THOU ART THE MAN.
Humphrey Statham looked up from his writing in astonishment at the
sight of his friend.
'Why, Martin,' he cried, rising and extending his hand, 'this is an
unexpected pleasure. I thought I might have a line from you some time
during the day, but I never anticipated that the letter which I sent
you would have the effect of drawing you from your peaceful retreat,
more especially as in your last you spoke so strongly in praise of
your tranquil existence as contrasted with the excitement and worry
here.'
Martin Gurwood recollected that letter. It was written but a few days
previously, when his hopes of winning Alice were at their highest,
before this element of discord, this stranger of whose presence
Statham had warned him, had come into the field. In his friend's
remark, however, Martin found something which instinctively set him on
his guard. It would not do, he thought, to let it be seen how acute
was his interest in the subject on which Statham had written to him;
mere friendship, mere regard for Alice's welfare would have contented
itself with some far less active demonstration; and though there was
no reason that he knew of for concealing the state of his feelings
from his friend, as he had hitherto kept them to himself, he thought
it was better not to parade them until some more fitting opportunity.
So with something like a blush, for the smallest prevarication was
strange to him, Martin said, 'You must not look upon your spells as so
potent, my dear friend; the same post which brought me your letter
brought me one from my mother, requesting an immediate decision on a
matter which has been for some time in abeyance, and as this rendered
it necessary for me to come to town, I took advantage of the
opportunity to drop in upon you.'
'I am too pleased to see you to question what has brought you here,'
said Humphrey, with a smile, 'and am grateful to Mrs. Calverley for
her maternal despotism. And now tell me, what did you think of the
news I sent you?'
In spite of the strong effort to the contrary, the flush rose in
Martin's cheeks, contrasting ill with the assumed calmness of manner
with which he said, 'I received it with great regret.'
'By Jove, Martin, regret is a mild term to express the feeling with
which I am inspired in this matter,' said Humphrey Statham vigorously.
'You have seen nothing of what has been going on, nor do I think it
likely that with your ignorance of the world and its ways you would
have been able to understand it if you had; but I think it desirable
that you, whom we have all tacitly placed in the position of
Alice's--of Mrs. Claxton's--guardian, should take some immediate
action.'
Martin coloured afresh. 'This--this gentleman--' he said.
'Do not misuse a good word,' said Statham, interrupting him. 'Henrich
Wetter, the person of whom we are speaking, is by no means a gentleman
in any sense of the term. He is a sharp, shrewd, clever knave, always
keeping within the limits of the law, but within those limits
thoroughly unscrupulous. He is good-looking, too, and wonderfully
plausible; a more undesirable visitor for our friend in
Pollington-terrace could scarcely be imagined.'
'And yet he is a cousin of Madame Du Tertre's, and came there through
her introduction, I thought you said,' remarked Martin.
'Yes,' said Humphrey, with some hesitation; 'that is a part of the
business which I don't quite clearly understand, and on which I have
my doubts. There is one thing, however, certain; that is, that he is
there very frequently, and that it is advisable he should have a hint
to discontinue his visits.'
'And by whom is that hint to be given to him?'
'Of course by Mrs. Claxton. But if her ignorance of the ways of the
world prevents her from seeing the necessity of taking such a step,
that necessity should be made clear by some one who has the right of
advising her. In point of fact--by you!'
'It is my ignorance of the ways of the world upon which you were
speaking just now,' said Martin, with a half smile.
'And no one could have a finer theme on which to discourse; but in
certain matters you are good enough to be guided by me.'
'And you say that--'
'I say,' interrupted Humphrey Statham with vehemence, 'that Mr.
Henrich Wetter is the last man who should be on intimate visiting
terms at Mrs. Claxton's house. He is known not merely to have, but to
boast of a certain unenviable reputation which, notwithstanding his
undoubted leading position in the business world, causes him to be
shunned socially by those who value the fair fame of their womankind.'
'This is bad hearing, indeed,' said Martin Gurwood nervously.
'Bad hearing,' interrupted Statham, emphasising his remark with
outstretched hand, 'for any one to whom Alice is--I mean to say for any
one who has Mrs. Claxton's interest at heart, it is, indeed, bad
hearing.'
Something in the tone of Humphrey Statham's voice, something in the
unusual earnest expression of his face, caused Martin to keep his eyes
fixed upon his friend with peculiar intensity. What was the reason of
the thrill which passed through him as Humphrey had stumbled at the
mention of Alice's name? What revelation, which should sting and
overwhelm him, was about to be made by the man whose placid and
unruffled nature he had often envied, whose heart he had always
regarded as a part of his anatomy which did its work well, which beat
warmly for his friends, but otherwise gave him little or no trouble?
Humphrey Statham did not keep him very long in suspense. 'Look here,
Martin,' said he, 'if you were to tell the people at Lloyd's, that I,
Humphrey Statham, of 'Change-alley, was in some respects a fatalist,
they would surely laugh at you, and tell you that fatalism and marine
insurance did not go very well together. And yet it is to a certain
extent the fact. Your arrival here this morning was no chance work,
the spirit which prompted you to answer my appeal in person instead of
by letter was--there, don't laugh at me--I felt it directly I saw you
enter the room, and determined on my course of action, determined on
making a clean breast of it, and telling my old friend what I have for
some time now been wearing in my heart of hearts.'
