Life in London Part 15

"Well, Charles," he said, "I do not blame you for taking this course. I hope it may be serviceable to your friend, and without any injury to yourself."

"Do not fear, father. And now I must pack up a few necessaries in my bag, and be off to Mr. Brunton's. If I do not return home to-morrow, do not be uneasy about me, and I will write to you every day to say how things are going on."

When Hardy arrived at the house of Mr. Brunton, he found him, as he antic.i.p.ated, in a high state of nervous anxiety.

"I am so thankful you have arrived, Mr. Hardy," he said, shaking him warmly by the hand: "and I need not tell you Mrs. Weston has been waiting with great impatience to see you."

"Mrs. Weston! is she here?"

"Yes; not many minutes after you had left the office I called there, and received the sad news about--about George. I at once telegraphed to Mrs.

Weston to come up to town, and it needed no urging to hasten her, for she had only a short time before received a letter from him, which had filled her with alarm. But let us go to her at once," said Mr. Brunton, leading the way to the drawing-room; "she entreated I would bring you to her the moment you arrived."

As Hardy entered, Mrs. Weston sprang to meet him.

"Have you found George?--where is he?" she asked, and the look of struggling hope and despair was touching to witness.

"I have not found him, Mrs. Weston, but I know the place of his present destination. He has gone to Plymouth;" and then Hardy briefly explained the incidents of the morning.

"I cannot tell you how thankful I am to you, Mr. Hardy," said Mrs.

Weston, as he concluded. "May G.o.d bless you for your kindness to my pool George!"

"George would have done more for me, Mrs. Weston," Hardy replied; "but, at present, little or nothing has been done. Have you any plans, and can I help you in them?"

"We must go on as soon as possible to Plymouth, and find out where he is. He may perhaps be on the eve of starting away by some of the vessels in the port. Not a minute should be lost."

"Then, sir, I will go down to Plymouth by the mail train which leaves in about a couple of hours, if you will let me; and I promise you that I will do my best to find him," said Hardy.

This unexpected proposition removed an infinite burden from Mr.

Brunton's mind. He felt that it was his duty to see Mr. Compton at once, and he had other engagements which made it impossible for him to leave that night. He did not like Mrs. Weston travelling alone, in her present anxious and desponding state, and had been at his wit's end all day to know how to manage.

"But, Mr. Hardy, can you go? Have you consulted your friends at home?

Can you manage to get leave of absence from the office?--remember they will be short of hands there," asked Mr. Brunton.

"I have made all arrangements at home, sir and my only difficulty is about Mr. Compton. But if you will please see him as soon as he returns, and explain why I have left, I am sure he will not be displeased. He was so fond of George, I know he would have said 'Go, by all means,' had he been at home."

"I will undertake to set the matter right with him about you," said Mr.

Brunton; "but I doubt whether he will ever allow me to mention poor George's name. Oh! Hardy, this is a sad, sad business!"

"It is, sir; but it is sadder for George than for his friends," replied Hardy. "I cannot bear to think of the trouble he is pa.s.sing through at this moment. It has cost him much to take the step he has taken, and everything must be done to get him back from his voluntary banishment"

"And everything shall be done that can," said Mr. Brunton. "G.o.d grant he is still in England! I feel sure the sight of his mother and his friends sorrowing for him, instead of turning against him as he supposes, will alter his determination."

"Mr. Hardy, may I place myself under your protection until my brother joins us at Plymouth?" said Mrs. Weston, abruptly. "I will go down by the mail train to-night; I cannot rest until he is found."

Arrangements were speedily made, and that night the train bore off Mrs.

Western and Charles Hardy to Plymouth.

On the following morning Mr. Brunton called at Falcon-court. Mr. Compton had not yet arrived, but was expected hourly. Not wishing to lose time, which that morning was particularly precious to him, he asked for some writing materials, and seating himself in Mr. Compton's room, intended to occupy himself until his arrival. After he had been there about half-an-hour, his attention was arrested by hearing the door of the clerk's office open, and an inquiry made.

"Is Mr. George Weston here?"

"Mr. Weston has left the office," answered Williams, who came forward to answer the inquiry. "Left yesterday morning."

"Indeed! Where has he gone to? why did he leave?"

"I don't think anyone knows where he has gone to," answered Williams; "and I am not disposed to say why he left."

