CHAPTER IX.PERMISSION TO TRAVEL.
Mark Jervis had been agreeably surprised by his aunt’s enthusiastic co-operation; thanks to her powerful alliance, he had carried his point, and was to spend twelve months travelling in India, accompanied by Mrs. Pollitt’s brother, Captain Clarence Waring. The latter was about to revisit his former haunts in an entirely new character—that of mentor and companion to a young man—and, moreover, a wealthy young man. All the world has heard of “Pollitt’s Pearl Barley,” and “Pollitt’s Patent Fowls’ Food.” Are not its merits blazoned in flaming letters in railway stations, in fields bordering the rockingexpresses that thunder through the land? Does not the name of “Pollitt” greet the miserable eyes of sea-sick travellers, as they stagger down the companion ladders of ocean greyhounds? In short, the enterprise of Daniel Pollitt, and the fame of Pollitt’s pearl barley, is of universal renown.
Although he has never boasted of the fact, or assured his intimates that “he began life with the traditional sixpence,” Mr. Pollitt is a self-made man. He talks freely enough of his wife’s relations, of his nephew’s famous pedigree, but he has not once alluded in the most distant fashion to his own little family tree. Yet he has nothing to be ashamed of. His father was a gentleman by birth, a poor curate, who had left two almost penniless orphans, Dan and a sister, several years younger than himself. The former, while yet in his early teens, had clambered on to a stool in an office in the city, from thence (unusual flight) he had soared to success and wealth. Thanks to indomitable industry, shrewdness, andpluck, he was now a merchant of credit and renown. The latter, who was a remarkably pretty and well-educated girl, accompanied a lady to India, in the capacity of governess, and, in a startlingly short time, married Captain Jervis of the Bengal Cavalry, a good-looking popular officer, with a long pedigree and a somewhat slender purse. By all accounts, the marriage was a happy one. At the end of six years Mrs. Jervis died, and their only child, a boy of five, was sent to school in England. Five years later, he was followed by his father, who rushed home on three months’ leave, in order to see little Mark as well as his tailor and his dentist. Major Jervis, a bronzed, handsome, distinguished soldier, made an excellent impression on the plodding city man—his brother-in-law, who cordially invited him to stay with him at Norwood, where he had a luxurious bachelor establishment. And here, over unimpeachable claret and cigars, the Indian officer unfolded his plans.
Little Mark was about to have a stepmother, the lady was a Miss Cardozo, of Portuguese extraction, dark, handsome, not very young, but enormously wealthy, and quite infatuated about little Mark’s papa. Her grandfather had been a military adventurer, whose sword and swagger had gained him the heart and treasures of a Begum. Miss Cardozo’s father was an indigo planter, in those good old times when indigo crops brought in lacs of rupees, and she was his sole heiress and an orphan. Besides the Begum’s wealth and jewels, she owned property in the Doon, property in the hills, property in Tirhoot, shares in banks and railways, and large investments in the funds.
Mr. Pollitt’s shrewd little eyes glistened approvingly as he absorbed these particulars.
“Cut the service, bring her to England, and take a fine country place,” was his prompt suggestion.
“No, no, she hates England; she was at school over here. She dreads our winters, and rain and fog,” replied Major Jervis.“And she likes my being in the service. I can tell you that our men and horses are something to see! Mércèdes—that is her name—delights in pomp and show and glitter, and is much attached to India; and to tell you the honest truth, Pollitt, I’m partial to the country too. I have been out there twenty-two years, ever since I was eighteen, with only two short furloughs, and it’s a country that suits me down to the ground. My near relations in England are every one dead, I have no ties here, all my friends and interests are out there, and I don’t mind if I end my days in the East.”
“And what about Mark?” demanded his listener.
“Yes, that is the question,” said his father. “It’s hard lines on the boy, to have no home with me—but later on he shall go into the service, and come out to us. You have been wonderfully kind to him I know, having him here in his holidays, and he is very fond of you, as he ought tobe. I feel rather guilty about him, poor chap; he is ten years old and I have seen nothing of him for half that time, and now, goodness knows how or where we may meet again. Of course no money shall be spared on his education, and all that—but——” he paused.
