You see you weren't there, and so the two resident partners acted for the firm.


But Mr. Montague, you'd better go with us.

Chapter 9: The Great Railway to Vera Cruz


When we've got a little ahead with this it won't matter, sir, whether you spend twenty thousand or forty thousand dollars a year.


We've got the concession from the United States Government through the territories, and we're in correspondence with the President of the Mexican Republic.

We've got the concession from the United States Government through the territories, and we're in correspondence with the President of Mexico."


I've no doubt we've an office open already in Mexico and another at Vera Cruz."


Where do you suppose the money comes from in all these undertakings?

"Where do you suppose the money comes from in these undertakings?


If we can float the shares, the money'll come in quick enough.


We hold three million dollars of the stock ourselves."


"We take them at par, of course,--and as we sell we shall pay for them.


But of course we shall only sell at a premium.


If we can run them up even to 110, there would be three hundred thousand dollars.


Look here--I'll write it, and you can sign it."


Whereupon Mr. Fisker did write the following letter:--

Whereupon Mr. Fisker wrote the following letter:


DEAR SIR,--I have the pleasure of informing you that my partner, Mr. Fisker,--of Fisker, Montague, and Montague, of San Francisco,--is now in London with the view of allowing British capitalists to assist in carrying out perhaps the greatest work of the age,--namely, the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway, which is to give direct communication between San Francisco and the Gulf of Mexico.

Dear Sir,
I have the pleasure of informing you that my partner, Mr. Fisker, of Fisker, Montague, and Montague, of San Francisco, is now in London with the view of allowing British capitalists to assist in carrying out perhaps the greatest work of the age: namely, the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway, which is to give direct communication between San Francisco and the Gulf of Mexico.


He is very anxious to see you upon his arrival, as he is aware that your co-operation would be desirable.


We feel assured that with your matured judgment in such matters you would see at once the magnificence of the enterprise.


If you will name a day and an hour, Mr. Fisker will call upon you.


I have to thank you and Madame Melmotte for a very pleasant evening spent at your house last week.


Mr. Fisker proposes returning to New York.


I shall remain here, superintending the British interests which may be involved.


I have the honour to be, Dear Sir, Most faithfully yours,

I have the honour to be, Dear Sir,
Most faithfully yours.


"But I have never said that I would superintend the interests," said Montague.


You regular John Bull Englishmen are so full of scruples that you lose as much of life as should serve to make an additional fortune."

You Englishmen are so full of scruples!"


After some further conversation Paul Montague recopied the letter and signed it.

Paul Montague copied the letter and signed it


He did it with doubt,--almost with dismay.


But he told himself that he could do no good by refusing.


If this wretched American, with his hat on one side and rings on his fingers, had so far got the upper hand of Paul's uncle as to have been allowed to do what he liked with the funds of the partnership, Paul could not stop it.

If this wretched American had got the upper hand of Paul's uncle so as to do what he liked with the funds of the partnership, Paul could not stop it.


On the following morning they went up to London together, and in the course of the afternoon Mr. Fisker presented himself in Abchurch Lane.

On the following morning they went up to London together, and Mr. Fisker presented himself in Abchurch Lane.


The letter written at Liverpool, but dated from the Langham Hotel, had been posted at the Euston Square Railway Station at the moment of Fisker's arrival.


Fisker sent in his card, and was asked to wait.

This was not a grand site for the offices of a merchant prince. A small corner house had a brass plate on a door, bearing the words "Melmotte & Co." Who the Co. was, no one knew. Mr. Melmotte had never burdened himself with a business partner. Here Fisker found three or four clerks seated at desks, and was asked


In the course of twenty minutes he was ushered into the great man's presence by no less a person than Miles Grendall.


It has been already said that Mr. Melmotte was a big man with large whiskers, rough hair, and with an expression of mental power on a harsh vulgar face.

 to walk up narrow, crooked stairs. He waited in a small dark apartment till Miles Grendall announced that Mr. Melmotte would see him.
It has been already said that Mr. Melmotte was a big man with an expression of mental power on a harsh, vulgar face.


He was certainly a man to repel you by his presence unless attracted to him by some internal consideration.


He was magnificent in his expenditure, powerful in his doings, successful in his business, and the world around him therefore was not repelled.

; yet he was magnificent in his expenditure, powerful in his doings, successful in his business, and the world around him therefore was not repelled.


Fisker, on the other hand, was a shining little man,--perhaps about forty years of age, with a well-twisted moustache, greasy brown hair, which was becoming bald at the top, good-looking if his features were analysed, but insignificant in appearance.

Fisker, on the other hand, was a shining little man - perhaps forty years of age, with a well-twisted moustache and greasy brown hair. He was insignificant in appearance, but


He was gorgeously dressed, with a silk waistcoat and chains, and he carried a little stick.

gorgeously dressed, with a silk waistcoat.


One would at first be inclined to say that Fisker was not much of a man; but after a little conversation most men would own that there was something in Fisker.

One would at first say that Fisker was not much of a man; but after a little conversation


He was troubled by no shyness, by no scruples, and by no fears.


His mind was not capacious, but such as it was it was his own, and he knew how to use it.


Abchurch Lane is not a grand site for the offices of a merchant prince.


Here, at a small corner house, there was a small brass plate on a swing door, bearing the words "Melmotte & Co." Of whom the Co. was composed no one knew.


In one sense Mr. Melmotte might be said to be in company with all the commercial world, for there was no business to which he would refuse his co-operation on certain terms.

one would own that there was something in him. He had no shyness, no scruples, and no fears. His mind was not capacious, but he knew how to use it.


But he had never burthened himself with a partner in the usual sense of the term.


Here Fisker found three or four clerks seated at desks, and was desired to walk up-stairs.


The steps were narrow and crooked, and the rooms were small and irregular.


Here he stayed for a while in a small dark apartment in which "The Daily Telegraph" was left for the amusement of its occupant till Miles Grendall announced to him that Mr. Melmotte would see him.


The millionaire looked at him for a moment or two, just condescending to touch with his fingers the hand which Fisker had projected.

The millionaire looked at him for a moment or two, just condescending to touch with his fingers the hand which Fisker offered.


"I don't seem to remember," he said, "the gentleman who has done me the honour of writing to me about you."


When I'm at home in San Francisco, I make acquaintance with a great many gents whom I don't remember afterwards.

When I'm at home in San Francisco, I meet a great many gents whom I don't remember afterwards.


My partner I think told me that he went to your house with his friend, Sir Felix Carbury."

My partner told me that he went to your house with his friend, Sir Felix Carbury."


"I know a young man called Sir Felix Carbury."


I could have got any amount of introductions to you if I had thought this would not have sufficed."


"Our account here in London is kept with the City and West End Joint Stock.


But I have only just arrived, and as my chief object in coming to London is to see you, and as I met my partner, Mr. Montague, in Liverpool, I took a note from him and came on straight."

I have only just arrived, and as my chief object in coming to London is to see you, I met my partner, Mr. Montague, in Liverpool, took a note from him and came on straight."


"And what can I do for you, Mr. Fisker?"


Then Mr. Fisker began his account of the Great South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway, and exhibited considerable skill by telling it all in comparatively few words.


In two minutes he had displayed his programme, his maps, and his pictures before Mr. Melmotte's eyes, taking care that Mr. Melmotte should see how often the names of Fisker, Montague, and Montague, reappeared upon them.

In two minutes he had displayed his programme, his maps, and his pictures.


As Mr. Melmotte read the documents, Fisker from time to time put in a word.


But the words had no reference at all to the future profits of the railway, or to the benefit which such means of communication would confer upon the world at large; but applied solely to the appetite for such stock as theirs, which might certainly be produced in the speculating world by a proper manipulation of the affairs.

- not about the benefits of the railway, but solely about the appetite for such stock as theirs, which might certainly be produced in the speculating world by a proper manipulation of the affairs.


[Illustration: Then Mr. Fisker began his account.]


"You seem to think you couldn't get it taken up in your own country," said Melmotte.


"There's not a doubt about getting it all taken up there.

"There's not a doubt about getting it taken up there.


Our folk, sir, are quick enough at the game; but you don't want me to teach you, Mr. Melmotte, that nothing encourages this kind of thing like competition.


