But the drawing up of a proposal for the appointment of a supernumerary official was no joke. It was long since Van Arlen had such a ticklish document in hand, and the only reason it seemed to him that he could give was,—“Whereasit is our pleasure ... to supersede Van Arlen.” At last, however, he found the way to do it. By noon the document was ready, and one of the copying clerks, in whose discretion he placed unlimited confidence, was sent for to prepare the mysterious paper for its high destiny, in Van Arlen’s own room. At a quarter to two it was fairly written out, and Van Arlen presented himself before the Minister, who took the document, thanked him courteously, and glanced through it.
“You have forgotten the date when the new appointment is to begin,—the 1st of the following month,” said His Excellency, in a tone which clearly conveyed: “Really, Mr Van Arlen, your work is too much for you.”
Van Arlen returned to his room with the paper in his hand, and found Prigson at the door.
“Good-morning, Van Arlen.”
“Excuse me, Prigson; I haven’t a moment to spare.”
“What is it now? Country in danger? What’s that document?”
“Ministerial business.... Where is Mr Zuigman?” This to the messenger.
“Gone away, sir.”
“Tell him to come here immediately.”
But after his highly important activity in his superior’s private room, the copying clerk Zuigman had understood that he was in need of some slight recreation, and, alleging a commission in town, he had gone off for a stroll round the square. His immediate superior had given him leave at once. One doesn’t refuse modest requests like that to a man perceptibly high in Van Arlen’s favour.
“What now?” said Van Arlen. “My head is going round. Zuigman must come to my room the very first thing to-morrow morning.”
“Can I help you, Van Arlen? What is it has to be done?”
“Writing, man, writing!—a proposal addressed to the King that will have to come before the Cabinet Council.... I don’t know what to do.”
“Can’t you do it yourself?”
“I!” said Van Arlen, in consternation.
“Well, a good writing is not your strong point,” laughed Prigson, “otherwise you never would have risen so high. The man with the worst hand gets on best, because they can’t keep him on as a copying clerk. Just give me a pen.”
“But, Prigson, it’s a great document! strictly secret—no one is to know anything about it!”
“I’ll promise not to tell; let’s have a look.” And before Van Arlen could prevent it, his brother-in-law had already glanced over the paper.
“Heaven be good to us! a magnificent bargain!”
“A bargain?”
“Why, of course! Now-a-days it’s not their own sons that ministers help forward; they do it for each other’s. Regenstein is to get this, and your man’s son has just been put into a good thing by his father’s colleague. Splendid exchange! Did you draw up the proposal?”
“I have no time now, Prigson. Do be kind enough to let me alone.”
Van Arlen rang the bell, and sent for one of the clerks. Van Teuten entered.
“Mr Van Teuten!”
“Sir, I have—”
“We’ll see to that presently. Sit down, Mr Van Teuten, and write—here—recopy this page; but mind you put in the insertion! The first time a document of mine has been disfigured by an insertion! My head’s going!”
Van Teuten wrote as he was told, and in a quarter of an hour the work was finished. He perceived, with visible complacency, how much better his writing was than that of his colleague.
“Two different kinds of writing! Never yet happened with a document of mine; and it’s got to go to the King and the Cabinet Council!”
With these words Van Arlen rushed out of the room, leaving Prigson alone with Van Teuten.
“Can you copy decently?” asked Prigson.
“I venture to say, sir, that there isn’t another hand like mine in this department.”
“What do you earn at this work, now?”
“Six hundred guilders, sir. Mr Van Arlen has perhaps told you that I am financially in circumstances of great difficulty.”
“Well, it is indeed too little for a man who writes a hand like that; but surely you’re out of all your troubles now?”
“I?—I just wish I were!”
“Why, a man who knows all about a secret document like this need not be poor any longer than he likes.”
“Secret, sir?”
“Most particularly so,” said Prigson, turning away, while Van Teuten considered with himself whether it could really be the case, and whether, if so, he could profit by it.
Van Arlen came back, thanked the copying clerk, and recommended him to keep the matter secret.
Prigson stole a glance at Van Teuten, who was now convinced of the truth of his words.
“Do you want anything, Mr Van Teuten?” asked Van Arlen, for the man remained standing.
