CHAPTER XIII. A Crisis
Meanwhile they were wondering at Fairoaks that the Major had notreturned. Dr. Portman and his lady, on their way home to Clavering,stopped at Helen's lodge-gate, with a brief note for her from MajorPendennis, in which he said he should remain at Chatteris another day,being anxious to have some talk with Messrs. Tatham, the lawyers, whomhe would meet that afternoon; but no mention was made of the transactionin which the writer had been engaged during the morning. Indeed the notewas written at the pause after the first part of the engagement, andwhen the Major had decidedly had the worst of the battle.
Pen did not care somehow to go into the town whilst his uncle was there.He did not like to have to fancy that his guardian might be spying athim from that abominable Dean's grass-plat, whilst he was making lovein Miss Costigan's drawing-room; and the pleasures of a walk (a delightwhich he was very rarely permitted to enjoy) would have been spoiled ifhe had met the man of the polished boots on that occasion. His modestlove could not show in public by any outward signs, except the eyes(with which the poor fellow ogled and gazed violently to be sure), butit was dumb in the presence of third parties; and so much the better,for of all the talk which takes place in this world, that of love-makersis surely, to the uninitiated, the most silly. It is the vocabularywithout the key; it is the lamp without the flame. Let the respectedreader look or think over some old love-letters that he (or she) has hadand forgotten, and try them over again. How blank and meaninglessthey seem! What glamour of infatuation was it which made that nonsensebeautiful? One wonders that such puling and trash could ever have madeone happy. And yet there were dates when you kissed those silly letterswith rapture--lived upon six absurd lines for a week, and until thereactionary period came, when you were restless and miserable until yougot a fresh supply of folly.
That is why we decline to publish any of the letters and verses whichMr. Pen wrote at this period of his life, out of mere regard for theyoung fellow's character. They are too spooney and wild. Young ladiesought not to be called upon to read them in cold blood. Bide your time,young women; perhaps you will get and write them on your own accountsoon. Meanwhile we will respect Mr. Pen's first outpourings, and keepthem tied up in the newspapers with Miss Fotheringay's string, andsealed with Captain Costigan's great silver seal.
The Major came away from his interview with Captain Costigan in a stateof such concentrated fury as rendered him terrible to approach! "Theimpudent bog-trotting scamp," he thought, "dare to threaten me! Dare totalk of permitting his damned Costigans to marry with the Pendennises!Send me a challenge! If the fellow can get anything in the shape of agentleman to carry it, I have the greatest mind in life not to baulkhim.--Psha! what would people say if I were to go out with a tipsymountebank, about a row with an actress in a barn!" So when the Majorsaw Dr. Portman, who asked anxiously regarding the issue of his battlewith the dragon, Mr. Pendennis did not care to inform the divine of theGeneral's insolent behaviour, but stated that the affair was a very uglyand disagreeable one, and that it was by no means over yet.
He enjoined Doctor and Mrs. Portman to say nothing about the business atFairoaks; whither he contented himself with despatching the note we havebefore mentioned. And then he returned to his hotel, where he ventedhis wrath upon Mr. Morgan his valet, "dammin and cussin upstairs anddownstairs," as that gentleman observed to Mr. Foker's man, in whosecompany he partook of dinner in the servants' room of the George.
The servant carried the news to his master; and Mr. Foker havingfinished his breakfast about this time, it being two o'clock in theafternoon, remembered that he was anxious to know the result of theinterview between his two friends, and having inquired the number ofthe Major's sitting-room, went over in his brocade dressing-gown, andknocked for admission.
Major Pendennis had some business, as he had stated, respecting alease of the widow's, about which he was desirous of consulting old Mr.Tatham, the lawyer, who had been his brother's man of business, and whohad a branch-office at Clavering, where he and his son attended marketand other days three or four in the week. This gentleman and his clientwere now in consultation when Mr. Foker showed his grand dressing-gownand embroidered skull-cap at Major Pendennis's door.