When they hear at St. Louis and Chicago that the thing is alive in London, they'll be alive there.


When they know that the stock is running like wildfire in America, they'll make it run here too."

And when they know that the stock is running like wildfire in America, they'll make it run here too."


"What we've gone to work upon is a concession for making the line from the United States Congress.

"We've got a concession for making the line from the United States Congress.


We're to have the land for nothing, of course, and a grant of one thousand acres round every station, the stations to be twenty-five miles apart."


"And the land is to be made over to you,--when?"

"And the land is to be made over to you - when?"


"When we have made the line up to the station."


Fisker understood perfectly that Mr. Melmotte did not ask the question in reference to any value that he might attach to the possession of such lands, but to the attractiveness of such a prospectus in the eyes of the outside world of speculators.

Fisker understood perfectly that Mr. Melmotte did not ask the question in reference to any value such land might have, but to the attractiveness of such a prospectus to speculators.


"And what do you want me to do, Mr. Fisker?"


"I want to have your name there," he said.


And he placed his finger down on a spot on which it was indicated that there was, or was to be, a chairman of an English Board of Directors, but with a space for the name, hitherto blank.

And he placed his finger on a spot where it was indicated that there was to be a chairman of an English Board of Directors, but with a blank space for the name.


"Who are to be your directors here, Mr. Fisker?"


Mr. Paul Montague should be one, and perhaps his friend Sir Felix Carbury might be another.


We could get probably one of the Directors of the City and West End.


But we would leave it all to you,--as also the amount of stock you would like to take yourself.

But we would leave it all to you - as also the amount of stock you would like to take yourself.


If you gave yourself to it, heart and soul, Mr. Melmotte, it would be the finest thing that there has been out for a long time.

If you gave yourself to it, heart and soul, Mr. Melmotte, it would be the finest thing that there has been for a long time.


"You have to back that with a certain amount of paid-up capital?"


"We take care, sir, in the West not to cripple commerce too closely by old-fashioned bandages.


Look at what we've done already, sir, by having our limbs pretty free.


Look at our line, sir, right across the continent, from San Francisco to New York.


People wanted to go from New York to San Francisco, and I don't know that they do want to go to Vera Cruz.

People wanted to go from New York to San Francisco, and I don't know that they want to go to Vera Cruz.


But I will look at it, and you shall hear from me."


The interview was over, and Mr. Fisker was contented with it.

The interview was over, and Mr. Fisker was contented.


Had Mr. Melmotte not intended at least to think of it he would not have given ten minutes to the subject.

If Mr. Melmotte did not intend at least to think of it he would not have given ten minutes to the subject.


After all, what was wanted from Mr. Melmotte was little more than his name, for the use of which Mr. Fisker proposed that he should receive from the speculative public two or three hundred thousand pounds.

After all, what was wanted from Mr. Melmotte was his name, for the use of which Mr. Fisker proposed that he should receive from the speculative public two or three hundred thousand pounds.


At the end of a fortnight from the date of Mr. Fisker's arrival in London, the company was fully launched in England, with a body of London directors, of whom Mr. Melmotte was the chairman.

A fortnight later, the company was fully launched in England, with a body of London directors, of whom Mr. Melmotte was the chairman.


Among the directors were Lord Alfred Grendall, Sir Felix Carbury, Samuel Cohenlupe, Esq., Member of Parliament for Staines, a gentleman of the Jewish persuasion, Lord Nidderdale, who was also in Parliament, and Mr. Paul Montague.

Among the directors were Lord Alfred Grendall, Sir Felix Carbury, Samuel Cohenlupe, Esq., Member of Parliament for Staines, Lord Nidderdale, who was also in Parliament, and Mr. Paul Montague.


It may be thought that the directory was not strong, and that but little help could be given to any commercial enterprise by the assistance of Lord Alfred or Sir Felix;--but it was felt that Mr. Melmotte was himself so great a tower of strength that the fortune of the company,--as a company,--was made.

It may be thought that the board of directors was not strong, and that little help could be given to any commercial enterprise by Lord Alfred or Sir Felix; but it was felt that Mr. Melmotte was himself so great a tower of strength that the company's fortune was made.


On that Thursday afternoon it was known everywhere that there was to be a general ruin of all the Melmotte affairs.

On that Thursday afternoon it was known everywhere that Melmotte was ruined.


As soon as Cohenlupe had gone, no man doubted.

As soon as Cohenlupe had gone, no man doubted it.


The City men who had not gone to the dinner prided themselves on their foresight, as did also the politicians who had declined to meet the Emperor of China at the table of the suspected Financier.


They who had got up the dinner and had been instrumental in taking the Emperor to the house in Grosvenor Square, and they also who had brought him forward at Westminster and had fought his battle for him, were aware that they would have to defend themselves against heavy attacks.


No one now had a word to say in his favour, or a doubt as to his guilt.

No one now had a word to say in his favour.


The Grendalls had retired altogether out of town, and were no longer even heard of.


disappeared; Lord Alfred had not been seen since the day of the dinner.


The Duchess of Albury, too, went into the country some weeks earlier than usual, quelled, as the world said, by the general Melmotte failure.


But this departure had not as yet taken place at the time at which we have now arrived.


When the Speaker took his seat in the House, soon after four o'clock, there were a great many members present, and a general feeling prevailed that the world was more than ordinarily alive because of Melmotte and his failures.

When the Speaker took his seat in the House, soon after four o'clock, there were many members present, and a general feeling that the world was more than ordinarily alive because of Melmotte and his failures.


It had been confidently asserted throughout the morning that he would be put upon his trial for forgery in reference to the purchase of the Pickering property from Mr. Longestaffe, and it was known that he had not as yet shown himself anywhere on this day.

It had been confidently asserted throughout the morning that he would be put upon trial for forgery, and it was known that he had not yet shown himself anywhere that day.


People had gone to look at the house in Grosvenor Square,--not knowing that he was still living in Mr. Longestaffe's house in Bruton Street, and had come away with the impression that the desolation of ruin and crime was already plainly to be seen upon it.


"I wonder where he is," said Mr. Lupton to Mr. Beauchamp Beauclerk in one of the lobbies of the House.


"They say he hasn't been in the City all day.


That poor fellow has got it heavy all round.


The man has got his place in the country and his house in town.


"It might have been worse, I should say, as far as you are concerned," replied Mr. Lupton.


Our lawyer said three days ago that the money was certainly there."


"And Cohenlupe was certainly here three days ago," said Lupton;--"but he isn't here now.

"And Cohenlupe was certainly here three days ago," said Lupton; "but he isn't here now."


It seems to me that it has just happened in time for you."


Lord Nidderdale shook his head and tried to look very grave.


"There's Brown," said Sir Orlando Drought, hurrying up to the commercial gentleman whose mistakes about finance Mr. Melmotte on a previous occasion had been anxious to correct.


It was rumoured, you know, an hour ago, that he was off to the continent after Cohenlupe."


But Mr. Brown was very strongly of opinion that the police would know all that there was to be known about Mr. Melmotte before this time on the following day.


Mr. Brown had been very bitter against Melmotte since that memorable attack made upon him in the House.


Even ministers as they sat to be badgered by the ordinary question-mongers of the day were more intent upon Melmotte than upon their own defence.

Even ministers were more intent upon Melmotte than upon their own business.


asked the Chancellor of the Exchequer of the Secretary of State for the Home Department.

asked the Chancellor of the Exchequer of the Home Secretary.


"I understand that no order has been given for his arrest.


There is a general opinion that he has committed forgery; but I doubt whether they've got their evidence together."


"He's a ruined man, I suppose," said the Chancellor.


"I doubt whether he ever was a rich man.


But I'll tell you what;--he has been about the grandest rogue we've seen yet.

"He has been about the grandest rogue we've seen yet.


He must have spent over a hundred thousand pounds during the last twelve months on his personal expenses."


I wonder how the Emperor will like it when he learns the truth."


Another minister sitting close to the Secretary of State was of opinion that the Emperor of China would not care half so much about it as our own First Lord of the Treasury.


At this moment there came a silence over the House which was almost audible.


They who know the sensation which arises from the continued hum of many suppressed voices will know also how plain to the ear is the feeling caused by the discontinuance of the sound.


Everybody looked up, but everybody looked up in perfect silence.


