A COMMUNICATION OF IMPORTANCE
Norman's dark wet walk did him physically no harm, and morally some
good. He started on it in that frame of mind which induces a man to
look with indifference on all coming evils under the impression that the
evils already come are too heavy to admit of any increase. But by the
time that he was thoroughly wet through, well splashed with mud, and
considerably fatigued by his first five or six miles' walk, he began
to reflect that life was not over with him, and that he must think of
future things as well as those that were past.
He got home about two o'clock, and having knocked up his landlady, Mrs.
Richards, betook himself to bed. Alaric had been in his room for the
last two hours, but of Charley and his latch-key Mrs. Richards knew
nothing. She stated her belief, however, that two a.m. seldom saw that
erratic gentleman in his bed.
On the following morning, Alaric, when he got his hot water, heard
that Norman returned during the night from Hampton, and he immediately
guessed what had brought him back. He knew that nothing short of some
great trouble would have induced Harry to leave the Cottage so abruptly,
and that that trouble must have been of such a nature as to make his
remaining with the Woodwards an aggravation of it. No such trouble could
have come on him but the one.
As Charley seldom made his appearance at the breakfast table on Sunday
mornings, Alaric foresaw that he must undergo a _tête-à-tête_ which
would not be agreeable to himself, and which must be much more
disagreeable to his companion; but for this there was no help. Harry
had, however, prepared himself for what he had to go through, and
immediately that the two were alone, he told his tale in a very few
words.
'Alaric,' said he, 'I proposed to Gertrude last night, and she refused
me.'
Alaric Tudor was deeply grieved for his friend. There was something in
the rejected suitor's countenance--something in the tone of voice, which
would have touched any heart softer than stone; and Alaric's heart had
not as yet been so hardened by the world as to render him callous to the
sight of such grief as this.
'Take my word for it, Harry, she'll think better of it in a month or
two,' he said.
'Never--never; I am sure of it. Not only from her own manner, but from
her mother's,' said Harry. And yet, during half his walk home, he had
been trying to console himself with the reflection that most young
ladies reject their husbands once or twice before they accept them.
There is no offering a man comfort in such a sorrow as this; unless,
indeed, he be one to whom the worship of Bacchus may be made a fitting
substitute for that of the Paphian goddess.
There is a sort of disgrace often felt, if never acknowledged, which
attaches itself to a man for having put himself into Norman's present
position, and this generally prevents him from confessing his defeat in
such matters. The misfortune in question is one which doubtless occurs
not unfrequently to mankind; but as mankind generally bear their special
disappointments in silence, and as the vanity of women is generally
exceeded by their good-nature, the secret, we believe, in most cases
remains a secret.
Shall I, wasting in despair,
Die because a woman's fair?
If she be not fair for me,
What care I how fair she be?
This was the upshot of the consideration which Withers, the poet, gave
to the matter, and Withers was doubtless right. 'Tis thus that rejected
lovers should think, thus that they should demean themselves; but they
seldom come to this philosophy till a few days have passed by, and
talking of their grievance does not assist them in doing so.
When, therefore, Harry had declared what had happened to him, and had
declared also that he had no further hope, he did not at first find
himself much the better for what he had confessed. He was lackadaisical
and piteous, and Alaric, though he had endeavoured to be friendly, soon
found that he had no power of imparting any comfort. Early in the
day they parted, and did not see each other again till the following
morning.
'I was going down to Normansgrove on Thursday,' said Harry.
'Yes, I know,' said Alaric.
'I think I shall ask leave to go to-day. It can't make much difference,
and the sooner I get away the better.'
And so it was settled. Norman left town the same afternoon, and Alaric,
with his blushing honours thick upon him, was left alone.
London was now very empty, and he was constrained to enjoy his glory
very much by himself. He had never associated much with the Minusexes
and Uppinalls, nor yet with the Joneses and Robinsons of his own
office, and it could not be expected that there should be any specially
confidential intercourse between them just at the present moment. Undy
was of course out of town with the rest of the fashionable world, and
Alaric, during the next week, was left very much on his own hands.
