CARTWRIGHT'S SCRUPLES
The drawing-room at Mrs. Cartwright's house on the Cheshire side of the
Mersey was large and old-fashioned. Cartwright thought the stiff, thick
curtains and Victorian walnut furniture ugly, but Mrs. Cartwright liked
the things and he was satisfied. Clara herself frankly belonged to the
old school. She was conventional and often dull, but she had a placid
dignity that did not mark all the up-to-date women Cartwright knew.
Moreover, the house was comfortable. One got there by the Mersey tunnel
and it was only a few minutes' walk from the station. For all that, the
encroaching town had not yet reached the neighborhood, and the windows
commanded a pleasant view of clean rolling country and the blue Welsh
hills.
Cartwright felt the house was a snug harbor where he could rest when he
was too old and battered to front the storms that had for some time been
gathering, and sitting by the fire one evening, he speculated about the
rocks and shoals ahead. All the same, the time to run for shelter was
not yet; he thought he could ride out another gale.
An arch with heavy molding occupied the middle of the spacious room. The
folding doors had been removed and curtains partly screened the arch. On
the other side, a group of young men and women stood about the piano. On
Cartwright's side the lights were low. He had dined well and liked to
loaf after dinner. Besides, he felt dull; his gout bothered him and he
had been forced to run for his train. He had begun to find out one could
not do that kind of thing. Mrs. Cartwright sat opposite, knitting
quietly, and her smooth, rhythmic movements were soothing. Clara was
never abrupt and jerky.
"I got a letter from Stormont's by the afternoon post," she said. "They
have been repaid the mortgage, and there's something about a foreign
bond, drawn for redemption. They want to talk about a new investment."
Stormont, Wilmot and Stormont were her lawyers, and Cartwright nodded.
"The money ought to be earning interest and you can safely buy stock
Stormont's approve. Their judgment's sound."
"For all that, I think I'd like to choose for myself. Suppose I bought
some shares in the line? I have a number, but it's really not large and
I have felt I'm not supporting the house as I ought."
Cartwright knitted his brows. Clara did not know much about business,
but she was sometimes shrewder than one thought. He wondered whether
Mortimer had been talking. If the pup had talked, the thing was ominous,
because it implied that others knew the difficulties Cartwright might
have to meet.
"Do you imagine the house needs supporting?" he asked carelessly.
Mrs. Cartwright hesitated. "I really know nothing about it; but don't
people grumble when you can't pay them much and their shares go down?
Perhaps if the family owned a good part of the capital, you could take a
firmer line."
It was plain that Clara had been pondering. Mortimer _had_ talked and
somebody who was not Cartwright's friend had informed him. Cartwright
was tempted to let his wife do as she wanted: Clara owned shares in the
line that he had let her buy when freights were good and she had
afterwards refused to sell. Now, however, freights were very bad and the
company was nearer the rocks than he hoped the shareholders knew.
Cartwright imagined he could yet mend its fortunes, if he were left
alone, but the job was awkward and opposition might be dangerous. To
command a solid block of votes would certainly help.
For all that, there was a risk Clara ought not to run. His antagonists
were getting stronger, and if they meddled and baffled him, the company
would fail. Its bankruptcy would not ruin his wife, but she would feel
the loss of her money, and he was not going to use Clara for a shield
against Ellen Seaton's attacks. The thing was shabby. All the same, the
situation was humorous, and he saw, with an ironical smile, the
advantages of Mrs. Cartwright's plan.
"I'm not a business woman, but I have noted you're sometimes moody, as
if you were anxious, and I want to help," she resumed.
"You do help. The storms I've weathered have left a mark, and now I'm
old and strained it's much to make a quiet port at night. You take all
bothers from me, and send me out in the morning, braced for another
watch in the pilot-house."
"Some time you must give another the helm," said Mrs. Cartwright
quietly. "I wish I could persuade you to do so soon."
