A LADY OF FASHION PAYS SAMUEL BOYD A VISIT.
A close and crafty face, masking a soul which knew no mercy and gave
none. The grave holds its secrets, and holds them no less securely
than Mr. Samuel Boyd, in his outward presentment to his fellow man,
believed he held his. Whether the pursuit of pleasure for the
delights--be they fair or foul--that pleasure brings, or the pursuit
of wealth for the power it confers, was the dominant principle of this
man's life, no human being could truthfully say, for no human being
was admitted into his confidence. But one thing was certain. By
whatever motive he may have been guided he held his way with absolute
dependence on his own resources to triumph easily over every obstacle
that might present itself. As to the manner in which these triumphs
were obtained it mattered little to him whether he merely brushed
aside the persons who opposed him, or trampled them into the dust.
Their mortification, their sufferings, their destruction, concerned
him not and did not trouble him. There are men who, in the
contemplated execution of a crime, or in the pursuance of a base
desire, listen to the voice of conscience before it is too late. Not
so Mr. Samuel Boyd. He was harassed by no troubled dreams, by no weak
fears of consequences, by no whisperings of an inconvenient
conscience, by no spiritual warnings of Divine punishment for sinful
deeds. For him, the entire range of the moral affections and of moral
sentiments and conditions was expressed in one word: Self. It was for
Self he lived and for Self alone.
Such being the man it was not to be supposed that he was in any way
affected by the sentence he had pronounced upon Abel Death, or that he
gave a moment's thought to the poor clerk who was trudging home almost
broken-hearted at the loss even of the miserable wage he received for
duties faithfully performed.
The letter he had taken from the letter box was from a lady who stated
that she would call upon him at eight o'clock this evening. He had not
long to wait, for by his watch he saw that it wanted but two minutes
to eight; and punctually to the hour there came a rat-tat-tat at the
street door.
With no indication of haste he went down, and laughed slyly to himself
when the knocking was repeated, more impatiently and peremptorily the
second time than the first. He drew the door ajar leisurely, still
keeping it on the chain.
"Who wants Samuel Boyd?" he inquired.
"Who wants Samuel Boyd?" answered a lady's voice. "Upon my word! To
keep a lady waiting in such a dreadful place as this, the entrance to
which is so narrow that a carriage can't get into it! Open the door at
once, man, and let me in!"
"As quickly as I can, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, fumbling at the chain.
"It is Lady Wharton, is it not?"
"Who else should it be, pray?" replied the lady. "And if Lady Wharton
had known what kind of thoroughfare this was she would have thought
twice before she'd have ventured into it." There was nothing querulous
in the voice; it was hearty and bluff, with a cheerful ring in it very
pleasant to the ear.
"Might a man so humble as Samuel Boyd inquire whether it is too late
now for Lady Wharton to think better of it?" asked Mr. Boyd,
continuing to fumble at the chain.
"Man alive! Of course it is. Oh, you've got it opened at last. Well,
that's a blessing. If it takes as long to get out of the house as to
get in I sha'n't be home till midnight. Remain where you are, John,
and wait for me. If I don't make my appearance before ten o'clock
shout for help at the top of your voice." These last words were
addressed to a footman, who, holding a large green umbrella over her
ladyship's head, had accompanied her from her carriage to the door of
Mr. Boyd's dwelling. "John is my confidential man," she was now
addressing Mr. Boyd. "I don't put my trust in women. They're a pack of
artful, designing creatures. What men see in us to marry us passes my
comprehension. If I were a man I'd want a sackfull of diamonds before
I'd marry the handsomest among them."
"If your ladyship will kindly follow me," said Mr. Boyd, ascending the
stairs.
"Bless my soul!" she exclaimed. "The passage is as dark as a railway
tunnel, and that parody of a candle in your hand makes matters worse.
The stairs are safe, I hope? There are no trapdoors in them through
which a defenceless woman might suddenly disappear?" These words were
accompanied with a ringing laugh which awoke the echoes in the almost
deserted house.
"They are quite safe, my lady, quite safe. Permit me to welcome you to
my poor abode."
They were now in the room, around which Lady Wharton stared in
amazement. She was a large-framed woman, well proportioned and with a
perfect figure. There was a hearty good nature in her face which
matched well with her brisk voice. Her eyes were bright, her movements
quick and decided. Eminently a woman of management, of kindly heart,
and one whose healthy physique and amiable disposition guided her to
take a cheerful view of difficulties.
