IN CHAMBERS.
The summer sun, bright, warm, and cheering, only just past the zenith
of his annual glory, illumined the Temple Gardens; still further
withering the turf, which had been worn by the promenaders of the
season into a very bald and ragged state; gladdening the hearts of
country-bred nursemaids with reminiscences of their earlier days, when
their virgin hearts were yet untouched by the charms of deceivers in
military or police uniforms; loved and cherished by the
valetudinarians, poor and old, to whom this city garden was the
nearest imitation of God's country which they were able to afford, and
who, secluded during the winter in Strand side-street lodging-houses,
ventured thither for their daily meed of light and air; glancing
merrily on the turbid Thames; and even throwing enlivening glances
into the topmost story of the house in Crown-Office Row, which Robert
Streightley had visited one memorable night, and wherein one of its
joint tenants now sat hard at work.
And indeed, let him come when he might, in his spring weakness, in his
summer glory, in his autumn grandeur, in the feeble struggles which he
made during winter, the sun would never have found Charles Yeldham in
any other condition. Work was his life, his idol. As a very young man,
when he first quitted Oxford, he had prayed to be successful in the
profession which he had chosen, and which he had gone into heart and
soul. He had vowed that if his labours were only rewarded with
success, there should be scarcely any end to them; and now, when he
had no rival as a conveyancing barrister among his coevals and very
few superiors among his seniors, he still kept grinding on. Not
intended by nature for such slavery, as you can tell in one glance at
his _physique_, at his broad chest, long sinewy arms and legs, and big
white hands; not destitute of an appreciation of fun, as you can see
in his bright blue eyes, his large happy mouth, and the deep dimples
of his cheeks; what would be generally called a "jolly man," with
thick brown curling hair, and a clear skin, and a great hearty laugh,
breaking out whenever it had the chance.
Which was not very often. There is nothing very humorous in
conveyancing, and in conveyancing Charles Yeldham's life was passed.
Gordon Frere, returning from a ball, a supper, or one of his
"outings," would hear the roar of Yeldham's shower-bath as he came up
the stairs, or would see him, bright and rosy, deep in his books or
scratching away with his pen, as he, Frere, with his gibus hat on one
side, his collars danced down into a state of limp despondency, and
with a faded camellia in his button-hole, peered into the common
sitting-room before he crawled to bed. Five in the summer, six in the
winter,--these were Charles Yeldham's hours of rising. Then, after his
cold bath and his hurried toilette, what he called "treadmill" till
eight. A sharp run five times round the Temple Gardens, no matter what
the weather, a hurried breakfast--chop, bacon, eggs, what-not, and at
it again, "treadmill" till two. Bread-and-cheese, a pint-bottle of
Allsopp, a pipe--generally smoked as he leaned out of the window
looking on to the river--and "treadmill" till half-past six. Old
shooting-coat changed for more presentable garment, hands washed, and
Mr. Yeldham walked to the Oxford and Cambridge Club, where he would
eat a light dinner, take a very small quantity of wine, and walk back
to the Temple to have a final turn of "treadmill" until half-past
eleven, when he would turn into bed. He had reduced sleep to a
minimum, ascertained that five and a half hours were exactly
sufficient for a man, and never wasted a wink.
There was no absolute occasion for Charles Yeldham to slave in this
manner; but when he commenced his work he had had a powerful incentive
to industry, and he had found the work grow on him until he absolutely
took delight in it. He was the only son of the Honourable and Reverend
Stratford Yeldham, a cadet of the Aylmer family, who had been content
to marry the daughter of the clergyman with whom he read during one
long vacation, and afterwards to go into orders and take up the family
living in Norfolk. The living was not a very rich one, and Charley,
who loved his father after a fashion not very common now amongst young
men, and who knew that the old gentleman had somewhat pinched and
straitened himself to send his son to college with a proper allowance,
had made up his mind not only that all that had been spent on him
should be repaid, but that his sister Constance--his own dear little
sister--should have such a dowry as would enable her to decline any
offer whose advantages were merely pecuniary, and at the same time to
bring an adequate income to the man of whom her heart should approve.
The hope of accomplishing this end lightened Charles Yeldham's labour,
mid kept him at his desk and among his law-books without an idea of
repining, generally indeed with a sense of positive pleasure.
He was at his desk that pleasant summer afternoon, when all nature
outside was so bright and gay, so deeply engaged, that he paid not the
slightest attention to the sound of the key in the outer door, and
only looked up when he felt a hand on his shoulder and saw Gordon
Frere standing beside him.
