CHAPTER III
"POOR PORSON"
Upon the morning following his conversation with Morris, Colonel Monkspent two hours or more in the library. Painfully did he wrestlethere with balance-sheets, adding up bank books; also other financialdocuments.
"Phew!" he said, when at length the job was done. "It is worse than Ithought, a good deal worse. My credit must be excellent, or somebodywould have been down upon us before now. Well, I must talk things overwith Porson. He understands figures, and so he ought, considering thathe kept the books in his grandfather's shop."
Then the Colonel went to lunch less downcast than might have beenexpected, since he anticipated a not unamusing half-hour with hisson. As he knew well, Morris detested business matters and moneycalculations. Still, reflected his parent, it was only right that heshould take his share of the family responsibilities--a fact which hefully intended to explain to him.
But "in vain is the net spread," etc. As Morris passed the door of thelibrary on his way to the old chapel of the Abbey, which now servedhim as a laboratory, he had seen his father bending over the desk andguessed his occupation. Knowing, therefore, what he must expect atlunch, Morris determined to dispense with that meal, and went out, muchto the Colonel's disappointment and indignation. "I hate," he explainedto his brother-in-law Porson afterwards, "yes, I hate a fellow who won'tface disagreeables and shirks his responsibilities."
Between Monksland and the town of Northwold lay some four miles ofcliff, most of which had been portioned off in building lots, forNorthwold was what is called a "rising watering-place." About half-waybetween the Abbey and this town stood Mr. Porson's mansion. In fact, itwas nothing but a dwelling like those about it, presenting the familiarseaside gabled roofs of red tiles, and stucco walls decorated with shamwoodwork, with the difference that the house was exceedingly well builtand about four times as large as the average villa.
"Great heavens! what a place!" said the Colonel to himself as he haltedat the private gateway which opened on to the cliff and surveyed itaffronting sea and sky in all its naked horror. "Show me the house andI will show you the man," he went on to himself; "but, after all, onemustn't judge him too hardly. Poor Porson, he did not arrange his ownup-bringing or his ancestors. Hello! there he is.
"John, John, John!" he shouted at a stout little person clad in a blackalpaca coat, a straw hat, and a pair of spectacles, who was engaged insad contemplation of a bed of dying evergreens.
At the sound of that well-known voice the little man jumped as though hehad trodden on a pin, and turned round slowly, muttering to himself,
"Gracious! It's him!" an ungrammatical sentence which indicatedsufficiently how wide a niche in the temple of his mind was filled withthe image of his brother-in-law, Colonel Monk.
John Porson was a man of about six or eight and fifty, round-faced,bald, with large blue eyes not unlike those of a china doll, andclean-shaven except for a pair of sandy-coloured mutton-chop whiskers.In expression he was gentle, even timid, and in figure short and stout.At this very moment behind a hundred counters stand a hundred replicasof that good-hearted man and worthy citizen, John Porson. Can he bedescribed better or more briefly?
"How are you Colonel?" he said, hurrying forward. He had never yet daredto call his brother-in-law "Monk," and much less by his Christian name,so he compromised on "Colonel."
"Pretty well, thank you, considering my years and botherations. And howare you, John?"
"Not very grand, not very grand," said the little man; "my heart hasbeen troubling me, and it was so dreadfully hot in London."
"Then why didn't you come away?"
"Really I don't know. I understood that it had something to do with aparty, but I think the fact is that Mary was too lazy to look after theservants while they packed up."
"Perhaps she had some attraction there," suggested the Colonel, with ananxiety which might have been obvious to a more skilled observer.
"Attraction! What do you mean?" asked Porson.
"Mean, you old goose? Why, what should I mean? A young man, of course."
"Oh! I see. No, I am sure it was nothing of that sort. Mary won't bebothered with young men. She is too lazy; she just looks over theirheads till they get tired and go away. I am sure it was the packing,or, perhaps, the party. But what are you staring at, Colonel? Is thereanything wrong?"
"No, no; only that wonderful window of yours--the one filled withbottle-glass--which always reminds me of a bull's-eye lantern standingon a preserved-beef tin, or the top of a toy lighthouse."
