New Grub Street (3 page)

She smiled confidentially.

'The poor girl must feel it,' said Mrs Milvain.

'I'm afraid she does. Of course it narrows the circle of her
friends at home. She's a sweet girl, and I should so like you to
meet her. Do come and have tea with us to-morrow afternoon, will
you? Or would it be too much for you just now?'

'Will you let the girls call? And then perhaps Miss Yule will be
so good as to come and see me?'

'I wonder whether Mr Milvain would like to meet her father? I
have thought that perhaps it might be some advantage to him. Alfred
is so closely connected with literary people, you know.'

'I feel sure he would be glad,' replied Mrs Milvain. 'But—what
of Jasper's friendship with Mrs Edmund Yule and the Reardons?
Mightn't it be a little awkward?'

'Oh, I don't think so, unless he himself felt it so. There would
be no need to mention that, I should say. And, really, it would be
so much better if those estrangements came to an end. John makes no
scruple of speaking freely about everyone, and I don't think Alfred
regards Mrs Edmund with any serious unkindness. If Mr Milvain would
walk over with the young ladies to-morrow, it would be very
pleasant.'

'Then I think I may promise that he will. I'm sure I don't know
where he is at this moment. We don't see very much of him, except
at meals.'

'He won't be with you much longer, I suppose?'

'Perhaps a week.'

Before Miss Harrow's departure Maud and Dora reached home. They
were curious to see the young lady from the valley of the shadow of
books, and gladly accepted the invitation offered them.

They set out on the following afternoon in their brother's
company. It was only a quarter of an hour's walk to Mr Yule's
habitation, a small house in a large garden. Jasper was coming
hither for the first time; his sisters now and then visited Miss
Harrow, but very rarely saw Mr Yule himself who made no secret of
the fact that he cared little for female society. In Wattleborough
and the neighbourhood opinions varied greatly as to this
gentleman's character, but women seldom spoke very favourably of
him. Miss Harrow was reticent concerning her brother-in-law; no
one, however, had any reason to believe that she found life under
his roof disagreeable. That she lived with him at all was of course
occasionally matter for comment, certain Wattleborough ladies
having their doubts regarding the position of a deceased wife's
sister under such circumstances; but no one was seriously exercised
about the relations between this sober lady of forty-five and a man
of sixty-three in broken health.

A word of the family history.

John, Alfred, and Edmund Yule were the sons of a Wattleborough
stationer. Each was well educated, up to the age of seventeen, at
the town's grammar school. The eldest, who was a hot-headed lad,
but showed capacities for business, worked at first with his
father, endeavouring to add a bookselling department to the trade
in stationery; but the life of home was not much to his taste, and
at one-and-twenty he obtained a clerk's place in the office of a
London newspaper. Three years after, his father died, and the small
patrimony which fell to him he used in making himself practically
acquainted with the details of paper manufacture, his aim being to
establish himself in partnership with an acquaintance who had
started a small paper-mill in Hertfordshire.

His speculation succeeded, and as years went on he became a
thriving manufacturer. His brother Alfred, in the meantime, had
drifted from work at a London bookseller's into the modern Grub
Street, his adventures in which region will concern us
hereafter.

Edmund carried on the Wattleborough business, but with small
success. Between him and his eldest brother existed a good deal of
affection, and in the end John offered him a share in his
flourishing paper works; whereupon Edmund married, deeming himself
well established for life. But John's temper was a difficult one;
Edmund and he quarrelled, parted; and when the younger died, aged
about forty, he left but moderate provision for his widow and two
children.

Only when he had reached middle age did John marry; the
experiment could not be called successful, and Mrs Yule died three
years later, childless.

