THE POST OFFICE.
When George Roden came home that evening the matter was discussed
between him and his mother at great length. She was eager with him,
if not to abandon his love, at any rate to understand how impossible
it was that he should marry Lady Frances. She was very tender with
him, full of feeling, full of compassion and sympathy; but she
was persistent in declaring that no good could come from such an
engagement. But he would not be deterred in the least from his
resolution, nor would he accept it as possible that he should be
turned from his object by the wishes of any person as long as Lady
Frances was true to him. "You speak as if daughters were slaves," he
said.
"So they are. So women must be;--slaves to the conventions of the
world. A young woman can hardly run counter to her family on a
question of marriage. She may be persistent enough to overcome
objections, but that will be because the objections themselves are
not strong enough to stand against her. But here the objections will
be very strong."
"We will see, mother," he said. She who knew him well perceived that
it would be vain to talk to him further.
"Oh, yes," he said, "I will go out to Hendon, perhaps on Sunday. That
Mr. Vivian is a pleasant fellow, and as Hampstead does not wish to
quarrel with me I certainly will not quarrel with him."
Roden was generally popular at his office, and had contrived to make
his occupation there pleasant to himself and interesting; but he had
his little troubles, as will happen to most men in all walks of life.
His came to him chiefly from the ill-manners of a fellow-clerk who
sat in the same room with him, and at the same desk. There were five
who occupied the apartment, an elderly gentleman and four youngsters.
The elderly gentleman was a quiet, civil, dull old man, who never
made himself disagreeable, and was content to put up with the
frivolities of youth, if they did not become too uproarious or
antagonistic to discipline. When they did, he had but one word of
rebuke. "Mr. Crocker, I will not have it." Beyond that he had never
been known to go in the way either of reporting the misconduct of
his subordinates to other superior powers, or in quarrelling with
the young men himself. Even with Mr. Crocker, who no doubt was
troublesome, he contrived to maintain terms of outward friendship.
His name was Jerningham, and next to Mr. Jerningham in age came Mr.
Crocker, by whose ill-timed witticisms our George Roden was not
unfrequently made to suffer. This had sometimes gone so far that
Roden had contemplated the necessity of desiring Mr. Crocker to
assume that a bond of enmity had been established between them;--or
in other words, that they were not "to speak" except on official
subjects. But there had been an air of importance about such a
proceeding of which Crocker hardly seemed to be worthy; and Roden
had abstained, putting off the evil hour from day to day, but still
conscious that he must do something to stop vulgarities which were
distasteful to him.
The two other young men, Mr. Bobbin and Mr. Geraghty, who sat at a
table by themselves and were the two junior clerks in that branch of
the office, were pleasant and good-humoured enough. They were both
young, and as yet not very useful to the Queen. They were apt to come
late to their office, and impatient to leave it when the hour of four
drew nigh. There would sometimes come a storm through the Department,
moved by an unseen but powerful and unsatisfied Æolus, in which
Bobbin and Geraghty would be threatened to be blown into infinite
space. Minutes would be written and rumours spread about; punishments
would be inflicted, and it would be given to be understood that
now one and then the other would certainly have to return to his
disconsolate family at the very next offence. There was a question
at this very moment whether Geraghty, who had come from the sister
island about twelve months since, should not be returned to King's
County. No doubt he had passed the Civil Service examiners with
distinguished applause; but Æolus hated the young Crichtons who came
to him with full marks, and had declared that Geraghty, though no
doubt a linguist, a philosopher, and a mathematician, was not worth
his salt as a Post Office clerk. But he, and Bobbin also, were
protected by Mr. Jerningham, and were well liked by George Roden.