"Grinding away, Charley," said that young gentleman; "hard at it as
usual."
"Just the same as ever, old boy," replied Yeldham; "but just as ready
as ever to knock off for five minutes--exactly five minutes, mind--and
have a chat with you. So there!"--laying down his pen--"now then,
let's begin. Where have you been all the morning? I say, you're rather
a greater swell than usual, are you not, Gordon?"
"Eh--swell? no, I don't think so. Emerged just a little bit from the
chrysalis state perhaps, but not much. But the least bit of colour
lights up tremendously and looks radiant beside your old blacks and
grays. What a fellow you are, Charley! I wish you'd go in for another
style of toggery, and just go to Poole."
"Go to Poole? God forbid!" said Yeldham with ludicrous energy. "Why,
my dear fellow, if I were to be seen in a coat of that sort"--touching
the silk-lined skirts of Frere's frock--"or in a pair of trousers that
fitted me like those, there's not an attorney in London would give me
any more employment. No, sir! In Store Street, Tottenham-Court Road,
resides the artificer who for years has built my garments on what he
assures me are sound mathematical principles, and I shall continue to
employ him until one of us is removed to a sphere where clothes are
unnecessary. And now, once more, where have you been all this
morning?"
"Ah! that's exactly what I came home to talk to you about. I've been
calling on a deuced pretty girl, Master Charley, and I want to tell
you all about it."
"A very pretty girl, eh?" said Yeldham in rather a hard tone of voice.
"A very pretty girl! All right, my boy; tell away."
"I think I've mentioned her before, Charley," said Frere; "Miss
Guyon--Kate Guyon, daughter of old Guyon, whom you've heard me speak
of; a member of the club, you know; fellow who plays a deuced good
game of whist, and that kind of thing. And the girl's really
wonderful; very handsome, and with a regular well-bred look about her.
None of your dumpy, dowdy, slummakin women--I hate that style--but
tall and elegant; carries herself well, and has plenty to say for
herself--when she chooses."
"When she chooses, eh!" said Yeldham, with a slight smile; "and I
suppose she does choose--to you."
"Well, you know, that's not for a fellow to say. She's always been
very civil; and I rode with her yesterday in the Park, and was in her
box at the Opera last night--when I say her box I mean Lady
Henmarsh's, the old cat who is her principal chaperone--and we got on
capitally together, and I think it was all right. I should have told
you of it when I got home, but I looked into your room, and you were
sound as a top; or this morning, but you were closeted in the office
with some fellow on business. So I went off to call on her--there was
a kind of tacit arrangement that I should do so--and, by George, I
really think I'm hit this time, and that I mean more than ever I did
before."
"Mean more! In what way, Gordon?"
"In the way of marriage, of course, you old idiot. Mean that if I were
to ask her, I think she'd have me. And she'd be a deuced creditable
wife to have about with one; and the governor must just stir himself,
and use his influence and get me a consulship, or a commissionership,
or something where there's a decent income, and not very much to do
for it. There are such things, of course."
"I don't know, Gordon. Recollect these are the days when every thing
is won by merit, and not won without a competitive examination."
"O yes; competitive examination be hanged! I'm not going in for any
thing of that sort. If a man who's sat for the same borough for
five-and-twenty-years, and never voted against his party except once,
by mistake, when he'd been dining out and strolled into the wrong
lobby--if such a patriot as this can't get a decent berth for his son
without any bother about examination and all that kind of thing, where
are our privileges as citizens? O no; that'll come all square, of
course. But what do you advise me about the girl?"
"It's difficult to give such advice off-hand, Gordon, more especially
as I have never seen the young lady, and have scarcely heard of her.
But though you're not particularly learned, young un, you've plenty of
knowledge of the world, and are one of the last men likely to be
entrapped into a silly marriage, or to let yourself be made miserable
for life by giving in to a mere passing fancy. So if you and the young
lady are really fond of each other, and if your father can be
persuaded to give himself the trouble to get some tolerably decent
Government appointment for you, I should say, 'Propose to her like an
honourable man; and God speed you!' I--I think I should see my father
first, Gordon, and make sure of what he would do; for, from all I've
heard, I don't think Mr. Guyon is a man of resources--I mean pecuniary
resources."
