There was a pause when he had gone.
Mrs. Clive, the very essence of dignified disapprobation, stood in the centre of the room. Mr. Ash, a little flustered, was near the window, first gazing through it in the direction which Mr. Summers had taken, and then, a little dubiously, out of the corners of his eyes at his indignant friend. Mr. Ely's hands were in his trouser pockets, his legs were wide apart his countenance was red. He seemed to be in a very dissatisfied frame of mind indeed.
It was he who broke the silence.
"You see, Ash, it was a wild goose chase we came upon! That man looks like it, by George!"
"My dear fellow, I hope you will not pay the slightest attention to what that person says. He is the kind of man who will say anything. I assure you there is not the slightest occasion for you to feel concerned."
From Mr. Ash's manner it almost seemed as though he desired to convey a greater feeling of assurance that he quite felt himself. He cast several glances in the direction of Mrs. Clive, as though seeking for support.
"It depends upon what you call the 'slightest occasion' for concern," retorted Mr. Ely drily. "When a man tells you that he is going to marry the girl who has promised to be your wife, and that he is going to meet her underneath the trysting tree--where love lies dreaming, he said, by gad!--some people would think that there was some reason to feel concerned!"
Mr. Ash smiled and rubbed his hands, and fidgeted upon his feet, and looked at Mrs. Clive. He seemed to find some difficulty in finding something suitable to say. But Mrs. Clive came nobly to his rescue.
She advanced to Mr. Ely with a smiling countenance and an outstretched hand.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Ely; you have not spoken to me yet. I am pleased to have you back with us so soon."
Mr. Ely seemed in two minds at first as to whether he should take her hand. Then he just touched it with his own.
"Good afternoon, ma'am! If you're pleased, I'm sure I am--though I must say your pleasure's easily found."
But the old lady was not to be so easily put down. Her cue seemed to be to assume unconsciousness of there being anything unpleasant in the air.
"The pleasure of your visit is heightened by its unexpectedness. Lily has been working all the morning in her room upstairs--you have no idea how industrious she is."
Mr. Ely looked at her suspiciously, as though he doubted if she were a strict exponent of the truth.
"I thought he said that he was going to meet her underneath the trysting tree!"
The old lady smiled a superior smile.
"You really must not believe such nonsense as that. I assure you it is the greatest presumption upon his part."
"It would require a good deal of assurance to make me believe that it was not."
"Lily will be with us directly. Young ladies cannot rush into a gentleman's presence quite at a moment's notice, you know."
"I beg that Miss Truscott will take her time!"
Mr. Ely marched to the other end of the room, and stood looking in rather too obvious admiration at an engraving after Landseer which hung upon the wall. Mrs. Clive, a little disconcerted, was left to make conversation with Mr. Ash. But Mr. Ash was in a distinctly uneasy frame of mind.
"I suppose," he said in a whisper to the lady, keeping one eye fixed on Mr. Ely all the time, "I suppose she'll come?"
"My dear Mr. Ash, what do you mean?"
The lady's modulated tones betrayed the most intense surprise. Mr. Ash coughed. His manner was apologetic. But without volunteering an explanation he sauntered off towards Mr. Ely. He had hardly taken a step when the door opened and Miss Truscott appeared. The young lady's entrance, in its way, was perfect. She was so extremely at her ease. She stood at the door a moment, and then advanced with outstretched hands and the sweetest smile to Mr. Ash. She did not seem to notice Mr. Ely. He, on his part, continued to admire the engraving.
"Guardian! How kind of you to take me by surprise like this!"
Mr. Ash took the two hands she offered and looked at her. Certainly this was a woman whom no man need be ashamed to call his wife. Tall above the average of her sex, yet her figure was exquisitely feminine--she bore herself with the daintiest grace. She was dressed in white from head to foot; a silver belt went round her waist; in the belt were some red roses; there was another rosebud in the bosom of her dress. As Mr. Ash held her two soft, white hands in his he involuntarily glanced in the direction of the dapper little gentleman who was continuing to examine the engraving which hung upon the wall. Even if they made a match of it they would scarcely make a pair, these two.
"What have you to say for yourself?" asked the lady, seeing that he was still. "Do you know how long it is since you came to look upon my face? Does your conscience not reproach you, sir? I suppose it is the Juggernaut of commerce which has kept you so long away?"
