Part 86 (1/2)

Sir Raffle began to be uncomfortable. He had acquired a character for tyranny in the public service of which he was aware, though he thought that he knew well that he had never deserved it. Some official big-wig,--perhaps that Chancellor of the Exchequer of whom he was so fond,--had on one occasion hinted to him that a little softness of usage would be compatible with the prejudices of the age. Softness was impossible to Sir Raffle; but his temper was sufficiently under his control to enable him to encounter the rebuke, and to pull himself up from time to time when he found himself tempted to speak loud and to take things with a high hand. He knew that a clerk should not be dismissed for leaving his office, who could show that his absence had been caused by some matter really affecting the interest of his family; and that were he to drive Eames to go on this occasion without leave, Eames would be simply called in to state what was this matter of moment which had taken him away.

Probably he had stated that matter of moment in this very doc.u.ment which Sir Raffle was holding in his hand. But Sir Raffle was not willing to be conquered by the doc.u.ment. If it was necessary that he should give way, he would much prefer to give way,--out of his own good-nature, let us say,--without looking at the doc.u.ment at all.

”I must, under the circ.u.mstances, decline to read this,” said he, ”unless it should come before me officially,” and he handed back the paper.

”I thought it best to let you see it if you pleased,” said John Eames. Then he turned round as though he were going to leave the room; but suddenly he turned back again. ”I don't like to leave you, Sir Raffle, without saying good-by. I do not suppose we shall meet again. Of course you must do your duty, and I do not wish you to think that I have any personal ill-will against you.” So saying, he put out his hand to Sir Raffle as though to take a final farewell.

Sir Raffle looked at him in amazement. He was dressed, as has been said, in black, and did not look like the John Eames of every day to whom Sir Raffle was accustomed.

”I don't understand this at all,” said Sir Raffle.

”I was afraid that it was only too plain,” said John Eames.

”And you must go?”

”Oh, yes;--that's certain. I have pledged myself to go.”

”Of course I don't know anything of this matter that is so important to your family.”

”No; you do not,” said Johnny.

”Can't you explain it to me, then? so that I may have some reason,--if there is any reason.”

Then John told the story of Mr. Crawley,--a considerable portion of the story; and in his telling of it, I think it probable that he put more weight upon the necessity of his mission to Italy than it could have fairly been made to bear. In the course of the narration Sir Raffle did once contrive to suggest that a lawyer by going to Florence might do the business at any rate as well as John Eames.

But Johnny denied this. ”No, Sir Raffle, it is impossible; quite impossible,” he said. ”If you saw the lawyer who is acting in the matter, Mr. Toogood, who is also my uncle, he would tell you the same.” Sir Raffle had already heard something of the story of Mr.

Crawley, and was now willing to accept the sad tragedy of that case as an excuse for his private secretary's somewhat insubordinate conduct. ”Under the circ.u.mstances, Eames, I suppose you must go; but I think you should have told me all about it before.”

”I did not like to trouble you, Sir Raffle, with private business.”

”It is always best to tell the whole of a story,” said Sir Raffle.

Johnny being quite content with the upshot of the negotiations accepted this gentle rebuke in silence, and withdrew. On the next day he appeared again at the office in his ordinary costume, and an idea crossed Sir Raffle's brain that he had been partly ”done” by the affectation of a costume. ”I'll be even with him some day yet,” said Sir Raffle to himself.

”I've got my leave, boys,” said Eames when he went out into the room in which his three friends sat.

”No!” said Cradell.

”But I have,” said Johnny.

”You don't mean that old Huffle Scuffle has given it out of his own head?” said Fisher.

”Indeed he has,” said Johnny; ”and bade G.o.d bless me into the bargain.”

”And you didn't give him the oysters?” said FitzHoward. ”Not a sh.e.l.l,” said Johnny.

”I'm blessed if you don't beat c.o.c.k-fighting,” said Cradell, lost in admiration at his friend's adroitness.

We know how John pa.s.sed his evening after that. He went first to see Lily Dale at her uncle's lodgings in Sackville Street, from thence he was taken to the presence of the charming Madalina in Porchester Terrace, and then wound up the night with his friend Conway Dalrymple. When he got to his bed he felt himself to have been triumphant, but in spite of his triumph he was ashamed of himself.

Why had he left Lily to go to Madalina? As he thought of this he quoted to himself against himself Hamlet's often-quoted appeal to the two portraits. How could he not despise himself in that he could find any pleasure with Madalina, having a Lily Dale to fill his thoughts?