Delphi Works of Ford Madox Ford (Illustrated) (42 page)

‘There I must needs find myself at issue with you, Mr Ryland,’ said Mr Ryves, raising his voice. ‘I consider it a most noble and praiseworthy action, for, apart from the fact that the payment of debts must be a
sine quâ non
to an honest man, when you come to consider the fact that the clients of Hollebone’s banking and insurance business are largely constituted of poor people who would starve if their little all were suddenly snatched from them—’

‘Oh, confound the poor,’ said Mr Ryland, smilingly, out of patience. ‘If every business man were to take the bread out of his own mouth to stuff it into the mouths of the poor the country would become a greater hell upon earth than it is at present.’

‘My dear sir,’ said Mr Kasker-Ryves, with a marvellous expression of horror on his face, ‘
how can
you, as an employer of labour, talk in this heartless way of the working man who put the bread into your and my mouth? No, say what you will, I consider it a magnificent action on young Hollebone’s part.’

(‘I really don’t know which is the greater scoundrel, in his way, the man who despises his fellow-men so shamefully or that old wretch who, whilst notoriously sweating hundreds of his employees to death, professes these noble sentiments, which, by-the-bye, poor little Edie is drinking in with might and main.’ This aside from Julia.)

A pause had fallen on the conversation at Mr Ryland’s end, and his wife, whose nerves had been unable to bear the strain of listening to the Hollebone controversy, and who had therefore plunged into a desperate conversation with the young man, said loudly to him, —

‘Well, you may say what you like about Miss Aubrey, but I like her. She’s amusing. She talks about the tricks of their dog — and then she
is
clever, you know.’

The young man said ‘Ye-es’ very dubiously.

Mrs Ryland went on.

‘I like a person, now, who talks a lot — like her, you know, so that I don’t have to think and talk myself.’

The young man said ‘Ye-es’ even more dubiously at this, and flushed a good deal. His father burst in suddenly, jovially.

‘Don’t you think you’re a little hard on my son, Mrs Ryland, considering that he hasn’t spoken more than two words during the dinner?’

Mrs Ryland looked slightly uncomfortable. ‘Still waters run deep,’ she said, with an uneasy laugh.

‘Ay, they do that,’ answered the old man. ‘And for all Jemmy’s so quiet he’s deuced sharp, and one of these days you’ll find yourself immortalised in a magazine story. Hey, Jemmy?’

His son blushed.

‘What, do you really write, Mr Kasker-Ryves?’ said Mrs Ryland. ‘How
very
nice.’ Mr Ryves, senior, broke in again.

‘Yes, Jemmy does write. He’s got quite a name. Did you never read one of his books? What was the last one called?
The — The
— oh, confound it, I shall forget my own name next’ — he sighed ponderously—’ my memory’s going horribly. But what can one expect when one is nearly eighty. I used to think when I was young that it would be a fine thing to command millions of money, but now I can do it it doesn’t seem so very much. I’d give it all to be twenty-five once more for a couple of years. One feels a little bad at times — all alone on the borders of Shadowland. I haven’t a friend left in the world. They all died years ago, and I’ve outlived my time. The doctor told me only the other day that I must not expect to live more than two years at the most.’

‘Oh, what nonsense!’ said Mrs Ryland hastily. ‘You’ve got
years
to live.’

‘What a consummate actor the man is!’ thought Julia to herself. ‘Only, I can’t see his object, unless ‘ — and an idea formed itself in her brain.

Mr Ryves sighed more deeply than ever.

‘God forbid that my life should be prolonged much. I look for death as a happy release. It is frightful to be all alone in the world as I am.’

Edith sighed to herself out of sympathy, thinking on her own hard case. An idea flashed through her mind — an idea something like Julia’s — but she suppressed it instantly. Just then the dinner came to an end, Mrs Ryland giving the signal for the ladies to rise. Once in the drawing-room Edith managed to sustain herself until her mother, feeling indescribably awkward, left the room. The reaction came then, and unable to keep up longer, she sat down on a sofa, and burying her face in the cushions, burst into a passion of tears.