He paused, as though expecting his companion to make some remark; but
Martin Gurwood sat silent, merely inclining his head, with his hands
nervously clutching at the table before him.
'I hardly know how to tell you, after all,' said Humphrey, with
something like a blush on such portions of his cheeks as his beard
left uncovered; 'and you do not give a fellow the slightest help. You
will think it strange in me, queer odd sort of fish that I am, having
lived for so many years--for all my life, as far as you know--a
solitary, self-contained, oyster-like existence, to acknowledge that I
am as vulnerable as other men. But it is so; and on the principle of
there being no fool like an old fool, I imagine that my hurt is deeper
and more deadly than in ninety-nine other cases. No need to beat about
the bush any longer, Martin; I tell you, as my old friend, that I am
in love with Alice Claxton.'
Martin Gurwood started. From the time that Humphrey commenced to
hesitate, a strange expression had crept over the face of his friend
listening to him; but he was so enwrapped in the exposition of his own
feelings that he scarcely noticed it.
'You, Humphrey Statham, in love with Alice Claxton!'
'Yes, I! I, whom every one had supposed to be so absorbed in business
as to have no time, no care for what my City friends would doubtless
look upon as sentimental nonsense. I knew better than that myself; I
knew that my heart had by nature been created capable of feeling love;
I knew that from experience, Martin; but I thought that the power of
loving had died out, never to come again. I was wrong; it has come
again, thank God! Never in my life have I been under the influence of
a feeling so deep, so true and tender, as that which I have for Alice
Claxton.'
As Humphrey ceased speaking, Mr. Collins put his head into the room,
and told his chief that Mr. Brevoort was in his carriage at the end of
the court, and desired to see him. In an instant Humphrey resumed his
business-like manner.
'Excuse me an instant, Martin; Mr. Brevoort is half paralysed, and
cannot leave his carriage, so I must go to him. I shall be back in
five minutes; wait here and think over what I have just said to
you.--Now, Collins!' And he was gone.
Think over what had just been said to him! Martin Gurwood could do
that without a second bidding. The words were ringing in his ears; the
sense they conveyed seemed clogging and deadening his brain. Humphrey
Statham in love with Alice Claxton--with his Alice--with the woman
whom he had come to look upon as his own, and in whose sweet
companionship he had fondly hoped to pass the remainder of his life!
Her attraction must be great, indeed, if she could win the affections
of such a man as Statham--calm, shrewd, and practical, not likely to
be influenced merely by a pretty face or an interesting manner. The
news came upon Martin like a thunderbolt. In all the long hours which
he had devoted to the consideration of his love for Alice--to
self-probing and examination--the idea of any rivalry had never
entered into his mind. Not that, owing to Alice's secluded life or
peculiar position, Martin had imagined himself secure; but the idea
had never crossed his mind. She was there, and he loved her; that was
all he knew. Something like a pang of jealousy, indeed, he
experienced, on reading Humphrey's letter, telling of Mr. Henrich
Wetter's visits to Pollington-terrace; but that, though it had the
effect of inducing him to start for London, was but a temporary
trouble. He had guessed from what Humphrey wrote, he was sure from
what Humphrey said, that this Wetter was not the style of man to
captivate a woman of Alice's refinement; and he felt that the
principal reason for putting a stop to his visits would be the
preventing any chance of Alice's being exposed to annoyance or insult.
But what he had just heard placed matters in a very different light.
Here was Humphrey Statham avowing his love for Alice; Humphrey, his
own familiar friend, whom he had consulted in his trouble when the
story of the Claxton mystery was first revealed to shim by Doctor
Haughton; Humphrey, who had been the first to see Alice with a view of
opening negotiations with her at the time when they so misjudged her
real character and position, and who, as Martin well recollected, even
then was impressed with her beauty and her modesty, and returned to
fight her battles with him. Yes, Humphrey Statham had been her first
champion; but that was no reason he should be her last. That gave him
no monopoly of right to love and tend her. Was there any baseness, any
treachery, Martin wondered, in his still cherishing his own feelings
towards Alice, after having heard his friend's confession? Let him
think it out then and there; for that was the crowning moment of his
life.
He sat there for some minutes, his head bowed, his hands clasped
together on his knees. All that he had gone through since he first
heard in the drawing-room at Great Walpole-street the true story of
John Calverley's death; his first feelings of repulsion and aversion
to the woman whom he believed to have been the bane of his mother's
life; his colloquies with Statham; his first visit to Hendon; his
meeting with Pauline, and their plot for keeping Alice in ignorance of
the fact that the funeral had taken place: all this passed through
Martin Gurwood's mind during his reverie. Passed through his mind also
a recollection of the gradual manner in which he softened to the
heartbroken, friendless girl, recognising her as the victim instead
of the betrayer, and finding in her qualities which were rare amongst
those of her sex who stood foremost and fearless in the approbation of
the world. Was the day-dream in which he had of late permitted himself
to indulge to vanish in this way? Was he to give up the one great hope
of gladdening his life, the mere anticipation of which seemed to have
changed the current of his being? No; that was his determination.