Mr. Ash smiled, and pressed her hands. Possibly the source from which she drew the reference to the Juggernaut of commerce was still fresh in his mind, for there was something a little uneasy in his smile.
"I think you will allow that I have atoned for my misconduct when you perceive whom I have brought as my companion."
Mr. Ash motioned towards Mr. Ely with his now disengaged hand. Miss Truscott turned with her most innocent air. When she perceived the little gentleman, her countenance was illumined with a seraphic smile.
"Mr. Ely! Who would have thought of seeing you? This is a compliment! To be able to tear yourself away again so quickly from your Noras and Doras, and bulls and bears."
Mr. Ely ceased to examine the engraving. Turning, he pulled his spotless white waistcoat down into its place, and then thrust his thumbs into the armholes. He looked the lady in the face.
"I knew you would be surprised," he said.
"Surprised! Surprised is not the word!" Then she turned again to Mr. Ash. "Guardian, would you like to look at the garden? You have no idea how beautiful it is."
Mr. Ash cleared his throat. He felt that this was a defiance, that in these seemingly innocent words the gage of challenge was thrown down. Miss Truscott was quite aware that he had not come down to look at the garden. He looked at Mr. Ely, but that gentleman kept his eyes fixed upon his faithless fair one with a sort of glare. He looked at Mrs. Clive, but there were no signs that help was likely to come from there. The stockbroker felt that it was incumbent upon him to come to the point.
"My dear Lily, I shall be delighted to see the garden--delighted--by and by!" This interpolation was necessary because the young lady sailed towards the window as though she wished to fly into the garden on the wings of the wind. "Before I can give myself that pleasure, there is one little point which I should like to have cleared up."
Miss Truscott, brought to a standstill, looked down at the toe of the little shoe with which she was tapping the floor.
"Yes, guardian. What is that?"
Nothing could be better--in its way--than the air of shy, sweet modesty with which she asked the question. But Mr. Ash felt that it was a little disconcerting all the same.
"It's--eh!--rather a delicate point for an old--and crusty--bachelor like me to handle."
Mr. Ash said this with an air of forced joviality which was anything but jovial. His gruesome effort to be cheerful seemed to strike Miss Truscott, for she gave him a quick, penetrating glance which took him considerably aback.
"Guardian! Aren't you well?"
"Well? God bless the girl, yes! What do you mean?"
Back went the eyes to the toe, which again began tapping the floor. "I didn't know."
Mr. Ash pulled himself together. He made another effort, and began again. He was not a man who was deficient in tact as a rule, but he was conscious that his was a position in which even something more than tact might be required. Joining the tips of his fingers, he balanced himself upon his toes and heels, assuming what he intended to be a judicial attitude.
"My dear Lily, you are quite aware that you have reached an age at which it is no longer possible to treat you as a girl."
"Would you treat me as an old woman, then?"
This was disconcerting; even more disconcerting was the glance with which it was accompanied. Mr. Ash--who had the sense of humour which Mr. Ely lacked--was quite aware that the young lady was laughing in her sleeve, and he had very clearly in his mind the memory of previous occasions on which the young lady had beaten him with weapons against which none of his were of the least avail. Still, he stuck to his guns. Was not Mr. Ely looking on? And Mrs. Clive?
"I would treat you as a person who has arrived at years of discretion, who is conscious of the meaning of the words which she may use. One moment!" For Miss Truscott murmured something about her not being yet twenty-one, and he felt that interruption might be fatal. "Lily, you are at least aware of what a promise means."
The young lady sighed.
"It depends," she said.
"Depends!--depends on what?"
She looked up. Feeling that it would be impossible for him to preserve his gravity and yet meet the wicked light which he knew was in her eyes, Mr. Ash's glance in turn sought refuge on the ground.
"Supposing," she explained, "when you were suffering from an attack of indigestion you promised a friend to cut your throat--you know what one is inclined to promise when one does feel ill. Would you feel constrained to carry out your promise when you found that a dose of somebody's medicine had brought you round?"
Mr. Ash was still. Mrs. Clive took up the parable instead.
"Lily! I'm amazed at you!"
"My dear aunt, why are you amazed?"
"I never thought a niece of mine could have acted so."
Miss Truscott sighed.
"It seems to me that of late I'm always doing wrong. I don't know how it is. I think I had better go into the garden all alone."