An Under-Secretary of State had just got upon his legs to answer a most indignant question as to an alteration of the colour of the facings of a certain regiment, his prepared answer to which, however, was so happy as to allow him to anticipate quite a little triumph.

An Under-Secretary of State who had just stood up to


It is not often that such a Godsend comes in the way of an under-secretary; and he was intent upon his performance.


But even he was startled into momentary oblivion of his well-arranged point.

speak was startled into momentary forgetfulness of his point.


Augustus Melmotte, the member for Westminster, was walking up the centre of the House.


He had succeeded by this time in learning so much of the forms of the House as to know what to do with his hat,--when to wear it, and when to take it off,--and how to sit down.

He had learnt by this time what to do with his hat in the House.


As he entered by the door facing the Speaker, he wore his hat on one side of his head, as was his custom.

As he entered he wore it on one side of his head, as was his custom.


Much of the arrogance of his appearance had come from this habit, which had been adopted probably from a conviction that it added something to his powers of self-assertion.

Much of the arrogance of his appearance had come from this habit.


At this moment he was more determined than ever that no one should trace in his outer gait or in any feature of his face any sign of that ruin which, as he well knew, all men were anticipating.

He was more determined than ever that no one should see in his face or manner any sign of that ruin which, as he well knew, all men were anticipating.


Therefore, perhaps, his hat was a little more cocked than usual, and the lapels of his coat were thrown back a little wider, displaying the large jewelled studs which he wore in his shirt; and the arrogance conveyed by his mouth and chin was specially conspicuous.

Therefore, perhaps, his hat was a little more cocked than usual, and the lapels of his coat were thrown back a little wider, displaying the large jewelled studs in his shirt.


He had come down in his brougham, and as he had walked up Westminster Hall and entered the House by the private door of the members, and then made his way in across the great lobby and between the doorkeepers,--no one had spoken a word to him.

When he had come through the hall, no one had spoken a word to him.


He had of course seen many whom he had known.


He had indeed known nearly all whom he had seen;--but he had been aware, from the beginning of this enterprise of the day, that men would shun him, and that he must bear their cold looks and colder silence without seeming to notice them.


He had schooled himself to the task, and he was now performing it.


It was not only that he would have to move among men without being noticed, but that he must endure to pass the whole evening in the same plight.


But he was resolved, and he was now doing it.


He bowed to the Speaker with more than usual courtesy, raising his hat with more than usual care, and seated himself, as usual, on the third opposition-bench, but with more than his usual fling.

He bowed to the Speaker with more than usual courtesy, raising his hat with care, and seated himself on the third opposition-bench, with more than his usual fling.


He was a big man, who always endeavoured to make an effect by deportment, and was therefore customarily conspicuous in his movements.

He was a big man, and always conspicuous in his movements


He was desirous now of being as he was always, neither more nor less demonstrative;--but, as a matter of course, he exceeded; and it seemed to those who looked at him that there was a special impudence in the manner in which he walked up the House and took his seat.

; but there seemed to be a special impudence in the manner in which he took his seat.


The Under-Secretary of State, who was on his legs, was struck almost dumb, and his morsel of wit about the facings was lost to Parliament for ever.

The Under-Secretary of State who was on his legs was struck almost dumb.


That unfortunate young man, Lord Nidderdale, occupied the seat next to that on which Melmotte had placed himself.

Lord Nidderdale occupied the seat next to Melmotte's.


It had so happened three or four times since Melmotte had been in the House, as the young lord, fully intending to marry the Financier's daughter, had resolved that he would not be ashamed of his father-in-law.

Previously the young lord, fully intending to marry the Financier's daughter, had resolved that he would not be ashamed of his father-in-law


He had understood that countenance of the sort which he as a young aristocrat could give to the man of millions who had risen no one knew whence, was part of the bargain in reference to the marriage, and he was gifted with a mingled honesty and courage which together made him willing and able to carry out his idea.


He had given Melmotte little lessons as to ordinary forms of the House, and had done what in him lay to earn the money which was to be forthcoming.

he had given Melmotte little lessons as to customs of the House.


But it had become manifest both to him and to his father during the last two days,--very painfully manifest to his father,--that the thing must be abandoned.

But it had become obvious during the last two days that the marriage must be abandoned.


And if so,--then why should he be any longer gracious to Melmotte?

Why should he any longer be gracious to Melmotte?


And, moreover, though he had been ready to be courteous to a very vulgar and a very disagreeable man, he was not anxious to extend his civilities to one who, as he was now assured, had been certainly guilty of forgery.


But to get up at once and leave his seat because Melmotte had placed himself by his side, did not suit the turn of his mind.

But he found it hard to get up at once and leave his seat because Melmotte had placed himself by his side.


He looked round to his neighbour on the right, with a half-comic look of misery, and then prepared himself to bear his punishment, whatever it might be.


I hope we shall be in our own house again next week, and then we shall be able to make you comfortable."


Could it be possible that the man did not know that all the world was united in accusing him of forgery?


"I'll tell you what it is," said Nidderdale.


"I think you had better see my governor again, Mr. Melmotte."


I only just came down to enter an appearance."

I only came down to make an appearance."


He had to cross Melmotte on his way out, and as he did so Melmotte grasped him by the hand.


"Good night, my boy," said Melmotte quite aloud,--in a voice much louder than that which members generally allow themselves for conversation.

"Good night, my boy," said Melmotte, quite loudly.


Nidderdale was confused and unhappy; but there was probably not a man in the House who did not understand the whole thing.


He rushed down through the gangway and out through the doors with a hurried step, and as he escaped into the lobby he met Lionel Lupton, who, since his little conversation with Mr. Beauclerk, had heard further news.

and rushed down through the gangway and out through the doors with a hurried step. As he escaped into the lobby he met Lionel Lupton.


"You know what has happened, Nidderdale?"


"Yes, about Melmotte," continued Lupton.


"He has been arrested in his own house within the last half-hour on a charge of forgery."

"Yes - he has been arrested in his own house within the last half-hour."


"I wish he had," said Nidderdale, "with all my heart.


"If you go in you'll find him sitting there as large as life.


He has been talking to me as though everything were all right."


"Compton was here not a moment ago, and said that he had been taken under a warrant from the Lord Mayor."


"The Lord Mayor is a member and had better come and fetch his prisoner himself.


I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't on his legs before long."


Melmotte kept his seat steadily till seven, at which hour the House adjourned till nine.

Melmotte kept his seat steadily till seven, when the House adjourned till nine.


He was one of the last to leave, and then with a slow step,--with almost majestic steps,--he descended to the dining-room and ordered his dinner.

He was one of the last to leave, and then, almost majestically, he descended to the dining-room and ordered his dinner.


There were many men there, and some little difficulty about a seat.


No one was very willing to make room for him.

no one was very willing to make room for him.


But at last he secured a place, almost jostling some unfortunate who was there before him.


It was impossible to expel him,--almost as impossible to sit next him.


Even the waiters were unwilling to serve him;--but with patience and endurance he did at last get his dinner.

Even the waiters were unwilling to serve him; but with patience and endurance he did eventually get his dinner.


He was there in his right, as a member of the House of Commons, and there was no ground on which such service as he required could be refused to him.

He was there in his right, as a member of the House of Commons, and such service could not be refused to him.


It was not long before he had the table all to himself.

It was not long before he had the table to himself.


He spoke loudly to the waiters and drank his bottle of champagne with much apparent enjoyment.

He spoke loudly to the waiters and drank his bottle of champagne with evident enjoyment.


Since his friendly intercourse with Nidderdale no one had spoken to him, nor had he spoken to any man.


They who watched him declared among themselves that he was happy in his own audacity;--but in truth he was probably at that moment the most utterly wretched man in London.

He looked happy enough; but in truth he was probably the most utterly wretched man in London.


He would have better studied his personal comfort had he gone to his bed, and spent his evening in groans and wailings.


But even he, with all the world now gone from him, with nothing before him but the extremest misery which the indignation of offended laws could inflict, was able to spend the last moments of his freedom in making a reputation at any rate for audacity.

Yet, with all the world now gone from him, with nothing before him but extreme misery, he was able to spend the last moments of his freedom in making a reputation for audacity.


It was thus that Augustus Melmotte wrapped his toga around him before his death!


