CHAPTER XLII. MY FRIENDS ARE PROVEN
At the door of my lodgings I was confronted by Banks, red withindignation and fidgety from uneasiness.
"O Lord, Mr. Carvel, what has happened, sir?" he cried. "Your honour'sagent 'as been here since noon. Must I take orders from the likes o'him, sir?"
Mr. Dix was indeed in possession of my rooms, lounging in the chairDolly had chosen, smoking my tobacco. I stared at him from thethreshold. Something in my appearance, or force of habit, or bothbrought him to his feet, and wiped away the smirk from his face. He putdown the pipe guiltily. I told him shortly that I had heard the newswhich he must have got by the packet: and that he should have his money,tho' it took the rest of my life: and the ten per cent I had promisedhim provided he would not press my Lord Comyn. He hesitated, and drummedon the table. He was the man of business again.
"What security am I to have, Mr. Carvel?" he asked.
"My word," I said. "It has never yet been broken, I thank God, nor myfather's before me. And hark ye, Mr. Dix, you shall not be able to saythat of Grafton." Truly I thought the principal and agent were now wellmatched.
"Very good, Mr. Carvel," he said; "ten per cent. I shall call with thepapers on Monday morning."
"I shall not run away before that," I replied.
He got out, with a poor attempt at a swagger, without his customaryprotestations of duty and humble offers of service. And I thanked Heavenhe had not made a scene, which in my state of mind I could not haveborne, but must have laid hands upon him. Perhaps he believed Graftonnot yet secure in his title. I did not wonder then, in the heat of myyouth, that he should have accepted my honour as security. But since Ihave marvelled not a little at this. The fine gentlemen at Brooks'swith whom I had been associating were none too scrupulous, and regardedmoney-lenders as legitimate prey. Debts of honour they paid but tardily,if at all. A certain nobleman had been owing my Lord Carlisle thirteenthousand pounds for a couple of years, that his Lordship had won athazard. And tho' I blush to write it, Mr. Fox himself was notorious insuch matters, and was in debt to each of the coterie of fashionables ofwhich he was the devoted chief.
The faithful Banks vowed, with tears in his eyes, that he would neverdesert me. And in that moment of dejection the poor fellow's devotionbrought me no little comfort. At such times the heart is bitter. We lookaskance at our friends, and make the task of comfort doubly hard forthose that remain true. I had a great affection for the man, and hadbecome so used to his ways and unwearying service that I had not thecourage to refuse his prayers to go with me to America. I had not afarthing of my own--he would serve me for nothing--nay, work for me."Sure," he said, taking off my coat and bringing me my gown,--"Sure,your honour was not made to work." To cheer me he went on with somefoolish footman's gossip that there lacked not ladies with jointures whowould marry me, and be thankful. I smiled sadly.
"That was when I was Mr. Carvel's heir, Banks."
"And your face and figure, sir, and masterful ways! Faith, and what morewould a lady want!" Banks's notions of morality were vague enough, andhe would have had me sink what I had left at hazard at Almack's. Hehad lived in this atmosphere. Alas! there was little chance of myever regaining the position I had held but yesterday. I thought of thesponging-house, and my brow was moist. England was no place, in thosedays, for fallen gentlemen. With us in the Colonies the law offereditself. Mr. Swain, and other barristers of Annapolis, came to my mind,for God had given me courage. I would try the law. For I had small hopesof defeating my Uncle Grafton.
The Sunday morning dawned brightly, and the church bells ringing broughtme to my feet, and out into Piccadilly, in the forlorn hope that I mightsee my lady on her way to morning service,--see her for the last time inlife, perhaps. Her locket I wore over my heart. It had lain upon hers.To see her was the most exquisite agony in the world. But not to seeher, and to feel that she was scarce quarter of a mile away, was beyondendurance. I stood beside an area at the entrance to Arlington Street,and waited for an hour, quite in vain; watching every face that passed,townsmen in their ill-fitting Sunday clothes, and fine ladies with thefootmen carrying velvet prayerbooks. And some that I knew only stared,and others gave me distant bows from their coach windows. For those thatfall from fashion are dead to fashion.
Dorothy did not go to church that day.
It is a pleasure, my dears, when writing of that hour of bitterness, torecord the moments of sweetness which lightened it. As I climbed up tomy rooms in Dover Street, I heard merry sounds above, and a cloud ofsmoke blew out of the door when I opened it.
"Here he is," cried Mr. Fox. "You see, Richard, we have not deserted youwhen we can win no more of your money."
"Why, egad! the man looks as if he had had a calamity," said Mr.Fitzpatrick.
"And there is not a Jew here," Fox continued. "Tho' it is Sunday,the air in my Jerusalem chamber is as bad as in any crimps den inSt. Giles's. 'Slife, and I live to be forty, I shall have as manyunderground avenues as his Majesty Louis the Eleventh."
"He must have a place," put in my Lord Carlisle.
"We must do something for him," said Fox, "albeit he is an American anda Whig, and all the rest of the execrations. Thou wilt have to swallowthy golden opinions, my buckskin, when we put thee in office."