“ButI’lltell you what you will do,” continued Mr. Pollitt. “I’ll put the whole matter in a nutshell. You are making a fresh start, you and the boy are almost strangers, so you won’t feel the wrench. Give him tome, I am fond of him, I have no family—he is a handsome, plucky little fellow, with poor Lucy’s eyes—I will ensure him a first-class education, bring him up as my son, and make him my heir, and leave him all I am worth; come now?”
“It is a splendid offer, Pollitt, butIam fond of him too. I cannot provide for him as you would, I can only set him out in the world with a profession, and make him a small allowance, for of course Mércèdes’ money will be settled on herself. If Iresigned him to you, in years to come I might repent, I might want him back.”
“In years to come you will probably have half a dozen other sons, and be thankful to have one of them off your hands.”
After considerable discussion—Jervis, the father, a little reluctant; Pollitt, the uncle, exceedingly eager and pressing—the matter was concluded. Mark was to correspond with his parent as regularly as he pleased, but he was to be, to all intents and purposes, his uncle Daniel’s son.
Major Jervis made the most of his five weeks in England. He invested in a new and gorgeous uniform, a new battery of guns, saddlery, presents for Indian friends and hisfiancée, and saw as much as possible of Mark. The more the pair were acquainted the better they liked each other. They went to the Tower, Madame Tussaud’s, the Zoo, the theatres. Mark invariably accompanied his parent to tailors, boot-makers and gun-smiths, and became subsequently quite the authority on these matters atschool. His soldierly, open-handed sire, who loaded him with gifts, who told him tales of the stirring deeds of his ancestors, of his own swarthy sowars, of tiger-hunting and elephant drives, speedily became his hero and his idol.
On being sounded as to his own choice of a profession, Mark, after taking thought for a considerable time, gravely announced to his father and uncle, “that he would prefer to be a bachelor.”
“And by no means a bad choice,” roared Mr. Pollitt, in great glee. “Stick to that, my boy, stick to that, copy your old uncle.”
“I don’t think he will,” remarked Major Jervis, with decision; “he will take after me. We are a susceptible race, we Jervises, and I’ll give him till he is two and twenty.”
The day of parting was a dismal one for father and son. The child struggled desperately to be a man, to shed no tears, and bore himself wonderfully, at any rate in public, but after the cab had driven off, herushed away and shut himself up in his own little bedroom, and flung himself upon the floor, and abandoned himself to the bitterest grief he had ever experienced, and he was ten years old.
Some years after this scene, Mr. Pollitt, to every one’s surprise, married a faded, elegant-looking woman, of good family, but portionless. He bought a house in Princes Gate, rented a grouse moor, deer forest, and hunting box, and invested in some celebrated diamonds. He had now amassed a great fortune, and at the age of fifty-five, retired from business, in order to spend it. But here arose an unexpected difficulty, he did not know how to enjoy the result of his labours, save by proxy. He looked up to his handsome well-born nephew to manipulate his thousands, much as a child appeals to an experienced friend to work a new mechanical toy. All his own youth had been spent among great city warehouses, on wharves, and in offices. He had never ridden, save on the top of an omnibus, hecould not drive, shoot, row, or even fish, and, alas! it was now too late to learn. He, however, took to field sports in the character of a spectator, with surprising enthusiasm. He walked with the guns on his moors, and was much excited respecting the bag. He gave fancy prices for his nephew’s hunters, and attended every meet (on wheels), where there was a prospect of seeing their performance, following the line, and keeping the hounds in sight as far as possible, by means of short cuts and glasses.
