MR. GLOVER.
I soon made the acquaintance of Mr. Glover. In pursuance of my plans,
I presented myself at Mr. Rackstraw's office every day at a certain
hour, for the purpose of seeing Jessie home. I had of course
previously consulted Jessie, and she had acquiesced in the
arrangement. It was a serious encroachment upon my working hours, but
I made up for it in the night, and between sunrise and sunrise I
always performed a fair day's work. On the very first occasion of my
presenting myself at Mr. Rackstraw's office, I found Mr. Glover there.
Having sent in my name to Jessie, I waited in an outer room, the walls
of which were lavishly decorated with paintings and photographs of
actors and actresses, in the proportion of about one of the former to
twenty of the latter. As I was studying these, Jessie made her
appearance, followed by Mr. Glover; she was waving him off lightly,
and saying as she entered,
'No, thank you; I will not trouble you to-day. Chris has come to see
me home.'
'Oh,' he answered, without casting a glance in my direction. 'Chris
has come to see you home! Is Chris your brother?'
'No,' she said, 'I haven't a brother or a sister in the world.'
He condescended to look at me after this, and held out his hand to me
with smiling cordiality. I took it awkwardly, for I felt myself but a
common person by his side.
'Chris and I must become better acquainted,' he said. 'I remember now;
I saw this young gentleman at Miss West's on the night of your
performance there. He threw you two bouquets.' Jessie nodded. 'And
very handsome bouquets they were,' he continued; 'he eclipsed us all
by his gallantry; but I had no idea I was to have the pleasure that
night of making your acquaintance, Jessie, or I might have entered the
field against him. Any friend of yours _must_ be a friend of mine.'
Then he bade us both good-day, without any attempt to press his
attentions upon Jessie. Jessie asked me what I thought of him, and I
could not help answering that he seemed to be a gentleman, but made
some demur to his addressing her by her Christian name.
'Oh, that is the fashion in the profession,' said Jessie carelessly;
there is nothing in that.'
'He is not an actor, is he, Jessie?'
'No; he is something in the City.'
This vague definition of many a man's occupation, common as it is, was
new to me, and I inquired what the 'something' was. Jessie could not
enlighten me. I continued my inquiries by asking her how she knew that
he was something in the City. He himself had told her, Mr. Rackstraw
had told her, and young ladies whose acquaintance she had made at Mr.
Rackstraw's had also told her.
'He is at Mr. Rackstraw's every day, Jessie?' I said.
'Nearly every day, Chris,' she answered, and closed the subject of
conversation by saying that, at all events, Mr. Glover was a perfect
gentleman.
I did not find him to be otherwise; he was uniformly courteous to me,
and I could not make open complaint against him because his courtesy
was of a kind which a superior yields to an inferior. He was a
gentleman, and I was a common workman; I chafed at it inwardly,
nevertheless. I would have avoided him if I could, but he would not
allow me to do so. The second time I walked into Mr. Rackstraw's
office I met him at the door, and he fastened on to me. I had come for
Jessie? Yes. Was I coming every day for Jessie? Yes. I had plenty of
spare time then? Yes. I was fond of Jessie, he supposed? I answered as
briefly as was consistent with bare civility, but I made no reply to
his last question. He was neither surprised nor exacting. As I did not
answer the question, he answered it himself. It was natural that I
should be fond other; we had been brought up together as brother and
sister, he had been given to understand; yes, it was natural that I
should be fond of her in that way--natural, indeed, that we should be
fond of each other in that way. He had been given to understand, also,
that we were not in any way related to one another; but he could see
that in an instant, without being told. Jessie was a lady, evidently;
I might tell her he said that, if I pleased, for he was never ashamed
of what he said or did; Jessie was a lady in her manners, in her
speech, in her ideas; and these things do not come to one by instinct,
or even by education; they must be born in one.
This and much more he said; conveying by implication (what indeed I
knew already) that Jessie was far above me, and (what I could not
doubt) that he was a gentleman, and I was not. He had a trick of
playing with his moustaches, which he continually curled into his
mouth with his fingers as he spoke; and even at that early period of
our acquaintanceship, I, in my instinctive dislike of him, thought
there was something stealthy in the action. Standing before me, with
his fingers to his mouth, Mr. Glover there and then commenced to
expatiate upon a theme of which I heard a great deal afterwards from
his lips: this theme was his good name, of which he was evidently very
proud. There was not a stain upon it, nor upon that of any of his
connections; he had never harboured a thought to tarnish his
character, which was above reproach. He did not express these
sentiments in the words I have used, but these were the pith of them,
and there was a distinct assertion in his utterances that he was much
better than his fellow-creatures. I, listening to him, understood
exactly what he meant to convey to my comprehension: that even if we
twain had been equal in station, his high character and stainless name
would have placed him far above me.
In a week from this time Jessie told me that Mr. Glover had made
closer inquiries about me, and hearing that I was a wood engraver, had
expressed his intention of interesting himself in my career. I was not
pleased at this; I did not wish to be placed under an obligation to
Mr. Glover, and I muttered something to this effect to Jessie. She
seemed surprised, but made no comment upon it. Mr. Glover, however,
was as good as his word. I received a letter from a master engraver,
desiring me to call upon him, with reference to some work he wished to
give me. The hour fixed for the appointment was the hour at which I
was due at Mr. Rackstraw's. I had no choice but to comply; and I made
arrangements that afternoon, not only to engrave some blocks of a
superior description, but to submit sketches of my own, upon wood, for
a Christmas story which was to be published that year. The interview
was a long one, and when I arrived home, I was not pleased to find Mr.
