JOHN EAMES AT HIS OFFICE.
[ILLUSTRATION: (untitled)]
Mr. Crosbie and his wife went upon their honeymoon tour to Folkestone
in the middle of February, and returned to London about the end
of March. Nothing of special moment to the interests of our story
occurred during those six weeks, unless the proceedings of the
young married couple by the sea-side may be thought to have any
special interest. With regard to those proceedings I can only say
that Crosbie was very glad when they were brought to a close. All
holiday-making is hard work, but holiday-making with nothing to do is
the hardest work of all. At the end of March they went into their new
house, and we will hope that Lady Alexandrina did not find it very
cold.
During this time Lily's recovery from her illness was being
completed. She had no relapse, nor did anything occur to create a new
fear on her account. But, nevertheless, Dr. Crofts gave it as his
opinion that it would be inexpedient to move her into a fresh house
at Lady-day. March is not a kindly month for invalids; and therefore
with some regret on the part of Mrs. Dale, with much impatience on
that of Bell, and with considerable outspoken remonstrance from Lily
herself, the squire was requested to let them remain through the
month of April. How the squire received this request, and in what way
he assented to the doctor's reasoning, will be told in the course of
a chapter or two.
In the meantime John Eames had continued his career in London without
much immediate satisfaction to himself, or to the lady who boasted to
be his heart's chosen queen. Miss Amelia Roper, indeed, was becoming
very cross, and in her ill-temper was playing a game that was tending
to create a frightful amount of hot water in Burton Crescent. She was
devoting herself to a flirtation with Mr. Cradell, not only under the
immediate eyes of Johnny Eames, but also under those of Mrs. Lupex.
John Eames, the blockhead, did not like it. He was above all things
anxious to get rid of Amelia and her claims; so anxious, that on
certain moody occasions he would threaten himself with diverse
tragical terminations to his career in London. He would enlist. He
would go to Australia. He would blow out his brains. He would have
"an explanation" with Amelia, tell her that she was a vixen, and
proclaim his hatred. He would rush down to Allington and throw
himself in despair at Lily's feet. Amelia was the bugbear of his
life. Nevertheless, when she flirted with Cradell, he did not like
it, and was ass enough to speak to Cradell about it.
"Of course I don't care," he said, "only it seems to me that you are
making a fool of yourself."
"I thought you wanted to get rid of her."
"She's nothing on earth to me; only it does, you know--"
"Does do what?" asked Cradell.
"Why, if I was to be fal-lalling with that married woman, you
wouldn't like it. That's all about it. Do you mean to marry her?"
"What!--Amelia?"
"Yes; Amelia."
"Not if I know it."
"Then if I were you I would leave her alone. She's only making a fool
of you."
Eames's advice may have been good, and the view taken by him of
Amelia's proceedings may have been correct; but as regarded his own
part in the affair, he was not wise. Miss Roper, no doubt, wished to
make him jealous; and she succeeded in the teeth of his aversion to
her and of his love elsewhere. He had no desire to say soft things
to Miss Roper. Miss Roper, with all her skill, could not extract a
word pleasantly soft from him once a week. But, nevertheless, soft
words to her and from her in another quarter made him uneasy. Such
being the case, must we not acknowledge that John Eames was still
floundering in the ignorance of his hobbledehoyhood?
The Lupexes at this time still held their ground in the Crescent,
although repeated warnings to go had been given them. Mrs. Roper,
though she constantly spoke of sacrificing all that they owed her,
still hankered, with a natural hankering, after her money. And as
each warning was accompanied by a demand for payment, and usually
produced some slight subsidy on account, the thing went on from week
to week; and at the beginning of April Mr. and Mrs. Lupex were still
boarders at Mrs. Roper's house.
