I
don't want to begin with that, exactly."
"H'm! It 'ud be a test of how much he really does mean, though!"
"Yes; but you know what you said about Lord Seely's doing great things
for me which shall cost him nothing. And I felt how true your view was,
directly. By George, if I want any advice between now and next August, I
shall be tempted to write and ask you for it!"
Maxfield gave a little rasping cough.
"Of course I know the manners and customs of high-bred people well
enough. A fellow who comes of an old family like mine seems to suck all
that in with his mother's milk, somehow. But that's a mere surface
knowledge, after all. And some circumstance might turn up in which I
should want a more solid judgment to help my own."
Maxfield coughed again, a little less raspingly. One of his doubled-up
hands unclasped itself, and he began to pass it across his stubbly chin.
"By-the-by--what an ass I was not to think of that before--would you
mind lending me twenty pounds till August, Mr. Maxfield?"
"I--I'm not given to lending, Algernon; nor to borrowing either, I thank
the Lord."
"Borrowing! No; you're one of the lucky folks of this world, who can
grant favours instead of asking them. But it really is of small
consequence, after all; I'll manage somehow, if you have any objection.
I believe I have a nabob of a godfather, General Indigo, as yellow as a
guinea and as rich as a Jew. My mother was talking of him the other day,
and, perhaps, it would be better to ask such a little favour of one's
own people. I'll look up the nabob, Mr. Maxfield."
It must not be supposed that Algy, in bringing out the name of General
Indigo, had any thought of the three lovely Miss Indigos in his mind. He
was quite unconscious of the existence of those young ladies; if,
indeed, they were not entirely the figments of Mrs. Errington's fertile
fancy. Algy had laid no deep plans. He was simply quick at seizing
opportunity. The opportunity had presented itself, of dazzling old Max
with his nabob godfather, and of--perhaps--inducing the stingy old
fellow to lend him what he wanted, by dint of conveying that he did not
want it particularly. Algy had availed himself of the opportunity, and
the shot had told very effectually.
Old Max never swore. Had he been one of the common and profane crowd of
worldlings, it may be that some imprecation on General Indigo would have
issued from his lips; for the mention of that name made him very angry.
But old Max had a settled conviction of the probable consignment to
perdition of the rich nabob--who was doubtless a purse-proud, tyrannous,
godless old fellow--which far surpassed, in its comforting power, the
ephemeral satisfaction of an oath. He struck his clenched hand on the
counter, and said, testily, "You have not heard what I had it in my mind
to say! You are too rash, young man, and broke in on my discourse before
it was finished!"
"I beg pardon. Did I?"
"I say that I am not given to lending nor to borrowing; and it is most
true. But I have not said that I will refuse to assist you. This is a
special case, and must be judged of specially as between you and me."
"Why, of course, I would rather be obliged to you than to the general,
who is a stranger to me, in fact, though he is my godfather."
"There's nearer ties than godfathers, Algernon."
Algernon burst into a peal of genuine laughter. "Why, yes," said he,
wiping his eyes, "I hope so!"
Old Max did not move a muscle of his face. "What was the sum you named?"
he asked, solemnly.
"Oh, I don't know--twenty or thirty pounds would do. Something just to
keep me going until my mother's next quarter's money comes in."
"I will lend you twenty pounds, Algernon, for which you will write me an
acknowledgment."
"Certainly!"
"Being under age, your receipt is valueless in law. But I wish to have
it as between you and me."
"Of course; as between you and me."
Maxfield unlocked a strong-box let into the wall. Algernon--who had
often gazed at the outside of it rather wistfully--peeped into it with
some eagerness when it was opened; but its contents were chiefly papers
and a huge ledger. There was, however, in one corner a well-stuffed
black leather pocket-book, from which old Max slowly extracted a crisp,
fresh Bank of England note for twenty pounds.
"I'm sure I'm ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Maxfield," said Algernon,
taking the note. He spoke without any over-eagerness, but the gleam of
boyish delight in his eyes would not be suppressed.
"And now come into the parlour with me, and write the acknowledgment."
"I say, Mr. Maxfield," said Algernon, when the receipt had been duly
written and signed, "you won't say anything to my mother about this?"
"Do you mean to keep it a secret?" asked the old man, sharply.
"Oh, of course I don't mind all the world knowing, as far as I'm
concerned. But the dear old lady might worry herself at not being able
to do more for me. Let it be just simply as between you and me," said
Algernon, repeating Maxfield's words, but, truth to say, without
attaching any very definite meaning to them. The old man pursed up his
mouth and nodded.
"Aye, aye," he said, "as between you and me, Algernon; as between you
and me."
* * * * *
"Upon my word, that formula of old Max's seems to be a kind of open
sesame to purses and strong-boxes and cheque-books! 'As between you and
me.' I wonder if it would answer with Lord Seely? Who'd have thought of
old Max doing the handsome thing? Well, it's all right enough. I do mean
to stick to little Rhoda, especially since her father seems to hint his
approbation so very plainly. But it wouldn't do to bind myself just
now--for her sake, poor little pet! 'As between you and me!' What a
character the old fellow is! I wish he'd made it fifty while he was
about it!"
Such was Algernon's mental soliloquy as he walked jauntily down the
street, with his hand in his pocket, and the crisp bank-note between his
finger and thumb.