The Girls of St. Olave's Part 13

BEARDING THE LION.

When Reggie entered the Bank just before nine o'clock on the following morning, his heart was going pit-a-pat, for he knew his chief well enough to be certain that it was impossible to count upon how he would look at yesterday's happenings. He might never think of the occurrence again, or he might refer to it with an easy laugh at Reggie's stricter principles, or he might be riding the high horse and resent the interference to an extent which Reggie knew would be long enduring, if it ever ceased at all.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "'I wish, if you aren't engaged, you would come home to supper with us.'"--_Page 118._]

So much depended on how Mrs. Gray had dealt with the matter, and on how long her husband had remained with his convivial friends, and on these two points Reggie had no knowledge. Yet much of the success which attended his efforts for Mr. Gray this morning, had their beginning in the fact that Mrs. Gray had received her husband late the night before, with no word of reproach, but had treated him with unusual gentleness and affection, and he had come down to his work this morning softened by love, and not hardened by bitter words or arguments. Reggie chided himself for thinking so much of the harm he might have done his own future, but with another morning's post in, and no birthday letter from Gertrude, he felt more sore and more uneasy. If his prospects at the Bank became gloomy, what would be his chances of securing Gertrude?

But when he went into Mr. Gray's private room, nothing was written so plainly on the Manager's face as headache and dejection; and a great wave of pity and desire, swept away from Reggie all thought of himself and of his own happiness.

What could he do to help this man who was slipping down into the bondage of strong drink?

What _had_ Mrs. Gray said and done, he wondered, as he listened to the dull, listless voice in which Mr. Gray bade him take the omnibus at once, and proceed to the house of a wealthy client who lived three miles out of the town, and who had been taken ill and wished to transact some business.

There was no opportunity now to think of anything but the matters to be arranged with the wealthy client, which were important and urgent, and the minutes before the omnibus started were few, so the moment Reggie was sure he understood his errand he took his hat, relocked his desk and stepped out from the Bank, well pleased to be leaving the town for a country outing, on such a lovely April morning.

But as he glanced down the long, sunny street, he saw something which suddenly arrested his footsteps.

Only a gentleman crossing the road and coming towards him, but a gentleman whose ident.i.ty was unmistakable even at this distance, by reason of a very peculiar lameness. A gentleman who was one of the largest shareholders, and had much influence in the Bank--a man who was so stern a teetotaller that he could forgive any sin sooner than intemperance.

In one instant Reggie was back in the Bank, Mr. Gray's hat was in his hand, and he was standing beside the astonished Manager. "Quick!" he said breathlessly. "You go down to Muirend House instead of me--here's your hat! Don't ask any questions, and when you get outside, turn to the left and don't look behind you on any account. Never mind the omnibus; it will do you good to walk! Quick--or you'll be too late."

"What?" demanded Mr. Gray, "are you going wrong in the head, Reggie?"

Reggie repeated his request, still breathlessly, and there was something so insistent in his manner, so beseeching in his eyes, and his three years of patient faithful work, so rose up to help his influence, that the Manager actually stood up, laid down his pen and took his hat.

"I suppose you know what you are playing at," said he, a little coldly. "What is it I am to do? Turn to the left and not look behind me!"

"Yes! that's it," said Reggie eagerly; "oh, be quick, or it will be too late."

"And I'm to walk, though it's three miles," said the Manager. "Well!

take care of the Bank; it appears to me that it has a new Manager!"

He pa.s.sed out through the swing doors, and a couple of minutes went by and he did not return, and Reggie began to breathe freely, till the fear struck him that after all, his efforts had been of no use if Mr.

Bowles, the lame gentleman, had just caught Mr. Gray on the pavement outside, but even as the thought darted into his mind, the doors swung open again, and the lame gentleman entered and looked round. "Mr.

Gray?" said he, interrogatively, as Reggie came forward.

"Mr. Gray has just gone down to Muirend to see Mr. Collins, who is very ill."

"It is very inconvenient of him," said Mr. Bowles irritably, "I wrote so that he should get the letter by the first post this morning."

Reggie glanced down at the pile of letters he had just brought from Mr. Gray's room to open.

"It will be here, I expect," he said politely, "can I take your instructions?"