She gave a half-step towards the window. Mr. Ash cleared his throat with rather a suspicious "hem!"
"It won't do, Lily. I know your genius for turning serious questions upside down, but I ask you to put it to your conscience if, on the present occasion, that is fair. A matter which affects the lives of a man and of a woman ought to be approached with gravity at least."
"Is the woman me?" She looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. "Oughtn't that to be--Is the woman I?" Then she broke into a smile. "What can you expect when even the elementary rules of grammar are not there?"
So far Mr. Ely had kept a judicious, if not a judicial, silence. But when he saw that Miss Truscott was smiling at Mr. Ash, and more than suspected that Mr. Ash was smiling back at her, he felt that it was time for him to speak.
"If you will allow me, Ash, I'll manage this myself."
"Delighted, my dear fellow, I am sure!"
"I fancy I am the person principally concerned."
"Quite so, quite so!"
"If you will leave me alone with Miss Truscott, I've no doubt that in a few minutes we shall understand each other very well indeed."
"I'm sure you will! I feel quite sure you will!"
Mr. Ash's tone was cheerful--Mr. Ely felt that it was even exasperatingly cheerful. Advancing, he laid his hand upon his ward's well-rounded arm.
"Mind you behave yourself," he told her. Then he left the room.
"Lily," said Mrs. Clive, when Mr. Ash had gone, "I trust you will do credit to the precepts which I have so constantly, and I hope conscientiously, endeavoured to instil into your mind, and that I shall not have cause to blush for my own sister's child."
Then Mrs. Clive went after Mr. Ash, and the two were left alone.
"Sounds like the last words of a funeral sermon," muttered Mr. Ely, directly the door was closed.
"It does sound a little that way, doesn't it?"
Then the two were still.
Mr. Ely took up the position in front of the fireplace which had been occupied by Mr. Ash; Miss Truscott seated herself by a five-o'clock tea-table, and pensively regarded so much of her toes as she permitted to peep from under the hem of her dress. A considerable pause ensued. Possibly Mr. Ely was endeavouring to find words with which to clothe his thoughts.
"This is like a Quaker's meeting," murmured the lady.
Mr. Ely started. But he checked the retort which rose to his lips, and continued his reflections. At last he spoke. The words issued from his lips with excessive deliberation, as though he weighed each one to be quite sure it was of proper weight.
"Miss Truscott, the exigencies of modern civilisation compel from man a chivalrous attitude towards the weaker sex."
She looked up at the first sound of his voice--and he immediately wished she would look down again.
"But there are occasions on which chivalry should give place to even higher things."
He certainly wished she would look down again. Her countenance was perfectly grave, but he had a horrid suspicion that there was laughter in her eyes. She murmured something to herself.
"What was that you said?" he asked, with a sudden departure from his air of ceremonious state.
"Nothing."
She looked down--and smiled. Mr. Ely felt that he was growing warm. He was not a man easily put out of countenance as a rule, but this young lady had an effect upon him which was quite unprecedented. He changed his method of attack, and from excessive deliberation passed to excessive haste.
"Miss Truscott, I am a plain business man."
"You are."
"The day before yesterday I asked you to be my wife."
"You did."
"You said you would."
"And immediately afterwards I changed my mind." She said this with her sweetest smile.
"Changed your mind! What do you mean? Do you know I spent twenty pounds on an engagement-ring?" Mr. Ely produced a little leather case from his waistcoat pocket, and from the case a ring. "Do you see that? Do you know I paid twenty pounds for that? And it might have cost me forty-five."
Taking the ring, Miss Truscott slipped it on her long, slender finger.
"What a pretty ring! How well it fits me, too. I'll buy it from you if you'll let me have it cheap."
Mr. Ely was for a moment speechless.
"Cheap! Do you think I buy engagement-rings to sell them at a profit, then?"
"I don't know. You say you are a business man."
"Say I'm a business man! I should have to be a very funny business man if I did that kind of thing."
Taking off the ring, Miss Truscott put it back into the case.
"Never mind, Mr. Ely; as a business man you know that a good investment is never thrown away. If you don't meet with a good offer for it at once it is sure to come in by and by. If you go on asking girls to marry you, possibly in time you will light on one who will not change her mind."
"Miss Truscott, I don't think you quite know what sort of man I am."
"You say you are a business man."
