"Quite Settled"
The abuse which was now publicly heaped on the name of Ferdinand
Lopez hit the man very hard; but not so hard perhaps as his rejection
by Lady Eustace. That was an episode in his life of which even he
felt ashamed, and of which he was unable to shake the disgrace from
his memory. He had no inner appreciation whatsoever of what was
really good or what was really bad in a man's conduct. He did not
know that he had done evil in applying to the Duke for the money. He
had only meant to attack the Duke; and when the money had come it
had been regarded as justifiable prey. And when after receiving the
Duke's money, he had kept also Mr. Wharton's money, he had justified
himself again by reminding himself that Mr. Wharton certainly
owed him much more than that. In a sense he was what is called a
gentleman. He knew how to speak, and how to look, how to use a knife
and fork, how to dress himself, and how to walk. But he had not the
faintest notion of the feelings of a gentleman. He had, however, a
very keen conception of the evil of being generally ill spoken of.
Even now, though he was making up his mind to leave England for a
long term of years, he understood the disadvantage of leaving it
under so heavy a cloud;--and he understood also that the cloud might
possibly impede his going altogether. Even in Coleman Street they
were looking black upon him, and Mr. Hartlepod went so far as to say
to Lopez himself, that, "by Jove, he had put his foot in it." He had
endeavoured to be courageous under his burden, and every day walked
into the offices of the Mining Company, endeavouring to look as
though he had committed no fault of which he had to be ashamed. But
after the second day he found that nothing was said to him of the
affairs of the Company, and on the fourth day Mr. Hartlepod informed
him that the time allowed for paying up his shares had passed by, and
that another local manager would be appointed. "The time is not over
till to-morrow," said Lopez angrily. "I tell you what I am told to
tell you," said Mr. Hartlepod. "You will only waste your time by
coming here any more."
He had not once seen Mr. Wharton since the statement made in
Parliament, although he had lived in the same house with him. Everett
Wharton had come home, and they two had met;--but the meeting had
been stormy. "It seems to me, Lopez, that you are a scoundrel,"
Everett said to him one day after having heard the whole story,--or
rather many stories,--from his father. This took place not in
Manchester Square, but at the club, where Everett had endeavoured to
cut his brother-in-law. It need hardly be said that at this time
Lopez was not popular at his club. On the next day a meeting of the
whole club was to be held that the propriety of expelling him might
be discussed. But he had resolved that he would not be cowed, that he
would still show himself, and still defend his conduct. He did not
know, however, that Everett Wharton had already made known to the
Committee of the club all the facts of the double payment.
He had addressed Everett in that solicitude to which a man should
never be reduced of seeking to be recognised by at any rate one
acquaintance,--and now his brother-in-law had called him a scoundrel
in the presence of other men. He raised his arm as though to use the
cane in his hands, but he was cowed by the feeling that all there
were his adversaries. "How dare you use that language to me!" he said
very weakly.
"It is the language that I must use if you speak to me."
"I am your brother-in-law, and that restrains me."
"Unfortunately you are."
"And am living in your father's house."
"That, again, is a misfortune which it appears difficult to remedy.
You have been told to go, and you won't go."
"Your ingratitude, sir, is marvellous! Who saved your life when
you were attacked in the park, and were too drunk to take care of
yourself? Who has stood your friend with your close-fisted old father
when you have lost money at play that you could not pay? But you
are one of those who would turn away from any benefactor in his
misfortune."
"I must certainly turn away from a man who has disgraced himself as
you have done," said Everett, leaving the room. Lopez threw himself
into an easy-chair, and rang the bell loudly for a cup of coffee, and
lit a cigar. He had not been turned out of the club as yet, and the
servant at any rate was bound to attend to him.
That night he waited up for his father-in-law in Manchester Square.
He would certainly go to Guatemala now,--if it were not too late. He
would go though he were forced to leave his wife behind him, and thus
surrender any further hope for money from Mr. Wharton beyond the sum
which he would receive as the price of his banishment. It was true
that the fortnight allowed to him by the Company was only at an end
that day, and that, therefore, the following morning might be taken
as the last day named for the payment of the money. No doubt, also,
Mr. Wharton's bill at a few days' date would be accepted if that
gentleman could not at the moment give a cheque for so large a sum as
was required. And the appointment had been distinctly promised to him
with no other stipulation than that the money required for the shares
should be paid. He did not believe in Mr. Hartlepod's threat. It was
impossible, he thought, that he should be treated in so infamous
a manner merely because he had had his election expenses repaid
him by the Duke of Omnium! He would, therefore, ask for the money,
and--renounce the society of his wife.