Glover chatting to my mother in our sitting-room. He had seen Jessie
home, and, in compliance with uncle Bryan's desire, had brought her to
the door. An introduction to uncle Bryan and my mother naturally
followed, and thus he was introduced to the house. He asked me
pleasantly whether I had made satisfactory arrangements, and confessed
that he had been the means of introducing this better kind of work to
me. He received my mother's thanks graciously, and it made me mad to
see that she thought it was a stroke of great good fortune to have won
such a patron. What could I do but thank him also for the
introduction? That I did so in an ungracious and even in a sullen
manner did not seem to strike him; Jessie noticed it, however.
'You don't seem pleased, Chris,' she said, following me out of the
room.
'I don't know what my feelings are,' I replied; from any other hands
than his, the work that I have received to-day would have delighted me
beyond measure. But I had better not speak; it will be best for me to
hold my tongue.'
'Why?'
'Because I seem never to dare to say what I think; and I don't like to
play the hypocrite.'
'You don't say what you think,' Jessie said, 'because you are
conscious that your thoughts are unjust.'
'Perhaps it is so; but I can't make myself believe that they are.'
'You haven't a good opinion of Mr. Glover.'
'I am not grateful for his patronage; I don't mind saying that.'
It would have been more truthful in me to have said that the
instinctive aversion with which he had at first inspired me was fast
changing to a feeling of hatred. I hated him for his smooth manner,
and hated him the more for it because it was impossible to find fault
with it; I hated him for his civility to me, and hated him the more
because he refused to notice that my manner towards him, if not the
words I used, plainly showed that I did not desire his friendship or
patronage. But I could have multiplied my reasons, which might have
all been summed up in one cause of dislike--his attentions to Jessie.
'Don't come to the Wests' for me to-night, Chris,' Jessie said, after
a little quiet pondering.
'Why not, Jessie?' I asked, with a sinking heart.
'Because I don't want to be made more unhappy than I am already.
Besides, you must devote your attention more to your work, and less to
me. I am not the most important thing in the world to you.'
'You are,' I said gloomily; 'how often have I told you so! You don't
believe what I have said, then!' I turned from her in sorrowful
passion.
'Chris, Chris,' she said, 'I am not, I must not be, your only
consideration. You have other duties before you, and you must not
forget them or neglect them, as you have hitherto done.'
I thought she referred to my work, and I answered that I did not
neglect it, and that I could perform great things if she were kinder
to me.
'Am I not kind to you?' she exclaimed. 'Is it my fault that you are so
wrapt up in your own feelings that you are regardless of the feelings
of others? If you are blind, I am not. If you are selfish, I am not.
If you forget your duty, I shall not forget mine.'
These were the unkindest words she had ever spoken to me, and they
were a terrible torture to me.
'Do I show myself to be blind and selfish,' I said, 'and do I forget
my duty in loving you as you know I love you, and in wishing to be
where you are?' She did not reply. 'But perhaps,' I added bitterly,
'you have another reason for not wishing me to come to the Wests'
to-night.'
'What other reason?' she asked quietly.
'Perhaps Mr. Glover is to be there;' and the next moment I would have
made any sacrifice to have recalled what I had said. But it was too
late. How often do we plunge daggers into our hearts by inconsiderate
words, rashly spoken, as these were!
Jessie looked at me swiftly, with a fire in her eyes which I had never
seen there before, and with hot blood in her face; but in another
moment she was as white as death.
'Jessie!' I cried repentantly, seizing her hand.
She tore it from me indignantly.
'I will ask him to come!' she said, and left me, ready to kill myself
for my cruel injustice.
That night I watched outside the house of the Wests', and made false
the words I had spoken to Jessie but a short time since, when I asked
her if she thought I would play the spy upon her. I was careful that
she should not see me, for, if she did, I felt that I should never
have been forgiven. If I proved my words false, Jessie proved hers
true. Mr. Glover was at the Wests', and walked home with her. I waited
until she was in the house, and then I followed Mr. Glover at a
distance. I had no distinct intention in my mind; I simply felt that I
_must_ follow him; he seemed to draw me after him. I have no doubt
that, if a clear meaning could have been evolved from my whirling
thoughts, and had been shown to me, I should have been shocked at it.
He walked for a couple of miles, and then hailed a cab; after that I
wandered about miserably, without thinking where I was walking,
without thinking of the time. It was only when I found myself on a
bridge six miles from Paradise-row, and heard the hour strike, that I
awoke to consciousness as it were and walked slowly home. The faithful
mother was sitting up for me.
'My darling child,' she said, with a sob of grief at the misery she
saw in my face, 'where have you been? What has kept you out so late?'
I put her from me in silence, and went into my room, and locked the
door. As I did so, I thought I heard the door of my mother's bedroom
above open and close. But I dismissed the fancy, and went to bed with
a heavy heart.