"But, excuse me, you don't seem to know what a business man is either. A business man is a man who sticks to his own bargains, and expects other people to stick to theirs."
"Is he, indeed. How very interesting!"
"You promised to be my wife."
"Always supposing that I did not change my mind."
"Always supposing nothing of the kind. There was no sort of supposition even hinted at. It was as plain and unequivocal a promise as was ever made by A to B."
"Don't you see, Mr. Ely, that you're placing me in a delicate position?"
"In what sort of a position do you think you're placing me?"
"Would you have me marry you--now?"
"By George, I would!"
Rising from her seat, Miss Truscott placed her two hands behind her back--in the manner in which the children do at school---and looked him boldly in the face.
"When I love another man?--when my whole heart only beats for him?--when, in a sense which you shall never understand, I am his, and he is mine?"
Mr. Ely fidgeted beneath the clear scrutiny of her wide-open eyes.
"Look here, Miss Truscott, I've told you already that I am not a man of sentiment."
"Do you call this a question of sentiment? Would you marry a woman who frankly tells you that she loathes you, and that she yearns for another man?"
"Loathes me, by gad! Nice thing, by George! Look here, Miss Truscott, you promised to be my wife----"
Mr. Ely was accentuating his words by striking together the palms of his hands, but Miss Truscott cut him short.
"Really, Mr. Ely, you are like a child. You indulge in the vainest repetitions. I promised fiddlesticks, for all I know! I don't intend to marry you, so there's an end of it."
"Don't you? We shall see!"
"We certainly shall see!"
"Miss Truscott, if you decline to fulfil the promise which you made to me--according to your own confession--I go straight from here to my solicitor and instruct him to immediately commence an action against you for breach of promise of marriage. You will find that even a woman is not allowed to play fast-and-loose exactly as she pleases."
"You threaten me! You dare to threaten me! Now I see the business man, indeed! It is damages you want to mend your broken heart--the money, not the wife. How foolish I was not to understand all that before! Can we not compromise the case, we principals? Why should all the plunder go into the lawyer's hands? Let me beg your acceptance of a ten-pound note."
Miss Truscott took out her purse.
"Ten pounds!" Mr. Ely remembered the writ which he had in the pocket of his coat. "I'll get thirty thousand pounds at least!"
"Thirty thousand pounds! What a sum am I not valued at! I am afraid, Mr. Ely, that I am not able to treat with you when you speak of such noble figures as that. You see, at present, my guardian has the charge of my pecuniary affairs. But I beg you to believe that I am glad to learn that you can find compensation even in the prospect of such a sum as that. I had feared that your wounded affections were incurable."
"Compensation! Oh, yes, I'll find compensation fast enough! And you shall find it too! That letter of yours shall be produced in court. You shall have as first rate an advertisement as ever yet a woman had. I'll give Summers cause to be proud of his wife."
"I am so pleased to hear you speak like that, because, of course, I hope he always will be proud of me, you know. I hope you will not put it down to my insufferable conceit, but I don't think he's ashamed of me, as yet. But it is quite a relief to my mind to think that we are agreed. For we are agreed, are we not?"
"Agreed! On what?"
"On the principle of compensation."
"Oh, yes, there's no doubt that we agree on that--as you will see directly I get back to town."
"That is most gratifying, isn't it? As we do agree now, won't you take my hand?" Before he knew it she had her hand in his. She was looking at him with laughter lighting all her face. "I knew that we should understand each other after all."
And while they still stood there hand in hand, looking at each other--but with such different expressions on their faces--the door opened and Mr. Ash came in.
"When a woman says she will, she will!You may depend on't!And when she says she won't, she won't!And there's an end on't!"
"When a woman says she will, she will!
You may depend on't!
And when she says she won't, she won't!
And there's an end on't!"
"I knew you would! I knew you had only got to get together to understand each other perfectly."
This was what Mr. Ash said as he entered the room. He had caught Miss Truscott's words, but misapplied their meaning. He advanced towards Mr. Ely with beaming countenance.
"I congratulate you, Ely; I do with all my heart. Who was right about the little misunderstanding, now? Did I not tell you that there was a romantic side about the feminine character with which you were unacquainted, a sort of airy nothing which is a source of continual perplexity to the most experienced man. And wasn't it worth it all for the sake of the reconciliation at the end?"
Mr. Ely gasped.
"This--this is the final straw!"
