The Major's Story
By the end of March Isabel was in Paris, whither she had forbidden
her lover to follow her. Silverbridge was therefore reduced to the
shifts of a bachelor's life, in which his friends seemed to think
that he ought now to take special delight. Perhaps he did not
take much delight in them. He was no doubt impatient to commence
that steady married life for which he had prepared himself.
But nevertheless, just at present, he lived a good deal at the
Beargarden. Where was he to live? The Boncassens were in Paris, his
sister was at Matching with a houseful of other Pallisers, and his
father was again deep in politics.
Of course he was much in the House of Commons, but that also was
stupid. Indeed everything would be stupid till Isabel came back.
Perhaps dinner was more comfortable at the club than at the House.
And then, as everybody knew, it was a good thing to change the scene.
Therefore he dined at the club, and though he would keep his hansom
and go down to the House again in the course of the evening, he spent
many long hours at the Beargarden. "There'll very soon be an end of
this as far as you are concerned," said Mr. Lupton to him one evening
as they were sitting in the smoking-room after dinner.
"The sooner the better as far as this place is concerned."
"This place is as good as any other. For the matter of that I like
the Beargarden since we got rid of two or three not very charming
characters."
"You mean my poor friend Tifto," said Silverbridge.
"No;--I was not thinking of Tifto. There were one or two here who
were quite as bad as Tifto. I wonder what has become of that poor
devil?"
"I don't know in the least. You heard of that row about the hounds?"
"And his letter to you."
"He wrote to me,--and I answered him, as you know. But whither he
vanished, or what he is doing, or how he is living, I have not the
least idea."
"Gone to join those other fellows abroad, I should say. Among them
they got a lot of money,--as the Duke ought to remember."
"He is not with them," said Silverbridge, as though he were in some
degree mourning over the fate of his unfortunate friend.
"I suppose Captain Green was the leader in all that?"
"Now it is all done and gone I own to a certain regard for the Major.
He was true to me till he thought I snubbed him. I would not let him
go down to Silverbridge with me. I always thought that I drove the
poor Major to his malpractices."
At this moment Dolly Longstaff sauntered into the room and came up
to them. It may be remembered that Dolly had declared his purpose
of emigrating. As soon as he heard that the Duke's heir had serious
thoughts of marrying the lady whom he loved he withdrew at once from
the contest, but, as he did so, he acknowledged that there could be
no longer a home for him in the country which Isabel was to inhabit
as the wife of another man. Gradually, however, better thoughts
returned to him. After all, what was she but a "pert poppet"? He
determined that marriage "clips a fellow's wings confoundedly,"
and so he set himself to enjoy life after his old fashion. There
was perhaps a little swagger as he threw himself into a chair and
addressed the happy lover. "I'll be shot if I didn't meet Tifto at
the corner of the street."
"Tifto!"
"Yes, Tifto. He looked awfully seedy, with a greatcoat buttoned up to
his chin, a shabby hat and old gloves."
"Did he speak to you?" asked Silverbridge.
"No;--nor I to him. He hadn't time to think whether he would speak or
not, and you may be sure I didn't."
Nothing further was said about the man, but Silverbridge was uneasy
and silent. When his cigar was finished he got up, saying that he
should go back to the House. As he left the club he looked about him
as though expecting to see his old friend, and when he had passed
through the first street and had got into the Haymarket there he was!
The Major came up to him, touched his hat, asked to be allowed to say
a few words. "I don't think it can do any good," said Silverbridge.
The man had not attempted to shake hands with him, or affected
familiarity; but seemed to be thoroughly humiliated. "I don't think I
can be of any service to you, and therefore I had rather decline."
"I don't want you to be of any service, my Lord."
"Then what's the good?"
"I have something to say. May I come to you to-morrow?"
Then Silverbridge allowed himself to make an appointment, and an hour
was named at which Tifto might call in Carlton Terrace. He felt that
he almost owed some reparation to the wretched man,--whom he had
unfortunately admitted among his friends, whom he had used, and to
whom he had been uncourteous. Exactly at the hour named the Major was
shown into his room.
Dolly had said that he was shabby,--but the man was altered rather
than shabby. He still had rings on his fingers and studs in his
shirt, and a jewelled pin in his cravat;--but he had shaven off his
moustache and the tuft from his chin, and his hair had been cut
short, and in spite of his jewellery there was a hang-dog look about
him. "I've got something that I particularly want to say to you, my
Lord." Silverbridge would not shake hands with him, but could not
refrain from offering him a chair.
"Well;--you can say it now."
"Yes;--but it isn't so very easy to be said. There are some things,
though you want to say them ever so, you don't quite know how to do
it."
"You have your choice, Major Tifto. You can speak or hold your
tongue."
Then there was a pause, during which Silverbridge sat with his hands
in his pockets trying to look unconcerned. "But if you've got it
here, and feel it as I do,"--the poor man as he said this put his
hand upon his heart,--"you can't sleep in your bed till it's out. I
did that thing that they said I did."