“May I venture to remind you of my request yesterday, sir? Perhaps you know that ... that I ... yesterday....”
“Yes, I know—nothing takes place in this department without my knowledge; but the Minister and I have agreed to take no notice of such ill-considered action on the part of a member of this department—provided, of course, it is never repeated.”
“No, sir, I give you my word it shall not. Oh, if you had only known what I felt this morning, when I thought of my wife and children searching for me! I couldn’t stand it any longer, sir, and I came back.”
“The wisest thing you could have done.”
“But that does not save me! I have obtained two days’ respite; but after that—I am hopelessly lost, if no help comes. If you will allow me, sir, I will go before the court to-morrow.”
“I’ll do better for you than that,—I’ll send a subscription list round the office, and let you have the amount. His Excellency is sure to put his name down too.”
“And if there is any deficiency, I’ll make it up,” said Prigson.
“Certainly a State secret,” thought Van Teuten, amazed and confused at the turn matters had taken,—which he ascribed entirely to the secret. He too was involved in it,—but, alas! he had read nothing, that was not his habit. A good copying clerk never reads—he only writes. “To begin on Aug. 1st,”—that was all he could remember. But it must be a secret of the highest importance,—and the stranger who seemed to have the principal share in the business was—yes, what could he be? Then he remembered that Talm had spoken of an English millionaire, introduced by him at the White Club, and somehow connected with Van Arlen;—but the millionaire, according to Talm, knew not a word of Dutch—it was for that very reason that Van Arlen had entrusted him to Talm’s guidance; and now the secret document, and the unexpected help, and the change in his fortunes—had Van Arlen, perhaps, been raised to the ministry?...
Van Arlen and Prigson were left alone.
“Did you look over my papers?”
“Yes.”
“And——?”
“I don’t want to be in it; your business is not—not honest.”
“What do you call honest, Van Arlen?”
“Perhaps I expressed myself rather harshly—it is not what it seems to be.”
“Yousay that?” sneered Prigson. “Come, Van Arlen,thatcan be no reason for you to dislike a thing. But we’ll grant that it is more profitable for the contractor than for the State—that’s a matter of course. Do you think we’re going to make the State presents, while the Ministers put their sons into all the fat Government places? Just tell me, on your conscience, Van Arlen, is that an honest business, that appointment? I bet something you had a heap of trouble to give the thing a decent appearance?”
Van Arlen nodded.
“Well, now, there’s a present of eighteen hundred guilders being made to Regenstein. I suppose your Minister’s son is getting double that? And am I to be fool enough not to get my share out of the ‘Widow Woman’ too? Let’s be wise, and follow the good example set us.”
Van Arlen was silent.
“Shall I tell you something? The functionary now being smuggled in—for whose coming you have been obliged to find the reasons—is really appointed in order to oust you. He is to do your work, and you are to become supernumerary, and then who knows how soon you’ll be pensioned off?”
“Then I shall fall honourably.”
“Cold comfort that; it’s surely no dishonour to prevent the blow. Once more, I’ll give you a receipt for that debt; I offer you a well-paid position, and if the concern comes to smash—for thatmighthappen—I will guarantee that you shall lose nothing.”
“So you admit that the thing is not honest?”
“My good Van Arlen, you’re the very type of infantile innocence. If it were quite safe and certain to be profitable,I could do without your help. One word more,—if you still refuse, Regenstein is a good friend of mine; he gets his appointment on the first, and within a month from that date I shall get what I want without applying to you. Just think over that.”
“Prigson, you are a tempter.”
“Van Arlen, you are a fool.”
“If it should come out that I have been playing a double game?”
“If this Minister is still in office, just remind him of that appointment; if there is another, you can lay the blame on his predecessor, and the disorder occasioned by the unnecessary nomination of new officials.”
“But—I took an oath——”
“And didn’t the Minister do so too? Come, shut up shop for to-day, and come and dine with me.”
“With you?”
“Why not? Yesterday I was your guest, to-day you are mine. I am staying at the Bellevue; but if there are too many princes there for your taste, we’ll go and dine at the Badhuis restaurant.”
“Impossible; I can’t leave the office till four. If you’ll believe me, Prigson, I envy the clerks, who can take their hats and go whenever they like.”
