"Come and Try It"
The husband was almost jovial when he came home just in time to take
his young wife to dine with their father. "I've had such a day in the
city," he said, laughing. "I wish I could introduce you to my friend,
Mr. Sextus Parker."
"Cannot you do so?"
"Well, no; not exactly. Of course you'd like him because he is such a
wonderful character, but he'd hardly do for your drawing-room. He's
the vulgarest little creature you ever put your eyes on; and yet in a
certain way he's my partner."
"Then I suppose you trust him?"
"Indeed I don't;--but I make him useful. Poor little Sexty! I do
trust him to a degree, because he believes in me and thinks he can
do best by sticking to me. The old saying of 'honour among thieves'
isn't without a dash of truth in it. When two men are in a boat
together they must be true to each other, else neither will get to
the shore."
"You don't attribute high motives to your friend."
"I'm afraid there are not very many high motives in the world, my
girl, especially in the city;--nor yet at Westminster. It can hardly
be from high motives when a lot of men, thinking differently on every
possible subject, come together for the sake of pay and power. I
don't know whether, after all, Sextus Parker mayn't have as high
motives as the Duke of Omnium. I don't suppose any one ever had lower
motives than the Duchess when she chiselled me about Silverbridge.
Never mind;--it'll all be one a hundred years hence. Get ready, for I
want you to be with your father a little before dinner."
Then, when they were in the brougham together, he began a course of
very plain instructions. "Look here, dear; you had better get him to
talk to you before dinner. I dare say Mrs. Roby will be there, and
I will get her on one side. At any rate you can manage it because
we shall be early, and I'll take up a book while you are talking to
him."
"What do you wish me to say to him, Ferdinand?"
"I have been thinking of your own proposal, and I am quite sure that
we had better join him in the Square. The thing is, I am in a little
mess about the rooms, and can't stay on without paying very dearly
for them."
"I thought you had paid for them."
"Well;--yes; in one sense I had; but you don't understand about
business. You had better not interrupt me now as I have got a good
deal to say before we get to the Square. It will suit me to give up
the rooms. I don't like them, and they are very dear. As you yourself
said, it will be a capital thing for us to go and stay with your
father."
"I meant only for a visit."
"It will be for a visit,--and we'll make it a long visit." It was odd
that the man should have been so devoid of right feeling himself as
not to have known that the ideas which he expressed were revolting!
"You can sound him. Begin by saying that you are afraid he is
desolate. He told me himself that he was desolate, and you can refer
to that. Then tell him that we are both of us prepared to do anything
that we can to relieve him. Put your arm over him, and kiss him, and
all that sort of thing." She shrunk from him into the corner of the
brougham, and yet he did not perceive it. "Then say that you think
he would be happier if we were to join him here for a time. You
can make him understand that there would be no difficulty about
the apartments. But don't say it all in a set speech, as though
it were prepared,--though of course you can let him know that you
have suggested it to me and that I am willing. Be sure to let him
understand that the idea began with you."
"But it did not."
"You proposed to go and stay with him. Tell him just that. And you
should explain to him that he can dine at the club just as much as he
likes. When you were alone with him here, of course he had to come
home; but he needn't do that now unless he chooses. Of course the
brougham would be my affair. And if he should say anything about
sharing the house expenses, you can tell him that I would do anything
he might propose." Her father to share the household expenses in his
own house, and with his own children! "You say as much as you can
of all this before dinner, so that when we are sitting below he may
suggest it if he pleases. It would suit me to get in there next week
if possible."
And so the lesson had been given. She had said little or nothing in
reply, and he had only finished as they entered the Square. She had
hardly a minute allowed her to think how far she might follow, and in
what she must ignore, her husband's instructions. If she might use
her own judgment she would tell her father at once that a residence
for a time beneath his roof would be a service to them pecuniarily.
But this she might not do. She understood that her duty to her
husband did forbid her to proclaim his poverty in opposition to his
wishes. She would tell nothing that he did not wish her to tell,--but
then no duty could require her to say what was false. She would make
the suggestion about their change of residence, and would make it
with proper affection;--but as regarded themselves she would simply
say that it would suit their views to give up their rooms if it
suited him.
Mr. Wharton was all alone when they entered the drawing-room,--but,
as Lopez had surmised, had asked his sister-in-law round the corner
to come to dinner. "Roby always likes an excuse to get to his club,"
said the old man, "and Harriet likes an excuse to go anywhere." It
was not long before Lopez began to play his part by seating himself
close to the open window and looking out into the Square; and
Emily when she found herself close to her father, with her hand in
his, could hardly divest herself of a feeling that she also was
playing her part. "I see so very little of you," said the old man
plaintively.
"I'd come up oftener if I thought you'd like it."