Julia came softly to her, and putting her arms soothingly round her, drew her face gently towards her own, with a tenderness more than maternal, until Edith threw her arms round her neck and sobbed tumultuously. Her heart had been aching for a little sympathy, and neither father nor mother had it to give. After a time her crying ceased, and she drew herself away.

‘Oh dear, Ju,’ she said, half laughing through her tears, ‘I don’t know how I can be so stupid, but I do feel very wretched, and everyone is so hard.’

‘You poor little dear,’ Julia said, half pityingly, half jealously. ‘Why don’t you tell me of your troubles? I could have shared them with you — as it is I can guess it all — but I might have helped you a little, if it were only with advice. Then, of course, there was that business of his signing away his private fortune. Naturally he wrote to you before he did so, asking your permission, and giving you leave to break off the engagement if you liked, and just as naturally you write back a gushing letter saying that “honesty is the best policy,” in copy-book letters, and that you will never, never, never, never give him up, and then he goes and makes a formal sort of post-obit of
all
his trust-money, which just suffices to cover his debts, instead of reserving a few thousand pounds, which would only have taken a couple of shillings or so out of the pockets of each of his creditors. That all comes from your scandalous precipitation. What do you intend to do now? I, of course, understand that you will never give him up, and that you will marry him when you have attained your majority, and all that sort of thing, but how do you intend to live now you are both absolutely without a penny? For there can be no expectation of ever getting anything from your father if you marry without his consent. You see how fully I take everything in at a glance. Well, and what do you intend to do now, dear?’

Edith was quite taken aback at the penetration of Julia. It seemed as if her friend were coming out in a new light.

‘I don’t exactly know what I intend to do, but I mean to set to work at once and earn a lot of money — somehow — so that Clem will not be any poorer than he is now, don’t you see. Besides that, Clem is going to get the assistant professorship of chemistry from Professor Webb, when the present one leaves, and even if he doesn’t, he’s an M.D. besides, and he will set up as a doctor somewhere in the country. Oh, we shall get on somehow. Besides, I’m going to get a lot of money.’

‘How?’ asked Julia cynically.

Edith blushed.

‘I don’t exactly know
how
,’ she said. ‘I thought by my — by teaching, that is.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ said Julia. ‘You meant to become a sort of female Paganini — not to mention Neruda — all at once, I know, and even if you give lessons you won’t make money enough to keep yourself let alone him. Look at me now, I’ve been at it seven years, hard work all the time, and it was only last year that I became independent, and you haven’t got the patience to teach well. Take my word for it, there’s no money to be made by art in this country unless one’s a society portrait painter or a spooney ballad writer, I know. The only way
to
make money nowadays is to be a Jew or a butter merchant. That is looking at the matter broadly, and taking a Jew as a type of a banker and moneylender, and a butter merchant as any sort of a merchant who is oily enough and rascal enough to succeed, don’t you know, like old what’s-his-name in the next room!’

‘Now I won’t have you abuse Mr Ryves,’ said Edith. ‘He’s a dear old man. Look at how he stood up for Clem when no one else did.’

‘Yes, dear, he’s a splendid actor, and when a man’s made a large fortune by general swindling and roguery he gets dreadfully moral in his old age, especially when he’s got a great deal more money than he well knows what to do with.’

‘Well, but Ju,’ said Edith, pouting, ‘you’ve said a great deal to discourage me. Can’t you make a suggestion as to how I can make money?’

‘Why, of course I can, dear,’ Julia answered. ‘As a general rule the only way for a girl to get money now, just as it always was, that is if she wants lots of it, is to marry for money, or at least to “goa where money be’s.’”

Edith shook her head without deigning to answer.

‘I don’t mean to insult you by thinking that you would marry for money,’ Julia went on. ‘But you’ve got a good chance, if you work your cards well, of being adopted by old Mr Kasker-Ryves, and then he’s sure to die pretty soon, and he might leave you a few odd hundred thousand, don’t you see.’

Edith blushed, guiltily one might almost have thought.

‘You really are too mean, Ju,’ she said angrily, ‘to tease me so.’

But Julia took no notice of her indignation. ‘Of course one has a natural repugnance to marrying for money, and that sort of thing, but I can’t suggest any other way just at present. I am rather superstitious, you know, dear. Did you ever hear of the
“sortes Vergilianae
.”’