'And so,' said he to himself, as he walked solitary along the lone paths
of Rotten Row, and across the huge desert to the Marble Arch, 'and so
poor Harry's hopes have been all in vain; he has lost his promotion,
and now he has lost his bride--poor Harry!'--and then it occurred to him
that as he had acquired the promotion it might be his destiny to win
the bride also. He had never told himself that he loved Gertrude; he had
looked on her as Norman's own, and he, at any rate, was not the man to
sigh in despair after anything that was out of his reach. But now,
now that Harry's chance was over, and that no bond of friendship could
interfere with such a passion, why should he not tell himself that he
loved Gertrude? 'If, as Harry had himself said, there was no longer any
hope for him, why,' said Alaric to himself, 'why should not I try my
chance?' Of Linda, of 'dear, dearest Linda,' at this moment he thought
very little, or, perhaps, not at all. Of what Mrs. Woodward might say,
of that he did think a good deal.
The week was melancholy and dull, and it passed very slowly at Hampton.
On the Sunday morning it became known to them all that Norman was
gone, but the subject, by tacit consent, was allowed to pass all but
unnoticed. Even Katie, even Uncle Bat, were aware that something had
occurred which ought to prevent them from inquiring too particularly why
Harry had started back to town in so sudden a manner; and so they said
nothing. To Linda, Gertrude had told what had happened; and Linda,
as she heard it, asked herself whether she was prepared to be equally
obdurate with her lover. He had now the means of supporting a wife, and
why should she be obdurate?
Nothing was said on the subject between Gertrude and her mother. What
more could Mrs. Woodward say? It would have been totally opposed to the
whole principle of her life to endeavour, by any means, to persuade
her daughter to the match, or to have used her maternal influence
in Norman's favour. And she was well aware that it would have been
impossible to do so successfully. Gertrude was not a girl to be talked
into a marriage by any parent, and certainly not by such a parent as her
mother. There was, therefore, nothing further to be said about it.
On Saturday Alaric went down, but his arrival hardly made things more
pleasant. Mrs. Woodward could not bring herself to be cordial with him,
and the girls were restrained by a certain feeling that it would not be
right to show too much outward joy at Alaric's success. Linda said one
little word of affectionate encouragement, but it produced no apparent
return from Alaric. His immediate object was to recover Mrs. Woodward's
good graces; and he thought before he went that he had reason to hope
that he might do so.
Of all the household, Captain Cuttwater was the most emphatic in his
congratulations. 'He had no doubt,' he said, 'that the best man had won.
He had always hoped that the best man might win. He had not had the same
luck when he was young, but he was very glad to see such an excellent
rule brought into the service. It would soon work great changes, he was
quite sure, at the Board of Admiralty.'
On the Sunday afternoon Captain Cuttwater asked him into his own
bedroom, and told him with a solemn, serious manner that he had a
communication of importance to make to him. Alaric followed the captain
into the well-known room in which Norman used to sleep, wondering what
could be the nature of Uncle Bat's important communication. It might,
probably, be some tidings of Sir Jib Boom.
'Mr. Alaric,' said the old man, as soon as they were both seated on
opposite sides of a little Pembroke table that stood in the middle of
the room, 'I was heartily glad to hear of your success at the Weights
and Measures; not that I ever doubted it if they made a fair sailing
match of it.'
'I am sure I am much obliged to you, Captain Cuttwater.'
'That is as may be, by and by. But the fact is, I have taken a fancy to
you. I like fellows that know how to push themselves.'
Alaric had nothing for it but to repeat again that he felt himself
grateful for Captain Cuttwater's good opinion.
'Not that I have anything to say against Mr. Norman--a very nice young
man, indeed, he is, very nice, though perhaps not quite so cheerful in
his manners as he might be.'
Alaric began to take his friend's part, and declared what a very worthy
fellow Harry was.
'I am sure of it--I am sure of it,' said Uncle Bat; 'but everybody can't
be A 1; and a man can't make everybody his heir.'
Alaric pricked up his ears. So after all Captain Cuttwater was right
in calling his communication important. But what business had Captain
Cuttwater to talk of making new heirs?--had he not declared that the
Woodwards were his heirs?
'I have got a little money, Mr. Alaric,' he went on saying in a low
modest tone, very different from that he ordinarily used; 'I have got a
little money--not much--and it will of course go to my niece here.'
'Of course,' said Alaric.
'That is to say--it will go to her children, which is all the same
thing.'
'Quite the same thing,' said Alaric.
'But my idea is this: if a man has saved a few pounds himself, I think
he has a right to give it to those he loves best. Now I have no children
of my own.'
Alaric declared himself aware of the fact.
'And I suppose I shan't have any now.'
'Not if you don't marry,' said Alaric, who felt rather at a loss for a
proper answer. He could not, however, have made a better one.