"Ah, my boy, I know more about a woman than you. We old bachelors are not quite blind, after all."
It was with difficulty that Mr. Ely obtained sufficient self-control to enable him to speak.
"Do I understand that you are offering me your congratulations?"
"Certainly! I congratulate you with all my heart, my boy."
Mr. Ash held out his hand. Mr. Ely ignored it. He did more. He looked as though he would have liked to have spurned it from him. He eyed Mr. Ash with withering scorn.
"I'm a fit subject for congratulations. I'm the happiest man alive. I suppose there's no man in England who has more cause to bless his stars than I have."
"I am so glad to hear it, Mr. Ely, I cannot tell."
Mr. Ely started as though he had been shot. Mrs. Clive had, in her turn, made her appearance on the scene. She, too, had overheard his words. She came sailing across the room all smiles and condescension.
"I knew my niece, you see. Who should know her if not I? The girl has been to me as my own child. What I learnt at my mother's knees I, in my turn, have taught to her--what she is she owes to me. Receive my sincerest congratulations, Mr. Ely, upon this fortunate event."
Mr. Ely stared at the old lady as though his eyes were starting from his head. It was only after an interval that his thoughts were able to find expression in speech.
"I don't know if all the world has lost its mental equilibrium, or if it's only I! What she is she owes to you? I don't know that I should like to be owed a debt like that, by George! You have taught her what you yourself learnt at your mother's knee? You must have learnt some funny things! And as for your congratulations--as for your congratulations, madam"--Mr. Ely settled his waistcoat in its place--"I don't know if a deliberate insult is intended, but in any case you may postpone your congratulations to a future date."
Mr. Ash looked surprised, Mrs. Clive bewildered. But Miss Truscott laughed--the most musical of little laughs.
"You see, my good people, although you are all of you older than I, there is not one of you who understands."
"That's one consolation," said Mr. Ely, "at any rate."
Miss Truscott, without heeding him, went on, to Mr. Ash's and Mrs. Clive's increasing bewilderment--
"One would really think that love was quite a new creation--you seem never to have heard of it before! You see, guardian"--she turned with an air of the most bewitching frankness to Mr. Ash--"when your letter came I was more than twelve months gone in love. I think that love must be a sort of disease which has to run its course through different stages. I was in the stage of dark despair. At that moment I would have married Pompey had he asked me--I looked on Mr. Ely just as I would have looked on Pompey, you understand."
"Flattering, upon my word!" Mr. Ely was just able to articulate.
But Miss Truscott only looked at him and laughed.
"But the morning after, that stage had passed away, and with it all the things which appertained to it had gone--whether you call it Pompey or Mr. Ely, it is just the same, those things had gone--I was sane again, in my right mind. Love claimed me on that day, and, of course when love claimed me I was his. For to think"--she bore herself quite straight, with her head a little back, so that, in some strange way, she seemed to have grown in stature before their very eyes--"for to think that this to me means love"--she motioned to Mr. Ely with her hand--"this little gentleman of stocks and shares--it is the most foolish thing that ever yet I heard. None knows better than this gentleman himself that love is just the thing he does not even care to understand; and to me, love, with the eternity of meaning the little word conveys, is all the world."
She favoured Mr. Ely with her most sweeping curtsey, the sweetest mockery of laughter in her eyes.
"Mr. Ely, I wish you, sir, good day. For the engagement-ring which cost you twenty pounds I hope that you will find a wearer soon."
She went to the window, and stood just outside, with her finger on her lips.
"One word in confidence. Next time you ask a girl to be your wife, do not insist upon it as your chiefest qualification for the married state that you are indeed a business man!"
She passed down the steps, and across the lawn, and went away; and directly she was out of sight they heard her voice upraised in a burst of joyous song.
There was silence in the room--an awkward silence. For some moments nobody seemed to think that there was anything left to say. It was noticeable that neither of the trio seemed to care to look the other in the face. Mr. Ely stood with his hands thrust to the extremest depths of his trouser pockets, staring moodily, not to say savagely, at the window through which Miss Truscott had disappeared. Mr. Ash stroked his chin with something of an embarrassed air--he did not seem to know where to rest his eyes. From the expression of her countenance, and from her bearing altogether, Mrs. Clive seemed to have had the faculty of speech knocked out of her.
As perhaps was natural, Mr. Ely was the first who found his tongue. He pointed his words by looking at Mrs. Clive out of the corners of his eyes.