"N-no," said Frere; "I should not think he was. He's a remarkably
chirpy old boy, tells very good stories, and is always well got-up;
but I shouldn't think his balance at his banker's was very
satisfactory. However, Kate's simply charming; stands out from all the
ruck of girls one knows, and is in the habit of meeting and dancing
with, like a star. I'll write down to the governor and sound him about
what he'd be inclined to do; and I'll just go round before dinner to
Queen Anne Street; not to go in, you know,--of course not; but there's
the last Botanical Fête to-morrow in the Regent's Park, and Kate asked
me if I was going, and I said I'd go if she went, and she said she'd
try and get some one to take her. I suppose the old woman who's always
about with her doesn't care for dissipation by daylight. I say,
Charley, fancy if it comes off all straight! Fancy me a married man!"
Yeldham smiled, but said nothing. There was scarcely any occasion for
him to speak; for Frere was full of his subject, and rattled on.
"How astonished your people will be! I can see the Vicar reading your
letter announcing the news through his double eyeglass, and then
handing it over to little Constance and exclaiming, 'Won-derful!' And
Constance with her large solemn gray eyes, and her pert nose, and her
fresh little mouth; Constance, whom I used to call 'my little wife'
when I was grinding away with the Vicar in those jolly days--ah what a
glorious old fellow he is!--won't she be surprised when she finds I've
got a real wife! And you,--you'll be left alone in chambers, Charley,
old boy; all alone!--though you don't see much of me as it is, do you,
old fellow?"
"No, Gordon; not much," said Yeldham rising; "not so much as I should
wish. But it's pleasant to me to look forward to your coming, to bring
a little of the outside world's life and light into these dreary old
rooms, and to prove to me that I am not actually part and parcel of
these musty old books and parchments, as I'm sometimes half inclined
to believe. However, I could not expect to have you always with me,
any more than I could expect it to be always summer; and indeed, if
you were always here, I should not know what to do with you. Come, my
five minutes' rest has been prolonged into a perfect idleness. Out
with you, and let me get to work again!"
"No, no; not yet, Charley. It's so seldom I have the chance of getting
you to take your nose off the paper, and to open your ears to any
thing that is not law-jargon, that I'm not going to give in so soon.
Besides, I've been talking all this time, and now it's your turn. I
want your advice, and you're going to give it me; and that's all about
it."
"It's a great pity you don't stick to your profession, Gordon," said
Yeldham, half laughingly, half in earnest; "you would have made a
great success at the Old Bailey. You've all the characteristics of
that style of practice charmingly developed; plenty of cheek, plenty
of volubility, and supreme self-reliance. If you had done me the
honour of listening to me instead of thinking what you were going to
say next, you would have heard me advise you half an hour ago."
"Stuff! I heard you fast enough. Propose to the girl, and all that;
very honourable and straightforward, you know, Charley, but a little
old-fashioned, you know,--at least you don't know; how should you,
shut up in this old hole? But what I mean to say is, fellows don't
propose to girls nowadays, old fellow, except in books and on the
stage, and that sort of thing. You understand each other, you know,
without going on your knees, or 'plighting troth,' or any rubbish of
that kind. But what I want to know is, what is my line towards the old
party--Guyon père?"
"Hold on a minute, Gordon," said Charles Yeldham rising from his
chair, plunging his hands into his trousers' pockets, and taking up
his position of vantage on the hearthrug. "Granted all you say about
my being old-fashioned, you yet seem to think that there is a phase of
courtship sufficiently unchanged--I was going to say sufficiently
natural--for me to be able to advise you upon."
"He-ar, he-ar!" said Mr. Frere, knocking the table on which he was
seated.
"But before I attempt to give you any advice, I must know whether you
are really in earnest in this business. Yes; I know you say you're
'hard hit,' and 'serious this time,' and a lot of stuff that I've
heard you say a dozen times before about a dozen different girls. What
I want to know is, do you really think seriously of marrying Miss
Guyon? Has it entered your mind to regard it from any other point than
the mere calf-love view, what you in your slang call 'being spooney'
upon her? I mean, Gordon, old fellow,--I'm a solemn old fogey, you
know; but it's in the fogey light that such a solemn thing should be
looked at--are you prepared to take Miss Guyon as your wife?"
"On my sacred honour, Charley, there's nothing would make me so
happy."
"Then the honourable way to go to work is to see Mr. Guyon at once and
speak to him. Tell him your feelings and----"
"And my prospects, eh, Charley? He's safe to ask about them."
"Well, you can tell him what you've just said of your father's
position, and what you intend to ask him to do for you. And then----"
"Yes; and then?"