At fifty-four John Yule retired from active business; he came
back to the scenes of his early life, and began to take an
important part in the municipal affairs of Wattleborough. He was
then a remarkably robust man, fond of out-of-door exercise; he made
it one of his chief efforts to encourage the local Volunteer
movement, the cricket and football clubs, public sports of every
kind, showing no sympathy whatever with those persons who wished to
establish free libraries, lectures, and the like. At his own
expense he built for the Volunteers a handsome drill-shed; he
founded a public gymnasium; and finally he allowed it to be
rumoured that he was going to present the town with a park. But by
presuming too far upon the bodily vigour which prompted these
activities, he passed of a sudden into the state of a confirmed
invalid. On an autumn expedition in the Hebrides he slept one night
under the open sky, with the result that he had an all but fatal
attack of rheumatic fever. After that, though the direction of his
interests was unchanged, he could no longer set the example to
Wattleborough youth of muscular manliness. The infliction did not
improve his temper; for the next year or two he was constantly at
warfare with one or other of his colleagues and friends, ill
brooking that the familiar control of various local interests
should fall out of his hands. But before long he appeared to resign
himself to his fate, and at present Wattleborough saw little of
him. It seemed likely that he might still found the park which was
to bear his name; but perhaps it would only be done in consequence
of directions in his will. It was believed that he could not live
much longer.

With his kinsfolk he held very little communication. Alfred
Yule, a battered man of letters, had visited Wattleborough only
twice (including the present occasion) since John's return hither.
Mrs Edmund Yule, with her daughter—now Mrs Reardon—had been only
once, three years ago. These two families, as you have heard, were
not on terms of amity with each other, owing to difficulties
between Mrs Alfred and Mrs Edmund; but John seemed to regard both
impartially. Perhaps the only real warmth of feeling he had ever
known was bestowed upon Edmund, and Miss Harrow had remarked that
he spoke with somewhat more interest of Edmund's daughter, Amy,
than of Alfred's daughter, Marian. But it was doubtful whether the
sudden disappearance from the earth of all his relatives would
greatly have troubled him. He lived a life of curious
self-absorption, reading newspapers (little else), and talking with
old friends who had stuck to him in spite of his irascibility.

Miss Harrow received her visitors in a small and soberly
furnished drawing-room. She was nervous, probably because of Jasper
Milvain, whom she had met but once—last spring—and who on that
occasion had struck her as an alarmingly modern young man. In the
shadow of a window-curtain sat a slight, simply-dressed girl, whose
short curly hair and thoughtful countenance Jasper again
recognised. When it was his turn to be presented to Miss Yule, he
saw that she doubted for an instant whether or not to give her
hand; yet she decided to do so, and there was something very
pleasant to him in its warm softness. She smiled with a slight
embarrassment, meeting his look only for a second.

'I have seen you several times, Miss Yule,' he said in a
friendly way, 'though without knowing your name. It was under the
great dome.'

She laughed, readily understanding his phrase.

'I am there very often,' was her reply.

'What great dome?' asked Miss Harrow, with surprise.

'That of the British Museum Reading-room,' explained Jasper;
'known to some of us as the valley of the shadow of books. People
who often work there necessarily get to know each other by
sight.

In the same way I knew Miss Yule's father when I happened to
pass him in the road yesterday.'

The three girls began to converse together, perforce of
trivialities. Marian Yule spoke in rather slow tones, thoughtfully,
gently; she had linked her fingers, and laid her hands, palms
downwards, upon her lap—a nervous action. Her accent was pure,
unpretentious; and she used none of the fashionable turns of speech
which would have suggested the habit of intercourse with distinctly
metropolitan society.

'You must wonder how we exist in this out-of-the-way place,'
remarked Maud.

'Rather, I envy you,' Marian answered, with a slight
emphasis.

The door opened, and Alfred Yule presented himself. He was tall,
and his head seemed a disproportionate culmination to his meagre
body, it was so large and massively featured. Intellect and
uncertainty of temper were equally marked upon his visage; his
brows were knitted in a permanent expression of severity. He had
thin, smooth hair, grizzled whiskers, a shaven chin. In the
multitudinous wrinkles of his face lay a history of laborious and
stormy life; one readily divined in him a struggling and embittered
man. Though he looked older than his years, he had by no means the
appearance of being beyond the ripeness of his mental vigour.