He went from the dining-room to the smoking-room, and there, taking from his pocket a huge case which he always carried, proceeded to light a cigar about eight inches long.

He went from the dining-room to the smoking-room, and lit a long cigar.


Mr. Brown, from the City, was in the room, and Melmotte, with a smile and a bow, offered Mr. Brown one of the same.

Mr. Brown, who had been corrected by Melmotte in his first speech, was in the room, and Melmotte, with a smile and a bow, offered a cigar to him.


Mr. Brown was a short, fat, round little man, over sixty, who was always endeavouring to give to a somewhat commonplace set of features an air of importance by the contraction of his lips and the knitting of his brows.


It was as good as a play to see Mr. Brown jumping back from any contact with the wicked one, and putting on a double frown as he looked at the impudent sinner.

It was as good as a play to see Mr. Brown jumping back from any contact with the wicked one, and frowning at his impudence.


"You needn't think so much, you know, of what I said the other night.


So spoke Melmotte, and then laughed with a loud, hoarse laugh, looking round upon the assembled crowd as though he were enjoying his triumph.

So spoke Melmotte, and then laughed with a loud, hoarse laugh.


He sat after that and smoked in silence.


Once again he burst out into a laugh, as though peculiarly amused with his own thoughts;--as though he were declaring to himself with much inward humour that all these men around him were fools for believing the stories which they had heard; but he made no further attempt to speak to any one.

Once again he burst out into a laugh, as though peculiarly amused with his own thoughts.


Soon after nine he went back again into the House, and again took his old place.

Soon after nine he went back again into the House, and took his old place.


At this time he had swallowed three glasses of brandy and water, as well as the champagne, and was brave enough almost for anything.


There was some debate going on in reference to the game laws,--a subject on which Melmotte was as ignorant as one of his own housemaids,--but, as some speaker sat down, he jumped up to his legs.

There was some debate going on about the game laws - a subject on which Melmotte was as ignorant as one of his own housemaids - but he jumped on to his feet.


Another gentleman had also risen, and when the House called to that other gentleman Melmotte gave way.


The other gentleman had not much to say, and in a few minutes Melmotte was again on his legs.


Who shall dare to describe the thoughts which would cross the august mind of a Speaker of the House of Commons at such a moment?

What thoughts must have crossed the mind of the Speaker of the House of Commons?


Of Melmotte's villainy he had no official knowledge.

He had no official knowledge of Melmotte's villainy.


And even could he have had such knowledge it was not for him to act upon it.


The man was a member of the House, and as much entitled to speak as another.


But it seemed on that occasion that the Speaker was anxious to save the House from disgrace;--for twice and thrice he refused to have his "eye caught" by the member for Westminster.

But it seemed that the Speaker was anxious to save the House from disgrace; for he refused to have his "eye caught" by the member for Westminster.


As long as any other member would rise he would not have his eye caught.


But Melmotte was persistent, and determined not to be put down.

However, Melmotte was persistent, and determined not to be put down.


At last no one else would speak, and the House was about to negative the motion without a division,--when Melmotte was again on his legs, still persisting.

At last no one else would speak, and Melmotte was again on his legs.


The Speaker scowled at him and leaned back in his chair.


Melmotte standing erect, turning his head round from one side of the House to another, as though determined that all should see his audacity, propping himself with his knees against the seat before him, remained for half a minute perfectly silent.

Melmotte, standing erect, turning his head round from one side of the House to another, remained for half a minute perfectly silent.


He was drunk,--but better able than most drunken men to steady himself, and showing in his face none of those outward signs of intoxication by which drunkenness is generally made apparent.

He was drunk, but better able than most drunken men to steady himself, and showing in his face no outward signs of intoxication.


But he had forgotten in his audacity that words are needed for the making of a speech, and now he had not a word at his command.

But he had forgotten that words are needed for the making of a speech, and now he had not a word at his command.


He stumbled forward, recovered himself, then looked once more round the House with a glance of anger, and after that toppled headlong forward over the shoulders of Mr. Beauchamp Beauclerk, who was now sitting in front of him.

He stumbled forward, recovered himself, glanced round the House with anger, and then toppled headlong over the shoulders of Mr. Beauchamp Beauclerk, who was sitting in front of him.


He might have wrapped his toga around him better perhaps had he remained at home, but if to have himself talked about was his only object, he could hardly have taken a surer course.


The scene, as it occurred, was one very likely to be remembered when the performer should have been carried away into enforced obscurity.


Mr. Beauclerk, a man of natural good nature, though at the moment put to considerable personal inconvenience, hastened, when he recovered his own equilibrium, to assist the drunken man.

Mr. Beauclerk hastened, when he regained his own balance, to assist the drunken man.


But Melmotte had by no means lost the power of helping himself.


He quickly recovered his legs, and then reseating himself, put his hat on, and endeavoured to look as though nothing special had occurred.

quickly recovered his legs, and reseating himself, put his hat on, and tried to look as though nothing special had occurred.


The House resumed its business, taking no further notice of Melmotte, and having no special rule of its own as to the treatment to be adopted with drunken members.


But the member for Westminster caused no further inconvenience.


He remained in his seat for perhaps ten minutes, and then, not with a very steady step, but still with capacity sufficient for his own guidance, he made his way down to the doors.

He remained in his seat for perhaps ten minutes, and then, somewhat unsteadily, he made his way down to the doors.


His exit was watched in silence, and the moment was an anxious one for the Speaker, the clerks, and all who were near him.

His exit was watched in anxious silence.


Had he fallen some one,--or rather some two or three,--must have picked him up and carried him out.

Had he fallen, some one - or rather some two or three - must have picked him up and carried him out.


But he did not fall either there or in the lobbies, or on his way down to Palace Yard.


Many were looking at him, but none touched him.


When he had got through the gates, leaning against the wall he hallooed for his brougham, and the servant who was waiting for him soon took him home to Bruton Street.

When he had got out through the gates, leaning against the wall he hallooed for his carriage, and was taken home to Bruton Street.


That was the last which the British Parliament saw of its new member for Westminster.


Melmotte as soon as he reached home got into his own sitting-room without difficulty, and called for more brandy and water.

As soon as he reached home Melmotte went to his sitting-room, and called for more brandy and water.


Between eleven and twelve he was left there by his servant with a bottle of brandy, three or four bottles of soda-water, and his cigar-case.


Neither of the ladies of the family came to him, nor did he speak of them.


Nor was he so drunk then as to give rise to any suspicion in the mind of the servant.

He was not so drunk as to give rise to any suspicion in the servant's mind


He was habitually left there at night, and the servant as usual went to his bed.


But at nine o'clock on the following morning the maid-servant found him dead upon the floor.


Drunk as he had been,--more drunk as he probably became during the night,--still he was able to deliver himself from the indignities and penalties to which the law might have subjected him by a dose of prussic acid.

Drunk as he had been, more drunk as he probably became during the night - still he was able to deliver himself from the indignities and penalties of the law, by swallowing a dose of prussic acid.


Lady Carbury's house in Welbeck Street was a modest house enough,--with no pretensions to be a mansion, hardly assuming even to be a residence; but, having some money in her hands when she first took it, she had made it pretty and pleasant, and was still proud to feel that in spite of the hardness of her position she had comfortable belongings around her when her literary friends came to see her on her Tuesday evenings.

Lady Carbury's house in Welbeck Street was modest; but she had made it pretty and pleasant, and was proud to feel that she had comfortable belongings around her when her literary friends came to see her on Tuesday evenings.


Here she was now living with her son and daughter.


The back drawing-room was divided from the front by doors that were permanently closed, and in this she carried on her great work.

The door to the back drawing-room was permanently closed; it was here that she carried on her great work


Here she wrote her books and contrived her system for the inveigling of editors and critics.


Here she was rarely disturbed by her daughter, and admitted no visitors except editors and critics.


But her son was controlled by no household laws, and would break in upon her privacy without remorse.

although her son would break in upon her privacy without remorse.


She had hardly finished two galloping notes after completing her letter to Mr. Ferdinand Alf, when Felix entered the room with a cigar in his mouth and threw himself upon the sofa.

Soon after she had completed her letter to Mr. Alf, Felix entered the room with a cigar in his mouth and threw himself upon the sofa.