Porson peered at the offending window through his spectacles.
"Certainly, now you mention it, it does look a little odd from here," hesaid; "naked, rather. You said so before, you remember, and I told themto plant the shrubs; but while I was away they let every one of the poorthings die. I will ask my architect, Jenkins, if he can't do anything;it might be pulled down, perhaps."
"Better leave it alone," said the Colonel, with a sniff. "If I knowanything of Jenkins he'd only put up something worse. I tell you, John,that where bricks and mortar are concerned that man's a moral monster."
"I know you don't like his style," murmured Porson; "but won't you comein, it is so hot out here in the sun?"
"Thank you, yes, but let us go to that place you call your den, not tothe drawing-room. If you can spare it, I want half-an-hour with you.That's why I came over in the afternoon, before dinner."
"Certainly, certainly," murmured Porson again, as he led the way tothe "den," but to himself he added: "It's those mortgages, I'll bet. Ohdear! oh dear! when shall I see the last of them?"
Presently they were established in the den, the Colonel very cool andcomfortable in Mr. Porson's armchair, and Porson himself perchedupon the edge of a new-looking leather sofa in an attitude of painedexpectancy.
"Now I am at your service, Colonel," he said.
"Oh! yes; well, it is just this. I want you, if you will, to lookthrough these figures for me," and he produced and handed to him aportentous document headed "List of Obligations."
Mr. Porson glanced at it, and instantly his round, simple face becameclever and alert. Here he was on his own ground. In five minutes he hadmastered the thing.
"Yes," he said, in a quick voice, "this is quite clear, but there issome mistake in the addition making a difference of 87 pounds 3s. 10d.in your favour. Well, where is the schedule of assets?"
"The schedule of assets, my dear John? I wish I knew. I have my pension,and there are the Abbey and estates, which, as things are, seem tobe mortgaged to their full value. That's about all, I think.Unless--unless"--and he laughed, "we throw in Morris's patent electricalmachine, which won't work."
"It ought to be reckoned, perhaps," replied Mr. Porson gravely; addingin a kind of burst, with an air of complete conviction: "I believe inMorris's machine, or, at least, I believe in Morris. He has the makingsof a great man--no, of a great inventor about him."
"Do you really?" replied the Colonel, much interested. "That iscurious--and encouraging; for, my dear John, where business matters areconcerned, I trust your judgment."
"But I doubt whether he will make any money out of it," went on Porson."One day the world will benefit; probably he will not benefit."
The Colonel's interest faded. "Possibly, John; but, if so, perhapsfor present purposes we may leave this mysterious discovery out of thequestion."
"I think so, I think so; but what is the point?"
"The point is that I seem to be about at the end of my tether, although,as yet, I am glad to say, nobody has actually pressed me, and I havecome to you, as a friend and a relative, for advice. What is to be done?I have sold you all the valuable land, and I am glad to think that youhave made a very good thing of it. Some years ago, also, you took overthe two heaviest mortgages on the Abbey estate, and I am sorry to saythat the interest is considerably in arrear. There remain the floatingdebts and other charges, amounting in all to about 7,000 pounds, whichI have no means of meeting, and meanwhile, of course
, the place must bekept up. Under these circumstances, John, I ask you as a business man,what is to be done?"
"And, as a business man, I say I'm hanged if I know," said Porson, withunwonted energy. "All debts, no assets--the position is impossible.Unless, indeed, something happens."
"Quite so. That's it. My only comfort is--that something might happen,"and he paused.
Porson fidgeted about on the edge of the leather sofa and turned red. Inhis heart he was wondering whether he dared offer to pay off the debts.This he was quite able to do; more, he was willing to do, since to him,good simple man, the welfare of the ancient house of Monk, of which hisonly sister had married the head, was a far more important thing thanparting with a certain number of thousands of pounds. For birth andstation, in his plebeian humility, John Porson had a reverence whichwas almost superstitious. Moreover, he had loved his dead sisterdearly, and, in his way, he loved her son also. Also he revered hisbrother-in-law, the polished and splendid-looking Colonel, although itwas true that sometimes he writhed beneath his military and aristocraticheel. Particularly, indeed, did he resent, in his secret heart, thosecontinual sarcasms about his taste in architecture.
