"I Can Sleep Here To-night, I Suppose?"
That scheme of going to Guatemala had been in the first instance
propounded by Lopez with the object of frightening Mr. Wharton
into terms. There had, indeed, been some previous thoughts on the
subject,--some plan projected before his marriage; but it had been
resuscitated mainly with the hope that it might be efficacious to
extract money. When by degrees the son-in-law began to feel that even
this would not be operative on his father-in-law's purse,--when under
this threat neither Wharton nor Emily gave way,--and when, with the
view of strengthening his threat, he renewed his inquiries as to
Guatemala and found that there might still be an opening for him in
that direction,--the threat took the shape of a true purpose, and he
began to think that he would in real earnest try his fortunes in a
new world. From day to day things did not go well with him, and from
day to day Sexty Parker became more unendurable. It was impossible
for him to keep from his partner this plan of emigration,--but he
endeavoured to make Parker believe that the thing, if done at all,
was not to be done till all his affairs were settled,--or in other
words all his embarrassments cleared by downright money payments, and
that Mr. Wharton was to make these payments on the condition that he
thus expatriated himself. But Mr. Wharton had made no such promise.
Though the threatened day came nearer and nearer he could not bring
himself to purchase a short respite for his daughter by paying money
to a scoundrel,--which payment he felt sure would be of no permanent
service. During all this time Mr. Wharton was very wretched. If he
could have freed his daughter from her marriage by half his fortune
he would have done it without a second thought. If he could have
assuredly purchased the permanent absence of her husband, he would
have done it at a large price. But let him pay what he would,
he could see his way to no security. From day to day he became
more strongly convinced of the rascality of this man who was his
son-in-law, and who was still an inmate in his own house. Of course
he had accusations enough to make within his own breast against his
daughter, who, when the choice was open to her, would not take the
altogether fitting husband provided for her, but had declared herself
to be broken-hearted for ever unless she were allowed to throw
herself away upon this wretched creature. But he blamed himself
almost as much as he did her. Why had he allowed himself to be so
enervated by her prayers at last as to surrender everything,--as he
had done? How could he presume to think that he should be allowed to
escape, when he had done so little to prevent this misery?
He spoke to Emily about it,--not often indeed, but with great
earnestness. "I have done it myself," she said, "and I will bear it."
"Tell him you cannot go till you know to what home you are going."
"That is for him to consider. I have begged him to let me remain, and
I can say no more. If he chooses to take me, I shall go."
Then he spoke to her about money. "Of course I have money," he said.
"Of course I have enough both for you and Everett. If I could do any
good by giving it to him, he should have it."
"Papa," she answered, "I will never again ask you to give him a
single penny. That must be altogether between you and him. He is what
they call a speculator. Money is not safe with him."
"I shall have to send it you when you are in want."
"When I am--dead there will be no more to be sent. Do not look like
that, papa. I know what I have done, and I must bear it. I have
thrown away my life. It is just that. If baby had lived it would
have been different." This was about the end of January, and then Mr.
Wharton heard of the great attack made by Mr. Quintus Slide against
the Prime Minister, and heard, of course, of the payment alleged to
have been made to Ferdinand Lopez by the Duke on the score of the
election at Silverbridge. Some persons spoke to him on the subject.
One or two friends at the club asked him what he supposed to be the
truth in the matter, and Mrs. Roby inquired of him on the subject. "I
have asked Lopez," she said, "and I am sure from his manner that he
did get the money."
"I don't know anything about it," said Mr. Wharton.
"If he did get it I think he was very clever." It was well known at
this time to Mrs. Roby that the Lopez marriage had been a failure,
that Lopez was not a rich man, and that Emily, as well as her father,
was discontented and unhappy. She had latterly heard of the Guatemala
scheme, and had of course expressed her horror. But she sympathised
with Lopez rather than with his wife, thinking that if Mr. Wharton
would only open his pockets wide enough things might still be right.
"It was all the Duchess's fault, you know," she said to the old man.
"I know nothing about it, and when I want to know I certainly shall
not come to you. The misery he has brought upon me is so great that
it makes me wish that I had never seen any one who knew him."
"It was Everett who introduced him to your house."
