THE USURER AND THE OAKEN BOX.
The room which Sir Henry Ashwoode entered was one of squalid disorder.
It was a large apartment, originally handsomely wainscoted, but damp
and vermin had made woeful havoc in the broad panels, and the ceiling
was covered with green and black blotches of mildew. No carpet covered
the bare boards, which were strewn with fragments of papers, rags,
splinters of an old chest, which had been partially broken up to light
the fire, and occasionally a potato-skin, a bone, or an old shoe. The
furniture was scant, and no one piece matched the other. Little and bad
as it was, its distribution about the room was more comfortless and
wretched still. All was dreary disorder, dust, and dirt, and damp, and
mildew, and rat-holes.
By a large grate, scarcely half filled with a pile of ashes and a few
fragments of smouldering turf, sat Gordon Chancey, the master of this
notable establishment; his arm rested upon a dirty deal table, and his
fingers played listlessly with a dull and battered pewter goblet, which
he had just replenished from a two-quart measure of strong beer which
stood upon the table, and whose contents had dabbled that piece of
furniture with sundry mimic lakes and rivers. Unrestrained by the
ungenerous confinement of a fender, the cinders strayed over the
cracked hearthstone, and even wandered to the boards beyond it. Mr.
Gordon Chancey was himself, too, rather in deshabille. He had thrown
off his shoes, and was in his stockings, which were unfortunately
rather imperfect at the extremities. His waistcoat was unbuttoned, and
his cravat lay upon the table, swimming in a sea of beer. As Ashwoode
entered, with ill-suppressed disgust, this loathly den, the object of
his visit languidly turned his head and his sleepy eyes over his
shoulder, in the direction of the door, and without making the smallest
effort to rise, contented himself with extending his hand along the
sloppy table, palm upwards, for Ashwoode to shake, at the same time
exclaiming, with a drawl of gentle placidity,--
"Oh, dear--oh, dear me! Mr. Ashwoode, I declare to God I am very glad
to see you. Won't you sit down and have some beer? Eliza, bring a cup
for my friend, Mr. Ashwoode. Will you take a pipe too? I have some
elegant tobacco. Bring _my_ pipe to Mr. Ashwoode, and the little
canister that M'Quirk left here last night."
"I am much obliged to you," said Ashwoode, with difficulty swallowing
his anger, and speaking with marked _hauteur_, "my visit, though an
unseasonable one, is entirely one of business. I shall not give you the
trouble of providing any refreshment for me; in a word, I have neither
time nor appetite for it. I want to learn exactly how you and I stand:
five minutes will show me the state of the account."
"Oh, dear--oh, dear! and won't you take any beer, then? it's elegant
beer, from Mr. M'Gin's there, round the corner."
Ashwoode bit his lips, and remained silent.
"Eliza, bring a chair for my friend, Sir Henry Ashwoode," continued
Chancey; "he must be very tired--indeed he must, after his long walk;
and here, Eliza, take the key and open the press, and do you see, bring
me the little oak box on the second shelf. She's a very good little
girl, Mr. Ashwoode, I assure you. Eliza is a very sensible, good little
girl. Oh, dear!--oh, dear! but your father's death was very sudden; but
old chaps always goes off that way, on short notice. Oh, dear me!--I
declare to ----, only I had a pain in my--(here he mentioned his lower
stomach somewhat abruptly)--I'd have gone to the funeral this morning.
There was a great lot of coaches, wasn't there?"
"Pray, Mr. Chancey," said Ashwoode, preserving his temper with an
effort, "let us proceed at once to business. I am pressed for time, and
I shall be glad, with as little delay as possible, to ascertain--what I
suppose there can be no difficulty in learning--the exact state of our
account."
"Well, I'm very sorry, so I am, Mr. Ashwoode, that you are in such a
hurry--I declare to ---- I am," observed Chancey, supplying big goblet
afresh from the larger measure. "Eliza, have you the box? Well, bring
it here, and put it down on the table, like an elegant little girl."
The girl shoved a small oaken chest over to Chancey's elbow; and he
forthwith proceeded to unlock it, and to draw forth the identical red
leather pocket-book which had received in its pages the records of
Ashwoode's disasters upon the evening of their last meeting.
"Here I have them. Captain Markham--no, that is not it," said Chancey,
sleepily turning over the leaves; "but this is it, Mr. Ashwoode--ay,
here; first, two hundred pounds, promissory note--payable one week
after date. Mr. Ashwoode, again, one hundred and fifty--promissory
note--one week. Lord Kilblatters--no--ay, here again--Mr. Ashwoode, two
hundred--promissory note--one week. Mr. Ashwoode, two hundred and
fifty--promissory note--one week. Mr. Ashwoode, one hundred; Mr.
Ashwoode, fifty. Oh, dear me! dear me! Mr. Ashwoode, three hundred."
And so on, till it appeared that Sir Henry Ashwoode stood indebted to
Gordon Chancey, Esq., in the sum of six thousand four hundred and fifty
pounds, for which he had passed promissory notes which would all become
due in two days' time.
"I suppose," said Ashwoode, "these notes have hardly been negotiated.
Eh?"
"Oh, dear me! No--oh, no, Mr. Ashwoode," replied Chancey. "They have
not gone out of my desk. I would not put them into the hands of a
stranger for any trifling advantage to myself. Oh, dear me! not at
all."
"Well, then, I suppose you can renew them for a fortnight or so, or
hold them over--eh?" asked Ashwoode.
"I'm sure I can," rejoined Chancey. "The bills belong to the old
cripple that lent the money; and _he_ does whatever I bid him. He
trusts it all to me. He gives me the trouble, and takes the profit
himself. Oh! he _does_ confide in me. I have only to say the word, and
it's done. They shall be renewed or held over as often as you wish.
Indeed, I can answer for it. Dear me, it would be very hard if I could
not."
"Well, then, Mr. Chancey," replied Ashwoode, "I may require it, or I
may not. Craven has the promise of a large sum of money, within two or
three days--part of the loan he has already gotten. Will you favour me
with a call on to-morrow afternoon at Morley Court. I will then have
heard definitely from Craven, and can tell you whether I require time
or not."
"Very good, sir--very fair, indeed, Mr. Ashwoode. Nothing fairer,"
rejoined the lawyer. "But don't give yourself any uneasiness. Oh, dear,
on no account; for I declare to ---- I would hold them over as long as
you like. Oh, dear me--indeed but I would. Well, then, I'll call out at
about four o'clock."
"Very good, Mr. Chancey," replied Ashwoode. "I shall expect you.
Meanwhile, good-night." So they separated.
The young baronet reached his ancestral dwelling without adventure of
any kind, and Mr. Gordon Chancey poured out the last drops of beer from
the inverted can into his pewter cup, and draining it calmly, anon
buttoned his waistcoat, shook the wet from his cravat, and tied it on,
thrust his feet into his shoes, and flinging his cocked hat carelessly
upon his head, walked forth in deep thought into the street, whistling
a concerto of his own invention.