“The burdens of greatness.... So you’re free at four, are you? Well, I’ll drive round and fetch you.”
Accordingly, at four, Prigson arrived in a cab, and conveyed not only Van Arlen, but his wife and Leida, to the garden restaurant at Scheveningen known as the Badhuis. They dined sumptuously, and did not even refuse champagne. This was an unheard-of event in their lives—but they were not paying the bill.
After dinner, as they were sitting on the terrace, they perceived Mr Talm. Mr Talm had on flesh-coloured kid gloves, and an eye-glass prominently fixed in his left eye,the cord waving in the wind like the web of a gigantic spider. Talm was quite presentable, and, being now of opinion that the Van Arlens were presentable also, he accosted them, and was honoured with an invitation to join their party.
Madame thought it would be nice to walk up and down the terrace, and Leida also showed herself pleased with the idea. Talm offered his escort, and Prigson was once more alone with his brother-in-law.
“The business is clinched now, isn’t it?”
“No,” said Van Arlen, “I have been thinking it over, and I must abide by my first answer.”
“That’s a pity,” said Prigson—“a pity for you—for, as I said, the matter will have to be got into shape without you; but I should have liked to have you in it, because I’m heartily sorry for you. Just excuse me a minute,” he went on, rising and signalling to a stranger, who was casting sinister glances at the teacups—“it is my friend Valtoucourt, one of the associate concessionaires.... I’m sorry, for I could have introduced you to each other—in fact, I shall have to do it after all,”—and Prigson, continuing in French, presented Baron de Valtoucourt to his brother-in-law, for whom he invented a high-sounding title on the spur of the moment. Van Arlen had never thought that his name would sound so well in French. But French was not his forte, and now his silence made him seem more solemn than ever; and he was convinced in his soul that Baron Valtoucourt thought him the pivot of all the home and foreign politics of Holland. Prigson did his best to strengthen this hypothetical opinion. “You see, my dear fellow,” he said to the stranger, “if Van Arlen is willing, he can do anything, but he is fond of raising objections—ce cherVan Arlen.”
The stranger muttered, with amazing rapidity, a long French sentence, of which Van Arlen could not seize a word. He therefore confined himself to ejaculating nowand then “oui” or “peut-être,” and at the close wrapped himself in a diplomatic silence. His wife and Leida returned with their cavalier; the stranger greeted them with a bow, as deep and solemn as though he were announcing her death-sentence to the Queen of Spain; he then bowed no less deeply to Talm, who, on his part, was not to be outdone, and, deeply impressed by the high solemnity of the occasion, made another low bow before Van Arlen. The latter, having witnessed the performance three times, involuntarily saluted his assistant secretary in a similar manner.
It was, in fact, most impressively solemn.
The stranger was a man who knew life, and could understand that a man might fill a highly important position without being an accomplished French scholar. He therefore slackened the flow of his words, and assured them that he should consider it a great honour to have Van Arlen as a director.
“But,” said Van Arlen, “I never said that!”
“Si, si,” said the stranger, “we understand one another perfectly;” and then he pressed his hand and gave utterance to a friendly wish, whereat Van Arlen (unwilling to acknowledge even to himself that he did not understand) replied, “Nous verrons.”
Next morning he sent for his wife and Leida to his own room, and completely bewildered them, first by swearing them to secrecy with regard to a conversation they had neither heard nor understood, and next by completely losing his temper, when Leida innocently asked: “Why, papa, you frighten me—one would think it was high treason!” He was so violent that Leida went off into hysterics, the girls came up to see what was the matter, and Van Arlen left for the office in a very bad temper.
He found that Prigson had been there, and was coming back at three o’clock.
The Minister not only refused to have anything to dowith the subscription list for Van Teuten, but hinted disapprobation of those who had got it up; and let fall expressions which tortured Van Arlen all the morning, making him wonder whether His Excellency had penetrated his secret. At last Van Teuten came, and he was forced to acknowledge his failure. The poor man, nearly in despair, was about to make a last effort, and ask the Minister to become security for him, when Van Arlen had a luminous idea.