Now, although the monetary transactions between them had been many, asluck would have it--entirely without his own design--they chanced in themain to have turned to his, Porson's, advantage. Thus, owing chieflyto his intelligent development of its possibilities, the land which hebought from the Monk estate had increased enormously in value; so muchso, indeed, that, even if he lost all the other sums advanced uponmortgage, he would still be considerably to the good. Therefore, as ithappened, the Colonel was really under no obligations to him. In thesecircumstances, Mr. Porson did not quite know how a cold-blooded offerof an advance of cash without security--in practice a gift--would bereceived.
"Have you anything definite in your mind?" he hesitated, timidly.
The Colonel reflected. On his part he was wondering how Porson wouldreceive the suggestion of a substantial loan. It seemed too muchto risk. He was proud, and did not like to lay himself open to thepossibility of rebuff.
"I think not, John. Unless Morris should chance to make a good marriage,which is unlikely, for, as you know, he is an odd fish, I can seenothing before us except ruin. Indeed, at my age, it does not greatlymatter, but it seems a pity that the old house should come to an end insuch a melancholy and discreditable fashion."
"A pity! It is more than a pity," jerked out Porson, with a suddenwriggle which caused him to rock up and down upon the stiff springs ofthe new sofa.
As he spoke there came a knock at the door, and from the further side ofit a slow, rich voice was heard, saying: "May I come in?"
"That's Mary," said Mr. Porson. "Yes, come in, dear; it's only youruncle."
The door opened, Mary came in, and, in some curious quiet way, at onceher personality seemed to take possession of and dominate that shadedroom. To begin with, her stature gave an idea of dominion, for, withoutbeing at all coarse, she was tall and full in frame. The face also wassomewhat massive, with a rounded chin and large, blue eyes that had atrick of looking half asleep, and above a low, broad forehead grew herwaving, golden hair, parted simply in the middle after the old Greekfashion. She wore a white dress, with a silver girdle that set off thebeautiful outlines of her figure to great advantage, and with her aperfume seemed to pass, perhaps from the roses on her bosom.
"A beautiful woman," thought the Colonel to himself, as she came in, andhe was no mean or inexperienced judge. "A beautiful woman, but a regularlotus-eater."
"How do you do, Uncle Richard?" said Mary, pausing about six feet awayand holding out her hand. "I heard you scolding my poor dad about hisbow-window. In fact, you woke me up; and, do you know, you used exactlythe same words as you did at your visit after we came down from Londonlast year."
"Bless me, my dear," said the Colonel, struggling to his feet, andkissing his niece upon the forehead, "what a memory you have got! Itwill get you into trouble some day."
"I daresay--me, or somebody else. But history repeated itself, uncle,that is all. The same sleepy Me in a lounge-chair, the same hot day,the same blue-bottle, and the same You scolding the same Daddy aboutthe same window. Though what on earth dad's window can matter to anyoneexcept himself, I can't understand."
"I daresay not, my dear; I daresay not. We can none of us knoweverything--not even latter day young ladies--but I suggest that a fewhours with Fergussen's 'Handbook of Architecture' might enlighten you onthe point."
Mary reflected, but the only repartee that she could conjure atthe moment was something about ancient lights which did not seemappropriate. Therefore, as she thought that she had done enough forhonour, and to remind her awe-inspiring relative that he could notsuppress her, suddenly she changed the subject.
"You are looking very well, uncle," she said, surveying him calmly;"and younger than you did last year. How is my cousin Morris? Will theaerophone talk yet?"
"Be careful," said the Colonel, gallantly. "If even my grey hairs canprovoke a compliment, what homage is sufficient for a Sleeping Beauty?As for Morris, he is, I believe, much as usual; at least he stood thismorning till daybreak staring at the sea. I understand, however--if hedoesn't forget to come--that you are to have the pleasure of seeing himthis evening, when you will be able to judge for yourself."
"Now, don't be sarcastic about Morris, uncle; I'd rather you went onabusing dad's window."
"Certainly not, my dear, if it displeases you. But may I ask why he isto be considered sacred?"