"Heaven and earth, Mr. Boyd!" she exclaimed. "This is the oddest abode
a man of means could select." Here she caught sight of the wax figure
of the Chinaman, which caused her to retreat a step or two and to give
utterance to a little scream.
"Don't be frightened, my lady, he's only wax. I took him for a debt;
he was better than nothing, if only for melting down. All these things
have been taken for debt. That is the way we are robbed; and the law
gives us no redress, no redress."
"Poor Mr. Boyd!" said Lady Wharton, with twinkling eyes "How very sad!
Shall I lend you a five pound note?"
"I should be very grateful, my lady."
She burst into a merry laugh. "Singular creature! Shall we proceed to
business?"
"Yes, my lady. Time is money. You will be comfortable in this chair."
A strange contrast did they present as they sat on opposite sides of
the table, the crafty, cringing face of the man looking into the
cheery, good-humoured face of the lady.
"Now, Mr. Boyd, I am going to be quite frank with you." She placed her
satchel on the table, and took some papers from it. "My husband owes
you a large sum of money. Look over these figures and tell me if they
are correct."
"Quite correct, my lady, but calculated only up to the last day of
February, which was yesterday. One day's interest has to be added if
you are prepared to pay to-night. Strictly speaking, it is two days'
interest, it being now past the hour of business."
"Of course you know I am not prepared to pay to-night, and of course
you know that I have come in the place of my husband because in
matters of business he is a mere child."
"I have not found him so, my lady," said Samuel Boyd. "In my
experience of his lordship I have seen nothing in him to cause me to
think he is weak-minded. He came to me to borrow money, and I lent it
to him on bills signed in his name. It was a risk, and I took it."
"Very well, Mr. Boyd," said Lady Wharton, cheerfully. "We have not met
to contradict each other, or to raise up difficulties, but to come to
such an arrangement as may be agreeable to you."
"If your ladyship pleases," said Mr. Boyd.
"At the same time," she continued, "I wish to state how far my
understanding went, when, Lord Wharton being ill in bed, I opened up a
correspondence with you. I am very fond of my husband, Mr. Boyd."
"His lordship is to be envied."
"Indeed I think he is," said Lady Wharton, with a little laugh, "and I
am to be envied, too, for having a husband so amiably inclined. But he
is altogether too easy and careless in money matters; when he wishes
for a thing, he will promise anything, consent to anything, sign
anything, so long as he gets it. He is really like a child in these
matters, and having made up my mind that he was not to be worried, I
opened a letter which you wrote to him, and I replied to it. Now, Mr.
Boyd, it was from that letter that I learned, for the first time, that
Lord Wharton was in your debt."
"Indeed, my lady."
"Yes, indeed. I was not astonished. Nothing that Lord Wharton does
astonishes me. He can get through a great deal of money. So can I. He
is extravagant. So am I. What are you to do, Mr. Boyd, when you have
been brought up to it?"
"Nothing but spend," said Samuel Boyd.
"You are a man of sense. We can do nothing but spend--and between you
and me, Mr. Boyd"--here she laughed long and heartily--"we _do_ spend.
Why not, when we can afford it?"
"Why not, indeed?" murmured Mr. Boyd, in ready acquiescence.
"But rich as people may be they are sometimes in need of ready money,
and that, I suppose, is where gentlemen of your profession come in.
Having now, in a manner of speaking, cleared the ground, we can go on
easily. There are bills coming due."
"There are, my lady."
"I asked you in a letter what they amounted to; you answered, twelve
thousand pounds. Now, Mr. Boyd, I should not like you to think that I
want to take advantage of you."
"Thank you, my lady. I have been taken in so often that I am almost
beginning to despair of human nature."
"Don't, Mr. Boyd, don't. There is a great deal of good in human
nature, and we can get a lot of fun out of life if we set about it the
right way. I have consulted another person in this business, and he
has advised me. My brother, Lord Fairfax. You have heard of him,
perhaps. Yes? I thought you must; he is almost a celebrity, with his
indolent and easy ways. It is in our blood; we object to be troubled.
All we ask is that the world should go round as usual, and that our
little wishes should be gratified. Lord Fairfax suggested that I
should put the business into the hands of a lawyer." Mr. Boyd, with a
scarcely perceptible motion, lifted his eyebrows. "I said, no. We have
a rooted objection to lawyers in our family; they make your head ache.