Seeing the Major engaged with papers and red-tape, and an old man with awhite head, the modest youth was for drawing back--and said, "O, you'rebusy--call again another time." But Mr. Pendennis wanted to see him,and begged him, with a smile, to enter: whereupon Mr. Foker took offthe embroidered tarboosh or fez (it had been worked by the fondestof mothers) and advanced, bowing to the gentlemen and smiling on themgraciously. Mr. Tatham had never seen so splendid an apparition beforeas this brocaded youth, who seated himself in an arm-chair, spreadingout his crimson skirts, and looking with exceeding kindness andfrankness on the other two tenants of the room. "You seem to like mydressing-gown, sir," he said to Mr. Tatham. "A pretty thing, isn't it?Neat, but not in the least gaudy. And how do you do, Major Pendennis,sir, and how does the world treat you?"
There was that in Foker's manner and appearance which would have putan Inquisitor into good humour, and it smoothed the wrinkles underPendennis's head of hair.
"I have had an interview with that Irishman (you may speak before myfriend, Mr. Tatham here, who knows all the affairs of the family), andit has not, I own, been very satisfactory. He won't believe that mynephew is poor: he says we are both liars: he did me the honour to hintthat I was a coward, as I took leave. And I thought when you knocked atthe door, that you might be the gentleman whom I expect with a challengefrom Mr. Costigan--that is how the world treats me, Mr. Foker."
"You don't mean that Irishman, the actress's father?" cried Mr. Tatham,who was a dissenter himself, and did not patronise the drama.
"That Irishman, the actress's father--the very man. Have not you heardwhat a fool my nephew has made of himself about the girl?"--Mr. Tatham,who never entered the walls of a theatre, had heard nothing: and MajorPendennis had to recount the story of his nephew's loves to the lawyer,Mr. Foker coming in with appropriate comments in his usual familiarlanguage.
Tatham was lost in wonder at the narrative. Why had not Mrs. Pendennismarried a serious man, he thought--Mr. Tatham was a widower--and keptthis unfortunate boy from perdition? As for Mr. Costigan's daughter, hewould say nothing: her profession was sufficient to characterise her.Mr. Foker here interposed to say he had known some uncommon good peoplein the booths, as he called the Temple of the Muses. Well, it might beso, Mr. Tatham hoped so--but the father, Tatham knew personally--aman of the worst character, a wine-bibber and an idler in taverns andbilliard-rooms, and a notorious insolvent. "I can understand thereason, Major," he said, "why the fellow would not come to my officeto ascertain the truth of the statements which you made him.--We havea writ out against him and another disreputable fellow, one of theplay-actors, for a bill given to Mr. Skinner of this city, a mostrespectable Grocer and Wine and Spirit Merchant, and a Member of theSociety of Friends. This Costigan came crying to Mr. Skinner,--crying inthe shop, sir,--and we have not proceeded against him or the other, asneither were worth powder and shot."
It was whilst Mr. Tatham was engaged in telling this story that a thirdknock came to the door, and there entered an athletic gentleman in ashabby braided frock, bearing in his hand a letter with a large blotchedred seal.
"Can I have the honour of speaking with Major Pendennis in private?"he began--"I have a few words for your ear, sir. I am the bearer of amission from my friend Captain Costigan,"--but here the man with thebass voice paused, faltered, and turned pale--he caught sight of the redand well-remembered face of Mr. Tatham.
"Hullo, Garbetts, speak up!" cried Mr. Foker, delighted.
"Why, bless my soul, it is the other party to the bill!" said Mr.Tatham. "I say, sir; stop I say." But Garbetts, with a face as blank asMacbeth's when Banquo's ghost appears upon him, gasped some inarticulatewords, and fled out of the room.
The Major's gravity was also entirely upset, and he burst out laughing.So did Mr. Foker, who
said, "By Jove, it was a good 'un." So did theattorney, although by profession a serious man.
"I don't think there'll be any fight, Major," young Foker said; andbegan mimicking the tragedian. "If there is, the old gentleman--yourname Tatham?--very happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Tatham--may sendthe bailiffs to separate the men;" and Mr. Tatham promised to do so. TheMajor was by no means sorry at the ludicrous issue of the quarrel. "Itseems to me, sir," he said to Mr. Foker, "that you always arrive to putme into good-humour."
