Edwin was detained a long time in the shop by a sub-manager from
Bostocks in Hanbridge who was waiting, and who had come about an
estimate for a rather considerable order. This man desired a decrease
of the estimate and an increased speed in execution. He was curt. He
was one business firm offering an ultimatum to another business firm.
He asked Edwin whether Edwin could decide at once. Edwin said
`Certainly,' using a tone that he had never used before. He decided.
The man departed, and Edwin saw him spring on to the Hanbridge car as it
swept down the hill. The man would not have been interested in the news
that Darius Clayhanger had been to business for the last time. Edwin
was glad of the incident because it had preserved him from embarrassed
conversation with Stifford. Two hours earlier he had called for a few
moments at the shop, and even then, ere Edwin had spoken, Stifford's
face showed that he knew something sinister had occurred. With a few
words of instruction to Stifford, he now went through towards the
workshops to speak with Big James about the Bostock order.
All the workmen and apprentices were self-conscious. And Edwin could
not speak naturally to Big James. When he had come to an agreement with
Big James as to the execution of the order, the latter said--
"Would you step below a minute, Mr Edwin?"
Edwin shuffled. But Big James's majestic politeness gave to his
expressed wish the force of a command. Edwin preceded Big James down
the rough wooden stair to the ground floor, which was still pillared
with supporting beams. Big James, with deliberate, careful movements,
drew the trap-door horizontal as he descended.
"Might I ask, sir, if Master's in a bad way?" he inquired, with solemn
and delicate calm. But he would have inquired about the weather in the
same fashion.
"I'm afraid he is," said Edwin, glancing nervously about at the litter,
and the cobwebs, and the naked wood, and the naked earth. The vibration
of a treadle-machine above them put the place in a throb.
Astounding! Everybody knew or guessed everything! How?
Big James wagged his head and his grandiose beard, now more grey than
black, and he fingered his apron.
"I believe in herbs myself," said Big James. "But this here softening
of the brain--well--"
That was it! Softening of the brain! What the doctor had not told him
he had learned from Big James. How it happened that Big James was in a
position to tell him he could not comprehend. But he was ready now to
believe that the whole town had acquired by magic the information which
fate or original stupidity had kept from him alone... Softening of the
brain!
"Perhaps I'm making too bold, sir," Big James went on. "Perhaps it's
not so bad as that. But I did hear--"
Edwin nodded confirmingly.
"You needn't talk about it," he murmured, indicating the first floor by
an upward movement of the head.
"That I shall not, sir," Big James smoothly replied, and proceeded in
the same bland tone: "And what's more, never will I raise my voice in
song again! James Yarlett has sung his last song."
There was silence. Edwin, accustomed though he was to the mildness of
Big James's deportment, did not on the instant grasp that the man was
seriously announcing a solemn resolve made under deep emotion. But as
he understood, tears came into Edwin's eyes, and he thrilled at the
swift and dramatic revelation of the compositor's feeling for his
employer. Its impressiveness was overwhelming and it was humbling. Why
this excess of devotion?
"I don't say but what he had his faults like other folk," said Big
James. "And far be it from me to say that you, Mr Edwin, will not be a
better master than your esteemed father. But for over twenty years I've
worked for him, and now he's gone, never will I lift my voice in song
again!"
Edwin could not reply.
"I know what it is," said Big James, after a pause.
"What what is?"
"This ce-re-bral softening. You'll have trouble, Mr Edwin."
"The doctor says not."
"You'll have trouble, if you'll excuse me saying so. But it's a good
thing he's got you. It's a good thing for Miss Maggie as she isn't
alone with him. It's a providence, Mr Edwin, as you're not a married
man."
"I very nearly _was_ married once!" Edwin cried, with a sudden
uncontrollable outburst of feeling which staggered while it satisfied
him. Why should he make such a confidence to Big James? Between his
pleasure in the relief, and his extreme astonishment at the confession,
he felt as it were lost and desperate, as if he did not care what might
occur.
"Were you now!" Big James commented, with an ever intensified
blandness. "Well, sir, I thank you."