'Quite right,' said Lord Fairfax. 'Have nothing to do with lawyers.'
He never disputes, Mr. Boyd. The moment you say a thing he agrees to
it. Then he said, 'Find out how much it amounts to.' I wrote to you,
and you told me. You also sent me some bills, for the purpose of doing
away with the old obligations, and putting the whole of the business
on a new footing. These bills were to be accepted by Lord Wharton, and
you strongly urged me to get another responsible name at the back of
them. Lord Wharton signed the bills when I put them before him. The
dear man hardly as much as looked at them. Then I went to Lord
Fairfax, and _he_ put his name on the back. _He_ hardly as much as
looked at them. And to cut a long matter short, Mr. Boyd, I have
brought them with me."
She took them from her satchel, and handed them to Mr. Boyd, who
examined them carefully, and jotted down figures on a piece of paper.
Satisfactory as the transaction was to him no sign of satisfaction
escaped him.
"Are they in order, Mr. Boyd?"
"Yes, they appear to be in order. I am making a great sacrifice for
you, my lady."
"We are under a great obligation to you. And now, Mr. Boyd, for a
little piece of business on my own account. I want a thousand pounds
for my private purse."
"A thousand pounds, my lady, a thousand pounds!" murmured Mr. Boyd.
"I will _not_ worry Lord Wharton with my dressmaker's bill, and she
has begged me to let her have something on account. There are also one
or two other little bills I wish to pay. Don't be alarmed; I am going
to give you security. I have been looking through my jewellery, and I
found some things that have gone out of fashion. I will not sell them,
but I am willing to deposit them with you. Here they are. Oblige me by
looking over them. Some of the cases would not go into my satchel, so
I took them all out, and wrapped them in paper. I hope you won't
mind."
"Not at all, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, opening the papers, which
contained jewels of various kinds, bracelets, necklaces, ear-rings,
brooches, and other gewgaws. Many of the precious stones were in old
settings, and he saw at a glance that they were worth considerably
more than the thousand pounds which this reckless lady of fashion
wished to raise upon them. Among them were two ornaments of
conspicuous beauty--a pearl necklace, and a device for the hair in the
shape of a peacock's tail.
"I am reposing a great confidence in you," said Lady Wharton. "The
pearl necklace and the peacock's tail were presents from my
father--they cost a great price, I believe--and I would not part with
them for any consideration. In a few months I shall--shall--what is
the word for it? Oh, yes, redeem them."
"You don't want the thousand pounds immediately, my lady?" said Mr.
Boyd.
"My good man, I want it now, this minute."
"Impossible, my lady. I could not get it together in less than five or
six days. If that will suit you----"
Lady Wharton beat an impatient tattoo on the table with the tips of
her fingers. "Are you sure you could not get it earlier?"
"Quite sure, my lady."
"It _must_ suit me, then, but it is really very provoking. Lord
Wharton is ordered into the country, and we are going to-morrow."
"I can send you a cheque through the post."
"I should prefer to receive it personally from you, and in bank notes.
You can bring it to me in the country, I suppose?"
"There will be no difficulty, my lady. To what part of the country?"
"We are going to our place in Bournemouth, The Gables. We give a ball
there every year on the 7th of March. Of course I may rely upon having
the money before that date."
"Pardon me a moment, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, pretending to make
certain calculations on paper, and presently adding, "I can't
positively promise, but you shall be sure to have it _on_ that date."
"Oh, very well, very well," said Lady Wharton, "I see that I am
expected to agree to everything. And now, Mr. Boyd, our business is
over, I think. Bless my soul, how dismally the wind sounds in this
house! If I don't get out of it quickly John will think I've been
spirited away. Don't trouble to come down; one of your servants can
see me to the door."
"I keep no servants, my lady," he replied. "A charwoman comes when I
send for her. That is my life."
"Do you mean to tell me that you live here quite alone?"
"Quite alone, my lady, quite alone, and safer and more secure than if
my house was full of servants."
"Mr. Boyd," said Lady Wharton, tapping him lightly on the arm, "you
should marry."
"What did your ladyship say yourself about women when you entered the
house," he answered slyly.
She laughed heartily at this retort, and following him down the stairs
as he led the way with a light, bade him good night at the street
door.
"John," she said to her confidential man as he conducted her to her
carriage, "the house is like a grave."
"I was thinking that myself, my lady," said John.