He was a truly proud man when he saw his nephew’s name in theFieldas foremost rider in a sensational run. The worst of it was, that Mark hated notoriety of any kind, hung back where he should come forward, came forward when he should have hung back; had actually no desire to lease a theatre, keep race-horses, or even gamble; in short, he had not a single extravagant taste. (Here, indeed, was a most singular case. How many fathers are there in these latter days who feel hurt and disappointedbecause their sons will not spend thousands?) On the other hand, Mrs. Pollitt was only too ready to assist her partner in laying out large sums. She had many needy connections, and hoped to do great things for them; but she found, to her deep chagrin, that the personal spending of her husband’s wealth was denied her. She had a liberal dress allowance, diamonds of the first water, equipages, a fine establishment, a French maid; but she might not thrust her hand into her lord and master’s purse and scatter largesse to her poor relations, and—what was a truly hard case—she might not even attempt to arrange an alliance between Mark and one of her nieces. No, Mr. Pollitt was resolved that his heir should marryrank. It must be “Mr. and Lady Somebody Jervis,” and with Mark’s good looks, money, and birth, there would be no difficulty in this little matter. Then Mark must go into Parliament, settle down as a great landed proprietor, and ruffle it with the best. Thus was his future sketchedout by his uncle, who wisely kept the sketch to himself.
Mrs. Pollitt was surprised to find her dear Daniel so obstinate and impracticable on several trifling matters. For instance, she had made up her mind to change the spelling of his name, and had even gone so far as to have her own cards printed, “Mrs. D. Murray-Paulet, 500, Princes Gate.”
“How lucky that Daniel has a second name!” she said to herself as she complacently examined her new title a few days after her marriage. She tripped across the room and held a card playfully before the bridegroom’s spectacles, and the tiresome man had exclaimed—
“Who is she? I can’t stand visitors. Here, let me clear out first, if she is coming up——”
“The new card trick,” as he subsequently called it, had been their first trial of strength, and the bride had succumbed with tears.
“Change his name!” he had roared—“his name, that he had made! Never! He was proud of it. It was the wife who changed her name on marriage, not the husband. Was she aware of that?”
Another subject on which she had had to yield was the housekeeping bills; they all passed through Mr. Pollitt’s hands, who settled them by cheque, consequently there were no pickings.
Mrs. Pollitt had her own particular schemes; she could not offer her kinsfolk much solid assistance, but did what she could. To her sister and nieces she distributed dresses and mantles scarcely worn; she gave them drives, boxes at the theatre, tickets, and perpetual invitations to dinner, lunch, and all her parties; to her brother Clarence such sums as she could spare from her pin-money. Clarence was ten years her junior, gay,débonnaire, and good-looking. He had a pair of handsome, insolent blue eyes, a well-cultivated moustache, an admirable figure, and a rather overbearing manner. He was acomplete man of the world, who had many pecuniary troubles, no fixed principles, and but few scruples. He was, nevertheless, pleasant, and by no means unpopular.
Captain Waring had spent every penny that he possessed (and a good many pennies belonging to other people); and when his regiment came home from India, he had been compelled to retire from the service, and had been living ever since on his friends and his wits. This Indian trip would be a capital thing for him, all expenses paid; and if he and Mark remained away a year, some of the other connections might get a footing at Princes Gate. The aphorism, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” does not apply to uncles and nephews.
If Mark wereneverto return, it would not break his aunt’s heart. If he had not been her husband’s favourite, she might have been fond of him. He was exceedingly presentable; she liked to exhibit him in her carriage or opera-box (a gratificationshe seldom enjoyed). He was always polite, always thoughtful of her comfort, always respectful, though he had shown himself ready with a forcible reply on one or two critical occasions; but he did not understand the art of administering flattery, and she consumed it in large doses. Now here Clarence was supreme; it washewho had solemnly assured her that she bore a striking resemblance to Sara Bernhardt. Yes, golden voice and all; and the poor deluded lady believed him, and attired herself in clinging draperies, and combed her fringe well over her brows in order to emphasize her undeniable resemblance to the great actress. Once, when she questioned Mr. Pollitt on the subject, he had laughed so uproariously—so like a husband—that an apoplectic seizure seemed imminent.
Captain Waring was most enthusiastic respecting this Indian scheme, and naturally gave the project his warmest support.Tête-à-tête, he said, “It’s a first-class notion of Mark’s. The uncle keeps him fartoo tight in hand. No wonder he wants to break away and see the world and live his own life, poor devil!”
“What nonsense!” protested Mrs. Pollitt, irritably. “He has plenty of liberty and a latch-key.”