"That's a nice way in which to bring up a girl!"
His tone was distinctly venomous. Mr. Ash continued to stroke his chin.
"It does seem," he hazarded, in a sort of deprecatory undertone, "it does seem as though she had imbibed some curious ideas."
"That's the sort of girl to do anybody credit."
"I confess," said Mr. Ash with a little cough, as though he wished to apologise for his confession, "I confess that I am surprised."
Mrs. Clive, blissfully unconscious that it could enter into anybody's philosophy to think of attacking her, remained sublimely statuesque.
"I say, without the slightest hesitation, that the person who is responsible for the education of that young woman has committed a crime against society."
Mr. Ely turned on Mrs. Clive with something that was very like a snarl. The old lady started. For the first time it seemed to occur to her that the words were spoken with intention. Mr. Ash, who was still engaged upon his chin, did not appear to be able to go quite as far as his friend.
"That--eh--is perhaps a strongish thing to say--hardly crime--but it really does appear that blame rests somewhere--it really does."
But Mr. Ely was not to be gainsayed. No toning down of truths for him!
"I said, and I say again, that the person who is responsible for the bringing up of that young woman has committed a crime against society." He turned so that he looked Mrs. Clive straight in the face. "A girl is entrusted to her aunt to receive her education. If that aunt betrays her trust--miseducates the child!--then I challenge contradiction when I say that that aunt pulls away one of the props, the absence of whose support threatens to undermine the very fabric of society."
"Eh--there is--eh--of course one must admit that there is a certain substratum of truth in that."
"Is it possible"--smoothing the front of her dress with her two hands, it was evident that Mrs. Clive was awaking to the nature of the outrageous attack of which she was being made the victim--"is it possible that these remarks are directed against me?"
Thrusting his thumbs into his waistcoat armholes, Mr. Ely began to stride about the room.
"Oh, it's easy to throw about oneself the cloak of womanhood, and to claim that the privilege of sex exonerates from blame, but I should like to know, if this is to be the fate of the coming generation of young women, what will our future mothers be?"
Imitating Mr. Ely, Mr. Ash also thrust his thumbs into his waistcoat armholes.
"Just so! What will our future mothers be?"
"Our future mothers! Am I not a mother, then?"
But neither of the gentlemen paid the slightest attention to Mrs. Clive.
"It is not a question of our mothers only, it is a question of our fathers, too!"
"That is so. There can be no doubt that the maternal and paternal questions are closely intertwined."
"I never thought"--Mrs. Clive produced her handkerchief--"I never thought that I should have lived to see this day!"
Mrs. Clive began to cry; but neither of the gentlemen seemed at all abashed. They had a duty to perform, and evidently meant to carry it through.
"'Our acts our judges are, for good or ill.Fatal shadows--which march by us still!'"
"'Our acts our judges are, for good or ill.Fatal shadows--which march by us still!'"
It was such an unusual thing for Mr. Ely to essay quotation that it was not surprising if the poet's words got slightly mangled in production. "The thing you do is like the seed you sow, it grows and grows until it assumes gigantic proportions, and blights your life and the lives of all whose paths you cross. You cannot get away from that!"
"You certainly cannot get away from that! That is well put--very well put, indeed!"
But Mrs. Clive was not to be trampled upon in silence. She turned on Mr. Ely with undaunted mien.
"May I ask, Mr. Ely, for an explanation of the language which you use?"
"Your niece, ma'am, is sufficient explanation. You say that what she is she owes to you. I presume her singular notions of morality among the rest!"
"Ahem!" Mr. Ash contented himself with clearing his throat.
"Mr. Ely, I am as much surprised at my niece's behaviour as you can possibly be."
"Surprised, madam! Why are you surprised? You say that you have handed on to her the precepts which you yourself imbibed at your mother's knee!"
"Sir!" Mrs. Clive turned towards Mr. Ash with her grandest air. "Mr. Ash, may I ask you to protect me from this gentleman?"
"I certainly understood you to say," stammered Mr. Ash, when he was thus appealed to, "that you had handed on to her the precepts which you had imbibed at your mother's knees?"
"Mr. Ash!" Up went the handkerchief to the injured lady's eyes.