That Roden was intimate with Lord Hampstead had become known to his
fellow-clerks. The knowledge of this association acted somewhat to
his advantage and somewhat to his injury. His daily companions could
not but feel a reflected honour in their own intimacy with the friend
of the eldest son of a Marquis, and were anxious to stand well with
one who lived in such high society. Such was natural;--but it was
natural also that envy should show itself in ridicule, and that the
lord should be thrown in the clerk's teeth when the clerk should be
deemed to have given offence. Crocker, when it first became certain
that Roden passed much of his time in company with a young lord, had
been anxious enough to foregather with the fortunate youth who sat
opposite to him; but Roden had not cared much for Crocker's society,
and hence it had come to pass that Crocker had devoted himself to
jeers and witticisms. Mr. Jerningham, who in his very soul respected
a Marquis, and felt something of genuine awe for anything that
touched the peerage, held his fortunate junior in unfeigned esteem
from the moment in which he became aware of the intimacy. He did in
truth think better of the clerk because the clerk had known how to
make himself a companion to a lord. He did not want anything for
himself. He was too old and settled in life to be desirous of new
friendships. He was naturally conscientious, gentle, and unassuming.
But Roden rose in his estimation, and Crocker fell, when he became
assured that Roden and Lord Hampstead were intimate friends, and that
Crocker had dared to jeer at the friendship. A lord is like a new
hat. The one on the arm the other on the head are no evidences of
mental superiority. But yet they are taken, and not incorrectly
taken, as signs of merit. The increased esteem shown by Mr.
Jerningham for Roden should, I think, be taken as showing Mr.
Jerningham's good sense and general appreciation.
The two lads were both on Roden's side. Roden was not a rose, but he
lived with a rose, and the lads of course liked the scent of roses.
They did not particularly like Crocker, though Crocker had a dash
about him which would sometimes win their flattery. Crocker was brave
and impudent and self-assuming. They were not as yet sufficiently
advanced in life to be able to despise Crocker. Crocker imposed upon
them. But should there come anything of real warfare between Crocker
and Roden, there could be no doubt but that they would side with Lord
Hampstead's friend. Such was the state of the room at the Post Office
when Crocker entered it, on the morning of Lord Hampstead's visit to
Paradise Row.
Crocker was a little late. He was often a little late,--a fact of
which Mr. Jerningham ought to have taken more stringent notice than
he did. Perhaps Mr. Jerningham rather feared Crocker. Crocker had
so read Mr. Jerningham's character as to have become aware that his
senior was soft, and perhaps timid. He had so far advanced in this
reading as to have learned to think that he could get the better of
Mr. Jerningham by being loud and impudent. He had no doubt hitherto
been successful, but there were those in the office who believed that
the day might come when Mr. Jerningham would rouse himself in his
wrath.
"Mr. Crocker, you are late," said Mr. Jerningham.
"Mr. Jerningham, I am late. I scorn false excuses. Geraghty would say
that his watch was wrong. Bobbin would have eaten something that had
disagreed with him. Roden would have been detained by his friend,
Lord Hampstead." To this Roden made no reply even by a look. "For me,
I have to acknowledge that I did not turn out when I was called. Of
twenty minutes I have deprived my country; but as my country values
so much of my time at only seven-pence-halfpenny, it is hardly worth
saying much about it."
"You are frequently late."
"When the amount has come up to ten pound I will send the
Postmaster-General stamps to that amount." He was now standing at
his desk, opposite to Roden, to whom he made a low bow. "Mr. George
Roden," he said, "I hope that his lordship is quite well."
"The only lord with whom I am acquainted is quite well; but I do not
know why you should trouble yourself about him."
"I think it becoming in one who takes the Queen's pay to show a
becoming anxiety as to the Queen's aristocracy. I have the greatest
respect for the Marquis of Kingsbury. Have not you, Mr. Jerningham?"
"Certainly I have. But if you would go to your work instead of
talking so much it would be better for everybody."
"I am at my work already. Do you think that I cannot work and talk
at the same time? Bobbin, my boy, if you would open that window, do
you think it would hurt your complexion?" Bobbin opened the window.