As he made this resolve something like real love returned to his
heart, and he became for a while sick with regret. He assured himself
that he had loved her, and that he could love her still;--but why had
she not been true to him? Why had she clung to her father instead of
clinging to her husband? Why had she not learned his ways,--as a wife
is bound to learn the ways of the man she marries? Why had she not
helped him in his devices, fallen into his plans, been regardful of
his fortunes, and made herself one with him? There had been present
to him at times an idea that if he could take her away with him to
that distant country to which he thought to go, and thus remove her
from the upas influence of her father's roof-tree, she would then
fall into his views and become his wife indeed. Then he would again
be tender to her, again love her, again endeavour to make the world
soft to her. But it was too late now for that. He had failed in
everything as far as England was concerned, and it was chiefly by her
fault that he had failed. He would consent to leave her;--but, as he
thought of it in his solitude, his eyes became moist with regret.
In these days Mr. Wharton never came home till about midnight, and
then passed rapidly through the hall to his own room,--and in the
morning had his breakfast brought to him in the same room, so that he
might not even see his son-in-law. His daughter would go to him when
at breakfast, and there, together for some half-hour, they would
endeavour to look forward to their future fate. But hitherto they had
never been able to look forward in accord, as she still persisted in
declaring that if her husband bade her to go with him,--she would
go. On this night Lopez sat up in the dining-room, and as soon as he
heard Mr. Wharton's key in the door, he placed himself in the hall.
"I wish to speak to you to-night, sir," he said. "Would you object to
come in for a few moments?" Then Mr. Wharton followed him into the
room. "As we live now," continued Lopez, "I have not much opportunity
of speaking to you, even on business."
"Well, sir; you can speak now,--if you have anything to say."
"The £5000 you promised me must be paid to-morrow. It is the last
day."
"I promised it only on certain conditions. Had you complied with them
the money would have been paid before this."
"Just so. The conditions are very hard, Mr. Wharton. It surprises me
that such a one as you should think it right to separate a husband
from his wife."
"I think it right, sir, to separate my daughter from such a one as
you are. I thought so before, but I think so doubly now. If I can
secure your absence in Guatemala by the payment of this money, and if
you will give me a document that shall be prepared by Mr. Walker and
signed by yourself, assuring your wife that you will not hereafter
call upon her to live with you, the money shall be paid."
"All that will take time, Mr. Wharton."
"I will not pay a penny without it. I can meet you at the office in
Coleman Street to-morrow, and doubtless they will accept my written
assurance to pay the money as soon as those stipulations shall be
complied with."
"That would disgrace me in the office, Mr. Wharton."
"And are you not disgraced there already? Can you tell me that they
have not heard of your conduct in Coleman Street, or that hearing it
they disregard it?" His son-in-law stood frowning at him, but did not
at the moment say a word. "Nevertheless, I will meet you there if
you please, at any time that you may name, and if they do not object
to employ such a man as their manager, I shall not object on their
behalf."
"To the last you are hard and cruel to me," said Lopez;--"but I will
meet you in Coleman Street at eleven to-morrow." Then Mr. Wharton
left the room, and Lopez was there alone amidst the gloom of the
heavy curtains and the dark paper. A London dining-room at night is
always dark, cavernous, and unlovely. The very pictures on the walls
lack brightness, and the furniture is black and heavy. This room was
large, but old-fashioned and very dark. Here Lopez walked up and down
after Mr. Wharton had left him, trying to think how far Fate and how
far he himself were responsible for his present misfortunes. No doubt
he had begun the world well. His father had been little better than a
travelling pedlar, but had made some money by selling jewellery, and
had educated his son. Lopez could on no score impute blame to his
father for what had happened to him. And, when he thought of the
means at his disposal in his early youth, he felt that he had a right
to boast of some success. He had worked hard, and had won his way
upwards, and had almost lodged himself securely among those people
with whom it had been his ambition to live. Early in life he had
found himself among those who were called gentlemen and ladies. He
had been able to assume their manners, and had lived with them on
equal terms. When thinking of his past life he never forgot to remind
himself that he had been a guest at the house of the Duke of Omnium!
And yet how was it with him now? He was penniless. He was rejected by
his father-in-law. He was feared, and, as he thought, detested by his
wife. He was expelled from his club. He was cut by his old friends.
And he had been told very plainly by the Secretary in Coleman Street
that his presence there was no longer desired. What should he do
with himself if Mr. Wharton's money were now refused, and if the
appointment in Guatemala were denied to him? And then he thought of
poor Sexty Parker and his family. He was not naturally an ill-natured
man. Though he could upbraid his wife for alluding to Mrs. Parker's
misery, declaring that Mrs. Parker must take the rubs of the world
just as others took them, still the misfortunes which he had brought
on her and on her children did add something to the weight of his own
misfortunes. If he could not go to Guatemala, what should he do with
himself;--where should he go? Thus he walked up and down the room for
an hour. Would not a pistol or a razor give him the best solution for
all his difficulties?
On the following morning he kept his appointment at the office in
Coleman Street, as did Mr. Wharton also. The latter was there first
by some minutes, and explained to Mr. Hartlepod that he had come
there to meet his son-in-law. Mr. Hartlepod was civil, but very cold.