Nor was this the only occasion on which Mr. Foker this day was destinedto be of service to the Pendennis family. We have said that he hadthe entree of Captain Costigan's lodgings, and in the course of theafternoon he thought he would pay the General a visit, and hear from hisown lips what had occurred in the conversation, in the morning, with Mr.Pendennis. Captain Costigan was not at home. He had received permission,nay, encouragement from his daughter, to go to the convivial club atthe Magpie Hotel, where no doubt he was bragging at that moment of hisdesire to murder a certain ruffian; for he was not only brave, but heknew it too, and liked to take out his courage, and, as it were, give itan airing in company.
Costigan then was absent, but Miss Fotheringay was at home washing thetea-cups whilst Mr. Bows sate opposite to her.
"Just done breakfast I see--how do?" said Mr. Foker, popping in hislittle funny head.
"Get out, you funny little man," cried Miss Fotheringay.
"You mean come in, answered the other.--Here we are!" and entering theroom he folded his arms and began twirling his head round and round withimmense rapidity, like Harlequin in the Pantomime when he first issuesfrom his cocoon or envelope. Miss Fotheringay laughed with all herheart: a wink of Foker's would set her off laughing, when the bitterestjoke Bows ever made could not get a smile from her, or the finestof poor Pen's speeches would only puzzle her. At the end of theharlequinade he sank down on one knee and kissed her hand. "You're thedrollest little man," she said, and gave him a great good-humoured slap.Pen used to tremble as he kissed her hand. Pen would have died of aslap.
These preliminaries over, the three began to talk; Mr. Foker amused hiscompanions by recounting to them the scene which he had just witnessedof the discomfiture of Mr. Garbetts, by which they learned, for thefirst time, how far the General had carried his wrath against MajorPendennis. Foker spoke strongly in favour of the Major's character forveracity and honour, and described him as a tip-top swell, moving in theupper-circle of society, who would never submit to any deceit--much moreto deceive such a charming young woman as Miss Foth.
He touched delicately upon the delicate marriage question, though hecouldn't help showing that he held Pen rather cheap. In fact, he had aperhaps just contempt for Mr. Pen's high-flown sentimentality; his ownweakness, as he thought, not lying that way. "I knew it wouldn't do,Miss Foth," said he, nodding his little head. "Couldn't do. Didn't liketo put my hand into the bag, but knew it couldn't do. He's too young foryou: too green: a deal too green: and he turns out to be poor as Job.Can't have him at no price, can she, Mr. Bo?"
"Indeed he's a nice poor boy," said the Fotheringay rather sadly.
"Poor little beggar," said Bows, with his hands in his pockets, andstealing up a queer look at Miss Fotheringay. Perhaps he thought andwondered at the way in which women play with men, and coax them and winthem and drop them.
But Mr. Bows had not the least objection to acknowledge that he thoughtMiss Fotheringay was perfectly right in giving up Mr. Arthur Pendennis,and that in his idea the match was always an absurd one: and MissCostigan owned that she thought so herself, only she couldn't send awaytwo thousand a year. "It all comes of believing Papa's silly stories,"she said; "faith I'll choose for meself another time"--and very likelythe large image of Lieutenant Sir Derby Oaks entered into her mind atthat instant.
After praising Major Pendennis, whom Miss Costigan declared to bea proper gentleman entirely, smelling of lavender, and as neat as apin,--and who was pronounced by Mr. Bows to be the right sort of fellow,though rather too much of an old buck, Mr. Foker suddenly bethought himto ask the pair to come and meet the Major that very evening at dinnerat his apartment at the George. "He agreed to dine with me, and I thinkafter the--after the little shindy this morning, in which I must say theGeneral was wrong, it would look kind, you know.--I know the Major fellin love with you, Miss Foth: he said so."
"So she may be Mrs. Pendennis still," Bows said with a sneer--"No, thankyou, Mr. F.--I've dined."
