"GOOD-BYE."
"I am rather glad to have found you alone, Clem," said Lord Loughton,
as he walked into his son's studio in the course of the day following
that on which he had received Mr. Flicker's check for a hundred and
fifty pounds. "I have something rather particular to say to you."
Clem knew of old that his father's "something particular" generally
took the shape of a request for a loan, so he merely said, "Macer
won't be back for a couple of hours. Will you have a weed and some
bottled ale?"
"Thank you, no. I can't stay many minutes. How are you progressing
with your Academy picture? That, of course, is the most important
affair in the universe just now. I believe, if there were an
earthquake to-morrow that swallowed up a thousand people, all that you
painter fellows would do would be to cry, 'Save my pictures.' The
egotism of art is something sublime."
"We dignify it with another name," answered Clem, with a laugh. "With
us it becomes 'devotion to art.'" He had had too much experience of
his father's tirades to take much notice of them. "I shall get my
picture done, I suppose, and send it in. Beyond that I know nothing.
But as you don't care about modern paintings, I need not bore you by
asking your opinion of it."
"Well, no, it's hardly worth while. I never see anything later than
Sir Joshua that I care about. English art is dead--defunct as a
door-nail."
"I am glad that the people with money don't all think as you do. But
you had something particular to say to me."
"Yes; I am going to leave London for a time."
Clem suspended his brush in mid-air and stared at his father.
"A friend of mine, a gentleman whom I knew many years ago, has just
succeeded to a very large property. As he is obliged to reside abroad
on account of his health, he has asked me to undertake the management
of his affairs for a time. He has extensive estates in different parts
of the country, all of which require to be carefully looked after, so
that I shall have no fixed location for any length of time. For
reasons which you will not ask me to explain, I cannot give the name
of my friend, nor can I tell you with certainty where I may be found
at any particular date; but that will not matter, as I shall run up to
London for a day or two to see _la mère_ and you every month or six
weeks. Should any occasion arise for you to communicate with me while
I am away, a letter will always find me, addressed 'John Fildew,
Esquire, Post-office, Shallowford, Northamptonshire.' You had better
put the address down in your pocket-book so as to make sure of it."
"Have you broken the news to my mother?" asked Clem, as he wrote down
the address.
"Yes; I mentioned it to her this morning, and though, of course, poor
creature, she was rather cut up at first, she soon recovered her
equanimity and agreed with me that it was all for the best. You see,
Clem, this is just the sort of thing I have been looking out for for
years--gentlemanly, dignified, not too much to do, and yet with an
honorarium attached to it that, in the present state of our finances,
we cannot afford to despise. For one thing, my dear boy, there will no
longer be any necessity for my imposing on your good-nature, in
addition to which I shall be in a position to make your mother an
allowance of five guineas per month. I gave her the first five guineas
this morning before leaving home."
"You need not have done that, sir," interposed Clem. "My mother should
not have wanted for anything during your absence."
"I am quite sure of that, my boy. But in making this little
arrangement I feel that I am simply doing my duty--and what a luxury
for one's conscience that is!" His lordship's conscience had not been
used to such luxuries for a long time, and probably appreciated them
all the more by reason of their rarity.
"In addition to my allowance of five guineas per mensem," continued
the earl, "your mother will have her own private income of fifty
pounds a year, and will no longer have me for an encumbrance; so that,
all things considered, she ought to be, and doubtless will be,
tolerably comfortable. There is one thing, however, Clem, that she
wishes you to do. After I am gone she would like you to go back and
sleep in your old room. She is rather timorous, poor thing, at the
thought of being left alone."
"Of course I shall do that, sir," said Clem.
"Then I need not detain you longer. If you have half an hour to spare
this evening before your mother's bedtime, look in and we will talk
these matters over more in extenso." And extending a couple of fingers
to his son and nodding a good-morning, the earl went, leaving Clem at
a loss whether to be more pleased or sorry at what he had just heard.