Humphrey Statham was the best, the truest, the dearest fellow in the
world; but this was almost a matter of life and death, in which no
question of sentimental friendship should have weight. He would tell
Humphrey frankly and squarely what were his own feelings for Alice
Claxton, and they would go in then, in rancourless rivalry, each to do
his best to win her. And as he arrived at this decision the door
opened, and Humphrey Statham returned.
'Well!' he cried, running up in his boisterous way with outstretched
hands, 'you have been lost in reflection, I suppose--chewing the cud
of sweet and bitter fancy. Not bitter though, I hope; there is no
bitterness to you, Martin, in my avowal; nor to any one else, I fancy,
for the matter of that, unless it be that precious article, Mr.
Wetter.'
'I have been thinking over what you told me, Humphrey; and I was going
to--'
'No, no, not yet. I haven't told you half I have to say,' interrupted
Statham, pushing his friend back into his chair, and seating himself.
'Of course you're astonished, living the life you do, "celibate as a
fly in the heart of an apple," as Jeremy Taylor has it, at any one's
falling in love, and at me more than any one else. You think I am not
formed for that sort of thing; that I am hard and cold and practical,
and that I have been so all my life. You little dream, Martin--for I
have never said a word about it, even to you--that some years ago I
was so devoted to a woman as to be nearly heartbroken when she
abandoned me.'
'Abandoned you!'
'Yes.' He shuddered, and passed his hand across his face. 'I don't like
to think about it even now, and should not recur to it if the
circumstances had not a connection with Claxton.'
'With Alice!' exclaimed Martin, and bending forward eagerly.
'Yes. I Must tell you the whole story, or you will not understand it;
but I will tell it shortly. Some years ago, down in the north, I fell
in love with a pretty girl below my own station in life. I pursued the
acquaintance, and speedily let her know the state of my feelings
towards her; not, as you will readily understand, with any base
motives; for I never, thank Heaven, had any desire to play the
seducer-- What's the matter, Martin? How white you look! Are you
faint?'
'A little faint, thank you; it's quite over now. You were saying--'
'I was saying that I despised the wretchedly-vulgar artifices of the
seducer, and that I meant fairly and honourably by this girl. I was
not able to marry her immediately, however. I was poor then, and her
friends insisted, rightly enough, that I should show I was able to
maintain her. I worked hard to that end,' said Humphrey after a short
pause; 'but when I went down in triumph to claim her, I found she had
fled from Headingly.'
'From where?' cried Martin, starting forward.
'Headingly, near Leeds; that was where she lived. She had fled away
from there, no one knew whither. A week before I reached the place she
was missed--had vanished, leaving no letter of explanation, no trace
of the route she had taken. And I never saw her more.'
'He paused again; but Martin Gurwood spoke not, bending forward still
with his eyes fixed upon his friend.
'Poor girl--poor darling girl!' muttered Humphrey, as though communing
with himself. 'What an awful fate for one so young and pretty!'
'What fate?' cried Martin Gurwood. 'Where is she now?'
'Dead,' said Humphrey Statham solemnly. 'Found killed by cold and
hunger, with her baby on her breast. It seems that my poor Emily,
deserted by the scoundrel who had seduced her--may the eternal--'
'Stay!' interrupted Martin Gurwood, wildly throwing up his arms;
'stay! For mercy's sake, do not add your curses to the torture which I
have been suffering under for years, and which culminates in this
moment!'
'You!' said Humphrey, starting back; 'you! Are you mad?'
'I would to heaven I were! I would to heaven I had been; for I should
have had some excuse! The girl you speak of was called Emily Mitchell.
I was the man who entrapped her from Headingly; I was the man who
ruined her, body and soul!'
Humphrey Statham fell back in his chair; his lips parted, but no sound
came from them.
'It is right that you should hear all now,' said Martin in a dull low
tone; 'though until this instant I never knew who was the man whom I
had wronged so deeply; never, of course, suspected it was you. She
told me that there was a gentleman far above her station in life who
intended to marry her; but she never mentioned his name. I was on a
visit to a college friend when I first saw Emily and fell in love with
her. I had no evil intentions then; but the thing went on from bad to
worse, until I persuaded her to elope with me. Ah, my God!' he cried
wildly, 'bear witness to the one long-protracted torture which my
subsequent life has been--to the struggles which I have made to shake
off the hypocrisy and deceit under whose dominion I have lived, and to
stand confessed as the meanest of Thy creatures! Bear witness to
these, and let them plead for me!'
Then he flung himself forward on the desk, and buried his face in his
hands. There came a knock at the door. Humphrey Statham, all
horror-stricken as he was, rushed forward to prevent any intrusion.
But he was too late; the door opened quickly, and Pauline entered the
room.