Edith nodded.

‘Well, I believe in them implicitly. I suppose there isn’t a Virgil in the room. A Bible, or even a Shakespeare would do as well. Yes, there’s a Shakespeare on the table. Well, just open it, and I’ll stick my finger on a line, and you can read it. It’s sure to be of material use in guiding you to a way of making money. That is, if you won’t accept the advice I have already given you. It’s too mean for you, I suppose.’

Edith fetched the Shakespeare, and when she had opened it Julia pointed at a line.

‘Now read it,’ she said, and Edith read:

And he, that stands upon a slippery place,

Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up.

‘It seems to me to be quite senseless.’

‘Does it?’ said Julia meaningly; but seeing the tears rolling into Edith’s eyes, she added quickly, ‘But Edie, dear, you mustn’t mind my teasing — something’s sure to turn up. Mr Hollebone is sure to succeed yet, he’s so clever. You really mustn’t mind what I said. I am a beast, but you always seemed so selfishly happy together, when I was so lonely, that I couldn’t help annoying you, and so when I saw you were down I wanted to crow over you like the cad I am. Forgive me, won’t you, dear?’

Edith was just saying, ‘Of course I will, Ju,’ when the noise of voices coming from the direction of the dining-room announced that the gentlemen were joining the ladies.

Julia gave a sigh.

‘Now we must turn into a sort of human “dead sea apples” once more, I suppose.’

But Edith said, —

‘Well, for my part, I almost want a little cheerful conversation to enliven me, I feel so dreadfully down in the dumps.’

‘“Alarums, excursions, enter the king,” as Shakespeare says,’ added Julia.

CHAPTER III
.

Der arme, alte Koenig Er nahm ein junge Frau.

MR KASKER-RYVES called on Mr Ryland at his office on the morrow, and mentioned in the course of business conversation that he was not feeling well enough to return to London at once, as he had intended, but that he must stop for some time longer and rest in Manchester.

Mr Ryland was distracted at hearing that his distinguished customer was not in the best of health, though rejoicing to hear that he was to have the pleasure of Mr Ryves’s proximity for some time more.

Mr Ryland saw here an opening for securing the whole custom of Mr Ryves, and meant to do his best to gain it by cordiality of sentiments. His wife was even more far-sighted, and persuaded her husband to invite the old man to reside with them whilst he should be in Manchester, for by this means he would be more under their influence. She added, as an after-thought, that they might as well extend their invitation to the son also. Mrs Ryland had an eye to the future in more ways than one, and did not see that a chance, however remote, of allying oneself to the inheritance of a couple of millions was a thing to be sneezed at by any means, but she never, no she
never
did mean, as she said afterwards, that that Tubbs girl should throw herself at the head of the young man and drag him away as she did do.

It was a fact, too, for which Edith could in no wise account, that Julia
did
lay herself out to please the young man in a most barefaced manner; but somehow or other, by a skilful turn at the end of every passage with him, she contrived to make him look terribly ridiculous, though, strange to say, each such rebuff only rendered him more pertinacious. Edith even could not refrain from twitting her friend on the subject of the ‘
vile hold
,’ but Julia only smiled placidly and said, ‘Yes, dear, I’m forestalling you, don’t you know,’ which seemed very unlikely to Edith.

At any rate the matter excited general attention, and it must be confessed pretty general surprise, when the young man, who had found that important business necessitated his return to London on the same day that Julia went, was found to be tearing his hair and swearing violently at her declining to see him any more after they had reached the metropolis.

But Julia only laughed when a letter came from Edith to her reproving her for her conduct.

‘Did you ever,’ she answered in her next, ‘hear of a useful but unostentatious official in the Spanish bull-fights whose business is to decoy superfluous beasts out of the arena by waving a red rag in front of them and nimbly eluding their onset?’

As a matter of fact there is no official answering exactly to that description, but Edith understood the metaphor and was grateful.

She had bitterly lamented her friend’s departure, but Miss Tubbs was not able to afford risking the loss of any of her lessons by a longer stay in Manchester, and Edith’s parents refused to let her go back to London before she had fulfilled certain social engagements which had been booked for some months in advance, for Mrs Ryland still felt very sore over Julia’s abduction of young Ryves.