"It isn't liking, my dear. Of course you have to live with your
husband. Isn't this sad about Everett?"
"Very sad. But Everett hasn't lived here for ever so long."
"I don't know why he shouldn't. He was a fool to go away when he did.
Does he go to you?"
"Yes;--sometimes."
"And what does he say?"
"I'm sure he would be with you at once if you would ask him."
"I have asked him. I've sent word by Lopez over and over again. If he
means that I am to write to him and say that I'm sorry for offending
him, I won't. Don't talk of him any more. It makes me so angry that
I sometimes feel inclined to do things which I know I should repent
when dying."
"Not anything to injure Everett, papa!"
"I wonder whether he ever thinks that I am an old man and all alone,
and that his brother-in-law is daily with me. But he's a fool, and
thinks of nothing. I know it is very sad being here night after night
by myself." Mr. Wharton forgot, no doubt, at the moment, that he
passed the majority of his evenings at the Eldon,--though, had he
been reminded of it, he might have declared with perfect truth that
the delights of his club were not satisfactory.
"Papa," said Emily, "would you like us to come and live here?"
"What,--you and Lopez;--here, in the Square?"
"Yes;--for a time. He is thinking of giving up the place in Belgrave
Mansions."
"I thought he had them for--for ever so many months."
"He does not like them, and they are expensive, and he can give them
up. If you would wish it, we would come here,--for a time." He turned
round and looked at her almost suspiciously; and she,--she blushed as
she remembered how accurately she was obeying her husband's orders.
"It would be such a joy to me to be near you again."
There was something in her voice which instantly reassured him.
"Well--;" he said; "come and try it if it will suit him. The house is
big enough. It will ease his pocket and be a comfort to me. Come and
try it."
It astonished her that the thing should be done so easily. Here
was all that her husband had proposed to arrange by deep diplomacy
settled in three words. And yet she felt ashamed of herself,--as
though she had taken her father in. That terrible behest to "get
round him" still grated on her ears. Had she got round him? Had she
cheated him into this? "Papa," she said, "do not do this unless you
feel sure that you will like it."
"How is anybody to feel sure of anything, my dear?"
"But if you doubt, do not do it."
"I feel sure of one thing, that it will be a great saving to your
husband, and I am nearly sure that that ought not to be a matter of
indifference to him. There is plenty of room here, and it will at any
rate be a comfort to me to see you sometimes." Just at this moment
Mrs. Roby came in, and the old man began to tell his news aloud.
"Emily has not gone away for long. She's coming back like a bad
shilling."
"Not to live in the Square?" said Mrs. Roby, looking round at Lopez.
"Why not? There's room here for them, and it will be just as well to
save expense. When will you come, my dear?"
"Whenever the house may be ready, papa."
"It's ready now. You ought to know that. I am not going to refurnish
the rooms for you, or anything of that kind. Lopez can come in and
hang up his hat whenever it pleases him."
During this time Lopez had hardly known how to speak or what to say.
He had been very anxious that his wife should pave the way, as he
would have called it. He had been urgent with her to break the ice
to her father. But it had not occurred to him that the matter would
be settled without any reference to himself. Of course he had heard
every word that had been spoken, and was aware that his own poverty
had been suggested as the cause for such a proceeding. It was a great
thing for him in every way. He would live for nothing, and would also
have almost unlimited power of being with Mr. Wharton as old age grew
on him. This ready compliance with his wishes was a benefit far too
precious to be lost. But yet he felt that his own dignity required
some reference to himself. It was distasteful to him that his
father-in-law should regard him,--or, at any rate, that he should
speak of him,--as a pauper, unable to provide a home for his own
wife. "Emily's notion in suggesting it, sir," he said, "has been her
care for your comfort." The barrister turned round and looked at
him, and Lopez did not quite like the look. "It was she thought of
it first, and she certainly had no other idea than that. When she
mentioned it to me, I was delighted to agree."
Emily heard it all and blushed. It was not absolutely untrue in
words,--this assertion of her husband's,--but altogether false in
spirit. And yet she could not contradict him. "I don't see why it
should not do very well, indeed," said Mrs. Roby.
"I hope it may," said the barrister. "Come, Emily, I must take you
down to dinner to-day. You are not at home yet, you know. As you are
to come, the sooner the better."
During dinner not a word was said on the subject. Lopez exerted
himself to be pleasant, and told all that he had heard as to the
difficulties of the Cabinet. Sir Orlando had resigned, and the
general opinion was that the Coalition was going to pieces. Had Mr.
Wharton seen the last article in the "People's Banner" about the
Duke? Lopez was strongly of the opinion that Mr. Wharton ought to see
that article. "I never had the 'People's Banner' within my fingers in
my life," said the barrister angrily, "and I certainly never will."