"It was you who introduced him to Everett."
"There you are wrong,--as you so often are, Mr. Wharton. Everett met
him first at the club."
"What's the use of arguing about it? It was at your house that Emily
met him. It was you that did it. I wonder you can have the face to
mention his name to me."
"And the man living all the time in your own house!"
Up to this time Mr. Wharton had not mentioned to a single person
the fact that he had paid his son-in-law's election expenses at
Silverbridge. He had given him the cheque without much consideration,
with the feeling that by doing so he would in some degree benefit
his daughter; and had since regretted the act, finding that no such
payment from him could be of any service to Emily. But the thing
had been done,--and there had been, so far, an end of it. In no
subsequent discussion would Mr. Wharton have alluded to it, had not
circumstances now as it were driven it back upon his mind. And since
the day on which he had paid that money he had been, as he declared
to himself, swindled over and over again by his son-in-law. There was
the dinner in Manchester Square, and after that the brougham, and
the rent, and a score of bills, some of which he had paid and some
declined to pay! And yet he had said but little to the man himself of
all these injuries. Of what use was it to say anything? Lopez would
simply reply that he had asked him to pay nothing. "What is it all,"
Lopez had once said, "to the fortune I had a right to expect with
your daughter?" "You had no right to expect a shilling," Wharton had
said. Then Lopez had shrugged his shoulders, and there had been an
end of it.
But now, if this rumour were true, there had been positive
dishonesty. From whichever source the man might have got the money
first, if the money had been twice got, the second payment had been
fraudulently obtained. Surely if the accusation had been untrue Lopez
would have come to him and declared it to be false, knowing what must
otherwise be his thoughts. Lately, in the daily worry of his life,
he had avoided all conversation with the man. He would not allow his
mind to contemplate clearly what was coming. He entertained some
irrational, undefined hope that something would at last save his
daughter from the threatened banishment. It might be, if he held his
own hand tight enough, that there would not be money enough even to
pay for her passage out. As for her outfit, Lopez would of course
order what he wanted and have the bills sent to Manchester Square.
Whether or not this was being done neither he nor Emily knew. And
thus matters went on without much speech between the two men. But now
the old barrister thought that he was bound to speak. He therefore
waited on a certain morning till Lopez had come down, having
previously desired his daughter to leave the room. "Lopez," he asked,
"what is this that the newspapers are saying about your expenses at
Silverbridge?"
Lopez had expected the attack and had endeavoured to prepare himself
for it. "I should have thought, sir, that you would not have paid
much attention to such statements in a newspaper."
"When they concern myself, I do. I paid your electioneering
expenses."
"You certainly subscribed £500 towards them, Mr. Wharton."
"I subscribed nothing, sir. There was no question of a
subscription,--by which you intend to imply contribution from various
sources; You told me that the contest cost you £500 and that sum I
handed to you, with the full understanding on your part, as well as
on mine, that I was paying for the whole. Was that so?"
"Have it your own way, sir."
"If you are not more precise, I shall think that you have defrauded
me."
"Defrauded you!"
"Yes, sir;--defrauded me, or the Duke of Omnium. The money is gone,
and it matters little which. But if that be so I shall know that
either from him or from me you have raised money under false
pretences."
"Of course, Mr. Wharton, from you I must bear whatever you may choose
to say."
"Is it true that you have applied to the Duke of Omnium for money on
account of your expenses at Silverbridge, and is it true that he has
paid you money on that score?"
"Mr. Wharton, as I said just now, I am bound to hear and to bear from
you anything that you may choose to say. Your connection with my wife
and your age alike restrain my resentment. But I am not bound to
answer your questions when they are accompanied by such language as
you have chosen to use, and I refuse to answer any further questions
on this subject."
"Of course I know that you have taken the money from the Duke."
"Then why do you ask me?"
"And of course I know that you are as well aware as I am of the
nature of the transaction. That you can brazen it out without a blush
only proves to me that you have got beyond the reach of shame!"
"Very well, sir."
"And you have no further explanation to make?"