'No; that's what I mean; but I don't think I shall marry. I am very well
contented here, and I like Surbiton Cottage amazingly.'
'It's a charming place,' said Alaric.
'No, I don't suppose I shall ever have any children of my own,'--and
then Uncle Bat sighed gently--'and so I have been considering whom I
should like to adopt.'
'Quite right, Captain Cuttwater.'
'Whom I should like to adopt. I should like to have one whom I could
call in a special manner my own. Now, Mr. Alaric, I have made up my
mind, and who do you think it is?'
'Oh! Captain Cuttwater, I couldn't guess on such a matter. I shouldn't
like to guess wrong.'
'Perhaps not--no; that's right;--well then, I'll tell you; it's
Gertrude.'
Alaric was well aware that it was Gertrude before her name had been
pronounced.
'Yes, it's Gertrude; of course I couldn't go out of Bessie's family--of
course it must be either Gertrude, or Linda, or Katie. Now Linda and
Katie are very well, but they haven't half the gumption that Gertrude
has.'
'No, they have not,' said Alaric.
'I like gumption,' said Captain Cuttwater. 'You've a great deal of
gumption--that's why I like you.'
Alaric laughed, and muttered something.
'Now I have been thinking of something;' and Uncle Bat looked strangely
mysterious--'I wonder what you think of Gertrude?'
'Who--I?' said Alaric.
'I can see through a millstone as well as another,' said the captain;
'and I used to think that Norman and Gertrude meant to hit it off
together.'
Alaric said nothing. He did not feel inclined to tell Norman's secret,
and yet he could not belie Gertrude by contradicting the justice of
Captain Cuttwater's opinion.
'I used to think so--but now I find there's nothing in it. I am sure
Gertrude wouldn't have him, and I think she's right. He hasn't gumption
enough.'
'Harry Norman is no fool.'
'I dare say not,' said the captain; 'but take my word, she'll never have
him--Lord bless you, Norman knows that as well as I do.'
Alaric knew it very well himself also; but he did not say so.
'Now, the long and the short of it is this--why don't you make up to
her? If you'll make up to her and carry the day, all I can say is, I
will do all I can to keep the pot a-boiling; and if you think it will
help you, you may tell Gertrude that I say so.'
This was certainly an important communication, and one to which Alaric
found it very difficult to give any immediate answer. He said a great
deal about his affection for Mrs. Woodward, of his admiration for Miss
Woodward, of his strong sense of Captain Cuttwater's kindness, and of
his own unworthiness; but he left the captain with an impression that
he was not prepared at the present moment to put himself forward as a
candidate for Gertrude's hand.
'I don't know what the deuce he would have,' said the captain to
himself. 'She's as fine a girl as he's likely to find; and two or three
thousand pounds isn't so easily got every day by a fellow that hasn't a
shilling of his own.'
When Alaric took his departure the next morning, he thought he
perceived, from Mrs. Woodward's manner, that there was less than her
usual cordiality in the tone in which she said that of course he would
return at the end of the week.
'I will if possible,' he said, 'and I need not say that I hope to do so;
but I fear I may be kept in town--at any rate I'll write.' When the end
of the week came he wrote to say that unfortunately he was kept in town.
He thoroughly understood that people are most valued when they make
themselves scarce. He got in reply a note from Gertrude, saying that
her mother begged that on the following Saturday he would come and bring
Charley with him.
On his return to town, Alaric, by appointment, called on Sir Gregory.
He had not seen his patron yet since his great report on Wheal Mary Jane
had been sent in. That report had been written exclusively by himself,
and poor Neverbend had been obliged to content himself with putting all
his voluminous notes into Tudor's hands. He afterwards obediently signed
the report, and received his reward for doing so. Alaric never divulged
to official ears how Neverbend had halted in the course of his descent
to the infernal gods.
'I thoroughly congratulate you,' said Sir Gregory. 'You have justified
my choice, and done your duty with credit to yourself and benefit to the
public. I hope you may go on and prosper. As long as you remember that
your own interests should always be kept in subservience to those of
the public service, you will not fail to receive the praise which such
conduct deserves.'
Alaric thanked Sir Gregory for his good opinion, and as he did so, he
thought of his new banker's account, and of the £300 which was lying
there. After all, which of them was right, Sir Gregory Hardlines or Undy
Scott? Or was it that Sir Gregory's opinions were such as should control
the outward conduct, and Undy's those which should rule the inner man?