The Way We Live Now Part 51

"Oh yes, I see that."

"We are obliged to have this kind of thing for men like that fellow Montague. By-the-bye, is he a friend of yours?"

"Not particularly. He is a friend of a cousin of mine; and the women know him at home. He isn't a pal of mine if you mean that."

"If he makes himself disagreeable, he'll have to go to the wall;--that's all. But never mind him at present. Was your mother speaking to you of what I said to her?"

"No, Mr. Melmotte," said Sir Felix, staring with all his eyes.

"I was talking to her about you, and I thought that perhaps she might have told you. This is all nonsense, you know, about you and Marie."

Sir Felix looked into the man's face. It was not savage, as he had seen it. But there had suddenly come upon his brow that heavy look of a determined purpose which all who knew the man were wont to mark.

Sir Felix had observed it a few minutes since in the Board-room, when the chairman was putting down the rebellious director. "You understand that; don't you?" Sir Felix still looked at him, but made no reply. "It's all d---- nonsense. You haven't got a bra.s.s farthing, you know. You've no income at all; you're just living on your mother, and I'm afraid she's not very well off. How can you suppose that I shall give my girl to you?" Felix still looked at him but did not dare to contradict a single statement made. Yet when the man told him that he had not a bra.s.s farthing he thought of his own thousand pounds which were now in the man's pocket. "You're a baronet, and that's about all, you know," continued Melmotte. "The Carbury property, which is a very small thing, belongs to a distant cousin who may leave it to me if he pleases;--and who isn't very much older than you are yourself."

"Oh, come, Mr. Melmotte; he's a great deal older than me."

"It wouldn't matter if he were as old as Adam. The thing is out of the question, and you must drop it." Then the look on his brow became a little heavier. "You hear what I say. She is going to marry Lord Nidderdale. She was engaged to him before you ever saw her. What do you expect to get by it?"

Sir Felix had not the courage to say that he expected to get the girl he loved. But as the man waited for an answer he was obliged to say something. "I suppose it's the old story," he said.

"Just so;--the old story. You want my money, and she wants you, just because she has been told to take somebody else. You want something to live on;--that's what you want. Come;--out with it. Is not that it? When we understand each other I'll put you in the way of making money."

"Of course I'm not very well off," said Felix.

"About as badly as any young man that I can hear of. You give me your written promise that you'll drop this affair with Marie, and you shan't want for money."

"A written promise!"

"Yes;--a written promise. I give nothing for nothing. I'll put you in the way of doing so well with these shares that you shall be able to marry any other girl you please;--or to live without marrying, which you'll find to be better."

There was something worthy of consideration in Mr. Melmotte's proposition. Marriage of itself, simply as a domestic inst.i.tution, had not specially recommended itself to Sir Felix Carbury. A few horses at Leighton, Ruby Ruggles or any other beauty, and life at the Beargarden were much more to his taste. And then he was quite alive to the fact that it was possible that he might find himself possessed of the wife without the money. Marie, indeed, had a grand plan of her own, with reference to that settled income; but then Marie might be mistaken,--or she might be lying. If he were sure of making money in the way Melmotte now suggested, the loss of Marie would not break his heart. But then also Melmotte might be--lying. "By-the-bye, Mr.

Melmotte," said he, "could you let me have those shares?"

"What shares?" And the heavy brow became still heavier.

"Don't you know?--I gave you a thousand pounds, and I was to have ten shares."

"You must come about that on the proper day, to the proper place."

"When is the proper day?"

"It is the twentieth of each month, I think." Sir Felix looked very blank at hearing this, knowing that this present was the twenty-first of the month. "But what does that signify? Do you want a little money?"

"Well, I do," said Sir Felix. "A lot of fellows owe me money, but it's so hard to get it."

"That tells a story of gambling," said Mr. Melmotte. "You think I'd give my girl to a gambler?"

"Nidderdale's in it quite as thick as I am."

"Nidderdale has a settled property which neither he nor his father can destroy. But don't you be such a fool as to argue with me. You won't get anything by it. If you'll write that letter here now--"

"What;--to Marie?"