Eames had heard nothing from Allington since the time of his
Christmas visit, and his subsequent correspondence with Lord De
Guest. In his letters from his mother he was told that game came
frequently from Guestwick Manor, and in this way he knew that he
was not forgotten by the earl. But of Lily he had heard not a
word,--except, indeed, the rumour, which had now become general, that
the Dales from the Small House were about to move themselves into
Guestwick. When first he learned this he construed the tidings as
favourable to himself, thinking that Lily, removed from the grandeur
of Allington, might possibly be more easily within his reach; but,
latterly, he had given up any such hope as that, and was telling
himself that his friend at the Manor had abandoned all idea of making
up the marriage. Three months had already elapsed since his visit.
Five months had passed since Crosbie had surrendered his claim.
Surely such a knave as Crosbie might be forgotten in five months!
If any steps could have been taken through the squire, surely three
months would have sufficed for them! It was very manifest to him
that there was no ground of hope for him at Allington, and it would
certainly be well for him to go off to Australia. He would go to
Australia, but he would thrash Cradell first for having dared to
interfere with Amelia Roper. That, generally, was the state of his
mind during the first week in April.
Then there came to him a letter from the earl which instantly
effected a great change in all his feelings; which taught him to
regard Australia as a dream, and almost put him into a good humour
with Cradell. The earl had by no means lost sight of his friend's
interests at Allington; and, moreover, those interests were now
backed by an ally who in this matter must be regarded as much more
powerful than the earl. The squire had given in his consent to the
Eames alliance.
The earl's letter was as follows:--
Guestwick Manor, April 7, 18--.
MY DEAR JOHN,
I told you to write to me again, and you haven't done it.
I saw your mother the other day, or else you might have
been dead for anything I knew. A young man always ought to
write letters when he is told to do so.
Eames, when he had got so far, felt himself rather aggrieved by this
rebuke, knowing that he had abstained from writing to his patron
simply from an unwillingness to intrude upon him with his letters.
"By Jove, I'll write to him every week of his life, till he's sick of
me," Johnny said to himself when he found himself thus instructed as
to a young man's duties.
And now I have got to tell you a long story, and I should
like it much better if you were down here, so that I
might save myself the trouble; but you would think me
ill-natured if I were to keep you waiting. I happened to
meet Mr. Dale the other day, and he said that he should be
very glad if a certain young lady would make up her mind
to listen to a certain young friend of mine. So I asked
him what he meant to do about the young lady's fortune,
and he declared himself willing to give her a hundred a
year during his life, and to settle four thousand pounds
upon her after his death. I said that I would do as much
on my part by the young man; but as two hundred a year,
with your salary, would hardly give you enough to begin
with, I'll make mine a hundred and fifty. You'll be
getting up in your office soon, and with five hundred a
year you ought to be able to get along; especially as you
need not insure your life. I should live somewhere near
Bloomsbury Square at first, because I'm told you can get
a house for nothing. After all, what's fashion worth? You
can bring your wife down here in the autumn, and have some
shooting. She won't let you go to sleep under the trees,
I'll be bound.
But you must look after the young lady. You will
understand that no one has said a word to her about it;
or, if they have, I don't know it. You'll find the squire
on your side, that's all. Couldn't you manage to come down
this Easter? Tell old Buffle, with my compliments, that I
want you. I'll write to him if you like it. I did know him
at one time, though I can't say I was ever very fond of
him. It stands to reason that you can't get on with Miss
Lily without seeing her; unless, indeed, you like better
to write to her, which always seems to me to be very poor
sort of fun. You'd much better come down, and go a-wooing
in the regular old-fashioned way. I need not tell you
that Lady Julia will be delighted to see you. You are a
prime favourite with her since that affair at the railway
station. She thinks a great deal more about that than she
does about the bull.
Now, my dear fellow, you know all about it, and I shall
take it very much amiss of you if you don't answer my
letter soon.
Your very sincere friend,
DE GUEST.
