by George Eliot
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Are these things then necessities? Then let us meet them like necessities.
--SHAKESPEARE: _Henry IV_.
See now the virtue living in a word! Hobson will think of swearing it was noon When he saw Dobson at the May-day fair, To prove poor Dobson did not rob the mail. 'Tis neighborly to save a neighbor's neck: What harm in lying when you mean no harm? But say 'tis perjury, then Hobson quakes-- He'll none of perjury. Thus words embalm The conscience of mankind: and Roman laws Bring still a conscience to poor Hobson's aid.
Few men would have felt otherwise than Harold Transome felt, if, havinga reversion tantamount to possession of a fine estate, carrying anassociation with an old name and considerable social importance, theywere suddenly informed that there was a person who had a legal right todeprive them of these advantages; that person's right having never beencontemplated by any one as more than a chance, and being quite unknownto himself. In ordinary cases a shorter possession than Harold's familyhad enjoyed was allowed by the law to constitute an indefeasible right;and if in rare and peculiar instances the law left the possessor of along inheritance exposed to deprivation as the consequence of oldobscure transactions, the moral reasons for giving legal validity to thetitle of long occupancy were not the less strong. Nobody would have saidthat Harold was bound to hunt out this alleged remainder-man and urgehis rights upon him; on the contrary, all the world would have laughedat such conduct, and he would have been thought an interesting patientfor a mad-doctor. The unconscious remainder-man was probably much betteroff, left in his original station: Harold would not have been calledupon to consider his existence, if it had not been presented to him inthe shape of a threat from one who had power to execute the threat.
In fact, what he would have done had the circumstances been different,was much clearer than what he should choose to do or feel himselfcompelled to do in the actual crisis. He would not have been disgracedif, on a valid claim being urged, he had got his lawyers to fight it outfor him on the chance of eluding the claim by some adroit technicalmanagement. Nobody off the stage could be sentimental about thesethings, or pretend to shed tears of joy because an estate was handedover from a gentleman to a mendicant sailor with a wooden leg. And thischance remainder-man was perhaps some such specimen of inheritance asthe drunken fellow killed in the riot. All the world would think theactual Transomes in the right to contest any adverse claim to theutmost. But then--it was not certain that they would win in the contest;and not winning, they would incur other losses besides that of theestate. There had been a little too much of such loss already.
But why, if it were not wrong to contest the claim, should he feel themost uncomfortable scruples about robbing the claim of its sting bygetting rid of its evidence? It was a mortal disappointment--it was asacrifice of indemnification--to abstain from punishing Jermyn. But evenif he brought his mind to contemplate that as the wiser course, he stillshrank from what looked like complicity with Jermyn; he still shrankfrom the secret nullification of a just legal claim. If he had onlyknown the details, if he had known who this alleged heir was, he mighthave seen his way to some course that would not have grated on his senseof honor and dignity. But Jermyn had been too acute to let Harold knowthis: he had even carefully kept to the masculine pronoun. And hebelieved that there was no one besides himself who would or could makeHarold any wiser. He went home persuaded that between this interview andthe next which they would have together, Harold would be left to aninward debate, founded entirely on the information he himself had given.And he had not much doubt that the result would be what he desired.Harold was no fool: there were many good things he liked better in lifethan an irrational vindictiveness.
And it did happen that, after writing to London in fulfillment of hispledge, Harold spent many hours over that inward debate, which was notvery different from what Jermyn imagined. He took it everywhere with himon foot and on horseback, and it was his companion through a great dealof the night. His nature was not of a kind given to internal conflict,and he had never before been long undecided and puzzled. Thisunaccustomed state of mind was so painfully irksome to him--he rebelledso impatiently against the oppression of circumstances in which hisquick temperament and habitual decision could not help him--that itadded tenfold to his hatred of Jermyn, who was the cause of it. Andthus, as the temptation to avoid all risk of losing the estate grew andgrew till scruples looked minute by the side of it, the difficulty ofbringing himself to make a compact with Jermyn seemed more and moreinsurmountable.
But we have seen that the attorney was much too confident in hiscalculations. And while Harold was being gulled by his subjection toJermyn's knowledge, independent information was on its way to him. Themessenger was Christian, who, after as complete a survey ofprobabilities as he was capable of, had come to the conclusion that themost profitable investment he could make of his peculiar experience andtestimony in relation to Bycliffe and Bycliffe's daughter, was to placethem at the disposal of Harold Transome. He was afraid of Jermyn; heutterly distrusted Johnson but he thought he was secure in relying onHarold Transome's care for his own interest; and he preferred above allissues the prospect of forthwith leaving the country with a sum that atleast for a good while would put him at his ease.
