CHAPTER XVIII.
MR AND MRS TOOKEY.
On the day arranged, early on the morning after the dinner at LittleAlresford Park, John Gordon went up to London. He had not been muchmoved by the intimation made to him by Mr Whittlestaff that someletter should be written to him at his London address. He had madehis appeal to Mr Whittlestaff, and had received no answer whatever.And he had, after a fashion, made his appeal also to the girl. Hefelt sure that his plea must reach her. His very presence thenin this house had been an appeal to her. He knew that she so farbelieved in him as to be conscious that she could at once becomehis wife--if she were willing to throw over his rival. He knew alsothat she loved him,--or had certainly loved him. He did not know thenature of her regard; nor was it possible that he should ever knowthat,--unless she were his wife. She had given a promise to thatother man, and--it was thus he read her character--she could betrue to her promise without any great heart-break. At any rate, sheintended to be true to it. He did not for a moment suspect that MrWhittlestaff was false. Mary had declared that she would not withdrawher word,--that only from her own mouth was to be taken her intentionof such withdrawal, and that such intention she certainly would neverutter. Of her character he understood much,--but not quite all. Hewas not aware of the depth of her feeling. But Mr Whittlestaff hedid not understand at all. Of all those vacillating softnesses heknew nothing,--or of those moments spent with the poet, in which hewas wont to fight against the poet's pretences, and of those othermoments spent with Mrs Baggett, in which he would listen to, andalways finally reject, those invitations to manly strength which shewould always pour into his ears. That Mr Whittlestaff should spendhour after hour, and now day after day, in teaching himself to regardnothing but what might best suit the girl's happiness,--of that hewas altogether in the dark. To his thinking, Mr Whittlestaff wasa hard man, who, having gained his object, intended to hold fastby what he had gained. He, John Gordon, knew, or thought that heknew, that Mary, as his wife, would lead a happier life than with MrWhittlestaff. But things had turned out unfortunately, and there wasnothing for him but to return to the diamond-fields.
Therefore he had gone back to London with the purpose of preparingfor his journey. A man does not start for South Africa to-morrow, or,if not to-morrow, then the next day. He was aware that there must besome delay; but any place would be better in which to stay than theneighbourhood of Croker's Hall. There were things which must be done,and people with whom he must do it; but of all that, he need saynothing down at Alresford. Therefore, when he got back to London, hemeant to make all his arrangements--and did so far settle his affairsas to take a berth on board one of the mail steamers.
He had come over in company with a certain lawyer, who had gone outto Kimberley with a view to his profession, and had then, as is thecase with all the world that goes to Kimberley, gone into diamonds.Diamonds had become more to him than either briefs or pleadings. Hehad been there for fifteen years, and had ruined himself and madehimself half-a-dozen times. He had found diamonds to be more pleasantthan law, and to be more compatible with champagne, tinned lobsters,and young ladies. He had married a wife, and had parted with her,and taken another man's wife, and paid for her with diamonds. He hadthen possessed nothing, and had afterwards come forth a third-partowner of the important Stick-in-the-Mud claim, which at one timewas paying 12 per cent per month. It must be understood that theStick-in-the-Mud claim was an almost infinitesimal portion of soilin the Great Kimberley mine. It was but the sixteenth part of anoriginal sub-division. But from the centre of the great basin, orrather bowl, which forms the mine, there ran up two wires to thehigh mound erected on the circumference, on which continually twoiron cages were travelling up and down, coming back empty, but goingup laden with gemmiferous dirt. Here travelled the diamonds ofthe Stick-in-the-Mud claim, the owner of one-third of which, MrFitzwalker Tookey, had come home with John Gordon.