"Ah, sir; this is an exception. You should see this. When Slide
really means to cut a fellow up, he can do it. There's no one like
him. And the Duke has deserved it. He's a poor, vacillating creature,
led by the Duchess; and she,--according to all that one hears,--she
isn't much better than she should be."
"I thought the Duchess was a great friend of yours," said Mr.
Wharton.
"I don't care much for such friendship. She threw me over most
shamefully."
"And therefore, of course, you are justified in taking away her
character. I never saw the Duchess of Omnium in my life, and should
probably be very uncomfortable if I found myself in her society;
but I believe her to be a good sort of woman in her way." Emily sat
perfectly silent, knowing that her husband had been rebuked, but
feeling that he had deserved it. He, however, was not abashed; but
changed the conversation, dashing into city rumours, and legal
reforms. The old man from time to time said sharp little things,
showing that his intellect was not senile, all of which his
son-in-law bore imperturbably. It was not that he liked it, or was
indifferent, but that he knew that he could not get the good things
which Mr. Wharton could do for him without making some kind of
payment. He must take the sharp words of the old man,--and take all
that he could get besides.
When the two men were alone together after dinner, Mr. Wharton used a
different tone. "If you are to come," he said, "you might as well do
it as soon as possible."
"A day or two will be enough for us."
"There are one or two things you should understand. I shall be very
happy to see your friends at any time, but I shall like to know when
they are coming before they come."
"Of course, sir."
"I dine out a good deal."
"At the club," suggested Lopez.
"Well;--at the club or elsewhere. It doesn't matter. There will
always be dinner here for you and Emily, just as though I were at
home. I say this, so that there need be no questionings or doubts
about it hereafter. And don't let there ever be any question of money
between us."
"Certainly not."
"Everett has an allowance, and this will be tantamount to an
allowance to Emily. You have also had £3500. I hope it has been well
expended;--except the £500 at that election, which has, of course,
been thrown away."
"The other was brought into the business."
"I don't know what the business is. But you and Emily must understand
that the money has been given as her fortune."
"Oh, quite so;--part of it, you mean."
"I mean just what I say."
"I call it part of it, because, as you observed just now, our living
here will be the same as though you made Emily an allowance."
"Ah;--well; you can look at it in that light if you please. John has
the key of the cellar. He's a man I can trust. As a rule I have port
and sherry at table every day. If you like claret I will get some a
little cheaper than what I use when friends are here."
"What wine I have is quite indifferent to me."
"I like it good, and I have it good. I always breakfast at 9.30.
You can have yours earlier if you please. I don't know that there's
anything else to be said. I hope we shall get into the way of
understanding each other, and being mutually comfortable. Shall we
go upstairs to Emily and Mrs. Roby?" And so it was determined that
Emily was to come back to her old house about eight months after her
marriage.
Mr. Wharton himself sat late into the night, all alone, thinking
about it. What he had done, he had done in a morose way, and he was
aware that it was so. He had not beamed with smiles, and opened his
arms lovingly, and, bidding God bless his dearest children, told them
that if they would only come and sit round his hearth he should be
the happiest old man in London. He had said little or nothing of his
own affection even for his daughter, but had spoken of the matter as
one of which the pecuniary aspect alone was important. He had found
out that the saving so effected would be material to Lopez, and had
resolved that there should be no shirking of the truth in what he was
prepared to do. He had been almost asked to take the young married
couple in, and feed them,--so that they might live free of expense.
He was willing to do it,--but was not willing that there should be
any soft-worded, high-toned false pretension. He almost read Lopez to
the bottom,--not, however, giving the man credit for dishonesty so
deep or cleverness so great as he possessed. But as regarded Emily,
he was also actuated by a personal desire to have her back again as
an element of happiness to himself. He had pined for her since he had
been left alone, hardly knowing what it was that he had wanted. And
now as he thought of it all, he was angry with himself that he had
not been more loving and softer in his manner to her. She at any rate
was honest. No doubt of that crossed his mind. And now he had been
bitter to her,--bitter in his manner,--simply because he had not
wished to appear to have been taken in by her husband. Thinking of
all this, he got up, and went to his desk, and wrote her a note,
which she would receive on the following morning after her husband
had left her. It was very short.
DEAREST E.
I am so overjoyed that you are coming back to me.
A. W.
He had judged her quite rightly. The manner in which the thing had
been arranged had made her very wretched. There had been no love in
it;--nothing apparently but assertions on one side that much was
being given, and on the other acknowledgments that much was to be
received. She was aware that in this her father had condemned her
husband. She also had condemned him;--and felt, alas, that she also
had been condemned. But this little letter took away that sting. She
could read in her father's note all the action of his mind. He had
known that he was bound to acquit her, and he had done so with one of
the old long-valued expressions of his love.
VOLUME II