“How late you are, Tom--eight o'clock--and how tired you look, poor
fellow! I've been thinking about you all day. Was it very trying this
morning, or were they nice? They ought to have been, for everybody must
know that it wasn't your fault.”
“No, I don't think everybody could know that, Amy dear, for I don't know
it myself, and some men have good reason to know the opposite. Well,
yes, I was... rather sick at the meeting, and worse afterwards.”
“Did they dare to insult you, Tom? If they had had one spark of
gentlemanly feeling they would have pitied you. Do you mean that
they... said things? Tell me, for I want to share every sorrow with you,
darling.”
“One man was very hard on me, and I didn't expect it from him--no, I
won't tell you his name, for he behaved very handsomely in the end.
Perhaps I didn't deserve all the sharp words, but I am sure I haven't
deserved any of the kind words that were said before the day was done.
But never mind about me just now: tell me how you got on. Wasn't it your
visiting day? did... any one call?”
“So you were thinking about me in all your troubles!”--his wife put her
arm round Hatch-ard's neck--“and you were afraid I should be deserted
because you were victimised by those speculators! Now confess.”
“Well, you know, Amy, society is not very merciful, and I think women
are the crudest of all. What hits a man, if he is unfortunate, or...
worse, is that his poor wife is made to suffer. If her husband has
done... I mean has acted foolishly, well, say, has lost money, his wife
is neglected and cut and made to feel miserable. It's a beastly shame,
and I was afraid that...”
“I would be sitting all alone to-day, because we are poor. Do you know,
Tom, I was just a tiny bit nervous too, although I would not have told
you this morning for worlds. And now I have splendid news to give you:
our friends are as true as steel. Now answer a question, Tom, to see
whether you and I agree about the difference between acquaintances and
friends. Mention the names of the three families you would expect to
stand by us in our trial.”
“The Oxleys, of course, wife, and... I would have said the Beazleys,
and, let me see, yes, the Macfarlanes, although their manner doesn't
allow them to show what they feel. Am I right?”
“To a man (and woman), they all called today--the women, I mean: I
daresay the men called on you. And they all said the nicest things, and
what is best, they said the nicest things about you: yes, they did, and
if you doubt my word we shall separate... do you really think I would
chaff to-day?
“Sit there, just where I can lay my head on your shoulder, and I shall
describe everything. It was half-past two when I began to watch the
clock and wonder whether any one would come: have other people had the
same feeling? About a quarter to three the bell rang, and my heart beat:
who would it be? It was nothing--a tax paper; and I began to think
what I would have done if the same thing had happened to one of our
friends--how I would have simply rushed along and been in the house the
first decent minute after lunch, and how I would...”
“I know you would, Pet, and that is why they did it to you. Well, drive
on.”
“Exactly at eight minutes to three--oh, I know the time to-day without
mistake--the door opened, and in came Mrs. Macfarlane; and do you know
what she did?”
“She didn't!” cried Hatchard--“not kissed you?”
“Yes, she did, and a real kiss; and she took me in her arms, and I saw
tears in her eyes, and--and... I cried for a minute; I couldn't help it,
and it was quite a comfort. She hadn't said a word all this time, and
that was just right, wasn't it?”
“I'll never say a word against the Scots' manner again,” said Tom
huskily.
“But she spoke quite beautifully afterwards, and told me of some trials
no one knows, which they had ten years ago, and how they had never
loved one another so much before. When reticent people give you their
confidence it touches your heart, and we used to think her voice harsh,
and to laugh at her accent.”
“God forgive me!” said Thomas: “I'm a fool.”
“She said: 'You know how quiet Ronald is, and how he hardly ever gets
enthusiastic. Well, it would have done you good to have heard him speak
about Mr. Hatchard this morning. He said...'”
“Don't tell me, Amy--it... hurts; but I'm grateful all the same, and
will never forget it. And who came next?”
“Mrs. Oxley; and what do you think? We are to have their house at
Hoylake for August, so the chicks will have their holiday. Mr. Oxley
has been quite cast down, she says, about you, for he has such a
respect----”
“It's good of them to think about the children, but never mind about
me.”
“You are very unfeeling, Tom, to stop me at the best bits, when I had
saved them up and committed them to memory: perhaps you would get
vain, however, and become quite superior. What do you think of your
'kindness.' and your 'generosity,' and your 'popularity,' and your
'straightness'? You are shivering: are you cold?”
“No, no; but you haven't told me if Mrs. Beazley was kind to you: did
she call between four and five?”
“Yes: how did you know the hour?”
“Oh, I.. guessed, because she... was last, wasn't she?”
“She apologised for being so late; indeed, she was afraid that she might
not get round at all, but I'm so glad she came, for no one was more
glowing about you: I saw, of course, that she was just repeating Mr.
Beazley's opinion, for every one can see how he admires...
“Tom, you are very ungrateful, and for a punishment I'll not tell
you another word. What is wrong? has any one injured you? Was it Mr.
Beazley?”
“Beazley said kinder things in my office to me, in difficult
circumstances too, than I ever got from any man: some day, Amy, I'll
tell you what he said, but not now--I cannot--and he spent two hours
canvassing for business to start me as a corn broker, and he... got it.”
“It could not be Mr. Oxley.”
“Oxley has given me a cargo to dispose of, and I never had any of his
broking before; and he told me that some of my old friends were going
to... to... in fact, see me through this strait, speaking a good word
for me and putting things in my way.
“Yes, of course Macfarlane came to the office, and said nothing for
fifteen minutes: just gripped my hand and smoked, and then he rose, and
as he was leaving, he merely mentioned that Beazley and Oxley had become
securities for £5,000 at the bank; he is in it, too, you may be sure.”
“How grateful we ought to be, Tom dear; and how proud I am of you!--for
it's your character has affected every person, because you are so
honourable and high-minded. Tom, something is wrong; oh, I can't bear
it: don't cry... you are overstrung... lie down on the couch, and I'll
bathe your forehead with eau de Cologne.”
“No, I am not ill, and I don't deserve any petting; if you knew how mean
I have been you would never speak to me again. If they had scolded me I
would not have cared; but I can't bear their kindness.
“Amy, you must not send for the doctor, else you will put me to shame;
my mind is quite right, and it isn't overwork: it's... conscience: I am
not worthy to be your husband, or the friend of these men.”
“You will break my heart if you talk in this way. You unworthy! when
you are the kindest, truest, noblest man in all the world--don't say a
word--and everybody thinks so, and you must let us judge. Now rest here,
and I'll get a nice little supper for you,” and his wife kissed him
again and again.
“It's no use trying to undeceive her,” Hatchard said to himself when she
was gone; “she believes in me, and those fellows believe in me--Freddie
more than anybody, after all he said; and please God they will not be
disappointed in the end.”