When, only three mornings after the interview with Jermyn, Dominicopened the door of Harold's sitting-room, and said that "MeesterChreestian," Mr. Philip Debarry's courier and an acquaintance of his ownat Naples, requested to be admitted on business of importance, Harold'simmediate thought was that the business referred to the so-calledpolitical affairs which were just now his chief association with thename of Debarry, though it seemed an oddness requiring explanation, thata servant should be personally an intermediary. He assented, expectingsomething rather disagreeable than otherwise.
Christian wore this morning those perfect manners of a subordinate whois not servile, which he always adopted toward his unquestionablesuperiors. Mr. Debarry, who preferred having some one about him with aslittle resemblance as possible to a regular servant, had a singularliking for the adroit, quiet-mannered Christian, and would have beenamazed to see the insolent assumption he was capable of in the presenceof people like Mr. Lyon, who were of no account in society. Christianhad that sort of cleverness which is said to "know the world"--that isto say, he knew the price-current of most things.
Aware that he was looked at as a messenger while he remained standingnear the door with his hat in his hand, he said, with respectful ease--
"You will probably be surprised, sir, at my coming to speak to you on myown account; and, in fact, I could not have thought of doing so if mybusiness did not happen to be something of more importance to you thanto any one else."
"You don't come from Mr. Debarry, then?" said Harold, with somesurprise.
"No, sir. My business is a secret; and, if you please, must remain so."
"Is it a pledge you are demanding from me?" said Harold, rathersuspiciously, having no ground for confidence in a man of Christian'sposition.
"Yes, sir; I am obliged to ask no less than that you will pledgeyourself not to take Mr. Jermyn into confidence concerning what passesbetween us."
"With all my heart," said Harold, something like a gleam passing overhis face. His circulation had become more rapid. "But what have you hadto do with Jermyn?"
"He has not mentioned me to you then--has he, sir?"
"No; certainly not--never."
Christian thought, "Aha, Mr. Jermyn! you are keeping the secret well,are you?" He said, aloud--
"Then Mr. Jermyn has never mentioned to you, sir, what I believe he isaware of--that there is danger of a new suit being raised against you onthe part of a Bycliffe, to get the estate?"
"Ah!" said Harold, starting up, and placing himself with his backagainst the mantelpiece. He was electrified by surprise at the quarterfrom which this information was coming. Any fresh alarm was cou
nteractedby the flashing thought that he might be enabled to act independently ofJermyn; and in the rush of feelings he could utter no more than aninterjection. Christian concluded that Harold had no previous hint.
"It is this fact, that I came to tell you of."
"From some other motive than kindness to me, I presume," said Harold,with a slight approach to a smile.
"Certainly," said Christian, as quietly as if he had been statingyesterday's weather. "I should not have the folly to use any affectationwith you, Mr. Transome. I lost considerable property early in life, andam now in the receipt of a salary simply. In the affair I have justmentioned to you I can give evidence which will turn the scale againstyou. I have no wish to do so, if you will make it worth my while toleave the country."
Harold listened as if he had been a legendary hero, selected forpeculiar solicitation by the Evil One. Here was temptation in a morealluring form than before, because it was sweetened by the prospect ofeluding Jermyn. But the desire to gain time served all the purposes ofcaution and resistance, and his indifference to the speaker in this casehelped him to preserve perfect self-command.
"You are aware," he said, coolly, "that silence is not a commodity worthpurchasing unless it is loaded. There are many persons, I dare say, whowould like me to pay their travelling expenses for them. But they mighthardly be able to show me that it was worth my while."
"You wish me to state what I know?"
"Well, that is a necessary preliminary to any further conversation."
"I think you will see, Mr. Transome, that, as a matter of justice, theknowledge I can give is worth something, quite apart from my futureappearance or non-appearance as a witness. I must take care of my owninterest, and if anything should hinder you from choosing to satisfy mefor taking an essential witness out of the way, I must at least be paidfor bringing you the information."
"Can you tell me who and where this Bycliffe is?"
"I can."
"-----And give me a notion of the whole affair?"
"Yes; I have talked to a lawyer--not Jermyn--who is at the bottom of thelaw in the affair."
"You must not count on any wish of mine to suppress evidence or remove awitness. But name your price for the information."
"In that case I must be paid the higher for my information. Say, twothousand pounds."