"No;--not to Marie at all; but to me. It need never be known to her.

If you'll do that I'll stick to you and make a man of you. And if you want a couple of hundred pounds I'll give you a cheque for it before you leave the room. Mind, I can tell you this. On my word of honour as a gentleman, if my daughter were to marry you, she'd never have a single shilling. I should immediately make a will and leave all my property to St. George's Hospital. I have quite made up my mind about that."

"And couldn't you manage that I should have the shares before the twentieth of next month?"

"I'll see about it. Perhaps I could let you have a few of my own. At any rate I won't see you short of money."

The terms were enticing and the letter was of course written.

Melmotte himself dictated the words, which were not romantic in their nature. The reader shall see the letter.

DEAR SIR,

In consideration of the offers made by you to me, and on a clear understanding that such a marriage would be disagreeable to you and to the lady's mother, and would bring down a father's curse upon your daughter, I hereby declare and promise that I will not renew my suit to the young lady, which I hereby altogether renounce.

I am, Dear Sir, Your obedient servant,

FELIX CARBURY.

AUGUSTUS MELMOTTE, Esq., --, Grosvenor Square.

The letter was dated 21st July, and bore the printed address of the offices of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway.

"You'll give me that cheque for 200, Mr. Melmotte?" The financier hesitated for a moment, but did give the baronet the cheque as promised. "And you'll see about letting me have those shares?"

"You can come to me in Abchurch Lane, you know." Sir Felix said that he would call in Abchurch Lane.

As he went westward towards the Beargarden, the baronet was not happy in his mind. Ignorant as he was as to the duties of a gentleman, indifferent as he was to the feelings of others, still he felt ashamed of himself. He was treating the girl very badly. Even he knew that he was behaving badly. He was so conscious of it that he tried to console himself by reflecting that his writing such a letter as that would not prevent his running away with the girl, should he, on consideration, find it to be worth his while to do so.

That night he was again playing at the Beargarden, and he lost a great part of Mr. Melmotte's money. He did in fact lose much more than the 200; but when he found his ready money going from him he issued paper.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII.

PAUL MONTAGUE'S TROUBLES.

Paul Montague had other troubles on his mind beyond this trouble of the Mexican Railway. It was now more than a fortnight since he had taken Mrs. Hurtle to the play, and she was still living in lodgings at Islington. He had seen her twice, once on the following day, when he was allowed to come and go without any special reference to their engagement, and again, three or four days afterwards, when the meeting was by no means so pleasant. She had wept, and after weeping had stormed. She had stood upon what she called her rights, and had dared him to be false to her. Did he mean to deny that he had promised to marry her? Was not his conduct to her, ever since she had now been in London, a repet.i.tion of that promise? And then again she became soft, and pleaded with him. But for the storm he might have given way. At the moment he had felt that any fate in life would be better than a marriage on compulsion. Her tears and her pleadings, nevertheless, touched him very nearly. He had promised her most distinctly. He had loved her and had won her love. And she was lovely. The very violence of the storm made the sunshine more sweet.

She would sit down on a stool at his feet, and it was impossible to drive her away from him. She would look up in his face and he could not but embrace her. Then there had come a pa.s.sionate flood of tears and she was in his arms. How he had escaped he hardly knew, but he did know that he had promised to be with her again before two days should have pa.s.sed.

On the day named he wrote to her a letter excusing himself, which was at any rate true in words. He had been summoned, he said, to Liverpool on business, and must postpone seeing her till his return.

And he explained that the business on which he was called was connected with the great American railway, and, being important, demanded his attention. In words this was true. He had been corresponding with a gentleman at Liverpool with whom he had become acquainted on his return home after having involuntarily become a partner in the house of Fisker, Montague, and Montague. This man he trusted and had consulted, and the gentleman, Mr. Ramsbottom by name, had suggested that he should come to him at Liverpool. He had gone, and his conduct at the Board had been the result of the advice which he had received; but it may be doubted whether some dread of the coming interview with Mrs. Hurtle had not added strength to Mr.

Ramsbottom's invitation.