"Sure, that was at three o'clock," said Miss Costigan, who had an honestappetite, "and I can't go without you."
"We'll have lobster-salad and champagne," said the little monster,who could not construe a line of Latin, or do a sum beyond the Rule ofThree. Now, for lobster-salad and champagne in an honourable manner,Miss Costigan would have gone anywhere--and Major Pendennis actuallyfound himself at seven o'clock seated at a dinner-table in company withMr. Bows, a professional fiddler, and Miss Costigan, whose father hadwanted to blow his brains out a few hours before.
To make the happy meeting complete, Mr. Foker, who knew Costigan'shaunts, despatched Stoopid to the club at the Magpie, where the Generalwas in the act of singing a pathetic song, and brought him off tosupper. To find his daughter and Bows seated at the board was a surpriseindeed--Major Pendennis laughed, and cordially held out his hand, whichthe General Officer grasped avec effusion as the French say. In fact hewas considerably inebriated, and had already been crying over his ownsong before he joined the little party at the George. He burst intotears more than once, during the entertainment, and called the Major hisdearest friend. Stoopid and Mr. Foker walked home with him: the Majorgallantly giving his arm to Miss Costigan. He was received with greatfriendliness when he called the next day, when many civilities passedbetween the gentlemen. On taking leave he expressed his anxious desireto serve Miss Costigan on any occasion in which he could be useful toher, and he shook hands with Mr. Foker most cordially and gratefully,and said that gentleman had done him the very greatest service.
"All right," said Mr. Foker: and they parted with mutual esteem.
On his return to Fairoaks the next day, Major Pendennis did not say whathad happened to him on the previous night, or allude to the company inwhich he had passed it. But he engaged Mr. Smirke to stop to dinner; andany person accustomed to watch his manner might have remarked that therewas something constrained in his hilarity and talkativeness, and thathe was unusually gracious and watchful in his communications with hisnephew. He gave Pen an emphatic God-bless-you when the lad went to bed;and as they were about to part for the night, he seemed as if he wasgoing to say something to Mrs. Pendennis, but he bethought him that ifhe spoke he might spoil her night's rest, and allowed her to sleep inpeace.
The next morning he was down in the breakfast-room earlier than was hiscustom, and saluted everybody there with great cordiality. The postused to arrive commonly about the end of this meal. When John, the oldservant, entered, and discharged the bag of its letters and papers, theMajor looked hard at Pen as the lad got his--Arthur blushed, and put hisletter down. He knew the hand, it was that of old Costigan, and he didnot care to read it in public. Major Pendennis knew the letter, too. Hehad put it into the post himself in Chatteris the day before.
He told little Laura to go away, which the child did, having a thoroughdislike to him; and as the door closed on her, he took Mrs. Pendennis'shand, and giving her a look full of meaning, pointed to the letter underthe newspaper which Pen was pretending to read. "Will you come into thedrawing-room?" he said. "I want to speak to you." And she followed him,wondering, into the hall.
"What is it?" she said nervously.
"The affair is at an end," Major Pendennis said. "He has a letter theregiving him his dismissal. I dictated it myself yesterday. There are afew lines from the lady, too, bidding him farewell. It is all over."
Helen ran back to the dining-room, her brother following. Pen had jumpedat his letter the instant they were gone. He was reading it with astupefied face. I
t stated what the Major had said, that Mr. Costiganwas most gratified for the kindness with which Arthur had treatedhis daughter, but that he was only now made aware of Mr. Pendennis'speecupiary circumstances. They were such that marriage was at presentout of the question, and considering the great disparity in the age ofthe two, a future union was impossible. Under these circumstances, andwith the deepest regret and esteem for him, Mr. Costigan bade Arthurfarewell, and suggested that he should cease visiting, for some time atleast, at his house.
A few lines from Miss Costigan were enclosed. She acquiesced in thedecision of her Papa. She pointed out that she was many years olderthan Arthur, and that an engagement was not to be thought of. Shewould always be grateful for his kindness to her, and hoped to keep hisfriendship. But at present, and until the pain of the separation shouldbe over, she entreated they should not meet.