When Eames had finished this letter, sitting at his office-desk, his
surprise and elation were so great that he hardly knew where he was
or what he ought to do. Could it be the truth that Lily's uncle had
not only consented that the match should be made, but that he had
also promised to give his niece a considerable fortune? For a few
minutes it seemed to Johnny as though all obstacles to his happiness
were removed, and that there was no impediment between him and an
amount of bliss of which he had hitherto hardly dared to dream. Then,
when he considered the earl's munificence, he almost cried. He found
that he could not compose his mind to think, or even his hand to
write. He did not know whether it would be right in him to accept
such pecuniary liberality from any living man, and almost thought
that he should feel himself bound to reject the earl's offer. As to
the squire's money, that he knew he might accept. All that comes in
the shape of a young woman's fortune may be taken by any man.
He would certainly answer the earl's letter, and that at once. He
would not leave the office till he had done so. His friend should
have cause to bring no further charge against him of that kind. And
then again he reverted to the injustice which had been done to him in
the matter of letter-writing--as if that consideration were of moment
in such a state of circumstances as was now existing. But at last
his thoughts brought themselves to the real question at issue. Would
Lily Dale accept him? After all, the realization of his good fortune
depended altogether upon her feelings; and, as he remembered this,
his mind misgave him sorely. It was filled not only with a young
lover's ordinary doubts,--with the fear and trembling incidental to
the bashfulness of hobbledehoyhood--but with an idea that that affair
with Crosbie would still stand in his way. He did not, perhaps,
rightly understand all that Lily had suffered, but he conceived it
to be probable that there had been wounds which even the last five
months might not yet have cured. Could it be that she would allow him
to cure these wounds? As he thought of this he felt almost crushed
to the earth by an indomitable bashfulness and conviction of his own
unworthiness. What had he to offer worthy of the acceptance of such a
girl as Lilian Dale?
I fear that the Crown did not get out of John Eames an adequate
return for his salary on that day. So adequate, however, had been the
return given by him for some time past, that promotion was supposed
throughout the Income-tax Office to be coming in his way, much to
the jealousy of Cradell, Fisher, and others, his immediate compeers
and cronies. And the place assigned to him by rumour was one which
was generally regarded as a perfect Elysium upon earth in the Civil
Service world. He was, so rumour said, to become private secretary to
the First Commissioner. He would be removed by such a change as this
from the large uncarpeted room in which he at present sat; occupying
the same desk with another man to whom he had felt himself to be
ignominiously bound, as dogs must feel when they are coupled. This
room had been the bear-garden of the office. Twelve or fourteen
men sat in it. Large pewter pots were brought into it daily at one
o'clock, giving it an air that was not aristocratic. The senior
of the room, one Mr. Love, who was presumed to have it under his
immediate dominion, was a clerk of the ancient stamp, dull, heavy,
unambitious, living out on the farther side of Islington, and unknown
beyond the limits of his office to any of his younger brethren.
He was generally regarded as having given a bad tone to the room.
And then the clerks in this room would not unfrequently be blown
up,--with very palpable blowings up,--by an official swell, a certain
chief clerk, named Kissing, much higher in standing though younger in
age than the gentleman of whom we have before spoken. He would hurry
in, out of his own neighbouring chamber, with quick step and nose in
the air, shuffling in his office slippers, looking on each occasion
as though there were some cause to fear that the whole Civil Service
were coming to an abrupt termination, and would lay about him with
hard words, which some of those in the big room did not find it very
easy to bear. His hair was always brushed straight up, his eyes were
always very wide open,--and he usually carried a big letter-book with
him, keeping in it a certain place with his finger. This book was
almost too much for his strength, and he would flop it down, now on
this man's desk and now on that man's, and in a long career of such
floppings had made himself to be very much hated. On the score of
some old grudge he and Mr. Love did not speak to each other; and for
this reason, on all occasions of fault-finding, the blown-up young
man would refer Mr. Kissing to his enemy.