“And does not know how to use one or other. Besides, the uncle’s proud eye is always on him; he follows him about like a dog—worse, for dogs are not admitted into clubs! However, this twelve months’ holiday in a far country will be a most blessed relief to the boy and A1 business for me. I’m on my last legs; and if this had not turned up, I’d have had to make strong running with Miss Clodde. She is common and repulsive looking, but has thirty thousand pounds. I hope I may never be sodesperateas to marry her—at any rate, I have a year’s respite.”
“How do you know she would have you, Clar?”
Clar’s laugh was an interesting study in manly assurance.
“I really wish youweremarried,” continued his sister rather peevishly.
“Yes; to a rich elderly widow who has had her fling—that is my style.”
“What a horrible way of talking! You are really too dreadful. I suppose this trip will be rather costly?”
“Ra—ther!” emphatically.
“And you will be the treasurer?” opening her pale eyes to their widest extent.
“I’m not so sure of that,” shaking his head. “Of course, as I am the manager, and am personally conducting this tour, all payments ought to come fromme. ‘The uncle,’ however, is rather shy of having monetary dealings with his brother-in-law, as you know by sad experience. However, I may be able to work it, once we are in India, and you may depend upon me for making the most of my time and—opportunities. I was so hard up, I was thinking of taking a leaf out of Charlie Wilde’s book. He writes hymns and tracts——”
“How absurd you are! What preposterous nonsense!Charlie Wilde, who has never entered a place of worship for years, write tracts!”
“I tell you that he does!” persisted Clarence. “He has a wonderful knack, and does the pathetic and emotional style A1. Gets about ten pounds apiece, and invests the money in a flutter on the turf.”
“Well, Clar,” said his deeply shocked sister, “I cannot compliment you on your companions; and, whatever you may come to, I hope you will never arrive at such a pitch of wickedness as that.”
On one point Captain Waring and Mr. Pollitt were most warmly agreed, viz. that “the trip must be done in good style if done at all.”
Mark was inclined to travel “on the cheap,” his uncle had complained, and had protested against a large quantity of baggage, a battery of guns, and a valet.
“Thirty pair of boots!” he cried. “What rubbish! I am not going towalkround India!”
“But Clarence says you can’t do with less, and he must know better than you do,” argued Mr. Pollitt. “I wish you to travel like a gentleman, not like a bag-man. There is where you disappoint me, my boy—you make no show, no dash; your tastes are all for quiet—your favourite character is the violet, and you prefer a back seat. You are going out in the same steamer with a lot of nobs—I’ve seen to that—and it is as likely as not that you will join forces when you land. These swells take to you. As for me, they only take to my dinners, and my deer forest. However, as long asyouare in the best set, I don’t care—I’m satisfied.”
“I think Clarence and I will stick to ourselves, and not join any party, sir; we will be more independent. He has sketched out our beat—Bombay, Poonah, Secunderabad, Travancore, Madras, Ceylon, Calcutta, the hills; and that puts me in mind to ask if you have any idea of my father’s whereabouts?”
“Bostock and Bell, Bombay, are his agents,” evading the question and his nephew’s eyes.
“I know that; I have written to their care steadily for the last six years.”
“And never had an answer?” with ill-concealed satisfaction.
“No, except a ‘Pioneer’ at long, long intervals.”
“Just to show that he is alive? Let me see, it is eight years since he left the service and went to live at a place called the Doon. He wrote pretty regularly up to then; and when Mrs. Jervis was killed in that carriage accident, he never sent a line, only a paper. Poor woman! I believe she led him a devil of a life. She was insanely jealous.”
“I suppose I can get his address in Bombay—his real address, I mean?”
“Yes, I should think so.”
“And then I shall look him up—at once.”
“If he will be looked up. The Jervisesare an eccentric family. I heard some queer stories of them not long ago.”
“But my father never struck you as eccentric, did he?”
“No. And, of course, you must try and see him; but don’t let him lay hands on you andkeepyou, my boy. He was a handsome, persuasive sort of fellow, and had wonderful personal charm—when he chose to exert it. India has cast a spell upon him, and kept him with her for the best part of his life. Don’t let India do the same byyou.”
“No fear of that,” with emphasis.
“Well, I’m sorry now you are going out there, for several reasons. I would have preferred China or Australia, but Waring has his say and his way.”