'It pleases me to meet you, Mr Milvain,' he said, as he
stretched out his bony hand. 'Your name reminds me of a paper in
The Wayside a month or two ago, which you will perhaps allow a
veteran to say was not ill done.'

'I am grateful to you for noticing it,' replied Jasper.

There was positively a touch of visible warmth upon his cheek.
The allusion had come so unexpectedly that it caused him keen
pleasure.

Mr Yule seated himself awkwardly, crossed his legs, and began to
stroke the back of his left hand, which lay on his knee. He seemed
to have nothing more to say at present, and allowed Miss Harrow and
the girls to support conversation. Jasper listened with a smile for
a minute or two, then he addressed the veteran.'Have you seen The
Study this week, Mr Yule?'

'Yes.'

'Did you notice that it contains a very favourable review of a
novel which was tremendously abused in the same columns three weeks
ago?'

Mr Yule started, but Jasper could perceive at once that his
emotion was not disagreeable.

'You don't say so.'

'Yes. The novel is Miss Hawk's "On the Boards." How will the
editor get out of this?'

'H'm! Of course Mr Fadge is not immediately responsible; but
it'll be unpleasant for him, decidedly unpleasant.' He smiled
grimly. 'You hear this, Marian?'

'How is it explained, father?'

'May be accident, of course; but—well, there's no knowing. I
think it very likely this will be the end of Mr Fadge's tenure of
office. Rackett, the proprietor, only wants a plausible excuse for
making a change. The paper has been going downhill for the last
year; I know of two publishing houses who have withdrawn their
advertising from it, and who never send their books for review.
Everyone foresaw that kind of thing from the day Mr Fadge became
editor. The tone of his paragraphs has been detestable. Two reviews
of the same novel, eh? And diametrically opposed? Ha! Ha!'

Gradually he had passed from quiet appreciation of the joke to
undisguised mirth and pleasure. His utterance of the name 'Mr
Fadge' sufficiently intimated that he had some cause of personal
discontent with the editor of The Study.

'The author,' remarked Milvain, 'ought to make a good thing out
of this.'

'Will, no doubt. Ought to write at once to the papers, calling
attention to this sample of critical impartiality. Ha! ha!'

He rose and went to the window, where for several minutes he
stood gazing at vacancy, the same grim smile still on his face.
Jasper in the meantime amused the ladies (his sisters had heard him
on the subject already) with a description of the two antagonistic
notices. But he did not trust himself to express so freely as he
had done at home his opinion of reviewing in general; it was more
than probable that both Yule and his daughter did a good deal of
such work.

'Suppose we go into the garden,' suggested Miss Harrow,
presently. 'It seems a shame to sit indoors on such a lovely
afternoon.'

Hitherto there had been no mention of the master of the house.
But Mr Yule now remarked to Jasper:

'My brother would be glad if you would come and have a word with
him. He isn't quite well enough to leave his room to-day.'

So, as the ladies went gardenwards, Jasper followed the man of
letters upstairs to a room on the first floor. Here, in a deep cane
chair, which was placed by the open window, sat John Yule. He was
completely dressed, save that instead of coat he wore a
dressing-gown. The facial likeness between him and his brother was
very strong, but John's would universally have been judged the
finer countenance; illness notwithstanding, he had a complexion
which contrasted in its pure colour with Alfred's parchmenty skin,
and there was more finish about his features. His abundant hair was
reddish, his long moustache and trimmed beard a lighter shade of
the same hue.

'So you too are in league with the doctors,' was his bluff
greeting, as he held a hand to the young man and inspected him with
a look of slighting good-nature.

'Well, that certainly is one way of regarding the literary
profession,' admitted Jasper, who had heard enough of John's way of
thinking to understand the remark.

'A young fellow with all the world before him, too. Hang it, Mr
Milvain, is there no less pernicious work you can turn your hand
to?'

'I'm afraid not, Mr Yule. After all, you know, you must be held
in a measure responsible for my depravity.'

'How's that?'