"I know nothing about it," Mr. Love would say, not lifting his face
from his desk for a moment.
"I shall certainly lay the matter before the Board," Mr. Kissing
would reply, and would then shuffle out of the room with the big
book.
Sometimes Mr. Kissing would lay the matter before the Board, and
then he, and Mr. Love, and two or three delinquent clerks would be
summoned thither. It seldom led to much. The delinquent clerks would
be cautioned. One Commissioner would say a word in private to Mr.
Love, and another a word in private to Mr. Kissing. Then, when left
alone, the Commissioners would have their little jokes, saying that
Kissing, they feared, went by favour; and that Love should still be
lord of all. But these things were done in the mild days, before Sir
Raffle Buffle came to the Board.
There had been some fun in this at first; but of late John Eames had
become tired of it. He disliked Mr. Kissing, and the big book out
of which Mr. Kissing was always endeavouring to convict him of some
official sin, and had got tired of that joke of setting Kissing
and Love by the ears together. When the Assistant Secretary first
suggested to him that Sir Raffle had an idea of selecting him as
private secretary, and when he remembered the cosy little room, all
carpeted, with a leathern arm-chair and a separate washing-stand,
which in such case would be devoted to his use, and remembered
also that he would be put into receipt of an additional hundred a
year, and would stand in the way of still better promotion, he was
overjoyed. But there were certain drawbacks. The present private
secretary,--who had been private secretary also to the late First
Commissioner,--was giving up his Elysium because he could not endure
the tones of Sir Raffle's voice. It was understood that Sir Raffle
required rather more of a private secretary, in the way of obsequious
attendance, than was desirable, and Eames almost doubted his own
fitness for the place.
"And why should he choose me?" he had asked the Assistant Secretary.
"Well, we have talked it over together, and I think that he prefers
you to any other that has been named."
"But he was so very hard upon me about the affair at the railway
station."
"I think he has heard more about that since; I think that some
message has reached him from your friend, Earl De Guest."
"Oh, indeed!" said Johnny, beginning to comprehend what it was to
have an earl for his friend. Since his acquaintance with the nobleman
had commenced, he had studiously avoided all mention of the earl's
name at his office; and yet he received almost daily intimation that
the fact was well known there, and not a little considered.
"But he is so very rough," said Johnny.
"You can put up with that," said his friend the Assistant Secretary.
"His bark is worse than his bite, as you know; and then a hundred a
year is worth having." Eames was at that moment inclined to take a
gloomy view of life in general, and was disposed to refuse the place,
should it be offered to him. He had not then received the earl's
letter; but now, as he sat with that letter open before him, lying
in the drawer beneath his desk so that he could still read it as he
leaned back in his chair, he was enabled to look at things in general
through a different atmosphere. In the first place, Lilian Dale's
husband ought to have a room to himself, with a carpet and an
arm-chair; and then that additional hundred a year would raise his
income at once to the sum as to which the earl had made some sort of
stipulation. But could he get that leave of absence at Easter? If he
consented to be Sir Raffle's private secretary, he would make that a
part of the bargain.
At this moment the door of the big room was opened, and Mr. Kissing
shuffled in with very quick little steps. He shuffled in, and coming
direct up to John's desk, flopped his ledger down upon it before its
owner had had time to close the drawer which contained the precious
letter.
"What have you got in that drawer, Mr. Eames?"
"A private letter, Mr. Kissing."
"Oh;--a private letter!" said Mr. Kissing, feeling strongly convinced
there was a novel hidden there, but not daring to express his belief.
"I have been half the morning, Mr. Eames, looking for this letter
to the Admiralty, and you've put it under S!" A bystander listening
to Mr. Kissing's tone would have been led to believe that the whole
Income-tax Office was jeopardized by the terrible iniquity thus
disclosed.
"Somerset House," pleaded Johnny.