"Paddy, where were you last night?" Paddy was Mr. Geraghty.
"I was dining, then, with my sister's mother-in-law."
"What,--the O'Kelly, the great legislator and Home Ruler, whom his
country so loves and Parliament so hates! I don't think any Home
Ruler's relative ought to be allowed into the service. Do you, Mr.
Jerningham?"
"I think Mr. Geraghty, if he will only be a little more careful, will
do great credit to the service," said Mr. Jerningham.
"I hope that Æolus may think the same." Æolus was the name by which
a certain pundit was known at the office;--a violent and imperious
Secretary, but not in the main ill-natured. "Æolus, when last I heard
of his opinion, seemed to have his doubts about poor Paddy." This was
a disagreeable subject, and it was felt by them all that it might
better be left in silence. From that time the work of the day was
continued with no more than moderate interruptions till the hour
of luncheon, when the usual attendant entered with the usual
mutton-chops. "I wonder if Lord Hampstead has mutton-chops for
luncheon?" asked Crocker.
"Why should he not?" asked Mr. Jerningham, foolishly.
"There must be some kind of gilded cutlet, upon which the higher
members of the aristocracy regale themselves. I suppose, Roden, you
must have seen his lordship at lunch."
"I dare say I have," said Roden, angrily. He knew that he was
annoyed, and was angry with himself at his own annoyance.
"Are they golden or only gilded?" asked Crocker.
"I believe you mean to make yourself disagreeable," said the other.
"Quite the reverse. I mean to make myself agreeable;--only you have
soared so high of late that ordinary conversation has no charms for
you. Is there any reason why Lord Hampstead's lunch should not be
mentioned?"
"Certainly there is," said Roden.
"Then, upon my life, I cannot see it. If you talked of my mid-day
chop I should not take it amiss."
"I don't think a fellow should ever talk about another fellow's
eating unless he knows the fellow." This came from Bobbin, who
intended it well, meaning to fight the battle for Roden as well as he
knew how.
"Most sapient Bobb," said Crocker, "you seem to be unaware that one
young fellow, who is Roden, happens to be the peculiarly intimate
friend of the other fellow, who is the Earl of Hampstead. Therefore
the law, as so clearly laid down by yourself, has not been infringed.
To return to our muttons, as the Frenchman says, what sort of lunch
does his lordship eat?"
"You are determined to make yourself disagreeable," said Roden.
"I appeal to Mr. Jerningham whether I have said anything unbecoming."
"If you appeal to me, I think you have," said Mr. Jerningham.
"You have, at any rate, been so successful in doing it," continued
Roden, "that I must ask you to hold your tongue about Lord Hampstead.
It has not been by anything I have said that you have heard of my
acquaintance with him. The joke is a bad one, and will become vulgar
if repeated."
"Vulgar!" cried Crocker, pushing away his plate, and rising from his
chair.
"I mean ungentlemanlike. I don't want to use hard words, but I will
not allow myself to be annoyed."
"Hoity, toity," said Crocker, "here's a row because I made a chance
allusion to a noble lord. I am to be called vulgar because I
mentioned his name." Then he began to whistle.
"Mr. Crocker, I will not have it," said Mr. Jerningham, assuming his
most angry tone. "You make more noise in the room than all the others
put together."
"Nevertheless, I do wonder what Lord Hampstead has had for his
lunch." This was the last shot, and after that the five gentlemen did
in truth settle down to their afternoon's work.
When four o'clock came Mr. Jerningham with praiseworthy punctuality
took his hat and departed. His wife and three unmarried daughters
were waiting for him at Islington, and as he was always in his seat
punctually at ten, he was justified in leaving it punctually at four.
Crocker swaggered about the room for a minute or two with his hat on,
desirous of showing that he was by no means affected by the rebukes
which he had received. But he, too, soon went, not having summoned
courage to recur to the name of Roden's noble friend. The two lads
remained for the sake of saying a word of comfort to Roden, who still
sat writing at his desk. "I thought it was very low form," said
Bobbin; "Crocker going on like that."