Williams did not know why he had left, nor were the circ.u.mstances of the case known to any of the clerks; but many surmises had been made which were unfavourable to him, and it was with the exultant pleasure a mean spirit feels in a mean triumph, that Williams had at last an opportunity of speaking lightly of the once good name of George Weston, to whom he had ever cherished feelings of animosity.

"Is Mr. Compton in, or the manager?" asked the visitor. "I am exceedingly anxious to know what has become of my friend."

"Between ourselves," said Williams, "the less you say about your friend the better. It strikes me--mind, I merely give you this confidentially as my impression--that, when Weston turns up again, his friends will not be over-anxious to renew their acquaintance."

"What do you mean? I do not understand you."

"What I mean is this. When a clerk is dismissed from an office during the absence of the princ.i.p.al, leaves suddenly and has to hide himself--more particularly when accounts at the banker's do not quite balance--one cannot help thinking there is a screw loose somewhere."

Mr. Brunton overheard all this; he who had never before heard an unfavourable sentence spoken against his nephew. He had not fully realised until that moment the painful position in which George's crime had placed him, nor the depth of his nephew's fall in position and character. He longed to have been able to stand up in vindication of George against the terrible insinuations of Williams; he would have been intensely thankful if he could have accosted the stranger, and said, "That man is guilty of falsehood who dares to speak against the good name of my nephew." But there he stood, with blood boiling and lips quivering, unable to contradict one sentence that had been uttered.

"If Weston _does_ turn up," continued Williams, "will you leave any message or letter, or your name, and it shall be forwarded?"

"My name is Ashton," said the stranger; "but it is unnecessary to say that I called. It does not do to be mixed up with matters like these. I half feared something of the sort was brewing, but I had no idea tilings would have taken so sudden a turn."

Mr. Brunton could restrain his impatience no longer.

"Mr. Ashton," he said, coming suddenly upon the speakers, "will you favour me by stepping inside a minute or two? I shall be glad to speak to you."

Ashton was taken by surprise at seeing Mr. Brunton where he least expected to see him.

"I have been placed in the uncomfortable position of a listener to your conversation in the next room," said Mr. Brunton, closing the door; "and I cannot allow those remarks made by the clerk with whom you were talking to pa.s.s unqualified."

"They need little explanation, sir," said Ashton. "George Weston has been on the verge of a catastrophe for some months, and I believe I can fill in the outline of information which you heard given me."

"I am in ignorance of the causes which have led to my nephew's disgrace," answered Mr. Brunton; "nor am I desirous to hear them from any lips but his. You were one of his most intimate friends, I believe, Mr. Ashton?"

"Yes; I think I may say his most intimate friend."

"And you knew he was on the 'verge of a catastrophe.' I have no doubt you acted the part of a friend, and sought to turn his steps from the fatal brink?"

"Well, as to that, he was fully competent to manage his own affairs without my interference. I did tell him he would come to grief, if he did not give up playing."

"And did you add to that advice that he should quit those a.s.sociates who had a.s.sisted to bring him to such a pa.s.s?"

"Certainly not; why should I meddle with him in his companionships? You speak, Mr. Brunton, as if I were your nephew's keeper. If George Weston liked to live beyond his means, he was at liberty to do it for me. I am sorry he made such a smash at last, but it is all that could be expected. If ever you see George again, sir, you will oblige me by conveying one message. I did not think when he came to me, two nights ago, to try and borrow a hundred pounds, that he intended to mix me up in any disgraceful business like that of this morning. Had I known it, instead of fretting myself about his welfare, he should have--"

"Made the discovery," interrupted Mr. Brunton, "that he never had a friend in you. My idea of a friend is one who seeks the well-being of another; speaks to him as a second conscience in temptation; loves with a strength of attachment which cannot be broken; and, though sorrowing over error, can still hope and pray for and seek to restore the erring.

Mr. Ashton, I do not wish to say more upon this matter; it is painful for me to think how my nephew has been led downward, step after step, by those whom he thought friends, and how sinfully he has yielded. When you think of him, recollect him as the boy you knew at school, and try to trace his course down to this day. You know his history, his companionships, his whole life. Think whether _you_ have influenced it, and how; and if your conscience should say, 'I have not been his friend,' may you be led by the remembrance to consider that no man liveth to himself: and that for those talents and attractions with which you are endowed, you will have hereafter to give account, together with the good or evil which has resulted from them."