"Two thousand devils!" burst out Harold, throwing himself into his chairagain, and turning his shoulder toward Christian. New thoughts crowdedupon him. "This fellow may want to decamp for some reason or other," hesaid to himself. "More people besides Jermyn know about his evidence, itseems. The whole thing may look black for me if it comes out. I shall bebelieved to have bribed him to run away, whether or not." Thus theoutside conscience came in aid of the inner.
"I will not give you one sixpence for your information," he said,resolutely, "until time has made it clear that you do not intend todecamp, but will be forthcoming when you are called for. On those termsI have no objection to give you a note, specifying that after thefulfilment of that condition--that is, after the occurrence of a suit,or the understanding that no suit is to occur--I will pay you a certainsum in consideration of the information you now give me!"
Christian felt himself caught in a vise. In the first instance he hadcounted confidently on Harold's ready seizure of his offer to disappear,and after some words had seemed to cast a doubt on this presuppositionhe had inwardly determined to go away, whether Harold wished it or not,if he could get a sufficient sum. He did not reply immediately, andHarold waited in silence, inwardly anxious to know what Christian couldtell, but with a vision at present so far cleared that he was determinednot to risk incurring the imputation of having anything to do withscoundrelism. We are very much indebted to such a linking of events asmakes a doubtful action look wrong.
Christian was reflecting that if he stayed and faced some possibleinconveniences of being known publicly as Henry Scaddon for the sake ofwhat he might get from Esther, it would at least be wise to be certainof some money from Harold Transome, since he turned out to be of sopeculiar a disposition as to insist on a punctilious honesty to his owndisadvantage. Did he think of making a bargain with the other side? Ifso, he might be content to wait for the knowledge till it came in someother way. Christian was beginning to be afraid lest he should getnothing by this clever move of coming to Transome Court. At last hesaid--
"I think, sir, two thousand would not be an unreasonable sum, on thoseconditions."
"I will not give two thousand."
"Allow me to say, sir, you must consider that there is no one whoseinterest it is to tell you as much as I shall, even if they could; sinceMr. Jermyn, who knows it, has not thought fit to tell you. There may beuse you don't think of in getting the information at once."
"Well?"
"I think a gentleman should act liberally under such circumstances."
"So I will."
"I could not take less than a thousand pounds. It really would not beworth my while. If Mr. Jermyn knew I gave you the information, he wouldendeavor to injure me."
"I will give you a thousand," said Harold, immediately, for Christianhad unconsciously touched a sure spring. "At least, I'll give you a noteto the effect I spoke of."
He wrote as he had promised, and gave the paper to Christian.
"Now, don't be circuitous," said Harold. "You seem to have abusiness-like gift of speech. Who and where is this Bycliffe?"
"You will be surprised to hear, sir, that she is supposed to be thedaughter of the old preacher, Lyon, in Malthouse Yard."
"Good God! How can that be?" said Harold. At once, the first occasion onwhich he had seen Esther rose in his memory--the little dark parlor--thegraceful girl in blue, with the surprisingly distinguished manners andappearance.
"In this way. Old Lyon, by some strange means or other, marriedBycliffe's widow when this girl was a baby. And the preacher didn't wantthe girl to know that he was not her real father: he told me thathimself. But she is the image of Bycliffe, whom I knew well--anuncommonly fine woman--steps like a queen."
"I have seen her," said Harold, more than ever glad to have purchasedthis knowledge. "But now, go on."
Christian proceeded to tell all he knew, including his conversation withJermyn, except so far as it had an unpleasant relation to himself.
"Then," said Harold, as the details seemed to have come to a close, "youbelieve that Miss Lyon and her supposed father are at present unaware ofthe claims that might be urged for her on the strength of her birth?"
"I believe so. But I need not tell you that where the lawyers are onthe scent you can never be sure of anything long together. I must remindyou, sir, that you have promised to protect me from Mr. Jermyn bykeeping my confidence."
"Never fear. Depend upon it, I shall betray nothing to Mr. Jermyn."
Christian was dismissed with a "good-morning"; and while he cultivatedsome friendly reminiscences with Dominic, Harold sat chewing the cud ofhis new knowledge, and finding it not altogether so bitter as he hadexpected.
From the first, after his interview with Jermyn, the recoil of Harold'smind from the idea of strangling a legal right threw him on thealternative of attempting a compromise. Some middle course might bepossible, which would be a less evil than a costly lawsuit, or than thetotal renunciation of the estates. And now he had learned that the newclaimant was a woman--a young woman, brought up under circumstances thatwould make the fourth of the Transome property seem to her an immensefortune. Both the sex and the social condition were of the sort thatlies open to many softening influences. And having seen Esther, it wasinevitable that, amongst the various issues, agreeable and disagreeable,depicted by Harold's imagination, there should present itself apossibility that would unite the two claims--his own, which he felt tobe the rational, and Esther's, which apparently was the legal claim.
