New Grub Street (68 page)

'What use should I be?'

'Oh, all the use in the world. Lake would pay most respectful
attention to your opinion, though he thinks so little of mine. You
are a man of note, I am nobody. I feel convinced that you could
persuade the Chat people to adopt my idea, and they might be
willing to give me a contingent share of contingent profits, if I
had really shown them the way to a good thing.'

Jasper promised to think the matter over. Whilst their talk
still ran on this subject, a packet that had come by post was
brought into the room. Opening it, Milvain exclaimed:

'Ha! this is lucky. There's something here that may interest
you, Whelpdale.'

'Proofs?'

'Yes. A paper I have written for The Wayside.' He looked at
Dora, who smiled. 'How do you like the title?—"The Novels of Edwin
Reardon!"'

'You don't say so!' cried the other. 'What a good-hearted fellow
you are, Milvain! Now that's really a kind thing to have done. By
Jove! I must shake hands with you; I must indeed! Poor Reardon!
Poor old fellow!'

His eyes gleamed with moisture. Dora, observing this, looked at
him so gently and sweetly that it was perhaps well he did not meet
her eyes; the experience would have been altogether too much for
him.

'It has been written for three months,' said Jasper, 'but we
have held it over for a practical reason. When I was engaged upon
it, I went to see Mortimer, and asked him if there was any chance
of a new edition of Reardon's books. He had no idea the poor fellow
was dead, and the news seemed really to affect him. He promised to
consider whether it would be worth while trying a new issue, and
before long I heard from him that he would bring out the two best
books with a decent cover and so on, provided I could get my
article on Reardon into one of the monthlies. This was soon
settled. The editor of The Wayside answered at once, when I wrote
to him, that he should be very glad to print what I proposed, as he
had a real respect for Reardon. Next month the books will be
out—"Neutral Ground," and "Hubert Reed." Mortimer said he was sure
these were the only ones that would pay for themselves. But we
shall see. He may alter his opinion when my article has been
read.'

'Read it to us now, Jasper, will you?' asked Dora.

The request was supported by Whelpdale, and Jasper needed no
pressing. He seated himself so that the lamplight fell upon the
pages, and read the article through. It was an excellent piece of
writing (see The Wayside, June 1884), and in places touched with
true emotion. Any intelligent reader would divine that the author
had been personally acquainted with the man of whom he wrote,
though the fact was nowhere stated. The praise was not exaggerated,
yet all the best points of Reardon's work were admirably brought
out. One who knew Jasper might reasonably have doubted, before
reading this, whether he was capable of so worthily appreciating
the nobler man.

'I never understood Reardon so well before,' declared Whelpdale,
at the close. 'This is a good thing well done. It's something to be
proud of, Miss Dora.'

'Yes, I feel that it is,' she replied.

'Mrs Reardon ought to be very grateful to you, Milvain.
By-the-by, do you ever see her?'

'I have met her only once since his death—by chance.'

'Of course she will marry again. I wonder who'll be the
fortunate man?'

'Fortunate, do you think?' asked Dora quietly, without looking
at him.

'Oh, I spoke rather cynically, I'm afraid,' Whelpdale hastened
to reply. 'I was thinking of her money. Indeed, I knew Mrs Reardon
only very slightly.'

'I don't think you need regret it,' Dora remarked.

'Oh, well, come, come!' put in her brother. 'We know very well
that there was little enough blame on her side.'

'There was great blame!' Dora exclaimed. 'She behaved
shamefully!

I wouldn't speak to her; I wouldn't sit down in her
company!'

'Bosh! What do you know about it? Wait till you are married to a
man like Reardon, and reduced to utter penury.'

'Whoever my husband was, I would stand by him, if I starved to
death.'

'If he ill-used you?'

'I am not talking of such cases. Mrs Reardon had never anything
of the kind to fear. It was impossible for a man such as her
husband to behave harshly. Her conduct was cowardly, faithless,
unwomanly!'

'Trust one woman for thinking the worst of another,' observed
Jasper with something like a sneer.