Pen read Costigan's letter and its enclosure mechanically, hardlyknowing what was before his eyes. He looked up wildly, and saw hismother and uncle regarding him with sad faces. Helen's, indeed, was fullof tender maternal anxiety.
"What--what is this?" Pen said. "It's some joke. This is not herwriting. This is some servant's writing. Who's playing these tricks uponme?"
"It comes under her father's envelope," the Major said. "Those lettersyou had before were not in her hand: that is hers."
"How do you know?" said Pen very fiercely.
"I saw her write it," the uncle answered, as the boy started up; and hismother, coming forward, took his hand. He put her away.
"How came you to see her? How came you between me and her? What haveI ever done to you that you should--Oh, it's not true! it's nottrue!"--Pen broke out with a wild execration. "She can't have done it ofher own accord. She can't mean it. She's pledged to me. Who has told herlies to break her from me?"
"Lies are not told in the family, Arthur," Major Pendennis replied. "Itold her the truth, which was, that you had no money to maintain her,for her foolish father had represented you to be rich. And when she knewhow poor you were, she withdrew at once, and without any persuasion ofmine. She was quite right. She is ten years older than you are. Sheis perfectly unfitted to be your wife, and knows it. Look at thathandwriting, and ask yourself, is such a woman fitted to be thecompanion of your mother?"
"I will know from herself if it is true," Arthur said, crumpling up thepaper.
"Won't you take my word of honour? Her letters were written by aconfidant of hers, who writes better than she can--look here. Here'sone from the lady to your friend, Mr. Foker. You have seen her with MissCostigan, as whose amanuensis she acted"--the Major said, with ever solittle of a sneer, and laid down a certain billet which Mr. Foker hadgiven to him.
"It's not that," said Pen, burning with shame and rage. "I suppose whatyou say is true, sir, but I'll hear it from herself."
"Arthur!" appealed his mother.
"I will see her," said Arthur. "I'll ask her to marry me, once more. Iwill. No one shall prevent me."
"What, a woman who spells affection with one f? Nonsense, sir. Be a man,and remember that your mother is a lady. She was never made to associatewith that tipsy old swindler or his daughter. Be a man and forget her,as she does you."
"Be a man and comfort your mother, my Arthur," Helen said, going andembracing him: and seeing that the pair were greatly moved, MajorPendennis went out of the room and shut the door upon them, wiselyjudging that they were best alone.
He had won a complete victory. He actually had brought away Pen'sletters in his portmanteau from Chatteris: having complimented Mr.Costigan, when he returned them, by giving him the little promissorynote which had disquieted himself and Mr. Garbetts; and for which theMajor settled with Mr. Tatham.
Pen rushed wildly off to Chatteris that day, but in vain attempted tosee Miss Fotheringay, for whom he left a letter, enclosed to herfather. The enclosure was returned by Mr. Costigan, who begged that allcorrespondence might end; and after one or two further attempts ofthe lad's, the indignant General desired that their acquaintance mightcease. He cut Pen in the street. As Arthur and Foker were pacing theCastle walk, one day, they came upon Emily on her father's arm. Shepassed without any nod of recognition. Foker felt poor Pen trembling onhis arm.
His uncle wanted him to travel, to quit the country for a while, andhis mother urged him too: for he was growing very ill, and sufferedseverely. But he refused, and said point-blank he would not go. He wouldnot obey in this instance: and his mother was too fond, and his uncletoo wise to force him. Whenever Miss Fotheringay acted, he rode over tothe Chatteris Theatre and saw her. One night there were so few people inthe house that the Manager returned the money. Pen came home and wentto bed at eight o'clock, and had a fever. If this continues, his motherwill be going over and fetching the girl, the Major thought, in despair.As for Pen, he thought he should die. We are not going to describe hisfeelings, or give a dreary journal of his despair and passion. Have notother gentlemen been baulked in love besides Mr. Pen? Yes, indeed: butfew die of the malady.