The private income of fifty pounds a year to which Lord Loughton had
referred when speaking of his wife was all that was now left of the
fortune he had received with her on her wedding-day. It would hardly
be too much to say that it was on account of that fortune he had
married her. She was an orphan, the daughter of English parents who
had emigrated to America. Her father had been originally a poor man,
but had made a fortune during the last three or four years of his
life. She fell in love with the handsome English scapegrace at a
boarding-house where they happened to meet, and being her own mistress
and well-to-do, and divining that he was poor--how poor she did not
know till afterwards--she was not long in letting him see the
preference which she felt for him. He, on his side, when once
satisfied that her fortune was not a myth, was an ardent lover enough,
and at the end of a few weeks they were married. Not till the wedding
morn did the bride know that her husband's name was not John Fildew,
but John Marmaduke Lorrimore, and that same evening she was made to
take a solemn oath never to divulge to living soul the secret of her
husband's real name. So faithfully had the promise then given been
kept that not even her own son had the remotest suspicion that the
name he called himself by was not his own. As years slipped away Mrs.
Fildew's fortune also slipped away, till nothing of it was left save
the aforesaid fifty pounds per year, the principal of which neither
she nor her husband could touch. With the struggling, poverty-stricken
years that followed when the bulk of the fortune was gone we have
nothing here to do.
It was owing to Clem's persuasions that his father and mother had at
length agreed to remove all the way from Long Island to London. The
lad had developed a remarkable talent for painting, but had got the
idea into his head that he could have better instruction and make more
rapid progress in London than elsewhere. But, in addition to that, Mr.
Fildew, senior, was heartily sick of the States. So to London they had
come, and there they had lived ever since. Clem, what with painting
and what with drawing on wood for the magazines, was slowly but surely
making his way, and was not only able to keep himself--in very modest
style, it is true--but could also spare his father a pound a week for
pocket-money. What he did in the way of helping his mother at odd
times was known to no one but him and her. He had lived at home till
home was no longer comfortable for him; and even his mother had at
length urged him to go into lodgings on his own account. That mother,
whom he loved so well, was slowly but surely dying of an incurable
complaint. She had been ill for years, and might be ill for years
longer, before the end came; but that it was surely coming both she
and those about her knew full well. And this knowledge it was that
made the one great trouble of Clem's life.
The earl felt that he had much to do before his departure from London.
After again seeing his son in the evening, but without giving him many
more details as to his future proceedings than he had given him in the
morning, he set out for the Brown Bear. This would be his last evening
at the old haunt for a long time to come, if not forever; and when he
called to mind the many pleasant hours he had spent in the little
coffee-room, he felt quite sentimental--far more sentimental than he
had felt at the thought of parting from his wife and son.
There was an extraordinary muster at the Brown Bear this evening, it
having got noised about that it was Mr. Fildew's farewell visit. As a
consequence, Mr. Fildew had to enter into particulars, which he
detested doing, as to the why and the wherefore of his going away. He
told them the same story that he had told to his son, with certain
variations, the gist of it being that a very old friend of his had
come into a large fortune and needed his, Mr. Fildew's, services as
guide, philosopher, and friend.
Mr. Nutt was unanimously voted into the chair, and a very pleasant and
convivial evening followed. Mr. Fildew's health was drunk with musical
honors, to which "His Grace" responded in a few well-chosen sentences,
and wound up by ordering the landlord to bring in his biggest
punch-bowl filled to the brim. On the heels of the first bowl came
another; and when twelve o'clock struck several of the gentlemen
present were hardly in a condition to find their way unaided to their
homes, so that, as several of them afterwards averred, it was one of
the pleasantest evenings they ever remembered to have spent.
At dusk, next afternoon, Lord Loughton bade farewell to his humble
lodgings. His last words to his wife were to the effect that she might
expect to see him again in three weeks or a month. Clem's offer to
accompany him to the station was firmly negatived. However, Clem saw
him into the cab, and heard him give instructions to be driven to
King's Cross. Then there was a last wave of the hand and he was gone.