Cartwright sighed, for the strain was heavy and he wanted to rest. The
trouble was the put-off reckoning for past extravagance was at hand and
he shrank from asking his wife to pay. He had not been very scrupulous,
but he had his code. Then Hyslop came through the arch, and stopping,
noted Cartwright's awkwardly stretched-out leg.
"Gout bothering you again, sir?" he said. "You ought to lie up for a few
days, but I expect you're needed at the office. I heard the E.P. line
had a stormy meeting and the dissatisfied shareholders came near turning
out the directors. Johnson declared they only saved the situation by a
few votes."
"They ought to be turned out! A blundering lot! They've let a good fleet
down."
Hyslop smiled. He had pale and watery blue eyes that generally annoyed
Cartwright. "An awkward doctrine, sir! If all the steamship directors
who might have used the shareholders' money to better advantage were
called to account, I imagine a number of respectable gentlemen would
find their occupation gone. Besides, when people start deposing rulers
they don't know where to stop. The thing's, so to speak, contagious, and
panicky investors are not logical."
He went off and Cartwright braced himself. Mortimer meant to be nasty,
but his languid malice bit deeper than he knew. Cartwright had
hesitated, weighing the value of his wife's help against his scruples,
until his step-son's hints had tipped the beam. After all, if he used
Clara's money and saved his skin at her cost, the pup would have some
grounds to sneer.
"I must keep control for some time yet," he said. "Times are bad, and if
I let go the helm I doubt if my successor could steer a safe course.
When the need is gone I'll willingly give up, but I must bring the old
ship into port first. In the meantime, you had better let Stormont's buy
you sound Corporation stock."
Mrs. Cartwright acquiesced and Cartwright watched the young people
beyond the arch. With the stiff curtains for wing-scenes and the lights
concealed, the end of the room made a proscenium: it was like looking at
a drawing-room comedy on the stage. Two of the girls were pretty and he
approved their fashionable clothes. When she was quiet, Grace was almost
beautiful, but somehow none had Barbara's charm. Yet Cartwright thought
the girl was getting thin and her color was too bright. A friend of
Mortimer's occupied the music stool and Cartwright admitted that the
fellow played well, although he was something like a character from a
Gilbert opera.
Lister sat near the piano, and talked to Barbara. He smiled, but his
smile had a touch of gravity. Cartwright thought him a good Canadian. A
bit rugged perhaps, but staunch, and his quiet sincerity was after all
better style than the cleverness of Mortimer's friends. Cartwright
imagined Barbara studied Lister, who did not know. In fact, it looked as
if he were puzzled, and Cartwright smiled. Lister had not his talents;
when Cartwright was young he knew how to amuse a pretty girl.
The man at the piano signed to Barbara, who got up and began to sing.
The song was modern and the melody not marked. Cartwright liked the
Victorian ballads with tunes that haunted one and obvious sentiment, but
because Barbara sang he gave the words and music his languid interest.
After all, the thing was clever. There was, so to speak, not much on the
surface, but one heard an elusive note of effort, as if one struggled
after something one could not grasp. On the whole, Cartwright did not
approve that kind of sentiment; his objects were generally plain. Then
he thought the hint of strain was too well done for a young girl, and
when Barbara stopped he turned to his wife.
"Are you satisfied about Barbara?" he asked.
"Why should I not be satisfied?"
"I have felt she's not quite up to her proper form. Looks thin and
sometimes she's quiet. Then why has young Vernon gone off? I haven't
seen him recently."
"Harry's in town; he goes home in a few days," Mrs. Cartwright replied.
She hesitated and resumed, "I imagined he wanted to marry Barbara,
although she told me nothing about this. Barbara does not tell one
much."
"Do you think she likes him?"
"I don't know, but I rather think if she had liked him she would have
refused."
