John Kenyon walked along Cheapside feeling very much downhearted over his
rebuff with Longworth. The pretended forgetfulness of the young man, of
course, he took at its proper value. He, nevertheless, felt very sorry
the interview had been so futile, and, instead of going back to Wentworth
and telling him his experience, he thought it best to walk off a little
of his disappointment first. He was somewhat startled when a man
accosted him; and, glancing up, he saw standing there a tall footman,
arrayed in a drab coat that came down to his heels.
'I beg your pardon, sir,' said the footman, 'but Miss Longworth would
like to speak to you.'
'Miss Longworth!' cried Kenyon, in surprise; 'where is she?'
'She is here in her carriage, sir.'
The carriage had drawn up beside the pavement, and John Kenyon looked
round in confusion to see that Miss Longworth was regarding him and the
footman with an amused air. An elderly woman sat in the carriage opposite
her, while a grave and dignified coachman, attired somewhat similarly to
the footman, kept his place like a seated statue in front. John Kenyon
took off his hat as he approached the young woman, whom he had not seen
since the last day on the steamer.
'How are you, Mr. Kenyon?' said Edith Longworth brightly, holding out her
hand to the young man by her carriage. 'Will you not step in? I want to
talk with you, and I am afraid the police will not allow us to block such
a crowded thoroughfare as Cheapside.'
As she said this, the nimble footman threw open the door of the carriage,
while John, not knowing what to say, stepped inside and took his seat.
'Holborn,' said the young woman to the coachman; then, turning to Kenyon,
she continued: 'Will you not tell me where you are going, so that I may
know where to set you down?'
'To tell the truth,' said John, 'I do not think I was going anywhere.
I am afraid I have not yet got over the delight of being back in
London again, so I sometimes walk along the streets in rather a
purposeless manner.'
'Well, you did not seem delighted when I first caught sight of you. I
thought you looked very dejected, and that gave me courage enough to ask
you to come and talk with me. I said to myself, "There is something wrong
with the mica-mine," and, with a woman's I curiosity, I wanted to know
all about it. Now tell me.'
'There is really very little to tell. We have hardly begun yet.
Wentworth is to-day looking over the figures I gave him, and I have been
making a beginning by seeing some people who I thought might be
interested in the mine.'
'And were they?'
'No; they were not.'
'Then, that was the reason you were looking so distressed.'
'I suppose it was.'
'Well, now, Mr. Kenyon, if you get discouraged after an interview with
the first person you think will be interested in the mine, what will you
do when a dozen or more people refuse to have anything to do with it?'
'I'm sure I do not know. I am afraid I am not the right person to float
a mine on the London market. I am really a student, you see, and flatter
myself I am a man of science. I know what I am about when I am in a
mine, miles away from civilization; but when I get among men, I feel
somehow at a loss. I do not understand them. When a man tells me one
thing to-day, and to-morrow calmly forgets all about it, I confess
it--well, confuses me.'
'Then the man you have seen to-day has forgotten what he told you
yesterday. Is that the case?'
'Yes; that is partly the case.'
'But, Mr. Kenyon, the success of your project is not going to depend upon
what one man says, or two, or three, is it?'
'No; I don't suppose it is.'
'Then, if I were you, I would not feel discouraged because one man has
forgotten. I wish I were acquainted with your one man, and I would make
him ashamed of himself, I think.'
Kenyon flushed as she said this, but made no reply.
The coachman looked round as he came to Holborn, and Miss Longworth
nodded to him; so he went on without stopping into Oxford Street.
'Now, I take a great interest in your mine, Mr. Kenyon, and hope to see
you succeed with it. I wish I could help you, or, rather, I wish you
would be frank with me, and tell me how I can help you. I know a good
deal about City men and their ways, and I think I may be able to give you
some good advice--at least, if you would have the condescension to
consult me.'
Kenyon smiled.
'You are making game of me now, Miss Longworth. Of course, as you said on
board ship, it is but a very small matter.'
'I never said any such thing. When did I say that?'
'You said that fifty thousand pounds was a small matter.'
'Did I? Well, I am like your man who has forgotten; I have forgotten
that. I remember saying something about its being too small an amount
for my father to deal with. Was not that what I said?'
'Yes, I think that was it. It conveyed the idea to my mind that you
thought fifty thousand pounds a trifling sum indeed.'
Edith Longworth laughed.
'What a terrible memory you have! I do not wonder at your City man
forgetting. Are you sure what you told him did not happen longer ago than
yesterday?'
'Yes, it happened some time before.'
'Ah, I thought so; I am afraid it is your own terrible memory, and not
his forgetfulness, that is to blame.'
'Oh, I am not blaming him at all. A man has every right to change his
mind, if he wants to do so.'
'I thought only a woman had that privilege.'
'No; for my part I freely accord it to everybody, only sometimes it is a
little depressing.'
'I can imagine that; in fact, I think no one could be a more undesirable
acquaintance than a man who forgets to-day what he promised yesterday,
especially if anything particular depends upon it. Now, why cannot you
come to our house some evening and have a talk about the mine with my
cousin or my father? My father could give you much valuable advice with
reference to it, and I am anxious that my cousin should help to carry
this project on to success. It is better to talk with them there than at
their office, because they are both so busy during the day that I am
afraid they might not be able to give the time necessary to its I
discussion.'
John Kenyon shook his head.
'I am afraid,' he said, 'that would do no good. I do not think your
cousin cares to have anything to do with the mine.'
'How can you say that? Did he not discuss the matter with you on
board ship?'