“And I hadmysay and my way too, Uncle Dan. India is my native land; I remember it distinctly—the servants with their dark faces and big white turbans, my little chestnut pony, which was called the ‘Lal Tatoo,’ and I want to see my father.You know we have not met for fifteen years.”
“I know,” assented Mr. Pollitt, gloomily, and added, after a pause, “I wonder now, if it would be possible for you to throw me over—and stop out there with him!”
“There is not the smallest probability of that. Besides, my father does not want me.”
“And supposing that hedid!” exclaimed Mr. Pollitt, suddenly jumping up and beginning to walk about the room. “Bear this in view, that you must make up your mind between us! You cannot be son and heir totwomen! You can pay him a visit of a week, or at most a month; but if you postpone coming home at his request—I warn you, that you may stay in India till I fetch you! To put the matter in a nutshell, I wash my hands of you for ever! Not one farthing of my money will you see,” he continued, speaking in great excitement. “I shall leave every shilling to hospitals, you understand that, eh?” he gasped, breathless.
“Yes, and it would be but just. I cannot live with my father in India and be your adopted son at home, but you are needlessly alarmed. I shall turn up again within a year without fail. I’ll take a return ticket if you like.”
“Well, that’s a bargain, my boy. I’m a bit jealous of your father, and it’s a nasty, low, ungentlemanly feeling. I must confess that I have been glad that he, so to speak, dropped you. But he handed you over to me when he married the Begum, and you aremyson—not his.”
The day of departure arrived; the valet (a somewhat garrulous person, with superb references), in charge of three cabs loaded with baggage, preceded the travellers to Victoria, whilst Mr. and Mrs. Pollitt drove the young men in the family landau, in order to see the last of them.
As Mark and his uncle slowly paced the platform, the latter, who had been incessantly fussy all the morning, said—
“Now, I hope nothing has been forgotten,and that you have everything you want?”
“I’m sure we have—and ten times over.”
“You will write often—once a week—if only a line, eh? Mind you don’t forget us.”
“No fear of that, Uncle Dan.”
“And remember our bargain. Though I have not taken return tickets, after all. Don’t stay longer than the year. I don’t know how I’m to get on without you. I can never use the mail-phaeton now, for I hate sitting beside the coachman—and—you know, I tried to drive once—and the result. There will be no one to take me on the river on a hot afternoon—other people but you think an old fogey has no business there. Oh, I shall miss you! I’ve lodged money for you in Bombay with Bostock & Bell’s” (naming a magnificent sum), “and when it’s done, you must come home, for I won’t send you another stiver. It’s in your name, of course—you will be paymaster.”
“All right, uncle.”
“Keep your cheque-book locked up. Don’t let a tiger get hold of you, or one of those scheming, husband-hunting women that Clarence talks about.”
“You may make your mind quite easy on that score,” with a rather derisive smile.
“Well, time is up, my dear boy. I am sorry you are going; take care of yourself. God bless you!” wringing his hand as he spoke.
Meanwhile Mrs. Pollitt and her brother had also been having a few parting words.
“Now, Clar,” she said impressively, “I have done a good thing for you. This is a splendid chance. Be sure you make the most of it; if you please the ‘uncle,’ as you call him, he will help you to something better by-and-by.”
Clarence nodded sagaciously. He was in the highest spirits.
“You are not really limited to time, you know,” she continued, in a whisper.
“I know,” and there was a significantlook in his right eye, almost approaching to a wink.
“And you will be manager—and paymaster.”
“Guide, councillor, and friend, youbet.”
“And now, dear boy,dobe prudent; don’t get into any more entanglements with grass widows; don’t get into any more betting or gambling scrapes—promise me.”
“I shall be as steady as old Time or young Mark himself, and I can’t say more. Well, good-bye—and thanks awfully, Lina. I must say youdostick to your own people”—adding, with a hasty kiss—“I see we are off.”
As the carriage moved slowly past the Pollitts, who were standing side by side, Clarence flung himself back with a boisterous laugh, as he exclaimed—
“I declare, the uncle seems quite cut up—ha, ha, ha! Upon my soul, I believe the old chap iscrying!”