"Ah!" said Cartwright thoughtfully. "Well, Vernon's a good sort, but I
see some light; the girl is sensitive and very proud! No doubt, she
feels her Canadian adventure--ridiculous, of course! But Barbara's hard
to move. All the same, if Vernon's the proper man and is resolute--"
"I doubt if he is the proper man," Mrs. Cartwright replied.
Cartwright pondered. Sometimes Clara did not say all she thought, and
his glance wandered back to the group at the other end of the room.
Barbara was again talking to Lister. He looked thoughtful and her face
was serious. They were obviously not engaged in philandering; Cartwright
felt their quiet absorption was significant. After a minute or two,
however, the party about the piano broke up and went off. Barbara
stopped to put away some music and then came through the arch.
"Mr. Lister wants to go a voyage," she said to Cartwright. "I suggested
you might help him to get a post on board a ship."
"I imagine he did not suggest you should persuade me?"
"Certainly not! He refused to bother you," Barbara replied and, with
some hesitation, added: "However, perhaps in a sense we ought to help."
"That is so," Cartwright agreed. "Why did Mr. Lister come to Liverpool?"
"He wanted to go round the shipping offices. Mother told him our house
was always open--"
Cartwright nodded, "Of course! Well, I'll think about it and may see a
plan."
Barbara went off and Cartwright looked at his wife. "I don't know if
this is a fresh complication; but if she refused Harry, she'd no doubt
refuse the other. Perhaps it's important that she's willing he should go
to sea."
"One is forced to like Mr. Lister and we owe him much," Mrs. Cartwright
remarked.
"Certainly," Cartwright agreed. "However, it looks as if some
engineering talent is all he has got, and I think a long voyage is
indicated--" He stopped, and resumed with a twinkle: "For all that, the
fellow is not an adventurer, and I married a rich woman."
Mrs. Cartwright gave him a gentle smile. "I have been happy and Barbara
is not; but, in one sense, I don't imagine we need be disturbed. Barbara
has not recovered from the jar."
She got up, and Cartwright dozed until he heard a step and Lister
crossed the floor.
"Hallo!" he said. "Are you going? There is no train just now."
Lister said he meant to walk to the tramline, but Cartwright asked him
to stop for a few minutes.
"Barbara tells me you are trying for a post in an engine-room," he
remarked.
"That is so," said Lister with a touch of embarrassment. "Still, I
didn't mean Miss Hyslop to bother you."
"Barbara likes to meddle and I'm a ship-owner. To begin with, why d'you
want to go to sea?"
"I must go to sea or back to Canada," Lister said, smiling. "I've had a
pretty good holiday, but my wad's nearly gone."
"Then, wouldn't it be prudent to return to your occupation?"
"I haven't an occupation; I turned mine down. It's possible I'll find
another, but I'm not ready yet. In Canada, we're a restless, wandering
lot, and I want to look about the world before I go back. You see, when
you only know the woods and our Western towns--"
Cartwright saw and sympathized. He remembered how adventure called when
he was young. Well, he had got adventure, but perhaps not the kind
Lister seemed to enjoy. Anyhow, he had not started off with an empty
wallet to look about the world.
"How much does your roll amount to?" he asked with a bluntness he
sometimes used.
When Lister told him he laughed. The young fellow was good stuff;
Cartwright liked his rashness.
"Well," he said, "you have pluck, and if you're obstinate, pluck takes
you far. Have you got a promise from any of our shipping offices?"
Lister said he had not. There were some difficulties about certificates.
He had sailed on lake boats and made coasting voyages, but the English
Board of Trade rules were strict. Then he looked at the clock and
Cartwright gave him his hand.
"Come and see me at the office. We'll talk about this again."
Lister thanked him, and when he had gone Cartwright mused. The young
fellow was not an adventurer; anyhow not in the sense Shillito was an
adventurer. His honesty was obvious, it was plain he did not want
Barbara's money, and Cartwright thought he did not know she was rich. In
fact, he was Barbara's sort. There was the trouble. Cartwright weighed
this for a time and then went to sleep.