"My dear boy," she said, "pray leave your tobacco below when you come in here."

"My dear boy," she said, "pray leave your tobacco behind when you come in here."


"What affectation it is, mother," he said, throwing, however, the half-smoked cigar into the fire-place.

"Some women swear they like smoke, mother," he said, throwing the half-smoked cigar into the fire-place.


"Some women swear they like smoke, others say they hate it like the devil.


It depends altogether on whether they wish to flatter or snub a fellow."


"You don't suppose that I wish to snub you?"


"I wonder whether you can let me have twenty pounds?"


"Just so, mother;--but how about the twenty pounds?"


[Illustration: "Just so, mother;--but how about the twenty pounds?"]


"Well;--to tell the truth, to carry on the game for the nonce till something is settled.


A fellow can't live without some money in his pocket.

"Well, a fellow can't live without some money in his pocket.


I even get my hair cut on credit, and as long as it was possible I had a brougham, to save cabs."


"I never could see the end of anything, mother.


I never could nurse a horse when the hounds were going well in order to be in at the finish.


I never could pass a dish that I liked in favour of those that were to follow.

I never could pass a dish that I liked in favour of those to follow.


The young man did not say "carpe diem," but that was the philosophy which he intended to preach.


"Have you been at the Melmottes' to-day?"

"Have you been at the Melmottes' today?"


It was now five o'clock on a winter afternoon, the hour at which ladies are drinking tea, and idle men playing whist at the clubs,--at which young idle men are sometimes allowed to flirt, and at which, as Lady Carbury thought, her son might have been paying his court to Marie Melmotte the great heiress.

It was now five o'clock on a winter afternoon, and Lady Carbury thought her son might have been paying his court to Marie Melmotte the great heiress.


"To tell the truth, mother, I have thought very little about her.


She is not pretty, she is not plain; she is not clever, she is not stupid; she is neither saint nor sinner."


I am at any rate quite willing to believe that as wife she would be 'good enough for me.'"


I cannot help speculating whether, if I marry the daughter, I shall ever find out where the mother came from.


Dolly Longestaffe says that somebody says that she was a Bohemian Jewess; but I think she's too fat for that."


"Well, he does not turn me out, or anything of that sort.


Of course there are half-a-dozen after her, and I think the old fellow is bewildered among them all.


He's thinking more of getting dukes to dine with him than of his daughter's lovers.


Any fellow might pick her up who happened to hit her fancy."


I am doing my best, and it's no good flogging a willing horse.


"Oh, Felix, I think you hardly know how poor we are.


You have still got your hunters down at the place!"


"I have got two horses, if you mean that; and I haven't paid a shilling for their keep since the season began.


Look here, mother; this is a risky sort of game, I grant, but I am playing it by your advice.

Look here, mother; this is a risky game, but I am playing it by your advice.


If I can marry Miss Melmotte, I suppose all will be right.


But I don't think the way to get her would be to throw up everything and let all the world know that I haven't got a copper.

But I don't think the way to get her is to let all the world know that I haven't got a copper.


To do that kind of thing a man must live a little up to the mark.


I've brought my hunting down to a minimum, but if I gave it up altogether there would be lots of fellows to tell them in Grosvenor Square why I had done so."

If I gave up my hunting there would be lots of fellows to tell them in Grosvenor Square."


There was an apparent truth in this argument which the poor woman was unable to answer.

The poor woman was unable to argue against this.


Before the interview was over the money demanded was forthcoming, though at the time it could be but ill afforded, and the youth went away apparently with a light heart, hardly listening to his mother's entreaties that the affair with Marie Melmotte might, if possible, be brought to a speedy conclusion.

The money was handed over, and the youth went away with a light heart, hardly listening to his mother's entreaties that the affair with Marie Melmotte might be brought to a speedy conclusion.


Felix, when he left his mother, went down to the only club to which he now belonged.


Clubs are pleasant resorts in all respects but one.


They require ready money, or even worse than that in respect to annual payments,--money in advance; and the young baronet had been absolutely forced to restrict himself.

require money; and the young baronet, forced to restrict himself to


He, as a matter of course, out of those to which he had possessed the right of entrance, chose the worst.


It was called the Beargarden, and had been lately opened with the express view of combining parsimony with profligacy.


Clubs were ruined, so said certain young parsimonious profligates, by providing comforts for old fogies who paid little or nothing but their subscriptions, and took out by their mere presence three times as much as they gave.


This club was not to be opened till three o'clock in the afternoon, before which hour the promoters of the Beargarden thought it improbable that they and their fellows would want a club.

This club did not open till three o'clock in the afternoon.


There were to be no morning papers taken, no library, no morning-room.

There were no morning papers taken, no library, no morning-room.


Dining-rooms, billiard-rooms, and card-rooms would suffice for the Beargarden.


Everything was to be provided by a purveyor, so that the club should be cheated only by one man.


Everything was to be luxurious, but the luxuries were to be achieved at first cost.


It had been a happy thought, and the club was said to prosper.


Herr Vossner, the purveyor, was a jewel, and so carried on affairs that there was no trouble about anything.

Herr Vossner, the purveyor, carried on affairs so that there was no trouble about anything,


He would assist even in smoothing little difficulties as to the settling of card accounts, and had behaved with the greatest tenderness to the drawers of cheques whose bankers had harshly declared them to have "no effects."

smoothing any little difficulties in the settling of accounts.


Herr Vossner was a jewel, and the Beargarden was a success.


Perhaps no young man about town enjoyed the Beargarden more thoroughly than did Sir Felix Carbury.

Perhaps no young man about town enjoyed the Beargarden more thoroughly than Sir Felix Carbury.


The club was in the close vicinity of other clubs, in a small street turning out of St. James's Street, and piqued itself on its outward quietness and sobriety.

The club was close to other clubs, in a small street off St. James's Street, and outwardly sober.


Why pay for stone-work for other people to look at;--why lay out money in marble pillars and cornices, seeing that you can neither eat such things, nor drink them, nor gamble with them?

Why pay for marble pillars and cornices, when you can neither eat such things, nor drink them, nor gamble with them?


But the Beargarden had the best wines,--or thought that it had,--and the easiest chairs, and two billiard-tables than which nothing more perfect had ever been made to stand upon legs.

But the Beargarden had the best wines - or thought that it had - and the easiest chairs, and two perfect billiard-tables.


Hither Sir Felix wended on that January afternoon as soon as he had his mother's cheque for 20 in his pocket.

Hither Sir Felix went with his mother's cheque for 20 in his pocket.


He found his special friend, Dolly Longestaffe, standing on the steps with a cigar in his mouth, and gazing vacantly at the dull brick house opposite.

He found his friend, Adolphus "Dolly" Longestaffe, standing on the steps with a cigar in his mouth, and gazing vacantly at the brick house opposite.


"I suppose I shall, because it's such a lot of trouble to go anywhere else.


I'm engaged somewhere, I know; but I'm not up to getting home and dressing."


I don't know how fellows do that kind of thing.


"Well, yes; but I don't suppose I shall.


I was going to hunt every day last week, but my fellow never would get me up in time.


I can't tell why it is that things are done in such a beastly way.


Why shouldn't fellows begin to hunt at two or three, so that a fellow needn't get up in the middle of the night?"

Why can't fellows hunt at two or three, so that a fellow needn't get up in the middle of the night?


"Because one can't ride by moonlight, Dolly."


At any rate I can't get myself to Euston Square by nine.


I don't think that fellow of mine likes getting up himself.


He says he comes in and wakes me, but I never remember it."


"How many horses have you got at Leighton, Dolly?"


There were five, but I think that fellow down there sold one; but then I think he bought another.

"There were five, but I think that fellow down there sold one; but maybe he bought another.


That is, of course, I ride them myself, only I so seldom get down.


Somebody told me that Grasslough was riding two of them last week.


I think he tipped that fellow of mine; and I call that a low kind of thing to do.

I think he tipped that fellow of mine; I call that a low thing to do.


I'd ask him, only I know he'd say that I had lent them.


Perhaps I did when I was tight, you know."


He gives himself airs because he is a lord, and is devilish ill-natured.


I don't know why he should want to ride my horses."


I'll tell you what, Carbury, I've made up my mind to one thing, and, by Jove, I'll stick to it.