Dora gave him a look of strong disapproval; one might have
suspected that brother and sister had before this fallen into
disagreement on the delicate topic. Whelpdale felt obliged to
interpose, and had of course no choice but to support the girl.

'I can only say,' he remarked with a smile, 'that Miss Dora
takes a very noble point of view. One feels that a wife ought to be
staunch. But it's so very unsafe to discuss matters in which one
cannot know all the facts.'

'We know quite enough of the facts,' said Dora, with delightful
pertinacity.

'Indeed, perhaps we do,' assented her slave. Then, turning to
her brother, 'Well, once more I congratulate you. I shall talk of
your article incessantly, as soon as it appears. And I shall pester
every one of my acquaintances to buy Reardon's books—though it's no
use to him, poor fellow. Still, he would have died more contentedly
if he could have foreseen this. By-the-by, Biffen will be
profoundly grateful to you, I'm sure.'

'I'm doing what I can for him, too. Run your eye over these
slips.'

Whelpdale exhausted himself in terms of satisfaction.

'You deserve to get on, my dear fellow. In a few years you will
be the Aristarchus of our literary world.'

When the visitor rose to depart, Jasper said he would walk a
short distance with him. As soon as they had left the house, the
future Aristarchus made a confidential communication.

'It may interest you to know that my sister Maud is shortly to
be married.'

'Indeed! May I ask to whom?'

'A man you don't know. His name is Dolomore—a fellow in
society.'

'Rich, then, I hope?'

'Tolerably well-to-do. I dare say he has three or four thousand
a year!'

'Gracious heavens! Why, that's magnificent.'

But Whelpdale did not look quite so much satisfaction as his
words expressed.

'Is it to be soon?' he inquired.

'At the end of the season. Make no difference to Dora and me, of
course.'

'Oh? Really? No difference at all? You will let me come and see
you—both—just in the old way, Milvain?'

'Why the deuce shouldn't you?'

'To be sure, to be sure. By Jove! I really don't know how I
should get on if I couldn't look in of an evening now and then. I
have got so much into the habit of it. And—I'm a lonely beggar, you
know. I don't go into society, and really—'

He broke off, and Jasper began to speak of other things.

When Milvain re-entered the house, Dora had gone to her own
sitting-room. It was not quite ten o'clock. Taking one set of the
proofs of his 'Reardon' article, he put it into a large envelope;
then he wrote a short letter, which began 'Dear Mrs Reardon,' and
ended 'Very sincerely yours,' the communication itself being as
follows:

'I venture to send you the proofs of a paper which is to appear
in next month's Wayside, in the hope that it may seem to you not
badly done, and that the reading of it may give you pleasure. If
anything occurs to you which you would like me to add, or if you
desire any omission, will you do me the kindness to let me know of
it as soon as possible, and your suggestion shall at once be
adopted. I am informed that the new edition of "On Neutral Ground"
and "Hubert Reed" will be ready next month. Need I say how glad I
am that my friend's work is not to be forgotten?'

This note he also put into the envelope, which he made ready for
posting. Then he sat for a long time in profound thought.

Shortly after eleven his door opened, and Maud came in. She had
been dining at Mrs Lane's. Her attire was still simple, but of
quality which would have signified recklessness, but for the
outlook whereof Jasper spoke to Whelpdale. The girl looked very
beautiful. There was a flush of health and happiness on her cheek,
and when she spoke it was in a voice that rang quite differently
from her tones of a year ago; the pride which was natural to her
had now a firm support; she moved and uttered herself in queenly
fashion.

'Has anyone been?' she asked.

'Whelpdale.'

'Oh! I wanted to ask you, Jasper: do you think it wise to let
him come quite so often?'

'There's a difficulty, you see. I can hardly tell him to sheer
off. And he's really a decent fellow.'

'That may be. But—I think it's rather unwise. Things are
changed. In a few months, Dora will be a good deal at my house, and
will see all sorts of people.'

'Yes; but what if they are the kind of people she doesn't care
anything about? You must remember, old girl, that her tastes are
quite different from yours. I say nothing, but—perhaps it's as well
they should be.'