I was too overwhelmed even to protest.
"You are not in such a cursed bad way, when all is said, Richard," saidFitzpatrick. "Charles, when he loses a fortune, immediately borrowsanother."
"If you stick to whist and quinze," said Charles, solemnly, giving methe advice they were forever thrusting upon him, "and play with system,you may make as much as four thousand a year, sir."
And this was how I was treated by those heathen and cynical macaronies,Mr. Fox's friends. I may not say the same for the whole of Brooks'sClub, tho' I never darkened its doors afterwards. But I encountered myLord March that afternoon, and got only a blank stare in place of a bow.
Charles had collected (Heaven knows how!) the thousand pounds which hestood in my debt, and Mr. Storer and Lord Carlisle offered to lend meas much as I chose. I had some difficulty in refusing, and more still indenying Charles when he pressed me to go with them to Richmond, where hehad rooms for play over Sunday.
Banks brought me the news that Lord Comyn was sitting up, and had beenasking for me that day; that he was recovering beyond belief. But I wasresolved not to go to Brook Street until the money affairs were settledon Monday with Mr. Dix, for I knew well that his Lordship would insistupon carrying out with the agent the contract he had so generously andhastily made, rather than let me pay an abnormal interest.
On Monday I rose early, and went out for a bit of air before the scenewith Mr. Dix. Returning, I saw a coach with his Lordship's arms on thepanels, and there was Comyn himself in my great chair at the window,where he had been deposited by Banks and his footman. I stared as on onerisen from the dead.
"Why, Jack, what are you doing here?" I cried.
He replied very offhand, as was his manner at such times:
"Blicke vows that Chartersea and Lewis have qualified for the College ofSurgeons," says he. "They are both born anatomists. Your job under thearm was the worst bungle of the two, egad, for Lewis put his sword, patas you please, between two of my organs (cursed if I know their names),and not so much as scratched one."
"Look you, Jack," said I, "I am not deceived. You have no right to behere, and you know it."
"Tush!" answered his Lordship; "I am as well as you." And he took snuffto prove the assertion. "Why the devil was you not in Brook Streetyesterday to tell me that your uncle had swindled you? I thought I wasyour friend," says he, "and I learn of your misfortune through others."
"It is because you are my friend, and my best friend, that I would notworry you when you lay next door to death on my account," I said, withemotion.
And just then Banks announced Mr. Dix.
"Let him wait," said I, greatly disturbed.
"Show him up!" said my Lord, peremptorily.
"No, no!" I protested; "he can wait. We shall have no business now."
But Banks was gone. And I found out, long afterward, that it was put upbetween them.
The agent swaggered in with that easy assurance he assumed whenever hegot the upper hand. He was the would-be squire once again, in top-bootsand a frock. I have rarely seen a man put out of countenance so easilyas was Mr. Dix that morning when he met his Lordship's fixed gaze fromthe arm-chair.
"And so you are turned Jew?" says he, tapping his snuffbox. "Before yougo ahead so fast again, you will please to remember, d--n you, that Mr.Carvel is the kind that does not lose his friends with his fortune."
Mr. Dix made a salaam, which was so ludicrous in a squire that my Lordroared with laughter, and I feared for his wound.
"A man must live, my Lord," sputtered the agent. His discomfiture waspainful.
"At the expense of another," says Comyn, dryly. "That is your motto inChange Alley."
"If you will permit, Jack, I must have a few words in private with Mr.Dix," I cut in uneasily.
His Lordship would be damned first. "I am not accustomed to be thwarted,Richard, I tell you. Ask the dowager if I have not always had my way. Iam not going to stand by and see a man who saved my life fall into theclutches of an usurer. Yes, I said usurer, Mr. Dix. My attorney, Mr.Kennett, of Lincoln's Inn, has instructions to settle with you."
And, despite all I could say, he would not budge an inch. At last Isubmitted under the threat that he would never after have a word to sayto me. By good luck, when I had paid into Mr. Dix's hand the thousandpounds I had received from Charles Fox, and cleared my outstandingbills, the sum I remained in Comyn's debt was not greatly above sevenhundred pounds. And that was the end of Mr. Dix for me; when he hadbacked himself out in chagrin at having lost his ten per centum, myfeelings got the better of me. The water rushed to my eyes, and Iturned my back upon his Lordship. To conceal his own emotions he fell toswearing like mad.
"Fox will get you something," he said at length, when he was a littlecalmed.
I told him, sadly, that my duty took me to America.
"And Dorothy?" he said; "you will leave her?"
I related the whole miserable story (all save the part of the locket),for I felt that I owed it him. His excitement grew as he listened, untilI had to threaten to stop to keep him quiet. But when I had done, he sawnothing but good to come of it.
"'Od's life! Richard, lad, come here!" he cried. "Give me your hand.Why, you ass, you have won a thousand times over what you lost. Sheloves you! Did I not say so? And as for that intriguing little puppy,her father, you have pulled his teeth, egad. She heard what you said tohim, you tell me. Then he will never deceive her again, my word on't.And Chartersea may come back to London, and be damned."
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