Taking a first general glance at affairs in the diamond-fields, Idoubt whether we should have been inclined to suspect that JohnGordon and Fitzwalker Tookey would have been likely to come togetheras partners in a diamond speculation. But John Gordon had in thecourse of things become owner of the other two shares, and whenFitzwalker Tookey determined to come home, he had done so with theobject of buying his partner's interest. This he might have done atonce,--only that he suffered under the privation of an insufficiencyof means. He was a man of great intelligence, and knew well that noreadier mode to wealth had ever presented itself to him than thepurchase of his partner's shares. Much was said to persuade JohnGordon; but he would not part with his documents without seeingsecurity for his money. Therefore Messrs. Gordon and Tookey put theold Stick-in-the-Mud into the hands of competent lawyers, and camehome together.
"I am not at all sure that I shall sell," John Gordon had said.
"But I thought that you offered it."
"Yes; for money down. For the sum named I will sell now. But if Istart from here without completing the bargain, I shall keep theoption in my own hands. The fact is, I do not know whether I shallremain in England or return. If I do come back I am not likely tofind anything better than the old Stick-in-the-Mud." To this MrTookey assented, but still he resolved that he would go home. Henceit came to pass that Mr Fitzwalker Tookey was now in London, andthat John Gordon had to see him frequently. Here Tookey had foundanother would-be partner, who had the needed money, and it wasfervently desired by Mr Tookey that John Gordon might not go back toSouth Africa.
The two men were not at all like in their proclivities; but they hadbeen thrown together, and each had learned much of the inside life ofthe other. The sort of acquaintance with whom a steady man becomesintimate in such a locality often surprises the steady man himself.Fitzwalker Tookey had the antecedents and education of a gentleman.Champagne and lobster suppers--the lobster coming out of tincases,--diamonds and strange ladies, even with bloated cheeks andstrong language, had not altogether destroyed the vestiges of theTemple. He at any rate was fond of a companion with whom he coulddiscuss his English regrets, and John Gordon was not inclined to shuthimself up altogether among his precious stones, and to refuse theconversation of a man who could talk. Tookey had told him of hisgreat distress in reference to his wife. "By G----! you know, thecruellest thing you ever heard in the world. I was a little tight onenight, and the next morning she was off with Atkinson, who got awaywith his pocket full of diamonds. Poor girl! she went down to thePortuguese settlement, and he was nabbed. He's doing penal servicenow down at Cape Town. That's a kind of thing that does upset afellow." And poor Fitzwalker began to cry.
Among such confidences Gordon allowed it to escape from him that werehe to become married in England, he did not think it probable that heshould return. Thus it was known, at least to his partner, that hewas going to look for a wife, and the desire in Mr Tookey's breastthat the wife might be forthcoming was intense. "Well!" he said,immediately on Gordon's return to London.
"What does 'well' mean?"
"Of course you went down there to look after the lady."
"I have never told you so."
"But you did--did you not?"
"I have told you nothing about any lady, though you are constantlyasking questions. As a fact, I think I shall go back next month."
"To Kimberley?"
"I think so. The stake I have there is of too great importance to beabandoned."
"I have the money ready to pay over;--absolute cash on the nail. Youdon't call that abandoning it?"
"The claim has gone up in value 25 per cent, as you have alreadyheard."
"Yes; it has gone up a little, but not so much as that. It will comedown as much by the next mail. With diamonds you never can stick toanything."
"That's true. But you can only go by the prices as you see themquoted. They may be up 25 per cent again by next mail. At any rate, Iam going back."
"The devil you are!"
"That's my present idea. As I like to be on the square with youaltogether, I don't mind saying that I
have booked a berth by the_Kentucky Castle_."
"The deuce you have! And you won't take a wife with you?"
"I am not aware that I shall have such an impediment."
Then Fitzwalker Tookey assumed a very long face. It is difficult totrace the workings of such a man's mind, or to calculate the meagrechances on which he is too often driven to base his hopes of success.He feared that he could not show his face in Kimberley, unless asthe representative of the whole old Stick-in-the-Mud. And with thatobject he had declared himself in London to have the actual power ofdisposing of Gordon's shares. Gordon had gone down to Hampshire, andwould no doubt be successful with the young lady. At any rate,--ashe described it to himself,--he had "gone in for that." He could seehis way in that direction, but in no other. "Upon my word, this, youknow, is--what I call--rather throwing a fellow over."