As to the old man, Fate, who always has a finger in every pie, provided that numerous small chronic ailments would attack him just before a premeditated departure to London, so that he stayed on and stayed on — Mrs Ryland had no objection to this course, as she thought it possible that the father’s remaining at the house might bring the errant prodigal back — besides which, Mr Ryves was simple in his mode of living, for his health’s sake, and therefore was not a very important item in the house expenses, besides which, an idea struck her, which even she, despite her ruling passion, was hardly wicked
 
enough to entertain for more than a moment as it were with bated thought-breath.

To do Mr Ryland justice, if the idea had ever come near him, he would have had not the slightest compunction about giving Mr Ryves ‘notice to quit,’ with as much politeness as was compatible with forcibleness. For he was, at least, an upright man, after his lights, and would have abhorred sacrificing his flesh and blood even for two millions odd. But unfortunately he had not sufficient penetration to foresee anything so improbable.

Did you ever happen to see a very old man fall in love with a very beautiful young girl? It is a decidedly ludicrous sight, if one can for a moment lay aside the horror which the incongruity of it inspires. As a general rule, the symptoms are exactly those of calf-love in a very unlicked cub or hobbledehoy. The older and more senile the old man, even as the younger and more unlicked the cub, the more violent are his transports. As a general rule a girl with a well-regulated mind can get rid of both cub and old man with equal ease, though an old man is more dangerous if he has a pretty large supply of filthy lucre. By-the-bye, did you ever hear the one pun of the Corsican parvenu, or conqueror? To the best of my knowledge it is the only one he ever made, but in my opinion, as a play on words, it was his Marengo, Austerlitz, and Jena rolled into one, because it was his only one. To give it as shortly as possible, he remarked of a young and beautiful lady of his court, who was engaged to an old and monstrously hideous nobleman, who had, however, unlimited
cadeaux
at his command:
‘Le présent fait oüblier le futur,’
which is very remarkable as a piece of royal and double
double-entendre,
but unfortunately it will not bear being Englished.

Now if you will substitute for ‘
le futur’
of the above - mentioned pun a remarkably noble-looking, white-haired old gentleman, with a smile of overpowering sweetness, who is in possession of unlimited riches, and is in need of a companion to soothe the last days of his declining path in life, and for the court lady a penniless young girl, who is passionately in love with a penniless young man, and feels a genuine compassion for the lonely state of the old man. She argues in this way, —

‘While the old man lives, I will never see my lover, nor even think of him, but I will comfort and cheer the old man in his loneliness, and will smooth the way to the grave for him. In this way I shall tide over the time during which I should not in any case be able to marry my true love — and then, perhaps, for my faithful handmaidenship the old man will leave me a little money on which I may live with my love, after I have served well for it.’

Make allowances that the girl is very young, very wretched, headstrong, and inexperienced, deprived of counsel from all those from whom it should come. She lies awake and thinks all night, and broods all day over the possibilities and rights and wrongs of the case, until by long thought and internal arguments, without counter-arguments, the wrongs are all obliterated, and the case stands out as a glowing piece of virtue and self-sacrifice.

Argue about it as one will, however, it remains a marriage ‘
de convenance
,’ and such marriages are monstrosities, doubtless, but still it seems to me that from the point of view at which she looked at it the girl was committing a crime capable of palliation.

It is needless to say that the persons hinted at in this prolix ‘Apologia’ are Edith and Mr Kasker-Ryves the elder. If you are sentimental you will shudder and feel righteously horror-struck at the turn of affairs, if practical you will say, ‘H’m, a very proper arrangement under the circumstances.’

It came thus about that one morning Mr and Mrs Ryland were wonder-struck by Mr Ryves formally proposing for the hand of their daughter, and saying that that young lady for her part was willing to accept the offer of his heart and hand.

Three months had by that time elapsed since the day on which Hollebone had announced the failure of his firm. From that time Edith had received few letters from him, and they had all been to the same purpose, namely, that the affairs of the firm took longer to wind up than had seemed possible, on account of the peculations of their New York manager, which had taken place two years before; but in any case there could be no doubt that utter commercial ruin, if not starvation, was staring him in the face, that his love for Edith was unchanged, but that he gave her her freedom, as far as he had control over her, from her promises — and so forth. To which letters it is unnecessary to give her answers. Thus three months had passed.