"Why?" she answered, and a genuine note crept into her bantering voice."Because he is one of the few men worth anything whom I ever chanced tomeet--except dad there and----"
"Spare me," cut in the Colonel, with admirable skill, for well he knewthat his name was not upon the lady's lips. "But would it be impertinentto inquire what it is that constitutes Morris's preeminent excellence inyour eyes?"
"Of course not; only it is three things, not one. First, he works harderthan any man I know, and I think men who work adorable, because I am solazy myself. Secondly, he thinks a great deal, and very few people dothat to any purpose. Thirdly, I never feel inclined to go to sleep whenhe takes me in to dinner. Oh! you may laugh if you like, but ask dadwhat happened to me last month with that wretched old member of theGovernment, and before the sweets, too!"
"Please, please," put in Mr. Porson, turning pink under pressure of somepainful recollection. "If you have finished sparring with your uncle,isn't there any tea, Mary?"
"I believe so," she said, relapsing into a state of bland indifference."I'll go and see. If I don't come back, you'll know it is there," andMary passed through the door with that indolent, graceful walk which noone could mistake who once had seen her.
Both her father and her uncle looked after her with admiration. Mr.Porson admired her because the man or woman who dared to meet thatdomestic tyrant his brother-in-law in single combat, and could issueunconquered from the doubtful fray, was indeed worthy to be honoured.Colonel Monk for his part hastened to do homage to a very pretty andcharming young lady, one, moreover, who was not in the least afraid ofhim.
Mary had gone, and the air from the offending window, which was soconstructed as to let in a maximum of draught, banged the door behindher. The two men looked at each other. A thought was in the mind ofeach; but the Colonel, trained by long experience, and wise in hisgeneration, waited for Mr. Porson to speak. Many and many a time in theafter days did he find reason to congratulate himself upon this superbreticence--for there are occasions when discretion can amount almost tothe height of genius. Under their relative circumstances, if it hadbeen he who first suggested this alliance, he and his family must haveremained at the gravest disadvantage, and as for stipulations, well, hecould have made none. But as it chanced it was from poor Porson's lipsthat the suggestion came.
Mr. Porson cleared this throat--once, twice, thrice. At the third rasp,the Colonel became very attentive. He remembered that his brother-in-lawhad done e
xactly the same thing at the very apex of a long-departedcrisis; indeed, just before he offered spontaneously to take over themortgages on the Abbey estate.
"You were talking, Colonel," he began, "when Mary came in," and hepaused.
"I daresay," replied the Colonel indifferently, fixing a contemptuousglance upon some stone mullions of atrocious design.
"About Morris marrying?"
"Oh, yes, so I was! Well?"
"Well--she seems to like him. I know she does indeed. She never talks ofany other young man."
"She? Who?"
"My daughter, Mary; and--so--why shouldn't they--you know?"
"Really, John, I must ask you to be a little more explicit. It's no goodyour addressing me in your business ciphers."
"Well--I mean--why shouldn't he marry her? Morris marry Mary? Is thatplain enough?" he asked in desperation.
For a moment a mist gathered before the Colonel's eyes. Here wassalvation indeed, if only it could be brought about. Oh! if only itcould be brought about.
But the dark eyes never changed, nor did a muscle move upon that pale,commanding countenance.
"Morris marry Mary," he repeated, dwelling on the alliterative wordsas though to convince himself that he had heard them aright. "That is avery strange proposition, my dear John, and sudden, too. Why, they arefirst cousins, and for that reason, I suppose, the thing never occurredto me--till last night," he added to himself.
"Yes, I know, Colonel; but I am not certain that this first cousinbusiness isn't a bit exaggerated. The returns of the asylums seem toshow it, and I know my doctor, Sir Henry Andrews, says it's nonsense.You'll admit that he is an authority. Also, it happened in my ownfamily, my father and mother were cousins, and we are none the worse."
On another occasion the Colonel might have been inclined to comment onthis statement--of course, most politely. Now, however, he let it pass.
"Well, John," he said, "putting aside the cousinship, let me hear whatyour idea is of the advantages of such a union, should the partiesconcerned change to consider it suitable."