“I will——” he said. Van Teuten was overwhelming him with thanks and blessings, when he interrupted him:
“On these conditions I will become security. First, the money must be here by two; secondly, you must borrow, not two hundred, but twelve hundred; thirdly, the whole matter must be kept secret.”
Van Teuten was ready to promise anything,—he would willingly have made him a present of his soul into the bargain. Not long afterwards a former Government clerk, who was now “in business on his own account,” was admitted to Van Arlen’s private room. The money-lender was inclined to make objections—twelve hundred guilders was a large sum for a clerk whose income only amounted to the half of that sum.
“If I don’t raise that difficulty,” said Van Arlen indifferently, “I see no reason why you should.”
“Yes, you see—but you are mortal like the rest of us; you might have to retire, or be put on half-pay—excuse my suggesting such things, but they’re all possible.”
“You’re not lending money to me, but to Mr Van Teuten; if anything of the sort were to happen, he would find you a new security.”
At last the matter was settled, at an interest of seven and a half per cent. The money-lender produced the twelve hundred guilders, and carried off the bill, duly stamped, and signed by Van Arlen and Van Teuten.
When the man with the handwriting was once more alone with his chief, the latter said, “Two hundred guilders are all you want for the present; I’ll keep the rest for you, in case you should get into difficulties again. Never mind about the interest—I’ll pay that.”
Van Teuten was fairly dazzled by such liberality. There must be something behind it—probably the State secret.
The news went like wildfire through the department how that unlucky devil of a Van Teuten had been set on his legs again by Van Arlen! Zuigman knew what to think of it—hehad seen documents; but he never spoke, and that his colleagues knew right well.
Talm, too, had his say on the subject,—Talm, who had introduced the millionaire, and had, yesterday evening, walked on the terrace at Scheveningen arm in arm with his chief’s wife. Further and further spread the fire, and every one made his conjectures. Van Teuten’s rescue remained the great event of the day.
It struck three, when Prigson was announced. Van Arlen was deep in his work.
“What zeal! But of course you want to leave the books in good order when you go!”
“I’m not thinking of going, Prigson.”
“What do you say? And our agreement?”
“I have made no definite agreement; but, in so far as I have made any promise to join you, I withdraw it.”
“What the deuce! Van Arlen, aren’t you right in your head?”
“On the contrary, I have come to my senses. When one has been an honest man for thirty years, Prigson, one is thoroughly in love with honesty.”
“Especially the way it is appreciated! The reward of all your honesty will be, that you fall from the tree, like an over-ripe fruit, and lie there till somebody treads you flat.”
“Better so than trample on one’s self.”
“That is a gymnastic feat I would rather leave to a Münchausen. But you’re mad, Van Arlen—the matter is getting into shape after all.”
“Do you think so?” Van Arlen stood up, and looked his brother-in-law straight in the face. “Do you think I would ever allow it?”
“My good friend, you won’t be asked. Regenstein is going to negotiate the business.”
“Then I’ll inform the Minister. The supernumerary will be on his guard.”
“Like the dying gladiator—moriturus salutat—it’s heroic, but comic too. I’d be more sensible, if I were you, Van Arlen.”
“Prigson, when I came here this morning, with the feeling that I had broken my oath and betrayed my country.... Oh! I couldn’t stay here a day—I couldn’t live—I should lay hands on myself.”
“Treason—perjury—you do choose such fine words! and the real point is, whether you’re going to depart from an old habit or not. Believe me, you’re the slave of habit.”
“I prefer to remain so.”
Prigson looked at him, and saw that his mind was made up. But he had one resource left, “Well, I suppose you’re your own master, and can do as you like.... But I’m sorry—I shall have to remind you of what I asked you for the other day.”
Van Arlen put his hand in his breast-pocket, and laid a small parcel on the table before Prigson, “Will you kindly see if that’s all right?” he said.
Prigson was disappointed. He did not need the money—in fact, Van Arlen’s utter inability to pay would have been worth another thousand guilders to him.
“I suppose it’s all right,” he said, glancing over the notes. “There, Van Arlen,” he said, with a sudden change of tone, and a quaver in his voice, “give me your hand, old fellow!you’re better than most men. Good-bye! Stay as you are!”