But to return to her parents. Their surprise was even the greater at Mr Ryves’s announcement, inasmuch as Edith had steadfastly refused, in spite of her father’s commands and her mother’s entreaties to write to Hollebone and give him his
congé.
Therefore they almost thought that Mr Ryves must have been momentarily bereft of his senses when he asked their sanction, and they demanded time to consider the matter. This seemed to Mr Ryves to be most irrational, for he regarded his millions at their true worth as arguments. But Mr and Mrs Ryland were inexorable; at least the husband supplied the inexorability, and Mrs Ryland maintained a discreet and unmoved silence, in spite of the fretting and fuming of Mr Ryves. To do Mr Ryland justice, he regarded the proceeding with the utmost repugnance, and even went so far as to argue with his daughter seriously on the subject, to the horror of his wife, who thought that Edith had come out far in advance of herself as a matrimonial strategist, but she did not feel jealous of that.

Edith, however, was steadfast in her resolve, much to the joy of her mother, and, it must be confessed, to the satisfaction of her father, who was only too glad to see his daughter so well settled in life.

Therefore he made no objections to the marriage taking place as soon as possible, by special licence, though Mrs Ryland would have been glad to have had a largely attended ceremony. She consoled herself, however, with the reflection that the sooner the marriage was clenched the better, for ‘there’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip,’ as she had experienced already in the case of Hollebone, besides which, Mr Ryves was a remarkably fragile specimen of a cup, and might break with even so little a shock as a contradiction to his wishes. Therefore she persuaded her husband to allow the marriage to be got over without any ceremony whatever. Mr Ryland therefore gave in before the pressure brought to bear upon him. The jointure he gave Edith was £10,000, and Mr Ryves settled £80,000 on her, with which Mrs Ryland had need to be satisfied, though she would have liked to stick out for a quarter of a million. But the old man had a violent love for his son, and he made no secret of the fact that he refused to deprive him of a larger share of the fortune he had managed to amass, and for which he had striven with might and main, in order to enrich his son. Therefore Mrs Ryland must needs be content.

Edith insisted on sending to London for Julia to act as her bridesmaid. It was the only thing she did insist on, and although Mrs Ryland had conceived a violent dislike to that young lady, she found herself in her turn outweighed. Therefore Julia was sent for, and came in hot haste two days before the marriage took place. Almost coincident with her arrival came a letter from Hollebone to say that the affairs of Hollebone & Company were on the point of being definitely settled in a few days, but in the meantime, having no hope of anything to come from that source, he had taken the opportunity of looking about for a practice where he could settle down as a doctor until Professor Webb could see his way to giving him his prospective post, or until something definite turned up. The letter was pitched in a more hopeful key than any of its predecessors, though he could not disguise from himself the fact that his prospects were still desperate.

Julia had only just come, and had not even had time to take off her outer wraps, when the letter arrived, and was handed to Edith, who was with her in her room.

Edith tore the envelope eagerly open, letting the envelope fall to the ground as she read the letter, and thus Julia was enabled to see the handwriting of the address, and, judging from the flushings that pursued one another across the reader’s face, she took in at a glance the real facts of the case, and was confirmed in her belief as to Edith’s motives for the marriage.

Edith read and re-read the letter before looking up, but when she did catch a glimpse of Julia’s face — for she was half afraid to meet her eyes — there was a curious stolidity and want of expression about it, as its owner busied herself in unpacking her bags. Edith was puzzled at this, for look as she would she could not find in any corner or dimple a suspicion of the tantalising cynicism which she had prepared herself to meet. Julia maintained a steadfast silence, and went on with her occupation, until Edith could bear it no longer.

‘Oh, Ju, dear,’ she said, with the tears almost welling over in her eyes, ‘don’t be so hard on me. You know for whose sake it is that I am — earning the money!’

Julia’s heart was softened.

‘Yes, dear, I know,’ she said, ‘and you are making a great sacrifice for him; but how will he like it do you think?’