Mr. Bowles grunted and scowled, but nevertheless he followed Reggie into the Manager's room and ran through what he had come to say, and watched Reggie's careful noting down of the points.

"So Lily Jarrold got married yesterday," he said abruptly, as Reggie finished. "I suppose champagne ran like rivers, and half you fellows got drunk, and the girls did not know what they were laughing at, eh?

Were _you_ there?"

"I was there," answered Reggie, a trifle stiffly, "it was a very pretty wedding, and she looked awfully happy."

"Humph!" said the old gentleman, "but wasn't it as I said, afterwards?"

"I did not stay late--and I am an abstainer," said Reggie, wishing his visitor would depart. He glanced at the pile of unopened letters he had brought back with him, and Mr. Bowles intercepted the glance.

"Well! well!" said he, "that's a good hearing, my boy, and I see you are wishing I'd be off and let you get at your work. Industry is of the utmost importance, my lad, and you'll rise to be Manager, one day! Tell Mr. Gray I need not see him till next week as he left such a capable second. Good morning."

That was over. Reggie saw him out, opened the letters, and went through the usual routine of his morning work, and welcomed back his fellow clerk who had been away for the Easter. The clock ticked peacefully on, till it was past noon, and then at last the swing doors opened once more to admit the Manager.

He pa.s.sed straight through to his room, closing the door behind him. A moment later he opened it again.

"Mr. Alston!" he said.

"Now for it," thought Reggie.

Mr. Gray was seated at his table and he motioned Reggie to the seat usually a.s.signed to clients, and there was a pause. Reggie felt all his courage oozing out at the toes of his boots. All that he had thought it possible he _might_ say to Mr. Gray on this question, all his arguments, all his reasons, his pleas, seemed to melt away into thin air, and he wondered however he had dared to interfere in another man's life, and that man his master, even to the degree of wishing to help him and praying for him, much more in openly offering him coffee, and sending him out of the sight of condemning eyes!

But with the remembrance of that four months of daily prayer for this man, came the remembrance of words spoken long ago to faint-hearted men. "The battle is not yours, but G.o.d's." That made all the difference.

Then Mr. Gray spoke, coldly, hardly.

"And now, Mr. Alston, what is the meaning of all this?"

Reggie leant forward eagerly.

"Mr. Gray, don't be angry, it was just Mr. Bowles coming along. I saw him as I got outside and--and--you know what he is, and--I thought--you could do the Muirend business--and--oh, I _wish_ you would give up this strong drink, it is going to ruin you, body and soul!"

It was out. The bitter truth had been put into words; the young clerk had told his Manager that he knew his sin and degradation. The words had been spoken, and never again could things be as they had been before they were spoken, and Reggie knew it, and he knew that the man who sat before him with his face shaded with his hand, was a proud, proud man.

The clock ticked on loudly and evenly. There seemed nothing more for Reggie to say, and Mr. Gray did not break the silence. He was filling in the details of Reggie's broken words and he knew Mr. Bowles well enough to do it very accurately. He had reason to believe that Mr.

Bowles had made a special visit on this special morning with intent.

He knew, ah, far more truly than Reggie did, that this temptation was ruining his worldly position. Reggie had saved his reputation for this time and he could not but thank him, and yet--and yet--how hard it was to humble himself to say so; and there stretched before his weary eyes those times, coming oftener and oftener, when his reputation would not be saved, and he would sink lower in men's estimation, and that would come to be openly said, which was already a whisper, that the Bank Manager _drank_.

His thoughts came back to Reggie with a start. Reggie had asked him to give up strong drink!

"Reggie!" he said hoa.r.s.ely, pa.s.sing by all else that had been said, "you don't know what you are asking!"

"Yes, I do!" said Reggie firmly, "and you'll want outside help."

"Ah!" said the manager sadly, "I have thought sometimes, that if we'd had a child, Elaine and I, it would have made it easier. I might have done it for the child's sake."

"Suppose that G.o.d did not dare to risk the child in your hands," said Reggie solemnly, "suppose, if He sent a child, then you had not the strength to give up the drink?"

And as the words fell from Reggie's lips there came a sound from the outer office that made both the men start.

"Father!" said a little treble voice which rang through the Bank.

"Father! father! let me do it."