He left the room, and Van Arlen, finding himself alone, felt like a man saved from shipwreck.
It is some weeks after the first of August. The new official has long been installed, and the Minister does nothing without consulting him. Everything passes through Mr Regenstein’s hands.
It is Sunday afternoon. On Sunday afternoons, as a rule, it is too hot for a walk; or, if not too hot, it is too cold. If neither too hot nor too cold, it most likely threatens rain; and if none of these three atmospheric conditions prevails,—well, formerly Van Arlen always had urgent work to do. This Sunday, however, he is quite at leisure, and the weather is perfect, but—it is the anniversary of Aunt Cornelia’s death.
Van Arlen looks over the blinds at the passers-by, most of whom are on their way to the Bosch. Here and there a quietly dressed lady, with a Bible in her hand, threads her way through the throng.
“I think I’ll go to afternoon church,” says Caroline. “Will you come, Frederica?”
“Oh, yes, Caroline,” answers Frederica, with a little sigh, and they go.
Leida and Hendrika made a slight grimace.
“Papa really might go out for a walk with us.”
“Oh, fie! girls!” said their mother, “that would not be at all proper on a day like this.”
“Couldn’t we keep the day just as well to-morrow, mamma?” asked Leida simply. “I don’t see why we should have to keep it up for twenty years; I’m quite sure that Uncle Van Noost Prigson himself doesn’t remember it now.”
The name made Van Arlen look up.
“Oh, papa—have you heard anything more about thesituation uncle was talking about at dinner that day?” asked Marie.
“That’s all come to nothing, dear child; I have been talking it over, but they say they can’t do without me at the office.”
“But, papa,” asked Hortense, “if they can’t do without you, how does it happen that you have less to do than you had?”
“Does the importance of a position lie in the mere amount of work?” asked Van Arlen, with dignity.
“Papa has this secret business now, you see,” said his wife, anxious to help him out—she was looking straight before her. “This business is, by itself, of tremendous importance.”
“Is that since Uncle Prigson was here?” asked Leida, going up to her father, and laying her arm over his shoulder. “You’re not angry with me any more, are you, papa?—you know—since that morning?”
Van Arlen bent down to his daughter and kissed her on the forehead. “No, little girl,—I can’t be angry with you.”
“But you never travel now, papa. Has that part of your work been taken away? That’s stupid!”
“The travelling has come to an end,” said Van Arlen thoughtfully,—“come to an end for good and all.”
The item “Travelling expenses,” in the Van Arlen budget, was now replaced by another, which was, “Instalments and interest on debt.”
“That’s a pity,” said Caroline, “because now you can never take two of us with you, as you promised to do long ago.”
“That plan has come to nothing too, child. Besides, I’m getting old.”
“Oh, papa!—you old! that’s the first we’ve heard of it. It must be since you gave up your glass of wine at dinner.”
“Papa has to keep his head clear, you see,” said Mrs Van Arlen. “That’s the penalty of greatness, girls!”
She was silent, and they all followed suit. No one had anything more to say. If only a caller would come!—but since papa had entered on his important position as supernumerary in the office, callers had been scarce. So the dull Sunday wore away. The two eldest girls came home from church; the dinner hour drew near, and, still in silence, the Van Arlens took their places round the big table, on which a soup tureen was the only dish visible. It does not take long to eat soup, and the dessert, as usual, remained untouched. Already Leentje had stuck her shining Sunday face, and her hat with the flowers in it, through a crack of the door, to give notice of her departure—for it was her day out, and “it suited.” The family were still seated round the table. Why should they rise?—the evening was long enough. Suddenly, however, they were startled out of their inertia by the front door bell. Leida went to answer it, and immediately returned with Van Noost Prigson. Van Arlen felt himself turn pale—was he to be tempted again?
His wife, too, was seized with panic—supposing Prigson had not dined! Fortunately, he set her mind at ease forthwith.
“I left the dinner-table before dessert, fearing that otherwise I should not find you at home. I suppose you’re going to Scheveningen?”
“No; it’s rather too crowded for me at the Badhuis on Sundays,” said Van Arlen, feeling that it would not quite do to allege to the widower the anniversary of his wife’s death as their reason for remaining at home.