I'll tell you what, Carbury, I've made up my mind, by Jove.


I never will lend a horse again to anybody.


If fellows want horses let them buy them."


"But some fellows haven't got any money, Dolly."


I don't think I've paid for any of mine I've bought this season.


"Yes; followed me here to say he wanted to be paid for something!

- followed me here to say he wanted to be paid for something!


It was horses, I think, because of the fellow's trousers."


"When he'd done talking I offered him a cigar, and while he was biting off the end I went up-stairs.

I offered him a cigar, and went upstairs.


I suppose he went away when he was tired of waiting."

I suppose he left when he was tired of waiting."


"I'll tell you what, Dolly; I wish you'd let me ride two of yours for a couple of days,--that is, of course, if you don't want them yourself.

"I'll tell you what, Dolly;" said Sir Felix, "I wish you'd let me ride two of yours for a couple of days - that is, if you don't want them yourself.


"No; I ain't tight," said Dolly, with melancholy acquiescence.


"I mean that I wouldn't like to borrow your horses without your remembering all about it.


Nobody knows as well as you do how awfully done up I am.


I shall pull through at last, but it's an awful squeeze in the meantime.

I shall pull through, but it's an awful squeeze in the meantime."


There's nobody I'd ask such a favour of except you."


"Well, you may have them;--that is, for two days.


I don't know whether that fellow of mine will believe you.


He wouldn't believe Grasslough, and told him so.


But Grasslough took them out of the stables.


"Oh, my dear fellow, that is such a bore; I don't think I could do that.


My fellow will believe you, because you and I have been pals.


I think I'll have a little drop of curaoa before dinner.

I think I'll have a little drop of curaao before dinner.


Nine hours afterwards the same two men, with two others,--of whom young Lord Grasslough, Dolly Longestaffe's peculiar aversion, was one,--were just rising from a card-table in one of the up-stairs rooms of the club.

Nine hours afterwards the same two men, with two others - including Lord Grasslough - were just rising from a card-table in one of the upstairs rooms of the club.


For it was understood that, though the Beargarden was not to be open before three o'clock in the afternoon, the accommodation denied during the day was to be given freely during the night.


No man could get a breakfast at the Beargarden, but suppers at three o'clock in the morning were quite within the rule.

For while no man could get a breakfast at the Beargarden, suppers at three o'clock in the morning were quite within the rule.


Such a supper, or rather succession of suppering, there had been to-night, various devils and broils and hot toasts having been brought up from time to time first for one and then for another.


But there had been no cessation of gambling since the cards had first been opened about ten o'clock.


At four in the morning Dolly Longestaffe was certainly in a condition to lend his horses and to remember nothing about it.


He was quite affectionate with Lord Grasslough, as he was also with his other companions,--affection being the normal state of his mind when in that condition.

He was quite affectionate with Lord Grasslough and his other companions.


He was by no means helplessly drunk, and was, perhaps, hardly more silly than when he was sober; but he was willing to play at any game whether he understood it or not, and for any stakes.


When Sir Felix got up and said he would play no more, Dolly also got up, apparently quite contented.

When Sir Felix got up and said he would play no more, Dolly also got up.


When Lord Grasslough, with a dark scowl on his face, expressed his opinion that it was not just the thing for men to break up like that when so much money had been lost, Dolly as willingly sat down again.

Lord Grasslough, with a dark scowl, said that it was not the thing for men to stop when so much money had been lost; at which Dolly as willingly sat down again.


But Dolly's sitting down was not sufficient.


"I'm going to hunt to-morrow," said Sir Felix,--meaning that day,--"and I shall play no more.

"I'm going to hunt tomorrow," said Sir Felix - meaning that day - "and I shall play no more.


"I don't see it at all," said Lord Grasslough.


"It's an understood thing that when a man has won as much as you have he should stay."

When a man has won as much as you have, he should stay," said Lord Grasslough.


"That's nonsense; there must be an end of everything, and there's an end of this for me to-night."

"That's nonsense. There's an end of this for me tonight."


Good night, Dolly; we'll settle this next time we meet.

Good night, Dolly; we'll settle next time we meet.


The night had been one very serious in its results to Sir Felix.


He had sat down to the card-table with the proceeds of his mother's cheque, a poor 20, and now he had,--he didn't at all know how much in his pockets.

Sir Felix had sat down to the card-table with his mother's 20, and now he had - he didn't know how much.


He also had drunk, but not so as to obscure his mind.


He knew that Longestaffe owed him over 800, and he knew also that he had received more than that in ready money and cheques from Lord Grasslough and the other player.

He knew that Dolly Longestaffe owed him over 800, and he had received more than that in ready money and cheques from Lord Grasslough and the other player.


Dolly Longestaffe's money, too, would certainly be paid, though Dolly did complain of the importunity of his tradesmen.


As he walked up St. James's Street, looking for a cab, he presumed himself to be worth over 700.

As Sir Felix walked up St. James's Street, looking for a cab, he presumed himself to be worth over 700.


When begging for a small sum from Lady Carbury, he had said that he could not carry on the game without some ready money, and had considered himself fortunate in fleecing his mother as he had done.


Now he was in the possession of wealth,--of wealth that might, at any rate, be sufficient to aid him materially in the object he had in hand.

Now that he was in the possession of wealth,


He never for a moment thought of paying his bills.

he never for a moment thought of paying his bills.


Even the large sum of which he had become so unexpectedly possessed would not have gone far with him in such a quixotic object as that; but he could now look bright, and buy presents, and be seen with money in his hands.

Even the large sum which he now so unexpectedly possessed would not have gone far in that; but he could now look bright, and buy presents.


It is hard even to make love in these days without something in your purse.

It is hard to make love without something in your purse.


He found no cab, but in his present frame of mind was indifferent to the trouble of walking home.


There was something so joyous in the feeling of the possession of all this money that it made the night air pleasant to him.

there was something so joyous in possessing all this money that it made walking in the night air pleasant.


Then, of a sudden, he remembered the low wail with which his mother had spoken of her poverty when he demanded assistance from her.

Suddenly he remembered the low wail with which his mother had spoken of her poverty.


But it occurred to him sharply, with an amount of carefulness quite new to him, that it would be foolish to do so.

But it occurred to him that it would be foolish to do so.


And, moreover, he could not repay the money without explaining to her how he had gotten it.

Moreover, he could not repay the money without explaining to her how he had got it.


It would be preferable to say nothing about his money.


As he let himself into the house and went up to his room he resolved that he would not say anything about it.

As he let himself into the house he resolved that he would not say anything about it.


On that morning he was at the station at nine, and hunted down in Buckinghamshire, riding two of Dolly Longestaffe's horses,--for the use of which he paid Dolly Longestaffe's "fellow" thirty shillings.

That morning he was at the station at nine, and went hunting down in Buckinghamshire, riding two of Dolly Longestaffe's horses - for the use of which he paid Dolly's "fellow" thirty shillings.


It was a long time now since Lady Carbury's great historical work on the Criminal Queens of the World had been completed and given to the world.

It was a long time now since Lady Carbury's great historical work had been given to the world.


Any reader careful as to dates will remember that it was as far back as in February that she had solicited the assistance of certain of her literary friends who were connected with the daily and weekly press.


These gentlemen had responded to her call with more or less zealous aid, so that the "Criminal Queens" had been regarded in the trade as one of the successful books of the season.

Criminal Queens had been one of the more successful books of the season.


Messrs. Leadham and Loiter had published a second, and then, very quickly, a fourth and fifth edition; and had been able in their advertisements to give testimony from various criticisms showing that Lady Carbury's book was about the greatest historical work which had emanated from the press in the present century.

Messrs. Leadham and Loiter had already published fourth and fifth editions, with advertisements aiming to show that Lady Carbury's book was the greatest historical work of the century.


With this object a passage was extracted even from the columns of the "Evening Pulpit,"--which showed very great ingenuity on the part of some young man connected with the establishment of Messrs. Leadham and Loiter.


Lady Carbury had suffered something in the struggle.


What efforts can mortals make as to which there will not be some disappointment?


Paper and print cannot be had for nothing, and advertisements are very costly.

However, editions can be scanty, and advertisements are very costly.


An edition may be sold with startling rapidity, but it may have been but a scanty edition.