Harold, as he had constantly said to his mother, was "not a marryingman"; he did not contemplate bringing a wife to Transome Court for manyyears to come, if at all. Ha
ving little Harry as an heir, he preferredfreedom. Western women were not to his taste; they showed a transitionfrom the feebly animal to the thinking being, which was simplytroublesome. Harold preferred a slow-witted large-eyed woman, silent andaffectionate, with a load of black hair weighing much more heavily thanher brains. He had seen no such woman in England, except one which hehad brought with him from the East.
Therefore Harold did not care to be married until or unless somesurprising chance presented itself; and now that such a chance hadoccurred to suggest marriage to him, he would not admit to himself thathe contemplated marrying Esther as a plan; he was only obliged to seethat such an issue was not inconceivable. He was not going to take anystep expressly directed toward that end: what he had made up his mindto, as the course most satisfactory to his nature under presenturgencies, was to behave to Esther with a frank gentle manliness, whichmust win her good will, and incline her to save his family interest asmuch as possible. He was helped to this determination by the pleasure offrustrating Jermyn's contrivance to shield himself from punishment, andhis most distinct and cheering prospect was that within a very shortspace of time he should not only have effected a satisfactory compromisewith Esther, but should have made Jermyn aware by a very disagreeableform of announcement, that Harold Transome was no longer afraid of him.Jermyn should bite the dust.
At the end of these meditations he felt satisfied with himself andlight-hearted. He had rejected two dishonest propositions, and he wasgoing to do something that seemed eminently graceful. But he needed hismother's assistance, and it was necessary that he should both confide inher and persuade her.
Within two hours after Christian left him, Harold begged his mother tocome into his private room, and there he told her the strange andstartling story, omitting, however, any particulars which would involvethe identification of Christian as his informant. Harold felt that hisengagement demanded his reticence; and he told his mother that he wasbound to conceal the source of that knowledge which he had gotindependently of Jermyn.
Mrs. Transome said little in the course of the story: she made noexclamations, but she listened with close attention, and asked a fewquestions so much to the point as to surprise Harold. When he showed herthe copy of the legal opinion which Jermyn had left with him, she saidshe knew it very well; she had a copy herself. The particulars of thatlast lawsuit were too well engraven on her mind: it happened at a timewhen there was no one to supersede her, and she was the virtual head ofthe family affairs. She was prepared to understand how the estate mightbe in danger; but nothing had prepared her for the strange details--forthe way in which the new claimant had been reared and brought within therange of converging motives that had led to this revelation, least ofall for the part Jermyn had come to play in the revelation. Mrs.Transome saw these things through the medium of certain dominantemotions that made them seem like a long-ripening retribution. Haroldperceived that she was painfully agitated, that she trembled, and thather white lips would not readily lend themselves to speech. And thiswas hardly more than he expected. He had not liked the revelationhimself when it had first come to him.
But he did not guess what it was in his narrative which had most piercedhis mother. It was something that made the threat about the estate onlya secondary alarm. Now, for the first time, she heard of the intendedproceedings against Jermyn. Harold had not chosen to speak of thembefore; but having at last called his mother into consultation, therewas nothing in his mind to hinder him from speaking without reserve ofhis determination to visit on the attorney his shamefulmaladministration of the family affairs.
Harold went through the whole narrative--of what he called Jermyn'sscheme to catch him in a vise, and his power of triumphantly frustratingthat scheme--in his usual rapid way, speaking with a final decisivenessof tone; and his mother felt that if she urged any counter-considerationat all, she could only do so when he had no more to say.
"Now, what I want you to do, mother, if you can see this matter as I seeit," Harold said in conclusion, "is to go with me to call on this girlin Malthouse Yard. I will open the affair to her; it appears she is notlikely to have been informed yet; and you will invite her to visit youhere at once, that all scandal, all hatching of law-mischief, may beavoided, and the thing may be brought to an amicable conclusion."
"It seems almost incredible--extraordinary--a girl in her position,"said Mrs. Transome, with difficulty. It would have seemed the bitterest,humiliating penance if another sort of suffering had left any room inher heart.
"I assure you she is a lady; I saw her when I was canvassing, and wasamazed at the time. You will be quite struck with her. It is noindignity for you to invite her."