“Crowded! The father of seven daughters ought simply to revel in crowds. What do you say, nieces?”
The nieces had no opinion to offer on that point.
“Really, Van Arlen,” Prigson went on, throwing himself back in his chair, and surveying the seven girls, one by one, with a well-pleased expression,—“really, my dear fellow, you ought not to stay at home on Sunday evenings! At any rate you should send your daughters to church.”
The younger ones looked mischievously at Caroline and Frederica.
“It has always struck me as strange, Van Arlen, that there are so many old maids at the Hague. What in the world is the cause of that?”
“Because the girls are rather hard to please, uncle,” said Leida.
“Oh, that’s the reason, is it?” said Prigson, with an air of simple faith. “I’m sorry to hear it—I’ve just come to look for a wife at the Hague.”
“For Cousin Cornelius, uncle?” asked Leida. “I suppose he’s about twenty now, isn’t he?”
“Good for nothing, girl! And have you heard, Van Arlen?” he continued, turning to his brother-in-law.
“What?” asked the latter.
“Oh! you know well enough,—you’re only pretending, because you want to make out it’s a State secret.”
“On my word, as an honest man——”
“That’s worth something, as we know. So you haven’t heard? Next week your Minister’s going to resign.”
“Prigson!”
“The day before yesterday, it was brought before the Cabinet Council, and His Majesty made as little difficulty over the matter as I should have done. He’ll get the Grand Cross now, and perhaps be Minister of State—butyou’llbe rid of him!”
Van Arlen sat looking at his brother-in-law, without moving a muscle of his face, and the girls felt convinced that papa knew just as much about the business as Prigson.
“And the best of it all is, that your friend Regenstein has been doing his level best to pull His Excellency down! Well—reap as you’ve sown!”
“Prigson, we’re not alone here.”
“I see no earthly reason why your wife and daughtersmay not know it. I hate these mysteries. They may shout the whole thing from the housetops, for all I care.”
“But think of my position!”
“It will be greatly improved, Van Arlen. Regenstein has made his own terms, like a sensible man; but I’ll tell you about that later. As soon as I heard that His Excellency was going to close his portfolio, I came to the Hague at once; last night I had a talk with him, and now my business is done. The Minister wasn’t of the same mind as a certain fellow I know, whenhefound himself set aside.”
“But, Prigson!”
“All men are not equally conscientious, my dear man. His Excellency had too much common sense to make difficulties,—but that’s not to the point. Enough that the matter’s settled! By Jove, but I’m sick of it! To Amsterdam yesterday—to Rotterdam this morning—but now I’m going to get some rest!”
Van Arlen shook his head doubtfully over such lack of principle.
“And are you remaining in town some days?” asked Madame, with distinction.
“That depends, Hortense. I’ve told you what I came for.”
“Uncle is sorry for the Hague ladies,” said Leida. “But remember, uncle, they’re very hard to please.”
“I think I shall have to run off with one. What would you do, Van Arlen, if a fellow ran off with one of your daughters?”
“Prigson, my daughters are far too well brought up, ever to be exposed to the danger of such a thing.”
“But supposing a man comes and proposes in due form?”
“I think it’s going to rain,” said Marie.
“Dear me! isn’t that picture hanging all on one side,” exclaimed Hendriek, at the same moment.
“Mamma, have you noticed that the edge of the tablecloth is all ravelled out here?” asked Hortense.
Frederica rose to pick up her napkin, which she had dropped.
“Shall we have tea in the front or back room, mamma?” asked Antoinette, whose turn it was to see to the housekeeping this week; and they rose, followed by Caroline, who went over to mamma, to whisper a very confidential communication with regard to a ribbon in the latter’s cap. Leida was lighting a spill for papa. “You might as well ask, uncle, what is the amount of the dowry papa is going to give us,” she said, handing Uncle Prigson a light at the same time.
“Pretty girls need no dowry,” answered Prigson.
“Thanks for the compliment to your nieces,” said Leida, with a roguish curtsey, as she left the room.
Prigson and Van Arlen were once more alone.
“Prigson,” said the official, “I must repeat to you candidly what I have already told you—you’re not playing a fair game.”
“Do you think I want to turn your daughters’ heads?”