"Psha;--Somerset House! Half the offices in London--"
"You'd better ask Mr. Love," said Eames. "It's all done under his
special instructions." Mr. Kissing looked at Mr. Love, and Mr.
Love looked steadfastly at his desk. "Mr. Love knows all about the
indexing," continued Johnny. "He's index master general to the
department."
"No, I'm not, Mr. Eames," said Mr. Love, who rather liked John Eames,
and hated Mr. Kissing with his whole heart. "But I believe the
indexes, on the whole, are very well done in this room. Some people
don't know how to find letters."
"Mr. Eames," began Mr. Kissing, still pointing with a finger of
bitter reproach to the misused S, and beginning an oration which was
intended for the benefit of the whole room, and for the annihilation
of old Mr. Love, "if you have yet to learn that the word Admiralty
begins with A and not with S, you have much to learn which should
have been acquired before you first came into this office. Somerset
House is not a department." Then he turned round to the room at
large, and repeated the last words, as though they might become very
useful if taken well to heart--"Is not a department. The Treasury is
a department; the Home Office is a department; the India Board is a
department--"
"No, Mr. Kissing, it isn't," said a young clerk from the other end of
the room.
"You know very well what I mean, sir. The India Office is a
department."
"There's no Board, sir."
"Never mind; but how any gentleman who has been in the service three
months,--not to say three years,--can suppose Somerset House to be a
department, is beyond my comprehension. If you have been improperly
instructed--"
"We shall know all about it another time," said Eames. "Mr. Love will
make a memorandum of it."
"I shan't do anything of the kind," said Mr. Love.
"If you have been wrongly instructed,--" Mr. Kissing began again,
stealing a glance at Mr. Love as he did so; but at this moment
the door was again opened, and a messenger summoned Johnny to the
presence of the really great man. "Mr. Eames, to wait upon Sir
Raffle." Upon hearing this Johnny immediately started, and left Mr.
Kissing and the big book in possession of his desk. How the battle
was waged, and how it raged in the large room, we cannot stop to
hear, as it is necessary that we should follow our hero into the
presence of Sir Raffle Buffle.
"Ah, Eames,--yes," said Sir Raffle, looking up from his desk when
the young man entered; "just wait half a minute, will you?" And
the knight went to work at his papers, as though fearing that any
delay in what he was doing might be very prejudicial to the nation
at large. "Ah, Eames,--well,--yes," he said again, as he pushed
away from him, almost with a jerk, the papers on which he had been
writing. "They tell me that you know the business of this office
pretty well."
"Some of it, sir," said Eames.
"Well, yes; some of it. But you'll have to understand the whole of it
if you come to me. And you must be very sharp about it too. You know
that FitzHoward is leaving me?"
"I have heard of it, sir."
"A very excellent young man, though perhaps not-- But we won't mind
that. The work is a little too much for him, and he's going back into
the office. I believe Lord De Guest is a friend of yours; isn't he?"
"Yes; he is a friend of mine, certainly. He's been very kind to me."
"Ah, well. I've known the earl for many years,--for very many years;
and intimately at one time. Perhaps you may have heard him mention my
name?"
"Yes, I have, Sir Raffle."
"We were intimate once, but those things go off, you know. He's been
the country mouse and I've been the town mouse. Ha, ha, ha! You may
tell him that I say so. He won't mind that coming from me."
"Oh, no; not at all," said Eames.
"Mind you tell him when you see him. The earl is a man for whom I've
always had a great respect,--a very great respect,--I may say regard.
And now, Eames, what do you say to taking FitzHoward's place? The
work is hard. It is fair that I should tell you that. The work will,
no doubt, be very hard. I take a greater share of what's going than
my predecessors have done; and I don't mind telling you that I have
been sent here, because a man was wanted who would do that." The
voice of Sir Raffle, as he continued, became more and more harsh, and
Eames began to think how wise FitzHoward had been. "I mean to do my
duty, and I shall expect that my private secretary will do his. But,
Mr. Eames, I never forget a man. Whether he be good or bad, I never
forget a man. You don't dislike late hours, I suppose."