"Oh," said Mrs. Transome, with low-toned bitterness, "I must put up withall things as they are determined for me. When shall we go?"
"Well," said Harold, looking at his watch, "it is hardly two yet. Wecould really go to-day, when you have lunched. It is better to lose notime. I'll order the carriage."
"Stay," said Mrs. Transome, with a desperate effort. "There is plenty oftime. I shall not lunch. I have a word to say."
Harold withdrew his hand from the bell, and leaned against themantelpiece to listen.
"You see I comply with your wish at once, Harold?"
"Yes, mother, I'm much obliged to you for making no difficulties."
"You ought to listen to me in return."
"Pray go on," said Harold, expecting to be annoyed.
"What is the good of having these Chancery proceedings against Jermyn?"
"Good? This good: that fellow has burdened the estate with annuities andmortgages to the extent of three thousand a year; and the bulk of them,I am certain, he holds himself under the name of another man. And theadvances this yearly interest represents, have not been much more thantwenty thousand. Of course, he has hoodwinked you, and my father nevergave attention to these things. He has been up to all sorts of devil'swork with the deeds; he didn't count on my coming back from Smyrna tofill poor Durfey's place. He shall feel the difference. And the goodwill be, that I shall save almost all the annuities for the rest of myfather's life, which may be ten years or more, and I shall get back someof the money, and I shall punish a scoundrel. That is the good."
"He will be ruined."
"That's what I intend," said Harold, sharply.
"He exerted himself a great deal for us in the old suits: everyone saidhe had wonderful zeal and ability," said Mrs. Transome, getting courageand warmth, as she went on. Her temper was rising.
"What he did, he did for his own sake, you may depend on that," saidHarold, with a scornful laugh.
"There were very painful things in that last suit. You seem anxiousabout this young woman, to avoid all further scandal and contests in thefamily. Why don't you wish to do it in this case? Jermyn might bewilling to arrange things amicably--to make restitution as far as hecan--if he has done anything wrong."
"I will arrange nothing amicably with him," said Harold, decisively. "Ifhe has ever done anything scandalous as our agent, let him bear theinfamy. And the right way to throw the infamy on him is to show theworld that he has robbed us, and that I mean to punish him. Why do youwish to shield such a fellow, mother? It has been chiefly through himthat you have had to lead such a thrifty, miserable life--you who usedto make as brilliant a figure as a woman need wish."
Mrs. Transome's rising temper was turned into a horrible sensation, aspainful as a sudden concussion from something hard and immovable when wehave struck out with our fist, intending to hit something warm, soft,and breathing like ourselves. Poor Mrs. Transome's strokes were sentjarring back on her by a hard unalterable past. She did not speak inanswer to Harold, but rose from the chair as if she gave up the debate.
"Women are frightened at everything I know," said Harold, kindly,feeling that he had been a little harsh after his mother's compliance."And you have been used for so many years to think Jermyn a law ofnature. Come, mother," he went on, looking at her gently, and restinghis hands on her shoulder
s, "look cheerful. We shall get through allthese difficulties. And this girl--I dare say she will be quite aninteresting visitor for you. You have not had any young girl about youfor a long while. Who knows? she may fall deeply in love with me, and Imay be obliged to marry her."
He spoke laughingly, only thinking how he could make his mother smile.But she looked at him seriously and said, "Do you mean that, Harold?"
"Am I not capable of making a conquest? Not too fat yet--a handsome,well-rounded youth of thirty-four?"
She was forced to look straight at the beaming face, with its rich darkcolor, just bent a little over her. Why could she not be happy in thisson whose future she had once dreamed of, and who had been as fortunateas she had ever hoped? The tears came, not plenteously, but making herdark eyes as large and bright as youth had once made them without tears.
"There, there!" said Harold, coaxingly. "Don't be afraid. You shall nothave a daughter-in-law unless she is a pearl. Now we will get ready togo."
In half an hour from that time Mrs. Transome came down, looking majesticin sables and velvet, ready to call on "the girl in Malthouse Yard." Shehad composed herself to go through this task. She saw there was nothingbetter to be done. After the resolutions Harold had taken, some sort ofcompromise with this oddly-placed heiress was the result most to behoped for; if the compromise turned out to be a marriage--well, she hadno reason to care much: she was already powerless. It remained to beseen what this girl was.
The carriage was to be driven round the back way, to avoid too muchobservation. But the late election affairs might account for Mr. Lyon'sreceiving a visit from the unsuccessful Radical candidate.