“I didn’t mean that—your enterprise, which now seems about to succeed——”
“Say, whichisgoing to succeed; but let that matter rest just now.”
“Surely you have a conscience, Prigson?”
“An amazingly big one, Van Arlen; and, between ourselves, I think it’s made of some elastic substance, most likely of the same material as your Minister’s and your friend Regenstein’s.”
“Prigson! Prigson! a time will come——”
“Dear me! Van Arlen, what a platitude!”
“You’re scoffing, Prigson; but listen, you set store by the respect of your fellow-creatures—mine, for instance; you told me once that I was better than many men.”
“Well remembered; but have I forfeited that respect?”
“Not quite, yet—but still——”
“The greater part? Good. Now the proof of the sum; Van Arlen, I want to ask you for the hand of your daughter.”[37]
“Prigson, do remember that we are discussing serious matters.”
“But, Van Arlen, I’m speaking as seriously as I ever did in my life. Your Leida is a nice, pleasant, merry girl, with a good heart, and—excuse my having seen a little deeper into your domestic economy than perhaps you like—Leida knows how to keep house.”
“Your age!”
“Do you reckon by the heart or the head?”
“You might be her father!”
“If I had six more daughters, like you, I wouldn’t envy their position. I don’t understand, Van Arlen, why you should make any difficulty about it; a father of seven girls ought surely to be glad enough to get rid of one of them.”
“You forget that a daughter’s marriage involves expenses too heavy for a household like mine.”
“I will bear the cost of everything.”
Van Arlen was silent, and reflected. He had just been calling Prigson a dishonest man,—was he going to give him his daughter? Could he answer for such a step to his own conscience?... But it was a good match after all ... and then ... seven daughters! And the outfit! But perhaps that was only a nominal present after all ...; perhaps Prigson only meant to reckon it as cancelling the money still due to him.
“Our debt—” he began.
“Cancelled on the wedding-day.”
The prospect was, in truth, a seductive one; but how could he give his daughter to a man without a conscience? Suddenly there occurred to him a way of escape, which united in itself all possible advantages.
“Prigson, with me everything must give way to my children’s happiness; I have never forced any of them into a marriage” (in fact, the opportunity had never offered), “and I would not attempt to prevent a union which——”
Van Arlen paused—Prigson waited.
“Which may, perhaps, lead to your happiness—even your higher happiness, Prigson. The influence over you may have the power to inspire you with better feelings, with—let me speak plainly—more moral principles.”
It was an inspiration of the moment,—but Van Arlen, by this time, was quite convinced that it was his principal motive in consenting.
“Will you let us hope so, Van Arlen?”
“But——”
“Well?”
“Would not Caroline, who is nearer your own age——”
“I am convinced that Leida’s influence will act on me more powerfully,” said Prigson, humbly. “What do you think of taking a drive out to the baths now? I shall have a better chance of getting a few words with Leida than here, where there are always six more of them sitting sorrowing that the offer was not for them.”
“I do not think my daughters would take that view of each other’s happiness.”
“Come! we’re getting on!—you call it happiness, do you? Will you have a fly ordered?”
“The nearest driver is a Roman Catholic.”
“No, of course he must not drive us; that would begin to play the mischief with the moral principles at once. I’ll go and find a Calvinist cabman.”
That same evening Leida called her uncle by his first name; and in two months’ time the Van Arlens were giving a ball in honour of the engagement,—a thing they had never done before,—with Prigson’s money. Talm appeared at this festivity; and the man with the handwriting, who wasaccustomed to amuse his leisure hours with the clarionet (purely for the love of art, of course), also assisted—at a distance. He told his friends next morning that he had been one of the invited guests, and that Mr Talm would probably get a good piece of promotion before long, for he had been dancing all the evening with one and the same Miss Van Arlen—who, moreover, gave him her bouquet when he left!
The ball had important consequences, moreover, for five more of the Van Arlen girls; and the old man now lives on his pension, with his wife and eldest daughter. He often calls to mind his important position,—especially the time when he was entrusted with such very, very confidential business, of which no one knew anything at the time, and no one knows anything to this day.
Gerard Keller.
Gerard Keller.
Gerard Keller.
Gerard Keller.