When Lady Carbury received from Messrs. Leadham and Loiter their second very moderate cheque, with the expression of a fear on their part that there would not probably be a third,--unless some unforeseen demand should arise,--she repeated to herself those well-known lines from the satirist,--

Lady Carbury received from Messrs. Leadham and Loiter a very moderate second cheque, with the warning that there would probably not be a third.


"Oh, Amos Cottle, for a moment think What meagre profits spread from pen and ink."


But not on that account did she for a moment hesitate as to further attempts.

Nonetheless, she did not hesitate as to further attempts.


Indeed she had hardly completed the last chapter of her "Criminal Queens" before she was busy on another work; and although the last six months had been to her a period of incessant trouble, and sometimes of torture, though the conduct of her son had more than once forced her to declare to herself that her mind would fail her, still she had persevered.

Indeed she had hardly completed the last chapter of her Criminal Queens before she was busy on another work; and although the last six months had been a period of trouble, still she had persevered.


From day to day, with all her cares heavy upon her, she had sat at her work, with a firm resolve that so many lines should be always forthcoming, let the difficulty of making them be what it might.

Every day she had sat at her desk with a firm resolve.


Messrs. Leadham and Loiter had thought that they might be justified in offering her certain terms for a novel,--terms not very high indeed, and those contingent on the approval of the manuscript by their reader.

Messrs. Leadham and Loiter had offered her certain terms for a novel - terms not very high indeed, and dependent on the approval of the manuscript by their reader.


The smallness of the sum offered, and the want of certainty, and the pain of the work in her present circumstances, had all been felt by her to be very hard.


But she had persevered, and the novel was now complete.


It cannot with truth be said of her that she had had any special tale to tell.

It cannot with truth be said that she had any special tale to tell.


She had taken to the writing of a novel because Mr. Loiter had told her that upon the whole novels did better than anything else.

She had written a novel because Mr. Loiter had told her that novels did better than anything else.


She would have written a volume of sermons on the same encouragement, and have gone about the work exactly after the same fashion.

She would have written a volume of sermons with the same encouragement, and would have gone about the work in exactly the same fashion.


The length of her novel had been her first question.


It must be in three volumes, and each volume must have three hundred pages.

to be in three volumes, and each volume must have three hundred pages.


But what fewest number of words might be supposed sufficient to fill a page?

But what was the fewest number of words needed to fill a page?


The money offered was too trifling to allow of very liberal measure on her part.

The money offered was too trifling to allow of much effort on her part.


She had to live, and if possible to write another novel,--and, as she hoped, upon better terms,--when this should be finished.


Then what should be the name of her novel; what the name of her hero; and above all what the name of her heroine?


It must be a love story of course; but she thought that she would leave the complications of the plot to come by chance,--and they did come.

It must be a love story of course; but she thought that she would leave the complications of the plot to come by chance.


"Don't let it end unhappily, Lady Carbury," Mr. Loiter had said, "because though people like it in a play, they hate it in a book.


And whatever you do, Lady Carbury, don't be historical.


Your historical novel, Lady Carbury, isn't worth a--" Mr. Loiter stopping himself suddenly, and remembering that he was addressing himself to a lady, satisfied his energy at last by the use of the word "straw."


Lady Carbury had followed these instructions with accuracy.


The name for the story had been the great thing.

The title for the story had been the great thing.


It did not occur to the authoress that, as the plot was to be allowed to develop itself and was, at this moment when she was perplexed as to the title, altogether uncreated, she might as well wait to see what appellation might best suit her work when its purpose should have declared itself.

It did not occur to her to wait to see what name might best suit her work once it was written.


A novel, she knew well, was most unlike a rose, which by any other name will smell as sweet.

A novel, she knew, was most unlike a rose, which by any name will smell as sweet.


"The Faultless Father," "The Mysterious Mother," "The Lame Lover,"--such names as that she was aware would be useless now.

"The Faultless Father" or "The Mysterious Mother" would be useless.


"Mary Jane Walker," if she could be very simple, would do, or "Blanche De Veau," if she were able to maintain throughout a somewhat high-stilted style of feminine rapture.

"Mary Jane Walker" would do, or "Blanche De Veau," if she were more high-flown.


But as she considered that she could best deal with rapid action and strange coincidences, she thought that something more startling and descriptive would better suit her purpose.

But she thought that something more startling and descriptive would better suit her purpose.


After an hour's thought a name did occur to her, and she wrote it down, and with considerable energy of purpose framed her work in accordance with her chosen title, "The Wheel of Fortune!"

After an hour's thought a name did occur to her, and she wrote down "The Wheel of Fortune."


She had no particular fortune in her mind when she chose it, and no particular wheel;--but the very idea conveyed by the words gave her the plot which she wanted.

She had no particular fortune in mind, and no particular wheel; but the words gave her the plot she needed.


A young lady was blessed with great wealth, and lost it all by an uncle, and got it all back by an honest lawyer, and gave it all up to a distressed lover, and found it all again in the third volume.

A young lady was blessed with great wealth, and lost it all through an uncle, and got it all back by an honest lawyer, and gave it all up to a distressed lover, and found it again in the third volume.


And the lady's name was Cordinga, selected by Lady Carbury as never having been heard before either in the world of fact or in that of fiction.

And the lady's name was Cordinga, selected by Lady Carbury as unique in fiction, and in life.


And now with all her troubles thick about her,--while her son was still hanging about the house in a condition that would break any mother's heart, while her daughter was so wretched and sore that she regarded all those around her as her enemies, Lady Carbury finished her work, and having just written the last words in which the final glow of enduring happiness was given to the young married heroine whose wheel had now come full round, sat with the sheets piled at her right hand.

And now with all her troubles thick about her, Lady Carbury finished her work, and having just written the last words in which enduring happiness was given to the young heroine, sat with the sheets piled at her hand.


She had allowed herself a certain number of weeks for the task, and had completed it exactly in the time fixed.

She had allowed herself a certain number of weeks for the task, and had completed it in exactly that time.


As she sat with her hand near the pile, she did give herself credit for her diligence.

She gave herself credit for diligence, although she did


Whether the work might have been better done she never asked herself.


I do not think that she prided herself much on the literary merit of the tale.

not pride herself much on the literary merit of the tale.


But if she could bring the papers to praise it, if she could induce Mudie to circulate it, if she could manage that the air for a month should be so loaded with "The Wheel of Fortune," as to make it necessary for the reading world to have read or to have said that it had read the book,--then she would pride herself very much upon her work.

But if she could get the papers to praise it, if she could induce Mudie's Library to circulate it, if she could make it necessary for the reading world to have read the book - then she would pride herself very much upon her work.


As she was so sitting on a Sunday afternoon, in her own room, Mr. Alf was announced.

As she was sitting there, in her own room, Mr. Alf was announced.


According to her habit, she expressed warm delight at seeing him.

She expressed warm delight at seeing him.


Nothing could be kinder than such a visit just at such a time,--when there was so very much to occupy such a one as Mr. Alf!

Nothing could be kinder than such a visit, she said, when there was so much to occupy him!


Mr. Alf, in his usual mildly satirical way, declared that he was not peculiarly occupied just at present.

Mr. Alf, in his usual mildly satirical way, declared that he was not particularly occupied just at present.


"The Emperor has left Europe at last," he said.


"Poor Melmotte poisoned himself on Friday, and the inquest sat yesterday."


I don't know that there is anything of interest to-day."


Of course Lady Carbury was intent upon her book, rather even than on the exciting death of a man whom she had herself known.

Of course Lady Carbury was intent upon her book, rather than even that exciting death.


Oh, if she could only get Mr. Alf to praise it!


She had tried it before, and had failed lamentably.

She had tried that before, and had failed lamentably.


She was well aware of that; and she had a deep-seated conviction that it would be almost impossible to get Mr. Alf.


But then she had another deep-seated conviction, that that which is almost impossible may possibly be done.


How great would be the glory, how infinite the service!


And did it not seem as though Providence had blessed her with this special opportunity, sending Mr. Alf to her just at the one moment at which she might introduce the subject of her novel without seeming premeditation?

It did seem that Providence had sent Mr. Alf to her just at this opportune moment.


"I am so tired," she said, affecting to throw herself back as though stretching her arms out for ease.