"Crocker's a baist," said Geraghty.
"What was it to him what anybody eats for his lunch?" continued
Bobbin.
"Only he likes to have a nobleman's name in his mouth," said
Geraghty. "I think it's the hoighth of bad manners talking about
anybody's friends unless you happen to know them yourself."
"I think it is," said Roden, looking up from his desk. "But I'll tell
you what shows worse manners;--that is, a desire to annoy anybody.
Crocker likes to be funny, and he thinks there is no fun so good
as what he calls taking a rise. I don't know that I'm very fond of
Crocker, but it may be as well that we should all think no more about
it." Upon this the young men promised that they, at least, would
think no more about it, and then took their departure. George Roden
soon followed them, for it was not the practice of anybody in that
department to remain at work long after four o'clock.
Roden as he walked home did think more of the little affair than it
deserved,--more at least than he would acknowledge that it deserved.
He was angry with himself for bearing it in mind, and yet he did bear
it in mind. Could it be that a creature so insignificant as Crocker
could annoy him by a mere word or two? But he was annoyed, and did
not know how such annoyance could be made to cease. If the man would
continue to talk about Lord Hampstead there was nothing by which he
could be made to hold his tongue. He could not be kicked, or beaten,
or turned out of the room. For any purpose of real assistance Mr.
Jerningham was useless. As to complaining to the Æolus of the office
that a certain clerk would talk about Lord Hampstead, that of course
was out of the question. He had already used strong language, calling
the man vulgar and ungentlemanlike, but if a man does not regard
strong language what further can an angry victim do to him?
Then his thoughts passed on to his connexion with the Marquis of
Kingsbury's family generally. Had he not done wrong, at any rate,
done foolishly, in thus moving himself out of his own sphere? At
the present moment Lady Frances was nearer to him even than Lord
Hampstead,--was more important to him and more in his thoughts.
Was it not certain that he would give rise to misery rather than to
happiness by what had occurred between him and Lady Frances? Was it
not probable that he had embittered for her all the life of the lady
whom he loved? He had assumed an assured face and a confident smile
while declaring to his mother that no power on earth should stand
between him and his promised wife,--that she would be able to walk
out from her father's hall and marry him as certainly as might the
housemaid or the ploughman's daughter go to her lover. But what would
be achieved by that if she were to walk out only to encounter misery?
The country was so constituted that he and these Traffords were in
truth of a different race; as much so as the negro is different from
the white man. The Post Office clerk may, indeed, possibly become a
Duke; whereas the negro's skin cannot be washed white. But while he
and Lady Frances were as they were, the distance between them was so
great that no approach could be made between them without disruption.
The world might be wrong in this. To his thinking the world was
wrong. But while the facts existed they were too strong to be set
aside. He could do his duty to the world by struggling to propagate
his own opinions, so that the distance might be a little lessened
in his own time. He was sure that the distance was being lessened,
and with this he thought that he ought to have been contented. The
jeering of such a one as Crocker was unimportant though disagreeable,
but it sufficed to show the feeling. Such a friendship as his with
Lord Hampstead had appeared to Crocker to be ridiculous. Crocker
would not have seen the absurdity unless others had seen it also.
Even his own mother saw it. Here in England it was accounted so
foolish a thing that he, a Post Office clerk, should be hand and
glove with such a one as Lord Hampstead, that even a Crocker could
raise a laugh against him! What would the world say when it should
have become known that he intended to lead Lady Frances to the
"hymeneal altar?" As he repeated the words to himself there was
something ridiculous even to himself in the idea that the hymeneal
altar should ever be mentioned in reference to the adventures of such
a person as George Roden, the Post Office clerk. Thinking of all
this, he was not in a happy frame of mind when he reached his home in
Paradise Row.