'Yes; we had some conversation about it there, but I imagine that--I
really do not think he would care to go any farther with it.'
'Ah, I see,' said Edith Longworth. 'My cousin is the man who "forgot
to-day what he said yesterday."'
'What am I to say, Miss Longworth? I do not want to say "Yes," and I
cannot truthfully say "No."'
'You need say nothing. I know exactly how it has been. So he does not
want to have anything to do with it. What reason did he give?'
'You will not say anything to him about the matter? I should be very
sorry if he thought that I talked to anyone else of my conference
with him.'
'Oh, certainly not; I will say nothing to him at all.'
'He gave no particular reason; he simply seemed to have changed his mind.
But I must say this: he did not appear to be very enthusiastic when I
discussed it with him on board ship.'
'Well, you see, Mr. Kenyon, it rests with me now to maintain the honour
of the Longworth family. Do you want to make all the profit there is to
be made in the mica-mine--that is, yourself and your friend Mr.
Wentworth?'
'How do you mean--"all the profit"?'
'Well, I mean--would you share the profit with anyone?'
'Certainly, if that person could help us to form the company.'
'Very well; it was on that basis you were going to take in my cousin as a
partner, was it not?'
'Yes.'
'Then I should like to share in the profits of the mine if he does not
take an interest in it. If you will let me pay the preliminary expenses
of forming this company, and if you will then give me a share of what you
make, I shall be glad to furnish the money you need at the outset.'
John Kenyon looked at Miss Longworth with a smile.
'You are very ingenious, Miss Longworth, but I can see, in spite of your
way of putting it, that what you propose is merely a form of charity.
Suppose we did not succeed in forming our company, how could we repay you
the money?'
'You would not need to repay the money. I would take that risk. It is a
sort of speculation. If you form the company, then I shall expect a very
large reward for furnishing the funds. It is purely selfishness on my
part. I believe I have a head for business. Women in this country do not
get such chances of developing their business talents as they seem to
have in America. In that country there are women who have made fortunes
for themselves. I believe in your mine, and I am convinced you will
succeed in forming your company. If you or Mr. Wentworth were
capitalists, of course there would be no need of my assistance. If I were
alone, I could not form a company. You and Mr. Wentworth can do what I
cannot do. You can appear before the public and attend to all
preliminaries. On the other hand, I believe I can do what neither of you
can do; that is, I can supply a certain amount of money from time to time
to pay the expenses of forming the company--because a company is not
formed in London for nothing, I assure you. Perhaps you think you have
simply to go and see a sufficient number of people and get your company
formed. I fancy you will find it not so easy as all that. Besides this
business interest I have in it, I have a very friendly interest in Mr.
Wentworth.'
As she said this, she bent over towards John Kenyon, and spoke in a lower
tone of voice:
'Please do not tell him so, because I think that he is a young man who
has possibilities of being conceited.'
'I shall say nothing about it,' said Kenyon dolefully.
'Please do not. By the way, I wish you would give me Mr. Wentworth's
address, so that I may communicate with him if a good idea occurs to me,
or if I find out something of value in forming our company.'
Kenyon took out a card, wrote the address of Wentworth upon it, and
handed it to her.
'Thank you,' she said 'You see, I deeply sympathized with Mr. Wentworth
for what he had to pass through on the steamer.'
'He is very grateful for all you did for him on that occasion,' replied
Kenyon.
'I am glad of that. People, as a general thing, are not grateful for what
their friends do for them. I am glad, therefore, that Mr. Wentworth is an
exception. Well, suppose you talk with him about what I have said, before
you make up your own mind. I shall be quite content with whatever share
of the profits you allow me.'
'Ah, that is not business, Miss Longworth.'
'No, it is not; but I am dealing with you--that is, with Mr.
Wentworth--and I am sure both of you will do what is right. Perhaps it
would be better not to tell him who is to furnish the money. Just say you
have met a friend to-day who offers, for a reasonable share of the
profits, to supply all the money necessary for the preliminary expenses.
You will consult with him about it, will you not?'
'Yes, if it is your wish.'
'Certainly it is my wish; and I also wish you to do it so diplomatically
that you will conceal my name from him more successfully than you
concealed my cousin's name from me this afternoon.'
'I am afraid I am very awkward,' said John, blushing.
'No; you are very honest, that's all. You are not accomplished in the art
of telling what is not true. Now, this is where we live; will you come
in?'
'Thank you, no; I'm afraid not,' said John. 'I must really be going now.'
'Let the coachman take you to your station.'
'No, no, it is not worth the trouble; it is only a step from here.'
'It is no trouble. Which is your station--South Kensington?'
'Yes.'
'Very well. Drive to South Kensington Station, Parker,' she said to the
coachman; and then, running up the steps, she waved her hand in good-bye,
as the carriage turned.
And so John Kenyon, feeling abashed at his own poverty, was driven in
this gorgeous equipage to the Underground Railway station, where he took
the train for the City.
As he stepped from the carriage at South Kensington, young Mr. Longworth
came out of the station on his way home, and was simply dumfounded to see
Kenyon in the Longworths' carriage.
John passed him without noticing who he was, and just as the coachman was
going to start again, Longworth said to him:
'Parker, have you been picking up fares in the street?'
'Oh no, sir,' replied the respectable Parker; 'the young gentleman as
just left us came from the City with Miss Longworth.'
'Did he, indeed? Where did you pick him up, Parker?'
'We picked him up in Cheapside, sir.'
'Ah, indeed;' and with that, muttering some imprecations on the cheek of
Kenyon, he stepped into the carriage and drove home.