"What do you expect me to say? Without knowing any of the facts of
the case,--except the one, that you contributed £500 to my election
expenses,--you take upon yourself to tell me that I am a shameless,
fraudulent swindler. And then you ask for a further explanation! In
such a position is it likely that I shall explain anything;--that I
can be in a humour to be explanatory? Just turn it all over in your
mind, and ask yourself the question."
"I have turned it over in my own mind, and I have asked myself the
question, and I do not think it probable that you should wish to
explain anything. I shall take steps to let the Duke know that I as
your father-in-law had paid the full sum which you had stated that
you had spent at Silverbridge."
"Much the Duke will care about that."
"And after what has passed I am obliged to say that the sooner you
leave this house the better I shall be pleased."
"Very well, sir. Of course I shall take my wife with me."
"That must be as she pleases."
"No, Mr. Wharton. That must be as I please. She belongs to me,--not
to you or to herself. Under your influence she has forgotten much of
what belongs to the duty of a wife, but I do not think that she will
so far have forgotten herself as to give me more trouble than to bid
her come with me when I desire it."
"Let that be as it may, I must request that you, sir, will absent
yourself. I will not entertain as my guest a man who has acted as you
have done in this matter,--even though he be my son-in-law."
"I can sleep here to-night, I suppose?"
"Or to-morrow if it suits you. As for Emily, she can remain here, if
you will allow her to do so."
"That will not suit me," said Lopez.
"In that case, as far as I am concerned, I shall do whatever she may
ask me to do. Good morning."
Mr. Wharton left the room, but did not leave the house. Before he did
so he would see his daughter; and, thinking it probable that Lopez
would also choose to see his wife, he prepared to wait in his own
room. But, in about ten minutes, Lopez started from the hall door
in a cab, and did so without going upstairs. Mr. Wharton had reason
to believe that his son-in-law was almost destitute of money for
immediate purposes. Whatever he might have would at any rate be
serviceable to him before he started. Any home for Emily must be
expensive; and no home in their present circumstances could be so
reputable for her as one under her father's roof. He therefore almost
hoped that she might still be left with him till that horrid day
should come,--if it ever did come,--in which she would be taken away
from him for ever. "Of course, papa, I shall go if he bids me," she
said, when he told her all that he thought right to tell her of that
morning's interview.
"I hardly know how to advise you," said the father, meaning in truth
to bring himself round to the giving of some advice adverse to her
husband's will.
"I want no advice, papa."
"Want no advice! I never knew a woman who wanted it more."
"No, papa. I am bound to do as he tells me. I know what I have done.
When some poor wretch has got himself into perpetual prison by his
misdeeds, no advice can serve him then. So it is with me."
"You can at any rate escape from your prison."
"No;--no. I have a feeling of pride which tells me that as I chose
to become the wife of my husband,--as I insisted on it in opposition
to all my friends,--as I would judge for myself,--I am bound to put
up with my choice. If this had come upon me through the authority of
others, if I had been constrained to marry him, I think I could have
reconciled myself to deserting him. But I did it myself, and I will
abide by it. When he bids me go, I shall go." Poor Mr. Wharton went
to his chambers, and sat there the whole day without taking a book
or a paper into his hands. Could there be no rescue, no protection,
no relief! He turned over in his head various plans, but in a vague
and useless manner. What if the Duke were to prosecute Lopez for the
fraud! What if he could induce Lopez to abandon his wife,--pledging
himself by some deed not to return to her,--for, say, twenty or even
thirty thousand pounds! What if he himself were to carry his daughter
away to the continent, half forcing and half persuading her to make
the journey! Surely there might be some means found by which the
man might be frightened into compliance. But there he sat,--and did
nothing. And in the evening he ate a solitary mutton chop at The
Jolly Blackbird, because he could not bear to face even his club, and
then returned to his chambers,--to the great disgust of the old woman
who had them in charge at nights. And at about midnight he crept away
to his own house, a wretched old man.