Mr. Wharton saw at the first glance that the services of Ferdinand
Lopez were no longer in request by the San Juan Mining Company;
but he sat down and waited. Now that he was there, however painful
the interview would be, he would go through it. At ten minutes
past eleven he made up his mind that he would wait till the
half-hour,--and then go, with the fixed resolution that he would
never willingly spend another shilling on behalf of that wretched
man. But at a quarter past eleven the wretched man came,--swaggering
into the office, though it had not, hitherto, been his custom to
swagger. But misfortune masters all but the great men, and upsets the
best-learned lesson of even a long life. "I hope I have not kept you
waiting, Mr. Wharton. Well, Hartlepod, how are you to-day? So this
little affair is to be settled at last, and now these shares shall be
bought and paid for." Mr. Wharton did not say a word, not even rising
from his chair, or greeting his son-in-law by a word. "I dare say Mr.
Wharton has already explained himself," said Lopez.
"I don't know that there is any necessity," said Mr. Hartlepod.
"Well,--I suppose it's simple enough," continued Lopez. "Mr. Wharton,
I believe I am right in saying that you are ready to pay the money at
once."
"Yes;--I am ready to pay the money as soon as I am assured that you
are on your route to Guatemala. I will not pay a penny till I know
that as a fact."
Then Mr. Hartlepod rose from his seat and spoke. "Gentlemen," he
said, "the matter within the last few days has assumed a different
complexion."
"As how?" exclaimed Lopez.
"The Directors have changed their mind as to sending out Mr. Lopez
as their local manager. The Directors intend to appoint another
gentleman. I had already acquainted Mr. Lopez with the Directors'
intention."
"Then the matter is settled?" said Mr. Wharton.
"Quite settled," said Mr. Hartlepod.
As a matter of course Lopez began to fume and to be furious.
What!--after all that had been done did the Directors mean to go back
from their word? After he had been induced to abandon his business in
his own country, was he to be thrown over in that way? If the Company
intended to treat him like that, the Company would very soon hear
from him. Thank God there were laws in the land. "Yesterday was the
last day fixed for the payment of the money," said Mr. Hartlepod.
"It is at any rate certain that Mr. Lopez is not to go to Guatemala?"
asked Mr. Wharton.
"Quite certain," said Mr. Hartlepod. Then Mr. Wharton rose from his
chair and quitted the room.
"By G----, you have ruined me among you," said Lopez;--"ruined me
in the most shameful manner. There is no mercy, no friendship, no
kindness, no forbearance anywhere! Why am I to be treated in this
manner?"
"If you have any complaint to make," said Mr. Hartlepod, "you had
better write to the Directors. I have nothing to do but my duty."
"By heavens, the Directors shall hear of it!" said Lopez as he left
the office.
Mr. Wharton went to his chambers and endeavoured to make up his mind
what step he must now take in reference to this dreadful incubus.
Of course he could turn the man out of his house, but in so doing
it might well be that he would also turn out his own daughter. He
believed Lopez to be utterly without means, and a man so destitute
would generally be glad to be relieved from the burden of his wife's
support. But this man would care nothing for his wife's comfort;
nothing even, as Mr. Wharton believed, for his wife's life. He would
simply use his wife as best he might as a means for obtaining money.
There was nothing to be done but to buy him off, by so much money
down, and by so much at stated intervals as long as he should keep
away. Mr. Walker must manage it, but it was quite clear to Mr.
Wharton that the Guatemala scheme was altogether at an end. In
the meantime a certain sum must be offered to the man at once, on
condition that he would leave the house and do so without taking his
wife with him.
So far Mr. Wharton had a plan, and a plan that was at least feasible.
Wretched as he was, miserable, as he thought of the fate which had
befallen his daughter,--there was still a prospect of some relief.
But Lopez as he walked out of the office had nothing to which he
could look for comfort. He slowly made his way to Little Tankard
Yard, and there he found Sexty Parker balancing himself on the back
legs of his chair, with a small decanter of public-house sherry
before him. "What; you here?" he said.
"Yes;--I have come to say good-bye."
"Where are you going then? You shan't start to Guatemala if I know
it."
"That's all over, my boy," said Lopez, smiling.
"What is it you mean?" said Sexty, sitting square on his chair and
looking very serious.
"I am not going to Guatemala or anywhere else. I thought I'd just
look in to tell you that I'm just done for,--that I haven't a hope
of a shilling now or hereafter. You told me the other day that I was
afraid to come here. You see that as soon as anything is fixed, I
come and tell you everything at once."
"What is fixed?"
"That I am ruined. That there isn't a penny to come from any source."
"Wharton has got money," said Sexty.
"And there is money in the Bank of England,--but I cannot get at it."
"What are you going to do, Lopez?"
"Ah; that's the question. What am I going to do? I can say nothing
about that, but I can say, Sexty, that our affairs are at an end. I'm
very sorry for it, old boy. We ought to have made fortunes, but we
didn't. As far as the work went, I did my best. Good-bye, old fellow.
You'll do well some of these days yet, I don't doubt. Don't teach the
bairns to curse me. As for Mrs. P. I have no hope there, I know."
Then he went, leaving Sexty Parker quite aghast.