'You say nothing, but you add an insult,' returned Maud, with a
smile of superb disregard. 'We won't reopen the question.'

'Oh dear no! And, by-the-by, I have a letter from Dolomore. It
came just after you left.'

'Well?'

'He is quite willing to settle upon you a third of his income
from the collieries; he tells me it will represent between seven
and eight hundred a year. I think it rather little, you know; but I
congratulate myself on having got this out of him.'

'Don't speak in that unpleasant way! It was only your abruptness
that made any kind of difficulty.'

'I have my own opinion on that point, and I shall beg leave to
keep it. Probably he will think me still more abrupt when I
request, as I am now going to do, an interview with his
solicitors.'

'Is that allowable?' asked Maud, anxiously. 'Can you do that
with any decency?'

'If not, then I must do it with indecency. You will have the
goodness to remember that if I don't look after your interests, no
one else will. It's perhaps fortunate for you that I have a good
deal of the man of business about me. Dolomore thought I was a
dreamy, literary fellow. I don't say that he isn't entirely honest,
but he shows something of a disposition to play the autocrat, and I
by no means intend to let him. If you had a father, Dolomore would
have to submit his affairs to examination.

I stand to you in loco parentis, and I shall bate no jot of my
rights.'

'But you can't say that his behaviour hasn't been perfectly
straightforward.'

'I don't wish to. I think, on the whole, he has behaved more
honourably than was to be expected of a man of his kind. But he
must treat me with respect. My position in the world is greatly
superior to his. And, by the gods! I will be treated respectfully!
It wouldn't be amiss, Maud, if you just gave him a hint to that
effect.'

'All I have to say is, Jasper, don't do me an irreparable
injury. You might, without meaning it.'

'No fear whatever of it. I can behave as a gentleman, and I only
expect Dolomore to do the same.'

Their conversation lasted for a long time, and when he was again
left alone Jasper again fell into a mood of thoughtfulness.

By a late post on the following day he received this letter:

'DEAR MR MILVAIN,—I have received the proofs, and have just read
them; I hasten to thank you with all my heart. No suggestion of
mine could possibly improve this article; it seems to me perfect in
taste, in style, in matter. No one but you could have written this,
for no one else understood Edwin so well, or had given such thought
to his work. If he could but have known that such justice would be
done to his memory! But he died believing that already he was
utterly forgotten, that his books would never again be publicly
spoken of. This was a cruel fate. I have shed tears over what you
have written, but they were not only tears of bitterness; it cannot
but be a consolation to me to think that, when the magazine
appears, so many people will talk of Edwin and his books. I am
deeply grateful to Mr Mortimer for having undertaken to republish
those two novels; if you have an opportunity, will you do me the
great kindness to thank him on my behalf? At the same time, I must
remember that it was you who first spoke to him on this subject.
You say that it gladdens you to think Edwin will not be forgotten,
and I am very sure that the friendly office you have so admirably
performed will in itself reward you more than any poor expression
of gratitude from me. I write hurriedly, anxious to let you hear as
soon as possible.

'Believe me, dear Mr Milvain,

'Yours sincerely,

Marian was at work as usual in the Reading-room. She did her
best, during the hours spent here, to convert herself into the
literary machine which it was her hope would some day be invented
for construction in a less sensitive material than human tissue.
Her eyes seldom strayed beyond the limits of the desk; and if she
had occasion to rise and go to the reference shelves, she looked at
no one on the way. Yet she herself was occasionally an object of
interested regard. Several readers were acquainted with the chief
facts of her position; they knew that her father was now incapable
of work, and was waiting till his diseased eyes should be ready for
the operator; it was surmised, moreover, that a good deal depended
upon the girl's literary exertions. Mr Quarmby and his gossips
naturally took the darkest view of things; they were convinced that
Alfred Yule could never recover his sight, and they had a dolorous
satisfaction in relating the story of Marian's legacy. Of her
relations with Jasper Milvain none of these persons had heard; Yule
had never spoken of that matter to any one of his friends.