Lopez when he left Manchester Square did not go in search of a new
home for himself and his wife, nor during the whole of the day did
he trouble himself on that subject. He spent most of the day at the
rooms in Coleman Street of the San Juan Mining Association, of which
Mr. Mills Happerton had once been Chairman. There was now another
Chairman and other Directors; but Mr. Mills Happerton's influence had
so far remained with the Company as to enable Lopez to become well
known in the Company's offices, and acknowledged as a claimant for
the office of resident Manager at San Juan in Guatemala. Now the
present project was this,--that Lopez was to start on behalf of the
Company early in May, that the Company was to pay his own personal
expenses out to Guatemala, and that they should allow him while there
a salary of £1000 a year for managing the affairs of the mine. As far
as this offer went, the thing was true enough. It was true that Lopez
had absolutely secured the place. But he had done so subject to the
burden of one very serious stipulation. He was to become proprietor
of 50 shares in the mine, and to pay up £100 each on those shares. It
was considered that the man who was to get £1000 a year in Guatemala
for managing the affair, should at any rate assist the affair, and
show his confidence in the affair to an extent as great as that. Of
course the holder of these 50 shares would be as fully entitled as
any other shareholder to that 20 per cent. which those who promoted
the mine promised as the immediate result of the speculation.
At first Lopez had hoped that he might be enabled to defer the actual
payment of the £5000 till after he had sailed. When once out in
Guatemala as manager, as manager he would doubtless remain. But by
degrees he found that the payment must actually be made in advance.
Now there was nobody to whom he could apply but Mr. Wharton. He was,
indeed, forced to declare at the office that the money was to come
from Mr. Wharton, and had given some excellent but fictitious reason
why Mr. Wharton would not pay the money till February.
And in spite of all that had come and gone he still did hope that if
the need to go were actually there he might even yet get the money
from Mr. Wharton. Surely Mr. Wharton would sooner pay such a sum than
be troubled at home with such a son-in-law. Should the worst come to
the worst, of course he could raise the money by consenting to leave
his wife at home. But this was not part of his plan, if he could
avoid it. £5000 would be a very low price at which to sell his wife,
and all that he might get from his connection with her. As long as
he kept her with him he was in possession at any rate of all that Mr.
Wharton would do for her. He had not therefore as yet made his final
application to his father-in-law for the money, having found it
possible to postpone the payment till the middle of February. His
quarrel with Mr. Wharton this morning he regarded as having little or
no effect upon his circumstances. Mr. Wharton would not give him the
money because he loved him, nor yet from personal respect, nor from
any sense of duty as to what he might owe to a son-in-law. It would
be simply given as the price by which his absence might be purchased,
and his absence would not be the less desirable because of this
morning's quarrel.
But, even yet, he was not quite resolved as to going to Guatemala.
Sexty Parker had been sucked nearly dry, and was in truth at this
moment so violent with indignation and fear and remorse that Lopez
did not dare to show himself in Little Tankard Yard; but still there
were, even yet, certain hopes in that direction from which great
results might come. If a certain new spirit which had just been
concocted from the bark of trees in Central Africa, and which was
called Bios, could only be made to go up in the market, everything
might be satisfactorily arranged. The hoardings of London were
already telling the public that if it wished to get drunk without any
of the usual troubles of intoxication it must drink Bios. The public
no doubt does read the literature of the hoardings, but then it reads
so slowly! This Bios had hardly been twelve months on the boards as
yet! But they were now increasing the size of the letters in the
advertisements and the jocundity of the pictures,--and the thing
might be done. There was, too, another hope,--another hope of instant
moneys by which Guatemala might be staved off, as to which further
explanation shall be given in a further chapter.
"I suppose I shall find Dixon a decent sort of a fellow?" said Lopez
to the Secretary of the Association in Coleman Street.
"Rough, you know."
"But honest?"
"Oh, yes;--he's all that."
"If he's honest, and what I call loyal, I don't care a straw for
anything else. One doesn't expect West-end manners in Guatemala. But
I shall have a deal to do with him,--and I hate a fellow that you
can't depend on."
"Mr. Happerton used to think a great deal of Dixon."
"That's all right," said Lopez. Mr. Dixon was the underground manager
out at the San Juan mine, and was perhaps as anxious for a loyal and
honest colleague as was Mr. Lopez. If so, Mr. Dixon was very much in
the way to be disappointed.
Lopez stayed at the office all the day studying the affairs of the
San Juan mine, and then went to the Progress for his dinner. Hitherto
he had taken no steps whatever as to getting lodgings for himself or
for his wife.