"I am as good as my word."
"I don't know about that, Gordon."
"But I do, and I won't hear any assertion to the contrary. I offeredyou the shares for a certain price, and you rejected them."
"I did not do that."
"You did do that,--exactly. Then there came up in my mind a feelingthat I might probably wish to change my purpose."
"And I am to suffer for that."
"Not in the least. I then told you that you should still have theshares for the price named. But I did not offer them to any one else.So I came home,--and you chose to come with me. But before I started,and again after, I told you that the offer did not hold good, andthat I should not make up my mind as to selling till after I got toEngland."
"We understood that you meant to be married."
"I never said so. I never said a word about marriage. I am now goingback, and mean to manage the mine myself."
"Without asking me?"
"Yes; I shall ask you. But I have two-thirds. I will give you foryour share 10 per cent more than the price you offered me for each ofmy shares. If you do not like that, you need not accept the offer;but I don't mean to have any more words about it."
Mr Fitzwalker Tookey's face became longer and longer, and he did intruth feel himself to be much aggrieved within his very soul. Therewere still two lines of conduct open to him. He might move the sternman by a recapitulation of the sorrow of his circumstances, or hemight burst out into passionate wrath, and lay all his ruin to hispartner's doing. He might still hope that in this latter way he couldrouse all Kimberley against Gordon, and thus creep back into somevestige of property under the shadow of Gordon's iniquities. He wouldtry both. He would first endeavour to move the stern man to pity. "Idon't think you can imagine the condition in which you are about toplace me."
"I can't admit that I am placing you anywhere."
"I'll just explain. Of course I know that I can tell you everythingin strictest confidence."
"I don't know it at all."
"Oh yes; I can. You remember the story of my poor wife?"
"Yes; I remember."
"She's in London now."
"What! She got back from the Portuguese settlement?"
"Yes. She did not stay there long. I don't suppose that thePortuguese are very nice people."
"Perhaps not."
"At any rate they don't have much money among them."
"Not after the lavish expenditure of the diamond-fields," suggestedGordon.
"Just so. Poor Matilda had been accustomed to all that money couldbuy for her. I never used to be close-fisted with her, thoughsometimes I would be tight."
"As far as I could understand, you never used to agree at all."
"I don't think we did hit it off. Perhaps it was my fault."
"You used to be a little free in your way of living."
"I was. I confess that I was so. I was young then, but I am oldernow. I haven't touched a B. and S. before eleven o'clock since I havebeen in London above two or three times. I do mean to do the best Ican for my young family." It was the fact that Mr Tookey had threelittle children boarding out in Kimberley.
"And what is the lady doing in London?"
"To tell the truth, she's at my lodgings."
"Oh--h!"
"I do admit it. She is."
"She is indifferent to the gentleman in the Cape Town penalsettlement?"
"Altogether, I don't think she ever really cared for him. To tell thetruth, she only wanted some one to take her away from--me."
"And now she trusts you again?"
"Oh dear, yes;--completely. She is my wife, you know, still."
"I suppose so."
"That sacred tie has never been severed. You must always rememberthat. I don't know what your feelings are on such a subject, butaccording to my views it should not be severed roughly. When thereare children, that should always be borne in mind. Don't you thinkso?"
"The children should be borne in mind."
"Just so. That's what I mean. Who can look after a family of youngchildren so well as their young mother? Men have various ways oflooking at the matter." To this John Gordon gave his ready consent,and was anxious to hear in what way his assistance was to be askedin again putting Mr and Mrs Tookey, with their young children,respectably on their feet. "There are men, you know, stand-off sortof fellows, who think that a woman should never be forgiven."