"Well, then you'll hear what he's got to say to that."
"Ye-es; it won't take me very long to listen to an exposition of Mr.
Guyon's views on my financial position, I take it. However, I'm almost
certain--quite certain, I may say--of Kate; and as you think it's due
to her to speak to her father----"
"I'm sure of it, Gordon. It's the only honourable course."
"Well, then, I'll do it at once, though I don't much like it, I can
tell you."
"Whatever may be the result, it's best you should know it soon,
Gordon. Nothing unfits a man for every thing so much as being in a
state of doubt."
"I'll end mine at once, Charley. No; not at once. I must first see if
that Botanical-Fête arrangement is coming off, and after that I'll
speak to her father. Devilish solemn phrase that, eh, Charley!"
"It won't be so dreadful in carrying out as it sounds, my boy. Clear
out now; you shan't have another instant!"
Gordon Frere nodded laughingly at his friend; and after making a
hurried toilet in his own room started off for Queen Anne Street,
while Charles Yeldham seated himself at his desk.
But not to work; his mind was too full for that. The short light
conversation just recorded had given Charles Yeldham matter for much
deliberation. When a man's life is thoroughly engrossed by mental
work, the few humanising influences which he allows to operate on him
are infinitely more absorbing than the thousand fleeting affections of
the light-hearted and the thoughtless. When Charles Yeldham gave his
thoughts a holiday from his conveyancing, and turned them from the
attorneys who employed him and the work which they brought him to do,
his mind reverted generally to the loved ones in the vicarage at home
or to the two men whose friendship he had time and opportunity to
cultivate. Never was younger brother better loved than was Gordon
Frere by the large-hearted, large-brained philosopher whose chambers
he shared. It was indeed from the elder-brother point of view that
Yeldham regarded Frere. As a boy Gordon had been the one private pupil
whom the old vicar had admitted into his house; and later in life he
had passed two long vacations reading at the seaside with his old
tutor and the members of his family. Charley loved the young man with
all the large capacity of his loving nature, looked with the most
lenient eye on his boyish frivolities and dissipations, and had
hitherto never feared for his future, hoping that he would settle down
into some useful career before he thought of settling himself for
life. But the conversation just held had entirely changed his ideas.
Gordon, unstable, unsettled, without any means or resources, had
announced his intention of taking a wife. And what a wife! Of the
young lady herself Yeldham knew nothing; but certain pleadings which
he had drawn some twelve months beforehand in a case which never came
into court, and which had been settled by mutual arrangement, had
given him a very clear insight into the character of Mr. Edward Scrope
Guyon, and into that worthy gentleman's resources and manner of life.
With such a man Yeldham felt perfectly certain that an impecunious
scion of a good family like Gordon Frere coming as a pretender for his
daughter's hand would not have the smallest chance of success; and it
was with a heavy heart that he sat idly sketching figures on his
blotting-pad, and turning over all that he had recently heard in his
mind.
"I don't see my way out of it," said he, throwing down his pen
at length, and plunging his hands into his pockets. "I don't
see my way out of it, and that's the truth. Gordon is hard hit, I
believe,--harder hit than he has ever been yet, and means all fairly
and honourably; but fair play and honour won't avail much, I imagine,
in carrying out this connection--at least with the male portion of the
family. A man with the morals of a billiard-marker and an income of a
couple of thousand a-year would have a better chance with old Guyon
than a Bayard or a Galahad. He's a bad lot, this Mr. Guyon, but as
sharp as a ferret, and he'll read Gordon like a book. All the poor
boy's talk about what his political influence and what his father must
do for him, and all that, won't weigh for an instant with a man like
Guyon, who is up to every move on the board, and who will require
money down from any one bidding for his daughter's hand. I wonder what
the girl's like, and how much of the play rests in her hands. That old
rip would never be base enough to make her his instrument in advancing
his own fortune? And yet how often it's done, only in a quieter and
less noticeable manner! Gad! I begin to think I am a bit of a cynic,
as Gordon chaffingly, calls me, when I find these ideas floating
through my head; and I'm sure any one would imagine I was one, or
worse, if; knowing my own convictions, they had heard me advise that
poor boy to see old Guyon and lay his statement before him. But I'm
convinced that that is the only way of dealing with such a matter as
this. Have the tooth out at once; the wrench will do you good and
prevent any chance of floating pains in the future. Guyon will handle
the forceps with strength and skill, and poor Gordon will think that
half his life is gone with the tug. But once over, when he begins to
find that the gap is not so enormous as he at first imagined, when he
sees people don't notice the alteration in his appearance, he'll begin
to think it was a good job that it happened while he was yet young,
and he'll settle down and get to work, and perhaps make the name and
reputation which his talents, if they had any thing like fair play,
entitle him to. It's wonderful the different light in which men see
these things. There's my boy there just mad for this girl, raving
about her beauty, going into ecstasies about her hair and eyes and
figure; and here am I, his chum and intimate, who can safely say that
never in the course of a life extending now to some six-and-thirty
years, have I had the faintest idea of what being in love is like.