"It's easy enough to cry," sneered Mr. Ely. "I believe that some people keep a stock of tears on hand. At the same time"--he turned on Mr. Ash with a sudden ferocity that was really startling--"don't suppose for a moment that I acquit you entirely from blame."
Mrs. Clive's tears were checked in the very act of starting to her eyes. Mr. Ash, about to move from the position in front of the fireplace which he had occupied until then, was apparently momentarily turned into stone. This sudden change of front seemed to take him very much aback.
"Oh, I know! I know!" continued Mr. Ely. "You may stare at me as much as you please, but I'm not to be frightened by your looks! I've not forgotten how you tried to rob me once before."
"This," exclaimed Mr. Ash, looking up, as though he apostrophised the skies, "is the most outrageous attack of which I ever heard!"
He had apparently forgotten that Mrs. Clive had just been the victim of a very similar attack in which he and his present antagonist had joined their forces.
"Bah!" cried Mr. Ely; "stuff and nonsense! Whenever there is any dirty work about I always see your hand. Who robbed me of a thousand pounds!"
"This," exclaimed Mr. Ash, extending his hands as though he were addressing an unseen audience, "is the man who robbed me of five hundred and thirty-three pounds thirteen and fourpence!"
Mr. Ely flung himself upon a seat and nursed his knee.
"If I had done what I ought to have done, I should have locked you up."
"Locked me up!" The words were gasped rather than spoken.
Mr. Ash turned to Mrs. Clive with the apparent intention of explaining to her the situation--it perhaps required explanation. "Madam, you see this man" ("this man" was the recent friend of his bosom, Frederic Ely), "he is so incapable of concealing his true character that even an inexperienced girl has found him out, and because she--very properly--refuses to have anything to do with him at any price, he turns on me! Madam," Mr. Ash became warmer as he spoke, "you are not acquainted with the intricacies of the Stock Exchange, but I think you will understand me when I tell you that I once sold him a quantity of a certain stock, and when there was a fall, so that there was a profit in my favour of five hundred and thirty-three pounds thirteen shillings, he had the audacity to say that I had bought, not sold, and he actually declared that the transaction had referred to double amount of the stock than was in reality the case, and he even preferred a claim against me for over a thousand pounds!"
"How shocking!" said Mrs. Clive. Though it may be suspected that she would have found it difficult to explain what was shocking if she had been required to do so on the spot.
Mr. Ely rose from his seat. He seemed more at his ease than he had been since he entered the room, as though falling out with Mr. Ash had relieved his mind.
"Ah," he observed, "that's the sort of man he is; if he robbed his mother he would swear that she'd robbed him. But perhaps he's not to blame. According to the new philosophy that sort of thing is in the blood."
Mr. Ash turned pale.
"Mrs. Clive, may I ask you to withdraw?"
"That's another of his dodges; he doesn't want you to know what sort of man he is. But I don't mind telling you, not the least. He's not the sort of man I should care to choose to be trustee to my girl. He is the sort of man who regards a trusteeship as the royal road to wealth."
Mr. Ash began to grow angry, which was not surprising on the whole.
"Mrs. Clive, that man is the greatest thief in town."
"That's why he wanted me to marry his ward--that we might go halves, you know."
This remark so evidently enraged Mr. Ash that Mrs. Clive actually feared that hostilities would be commenced upon her drawing-room floor. She endeavoured to interpose.
"Gentlemen, I must beg of you to consider where you are!"
"You mustn't ask from him impossibilities; he can't realise that he's in a respectable house, you know."
Mr. Ash almost foamed at the lips.
"If you will not withdraw, Mrs. Clive, then in your presence I shall be compelled to thrash this man within an inch of his life."
"Gentlemen! I do beg of you!--I pray!"
"There's not the slightest occasion to be alarmed. Threatened men proverbially live long. Honest men know from experience that they can listen unmoved to the tall language used by the more doubtful members of society."
Mr. Ely ostentatiously jingled the money in his trouser pockets, and smiled a beatific smile.
"You hound!"
Mrs. Clive was in time to seize Mr. Ash's uplifted arm.
"Mr. Ash!" she cried.
"Hallo, Ash! What's the matter, Ash? Want to exhibit a little valour on the cheap?"
"You cur!"
Mr. Ash caught Mr. Ely by the collar, and Mr. Ely sprang at Mr. Ash's throat. The lady screamed. A very pretty fight was spoiled by the sudden appearance of other actors on the scene.