"It must depend on how far the husband has been in fault."
"Exactly. Now these stand-off sort of fellows will never admit thatthey have been in fault at all. That's not my case."
"You drank a little."
"For the matter of that, so did she. When a woman drinks she getsherself to bed somehow. A man gets out upon a spree. That's what Iused to do, and then I would hit about me rather recklessly. I haveno doubt Matilda did get it sometimes. When there has been that kindof thing, forgive and forget is the best thing you can do."
"I suppose so."
"And then at the Fields there isn't the same sort of prudish lifewhich one is accustomed to in England. Here in London a man isnowhere if he takes his wife back. Nobody knows her, because thereare plenty to know of another sort. But there things are not quiteso strict. Of course she oughtn't to have gone off with Atkinson;--avulgar low fellow, too."
"And you oughtn't to have licked her."
"That's just it. It was tit for tat, I think. That's the way I lookat it. At any rate we are living together now, and no one can saywe're not man and wife."
"There'll be a deal of trouble saved in that way."
"A great deal. We are man and wife, and can begin again as thoughnothing had happened. No one can say that black's the white of oureye. She'll take to those darling children as though nothing hadhappened. You can't conceive how anxious she is to get back to them.And there's no other impediment. That's a comfort."
"Another impediment would have upset you rather?"
"I couldn't have put up with that." Mr Fitzwalker Tookey looked verygrave and high-minded as he made the assertion. "But there's nothingof that kind. It's all open sailing. Now,--what are we to live upon,just for a beginning?"
"You have means out there."
"Not as things are at present,--I am sorry to say. To tell the truth,my third share of the old Stick-in-the-Mud is gone. I had to raisemoney when it was desirable that I should come with you."
"Not on my account."
"And then I did owe something. At any rate, it's all gone now. Ishould find myself stranded at Kimberley without a red cent."
"What can I do?"
"Well,--I will explain. Poker & Hodge will buy your shares for thesum named. Joshua Poker, who is out there, has got my third share.Poker & Hodge have the money down, and when I have arranged the sale,will undertake to give me the agency at one per cent on the wholetake for three years certain. That'll be L1000 a-year, and it's oddif I can't float myself again in that time." Gordon stood silent,scratching his head. "Or if you'd give me the agency on the sameterms, it would be the same thing. I don't care a straw for Poker &Hodge."
"I daresay not."
"But you'd find me as true as steel."
"What little good I did at the Fields I did by looking after my ownbusiness."
"Then what do you propose? Let Poker & Hodge have them, and I shallbless you for ever." To this mild appeal Mr Tookey had been broughtby the manner in which John Gordon had scratched his head. "I thinkyou are bound to do it, you know." To this he was brought by thesubsequent look which appeared in John Gordon's eyes.
"I think not."
"Men will say so."
"I don't care a straw what men say, or women."
"And you to come back in the same ship with me and my wife! Youcouldn't do it. The Fields wouldn't receive you." Gordon bethoughthimself whether this imagined rejection might not arise rather fromthe character of his travelling companions. "To bring back themother of three little sainted babes, and then to walk in upon everyshilling of property which had belonged to their father! You nevercould hold up your head in Kimberley again."
"I should have to stand abashed before your virtue?"
"Yes, you would. I should be known to have come back with my poorrepentant wife,--the mother of three dear babes. And she would beknown to have returned with her misguided husband. The humanity ofthe Fields would not utter a word of reproval to either of us. But,upon my word, I should not like to stand in your shoes. And how youcould sit opposite to her and look her in the face on the journeyout, I don't know."
"It would be unpleasant."
"Deuced unpleasant, I should say. You remember the old Roman saying,'Never be conscious of anything within your own bosom.' Only thinkhow you would feel when you were swelling it about in Kimberley,while that poor lady won't be able to buy a pair of boots for herselfor her children. I say nothing about myself. I didn't think you werethe man to do it;--I didn't indeed."