"Coming late to the office, you mean? Oh, no, not in the least."
"Staying late,--staying late. Six or seven o'clock if
necessary,--putting your shoulder to the wheel when the coach gets
into the mud. That's what I've been doing all my life. They've known
what I am very well. They've always kept me for the heavy roads. If
they paid, in the Civil Service, by the hour, I believe I should have
drawn a larger income than any man in it. If you take the vacant
chair in the next room you'll find it's no joke. It's only fair that
I should tell you that."
"I can work as hard as any man," said Eames.
"That's right. That's right. Stick to that and I'll stick to you.
It will be a great gratification to me to have by me a friend of
my old friend De Guest. Tell him I say so. And now you may as well
get into harness at once. FitzHoward is there. You can go in to him,
and at half-past four exactly I'll see you both. I'm very exact,
mind,--very;--and therefore you must be exact." Then Sir Raffle
looked as though he desired to be left alone.
"Sir Raffle, there's one favour I want to ask of you," said Johnny.
"And what's that?"
"I am most anxious to be absent for a fortnight or three weeks, just
at Easter. I shall want to go in about ten days."
"Absent for three weeks at Easter, when the parliamentary work is
beginning! That won't do for a private secretary."
"But it's very important, Sir Raffle."
"Out of the question, Eames; quite out of the question."
"It's almost life and death to me."
"Almost life and death. Why, what are you going to do?" With all his
grandeur and national importance, Sir Raffle would be very curious as
to little people.
"Well, I can't exactly tell you, and I'm not quite sure myself."
"Then don't talk nonsense. It's impossible that I should spare my
private secretary just at that time of the year. I couldn't do it.
The service won't admit of it. You're not entitled to leave at that
season. Private secretaries always take their leave in the autumn."
"I should like to be absent in the autumn too, but--"
"It's out of the question, Mr. Eames."
Then John Eames reflected that it behoved him in such an emergency to
fire off his big gun. He had a great dislike to firing this big gun,
but, as he said to himself, there are occasions which make a big
gun very necessary. "I got a letter from Lord De Guest this morning,
pressing me very much to go to him at Easter. It's about business,"
added Johnny. "If there was any difficulty, he said, he should write
to you."
"Write to me," said Sir Raffle, who did not like to be approached too
familiarly in his office, even by an earl.
"Of course I shouldn't tell him to do that. But, Sir Raffle, if I
remained out there, in the office," and Johnny pointed towards the
big room with his head, "I could choose April for my month. And as
the matter is so important to me, and to the earl--"
"What can it be?" said Sir Raffle.
"It's quite private," said John Eames.
Hereupon Sir Raffle became very petulant, feeling that a bargain was
being made with him. This young man would only consent to become his
private secretary upon certain terms! "Well, go in to FitzHoward now.
I can't lose all my day in this way."
"But I shall be able to get away at Easter?"
"I don't know. We shall see about it. But don't stand talking there
now." Then John Eames went into FitzHoward's room, and received that
gentleman's congratulations on his appointment. "I hope you like
being rung for, like a servant, every minute, for he's always ringing
that bell. And he'll roar at you till you're deaf. You must give up
all dinner engagements, for though there is not much to do, he'll
never let you go. I don't think anybody ever asks him out to dinner,
for he likes being here till seven. And you'll have to write all
manner of lies about big people. And, sometimes, when he has sent
Rafferty out about his private business, he'll ask you to bring him
his shoes." Now Rafferty was the First Commissioner's messenger.
It must be remembered, however, that this little account was given by
an outgoing and discomfited private secretary. "A man is not asked to
bring another man his shoes," said Eames to himself, "until he shows
himself fit for that sort of business." Then he made within his own
breast a little resolution about Sir Raffle's shoes.