Lord, Lord! what a queer world it is! and what is for the best?
Perhaps, if I had had nice smooth fair hair instead of a shock-head of
bristles, I should have been kneeling at ladies' feet instead of
stooping over my desk, and writing sonnets for girls instead of
drawing pleas for attorneys. I know which pays best, but I wonder
which is the most interesting. 'Never felt the kiss of love, nor
maiden's hand in mine,' eh? Well, I don't know that I'm much the worse
for that. Maidens' hands seem to lead one into all sorts of scrapes;
and as for the kiss of love---- Why, what time's that?"
The striking of the clock on the mantelpiece roused him from his
reverie; and looking up, he discovered that his intended five-minutes'
absence from work had been extended over two hours, and that the
daylight of the late summer time was beginning to fade. So, with a
heavy sigh, he lit his reading-lamp and settled down to his desk
again. Like every other man accustomed to hard work, he found it
immediate relief from thought, and soon became immersed in his
writing, at which he slaved away until it was time to get some dinner.
He had no heart to walk up to the club that evening. He might meet
some fellows of his acquaintance there,--very possibly Gordon himself;
and he was not inclined to chatter upon trivial subjects. So he put on
his hat, and strode over to the Cock; the quiet solemnity of the old
tavern at that hour of the evening, when the late diners had departed
and the early supper-eaters had not yet arrived, being thoroughly
congenial to his feelings. After his dinner he went back to his
chambers; and after smoking a pipe, during which process he again fell
a-thinking over Gordon's trouble, he returned to his work, and was in
full swing when he heard a key in the lock, and the next minute Mr.
Gordon Frere entered the room.
"Hallo, Gordon!" said Charley, looking up at the clock; "why, it's not
eleven; what on earth brings you home so early, young un?"
"Happiness, Charley! jolliness, old fellow! It's all right about
to-morrow; Kate's going to the _fête_, and---- After dinner at the
Club I went up into the strangers' smoking-room, and there wasn't any
one there I knew--only a couple of old fellows, who sat and smoked in
silence; and so I got thinking it all over; and what a stunning girl
she is, and how sure I am that she's fond of me, and how fond I am of
her--regularly hit, you know; and so I thought it would be horrible
somehow to go any where after,--to the theatre, you know, or to hear
the fellows chaffing in the way they do about--women and every thing;
and so I came home."
"Just in time to wish me good-night, my boy. I'm off to bed."
"Not until I've extracted a promise from you, Charley, old fellow."
"And that is----? Look sharp, Gordon; I'm sleepy."
"And that is, that you'll come with me to-morrow to the Botanical
Fête."
"To the--to the Botanical Fête! I? Ah, I see, poor Gordon! too much
Guyon has made you mad."
"No, Charley, I'm serious. You know you're my best and dearest friend,
the only real friend I have in the world--for my own people are like
every body else's own people, full of themselves and not caring one
rap for me--and I want you to see my--to see Miss Guyon, and to give
me your real opinion about her."
"By which, of course, you'll be thoroughly influenced, and if I won't
approve give her up at once. No, Gordon, I'm not much experienced in
these things, but I _do_ know enough not to commit myself in the way
you suggest. However, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll make half
holiday for once, and go with you to the _fête_--reserving my opinion
of the young lady to myself."
"Well, it's something to have got you to leave that old desk for an
hour, to get you to look at trees and flowers instead of foolscap and
red-tape. And as for Miss Guyon--well, you'll say something about her,
I've no doubt."
"I'm not sorry this opportunity offered," said Charley Yeldham
to himself as he was undressing. "I've not much curiosity; but I
confess I'm anxious to see the girl who has so captivated Master
Gordon--partly on her own account, and partly to see if I can trace in
her manner any suspicion of a---- No; no woman could be bad enough to
lay herself out to entrap a man at her father's desire! And besides,
Gordon Frere's not worth snaring!"