Gordon did find himself moved by the diversity of lights throughwhich he was made to look at the circumstances in question. In thefirst place, there was the journey back with Mr Tookey and his wife,companions he had not anticipated. The lady would probably begin bysoliciting his intimacy, which on board ship he could hardly refuse.With a fellow-passenger, whose husband has been your partner, youmust quarrel bitterly or be warm friends. Upon the whole, he thoughtthat he could not travel to South Africa with Mr and Mrs FitzwalkerTookey. And then he understood what the man's tongue would do if hewere there for a month in advance. The whole picture of life, too,at the Fields was not made attractive by Mr Tookey's description.He was not afraid of the reception which might be accorded to MrsTookey, but saw that Tookey found himself able to threaten him withviolent evils, simply because he would claim his own. Then there shotacross his brain some reminiscence of Mary Lawrie, and a comparisonbetween her and her life and the sort of life which a man must leadunder the auspices of Mrs Tookey. Mary Lawrie was altogether beyondhis reach; but it would be better to have her to think of than theother to know. His idea of the diamond-fields was disturbed by thepromised return of his late partner and his wife.
"And you mean to reduce me to this misery?" asked Mr Tookey.
"I don't care a straw for your misery."
"What!"
"Not for your picture of your misery. I do not doubt but that whenyou have been there for a month you will be drunk as often as ever,and just as free with your fists when a woman comes in your way."
"Never!"
"And I do not see that I am at all bound to provide for you and foryour wife and children. You have seen many ups and downs, and will bedoomed to see many more, as long as you can get hold of a bottle ofwine."
"I mean to take the pledge,--I do indeed. I must do it gradually,because of my constitution,--but I shall do it."
"I don't in the least believe in it;--nor do I believe in any manwho thinks to redeem himself after such a fashion. It may still bepossible that I shall not go back."
"Thank God!"
"I may kill beasts in Buenos Ayres, or take a tea-farm in Thibet, orjoin the colonists in Tennessee. In that case I will let you knowwhat arrangement I may propose to make about the Kimberley claim. Atany rate, I may say this,--I shall not go back in the same vesselwith you."
"I thought it would have been so comfortable."
"You and Mrs Tookey would find yourself more at your ease withoutme."
"Not in the least. Don't let that thought disturb you. Whatevermisery fate may have in store for me, you will always find that, forthe hour, I will endeavour to be a good companion. 'Sufficient forthe day is the evil thereof.' That is the first of my mottoes."
"At any rate, I shall not go back in the _Kentucky Castle_ if youdo."
"I'm afraid our money is paid."
"So is mine; but that does not signify. You have a week yet, and Iwill let you know by eleven o'clock on Thursday what steps I shallfinally take. If in any way I can serve you, I will do so; but I canadmit no claim."
"A thousand thanks! And I am so glad you approve of what I have doneabout Matilda. I'm sure that a steady-going fellow like you wouldhave done the same." To this John Gordon could make no answer, butleft his friend, and went away about his own business. He had todecide between Tennessee, Thibet, and Buenos Ayres, and wanted histime for his own purposes.
When he got to dinner at his club, he found a letter from MrWhittlestaff, which had come by the day-mail. It was a letter which,for the time, drove Thibet and Buenos Ayres, and Tennessee also,clean out of his mind. It was as follows:--
CROKER'S HALL, -- June 188--.
DEAR MR JOHN GORDON,--I shall be in town this afternoon, probably by the same train which will bring this letter, and will do myself the honour of calling upon you at your club the next day at twelve.--I am, dear Mr John Gordon, faithfully yours,
WILLIAM WHITTLESTAFF.
Then there was to be an answer to the appeal which he had made. Ofwhat nature would be the answer? As he laid his hand upon his heart,and felt the violence of the emotion to which he was subjected, hecould not doubt the strength of his own love.
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