Once Aboard the Lugger Part 10

"I want to know what help I may expect when I qualify."

"I cannot tell you." Mr. Marrapit threw martyrdom into his tone. "I am so little," he said, "in your confidence. Your expectations when qualified may be enormous. I am not favoured with them." He sighed.

George said: "I mean what help I may expect from you."

The piece of toast rising to Mr. Marrapit's mouth slowly returned towards his plate: "Reiterate that. From _me_?"

"From you," said George.

The toast dropped from trembling fingers. "_I_?" Mr. Marrapit dragged the word to tremendous length. "I? Is it conceivable that you expect money from me?"

"I only ask."

"I only shudder. Might I inquire the amount?"

"The Dean told me of a practice I could have for 400 pounds."

"Tea!" exclaimed Mr. Marrapit on a gasp. "I must steady myself! Tea!"

He paused; gulped a cup; with alarmed eyes stared at George.

The affair was going no better than George had expected. He remembered the face that was dear to him; nerved himself to continue. "I would pay it back," he said. "Will you lend me the 400 pounds?"

"I must have air!" Mr. Marrapit staggered to the window. "I reel before this sudden a.s.sault. For nine years at ruinous cost I have supported you. Must I sell my house? Am I never to be free? Must I totter always through life with you upon my bowed back? I am Sinbad."

"There's no need to exaggerate or make a scene."

"Did I impel the scene?"

"I only asked you a question," George reminded.

"You have aroused a spectre," Mr. Marrapit answered.

"Well, I may understand that I need expect nothing?"

"I dare not answer you. I am shaken. I tremble."

George rose. Though what hope he had possessed was driven by his uncle's att.i.tude, he was as yet only upon the threshold of his love.

Hence the refusal of what he suddenly desired for that love's sake was not so bitter an affair as afterwards it came to be. "This is ridiculous," he said; moved to the door.

"To me a tragedy," Mr. Marrapit declaimed from the window, "old as mankind; not therefore less bitter--the tragedy of ingrat.i.tude. At stupendous cost I have supported, educated, clothed you. You turn upon me for more. How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child! I am Lear."

George tried a thrust: "I always understood my mother left you ample for me."

"Adjust that impression. She left me less than a sufficiency--nothing approaching amplitude. To the best of my ability I have fulfilled my task. It has been hard. I do not complain. I do not ask you for repayment of any excess that may have been incurred. But I am embittered by yet further demands. I have been too liberal. Had I meted out strict justice as I have striven to mete out kindness, my grey hairs would not be speeding in poverty to the grave. I am Wolsey."

Upon Wolsey George slammed the door; started for the station.

IV.

Palace Gardens, St. John's Wood, was his aim. There could be no work, nor even thought of work, until again he had met his lady. Yet how to meet her cost him another of the wrestles with conjecture that had been his lot since the cab carried her away.

At first it was easy work. He would call, he decided, with polite inquiries; and as he pictured the scene his spirits rose. The thunder- figure that had poked a bow at him from the cab would come dragonish into the drawing-room where he waited. Her he would charm with the suavity of his manners; she would doff the dragon's skin; would say (he had read the scene in novels), "You would like to see Miss So-and- so?"

The girl would come in ....

With her appearance in his thoughts George's mind swung from coherent reasoning into a delectable phantasy ....

A sudden thought swept the filmy clouds-landed him with a b.u.mp upon hard rock. He was not supposed to know their address. How, to the dragon, could he explain the venal trick by which he had acquired it?

Now he beheld a new picture. Himself in the drawing-room; to him the dragon; her first words, "How did you know where we lived?"; his miserable answer.

This was very unpleasant. As a red omnibus took him on towards St.

John's Wood he decided that the meeting must be otherwise effected.

The girl must sometimes go out. She had called herself a mother's- help; it suggested children; and, if children, doubtless her task to take them walking. Well, he would take up a post near to the house, and wait--just wait.

And then there came a final thought that struck him cold and staring.

What if she did not live at the house?--was merely about to visit there when the accident befell the cab?

It was a sorely agitated young man that stepped off the 'bus and struck up Palace Gardens.

BOOK II.

Of his Mary.

CHAPTER I.

Excursions In The Memory Of A Heroine.

I.

AS that cab swung round the corner bearing away the nameless haunter of George's dreams, she to the red wrath beside her turned, and, "Oh, Mrs. Chater," she said, "I hope you are not hurt!"

By a mercy Mrs. Chater was not hurt. By a special intervention of Providence she had escaped a fearful death. Whether she would ever recover from the shock was another matter. Whether the shock would prove to be that sudden strain on her heart which she had been warned would end fatally, might at any moment be proved. Much anybody, except her darling children, would care if she were brought home dead in this very cab. Never had she known a heart to act as hers was acting now-- thumping as if it would burst, first quickly then slowly. Perhaps Miss Humfray would feel it, and give her opinion.

Where the girl now laid her small hand five infant Chaters had been nourished; the ma.s.sive bosom was advertis.e.m.e.nt that they had done well. Beneath the mingled gusts of hysteria and of wrath it violently contracted and dilated; but the heart, terrificly though Mrs. Chater said it throbbed, lay too deep to be discerned.

The agitated woman panted, "Can it go on like that?"

"I'm afraid I hardly--" Miss Humfray shifted her hand.