"Quite so, quite so, that's business," said Mr. Porson, brightening upat once. "From my point of view, these would be the advantages. As youknow, Colonel, so far as I am concerned my origin, for the time I havebeen able to trace it--that's four generations from old John Porson,the Quaker sugar merchant, who came from nobody knows where--althoughhonest, is humble, and until my father's day all in the line of retailtrade. But then my dear wife came in. She was a governess when I marriedher, as you may have heard, and of a very good Scotch family, one ofthe Camerons, so Mary isn't all of our cut--any more," he added with asmile, "than Morris is all of yours. Still for her to marry a Monk wouldbe a lift up--a considerable lift up, and looked at from a businesspoint of view, worth a deal of money.
"Also, I like my nephew Morris, and I am sure that Mary likes him, andI'd wish the two of them to inherit what I have got. They wouldn't havevery long to wait for it, Colonel, for those doctors may say what theywill, but I tell you," he added, pathetically, tapping himself over theheart--"though you don't mention it to Mary--I know better. Oh! yes, Iknow better. That's about all, except, of course, that I should wish tosee her settled before I'm gone. A man dies happier, you understand, ifhe is certain whom his only child is going to marry; for when he isdead I suppose that he will know nothing of what happens to her. Or,perhaps," he added, as though by an afterthought, "he may know too much,and not be able to help; which would be painful, very painful."
"Don't get into those speculations, John," said the Colonel, waving hishand. "They are unpleasant, and lead nowhere--sufficient to the day isthe evil thereof."
"Quite so, quite so. Life is a queer game of blind-man's buff, isn't it;played in a mist on a mountain top, and the players keep dropping overthe precipices. But nobody heeds, because there are always plenty more,and the game goes on forever. Well, that's my side of the case. Do youwish me to put yours?"
"I should like to hear your view of it."
"Very good, it is this. Here's a nice girl, no one can deny that, and anice man, although he's odd--you will admit as much. He's got name, andhe will have fame, or I am much mistaken. But, as it chances, through nofault of his, he wants money, or will want it, for without money theold place can't go on, and without a wife the old race can't go on. Now,Mary will have lots of money, for, to tell the truth, it keeps piling upuntil I am sick of it. I've been lucky in that way, Colonel, because Idon't care much about it, I suppose. I don't think that I ever yet madea really bad investment. Just look. Two years ago, to oblige an oldfriend who was in the shop with me when I was young, I put 5,000 poundsinto an Australian mine, never thinking to see it again. Yesterday Isold that stock for 50,000 pounds."
"Fifty thousand pounds!" ejaculated the Colonel, astonished intoadmiration.
"Yes, or to be accurate, 49,375 pounds, 3s., 10d., and--that's where thejar comes in--I don't care. I never thought of it again since I got thebroker's note till this minute. I have been thinking all day about myheart, which is uneasy, and about what will happen to Mary when I amgone. What's the good of this dirty money to a dying man? I'd give itall to have my wife and the boy I lost back for a year or two; yes, Iwould go into a shop again and sell sugar like my grandfather, and liveon the profits from the till and the counter. There's Mary calling. Wemust tell a fib, we must say that we thought she was to come to fetchus; don't you forget. Well, there it is, perhaps you'll think it over atyour leisure."
"Yes, John," replied the Colonel, solemnly; "certainly I will think itover. Of course, there are pros and cons, but, on the whole, speakingoffhand, I don't see why the young people should not make a match. Alsoyou have always been a good relative, and, what is better, a good friendto me, so, of course, if possible I should like to fall in with yourwishes."
Mr. Porson, who was advancing towards the door, wheeled round quickly.
"Thank you, Colonel," he said, "I appreciate your sentiments; but don'tyou make any mistake. It isn't my wishes that have to be fallen inwith--or your wishes. It's the wishes of your son, Morris, and mydaughter, Mary. If they are agreeable I'd like it well; if not, all themoney in the world, nor all the families in the world, wouldn't make mehave anything to do with the job, or you either. Whatever our failings,we are honest men--both of us, who would not sell our flesh and bloodfor such trash as that."