"What thing?"
"Why, the nail! It was I lamed the horse."
"I am sorry for it. I can say nothing else."
"You ain't so sorry for it as I am. Oh no; you can never be that, my
Lord. After all, what does it matter to you?"
"Very little. I meant that I was sorry for your sake."
"I believe you are, my Lord. For though you could be rough you was
always kind. Now I will tell you everything, and then you can do as
you please."
"I wish to do nothing. As far as I am concerned the matter is over.
It made me sick of horses, and I do not wish to have to think of it
again."
"Nevertheless, my Lord, I've got to tell it. It was Green who put me
up to it. He did it just for the plunder. As God is my judge it was
not for the money I did it."
"Then it was revenge."
"It was the devil got hold of me, my Lord. Up to that I had always
been square,--square as a die! I got to think that your Lordship was
upsetting. I don't know whether your Lordship remembers, but you did
put me down once or twice rather uncommon."
"I hope I was not unjust."
"I don't say you was, my Lord. But I got a feeling on me that you
wanted to get rid of me, and I all the time doing the best I could
for the 'orses. I did do the best I could up to that very morning at
Doncaster. Well;--it was Green put me up to it. I don't say I was
to get nothing; but it wasn't so much more than I could have got by
the 'orse winning. And I've lost pretty nearly all that I did get.
Do you remember, my Lord,"--and now the Major sank his voice to a
whisper,--"when I come up to your bedroom that morning?"
"I remember it."
"The first time?"
"Yes; I remember it."
"Because I came twice, my Lord. When I came first it hadn't been
done. You turned me out."
"That is true, Major Tifto."
"You was very rough then. Wasn't you rough?"
"A man's bedroom is generally supposed to be private."
"Yes, my Lord,--that's true. I ought to have sent your man in first.
I came then to confess it all, before it was done."
"Then why couldn't you let the horse alone?"
"I was in their hands. And then you was so rough with me! So I said
to myself I might as well do it;--and I did it."
"What do you want me to say? As far as my forgiveness goes, you have
it!"
"That's saying a great deal, my Lord,--a great deal," said Tifto, now
in tears. "But I ain't said it all yet. He's here; in London!"
"Who's here?"
"Green. He's here. He doesn't think that I know, but I could lay my
hand on him to-morrow."
"There is no human being alive, Major Tifto, whose presence or
absence could be a matter of more indifference to me."
"I'll tell you what I'll do, my Lord. I'll go before any judge, or
magistrate, or police-officer in the country, and tell the truth. I
won't ask even for a pardon. They shall punish me and him too. I'm
in that state of mind that any change would be for the better. But
he,--he ought to have it heavy."
"It won't be done by me, Major Tifto. Look here, Major Tifto; you
have come here to confess that you have done me a great injury?"
"Yes, I have."
"And you say you are sorry for it."
"Indeed I am."
"And I have forgiven you. There is only one way in which you can show
your gratitude. Hold your tongue about it. Let it be as a thing done
and gone. The money has been paid. The horse has been sold. The whole
thing has gone out of my mind, and I don't want to have it brought
back again."
"And nothing is to be done to Green!"
"I should say nothing,--on that score."
"And he has got they say five-and-twenty thousand pounds clear
money."
"It is a pity, but it cannot be helped. I will have nothing further
to do with it. Of course I cannot bind you, but I have told you my
wishes." The poor wretch was silent, but still it seemed as though he
did not wish to go quite yet. "If you have said what you have got to
say, Major Tifto, I may as well tell you that my time is engaged."
"And must that be all?"
"What else?"
"I am in such a state of mind, Lord Silverbridge, that it would be a
satisfaction to tell it all, even against myself."
"I can't prevent you."
Then Tifto got up from his chair, as though he were going. "I wish I
knew what I was going to do with myself."
"I don't know that I can help you, Major Tifto."
"I suppose not, my Lord. I haven't twenty pounds left in all the
world. It's the only thing that wasn't square that ever I did in all
my life. Your Lordship couldn't do anything for me? We was very much
together at one time, my Lord."
"Yes, Major Tifto, we were."
"Of course I was a villain. But it was only once; and your Lordship
was so rough to me! I am not saying but what I was a villain. Think
of what I did for myself by that one piece of wickedness! Master of
hounds! member of the club! And the horse would have run in my name
and won the Leger! And everybody knew as your Lordship and me was
together in him!" Then he burst out into a paroxysm of tears and
sobbing.
The young Lord certainly could not take the man into partnership
again, nor could he restore to him either the hounds or his club,--or
his clean hands. Nor did he know in what way he could serve the man,
except by putting his hand into his pocket,--which he did. Tifto
accepted the gratuity, and ultimately became an annual pensioner on
his former noble partner, living on the allowance made him in some
obscure corner of South Wales.