"I am so tired," she said, throwing herself back as though stretching her arms out for ease.


"I hope I am not adding to your fatigue," said Mr. Alf.


It is not the fatigue of the moment, but of the last six months.


Just as you knocked at the door, I had finished the novel at which I have been working, oh, with such diligence!"

Just as you knocked at the door, I had finished the novel at which I have been working."


"You must ask Leadham and Loiter that question.


I suppose you never wrote a novel, Mr. Alf?"


"I have sometimes wondered whether I have hated or loved it the most.


One becomes so absorbed in one's plot and one's characters!


One loves the loveable so intensely, and hates with such fixed aversion those who are intended to be hated.


When the mind is attuned to it, one is tempted to think that it is all so good.


One cries at one's own pathos, laughs at one's own humour, and is lost in admiration at one's own sagacity and knowledge."

One cries at one's own pathos, laughs at one's own humour, and is lost in admiration at one's own wisdom."


"But then there comes the reversed picture, the other side of the coin.

"But then there comes the other side of the coin.


On a sudden everything becomes flat, tedious, and unnatural.

Suddenly everything seems flat, tedious, and unnatural.


The heroine who was yesterday alive with the celestial spark is found to-day to be a lump of motionless clay.

The heroine who was yesterday alive is found today to be a lump of motionless clay."


The dialogue that was so cheery on the first perusal is utterly uninteresting at a second reading.


Yesterday I was sure that there was my monument," and she put her hand upon the manuscript; "to-day I feel it to be only too heavy for a gravestone!"


"One's judgment about one's-self always does vacillate," said Mr. Alf in a tone as phlegmatic as were the words.

"One's judgment about oneself always does vacillate," said Mr. Alf.


"And yet it is so important that one should be able to judge correctly of one's own work!

"And yet it is so important to judge one's own work correctly!


I can at any rate trust myself to be honest, which is more perhaps than can be said of all the critics."


"Dishonesty is not the general fault of the critics, Lady Carbury,--at least not as far as I have observed the business.

"Dishonesty is not the general fault of critics, Lady Carbury,


In what little I have done in the matter, that is the sin which I have striven to conquer.

That is the sin which I have striven to conquer.


When we want shoes we go to a professed shoemaker; but for criticism we have certainly not gone to professed critics.


I think that when I gave up the 'Evening Pulpit,' I left upon it a staff of writers who are entitled to be regarded as knowing their business."

When I gave up the Evening Pulpit, I left upon it a staff of writers who know their business."


asked Lady Carbury with astonishment, readjusting her mind at once, so that she might perceive whether any and if so what advantage might be taken of Mr. Alf's new position.

asked Lady Carbury with astonishment, readjusting her mind at once.


He was no longer editor, and therefore his heavy sense of responsibility would no longer exist;--but he must still have influence.

Mr. Alf was no longer editor - but he must still have influence.


Might he not be persuaded to do one act of real friendship?


Might she not succeed if she would come down from her high seat, sink on the ground before him, tell him the plain truth, and beg for a favour as a poor struggling woman?

Should she sink on the ground before him, and beg for a favour?


It was a matter of course that I should do so when I stood for Parliament.


Now that the new member has so suddenly vacated his seat, I shall probably stand again."


"I have given it up, and I suppose I have now satisfied the scruples of those gentlemen who seemed to think that I was committing a crime against the Constitution in attempting to get into Parliament while I was managing a newspaper.

Some gentlemen seemed to think that I was committing a crime against the Constitution in standing for Parliament while managing a newspaper.


"Where should it come from but the 'Breakfast Table'?


Broune and I have been very good friends, but I do think that of all the men I know he is the most jealous."

Broune and I have been very good friends, but I do think that he is the most jealous of men.


She was really very fond of Mr. Broune, but at the present moment she was obliged to humour Mr. Alf.


"It seems to me that no man can be better qualified to sit in Parliament than an editor of a newspaper,--that is if he is capable as an editor."

No man can be better qualified to sit in Parliament than a newspaper editor - that is, if he is a capable editor."


"No one, I think, has ever doubted that of you."


"The only question is whether he be strong enough for the double work.

"The only question is whether he is strong enough for the double work.


I have doubted about myself, and have therefore given up the paper.

I doubted about myself, and have therefore given up the paper."


"I dare say you do," said Lady Carbury, feeling intensely anxious to talk about her own affairs instead of his.


"I suppose you still retain an interest in the paper?"

"I suppose you still retain an interest in it?"


"Some pecuniary interest;--nothing more."

asked Lady Carbury.
"Some financial interest; nothing more."


"Oh, Mr. Alf,--you could do me such a favour!"

"Oh, Mr. Alf - you could do me such a favour!"


Of course he knew at the moment what was the favour Lady Carbury intended to ask, and of course he had made up his mind that he would not do as he was asked.

Of course he knew at once what the favour was, and had made up his mind that he would not do it.


And Lady Carbury clasped her hands together as she poured forth the words of her prayer.

Lady Carbury clasped her hands together as if praying.


"I never asked you to do anything for me as long as you were editing the paper.


I did not think it right, and I would not do it.


I took my chance like others, and I am sure you must own that I bore what was said of me with a good grace.

I took my chance like others, and I bore what was said of me with a good grace.


"But now that you have left it yourself,--if you would have the 'Wheel of Fortune' done for me,--really well done!"

"But now that you have left - if you would have The Wheel of Fortune done for me, really well done!"


"That is the name of my novel," said Lady Carbury, putting her hand softly upon the manuscript.


"Just at this moment it would be the making of a fortune for me!


And, oh, Mr. Alf, if you could but know how I want such assistance!"


"I have nothing further to do with the editorial management, Lady Carbury."


A novel is different from an historical work, you know.


"Then no doubt it will be praised on its own merits."


The 'Evening Pulpit' is like,--oh, it is like,--like,--like the throne of heaven!


Don't talk about its own merits, but say that you will have it done.


It couldn't do any man any harm, and it would sell five hundred copies at once,--that is if it were done really con amore."

It couldn't do any harm, and it would sell five hundred copies at once."


Mr. Alf looked at her almost piteously, and shook his head.


"The paper stands so high, it can't hurt it to do that kind of thing once.


It is for my children that I am struggling.


The thing is done every day of the week, with much less noble motives."


"I do not think that it has ever been done by the 'Evening Pulpit.'"


"I think I saw a novel spoken highly of."


You do not suppose that it is the object of the 'Pulpit' to cry down novels?"


"I thought it was; but I thought you might make an exception here.


"My dear Lady Carbury, pray believe me when I say that I have nothing to do with it.


I need not preach to you sermons about literary virtue."


"Oh, no," she said, not quite understanding what he meant.


"The sceptre has passed from my hands, and I need not vindicate the justice of my successor."


"But I must assure you that on no account should I think of meddling with the literary arrangement of the paper.

On no account should I think of meddling with the literary arrangement of the paper.


"Send the book out, and let it take its chance.


How much prouder you will be to have it praised because it deserves praise, than to know that it has been eulogised as a mark of friendship."

How much prouder you will be to have it praised because it deserves praise."


"I don't believe that anything like real selling praise is ever given to anybody, except to friends.

"I don't believe that praise is ever given to anybody, except friends."


I don't know how they manage it, but they do."


"Oh yes; that is all very well from you.


Of course you have been a dragon of virtue; but they tell me that the authoress of the 'New Cleopatra' is a very handsome woman."

Of course you have been a dragon of virtue; but they tell me that the authoress of The New Cleopatra is a very handsome woman."


Lady Carbury must have been worried much beyond her wont, when she allowed herself so far to lose her temper as to bring against Mr. Alf the double charge of being too fond of the authoress in question, and of having sacrificed the justice of his columns to that improper affection.

Lady Carbury must have been worried indeed, when she allowed herself to imply that Mr. Alf was too fond of the authoress in question to criticise her in his columns.


[Illustration: "Of course you have been a dragon of virtue."]


"At this moment I do not remember the name of the lady to whom you allude," said Mr. Alf, getting up to take his leave; "and I am quite sure that the gentleman who reviewed the book,--if there be any such lady and any such book,--had never seen her!"

"I do not remember the name of the lady to whom you allude," said Mr. Alf, getting up; "and I am quite sure that the gentleman who reviewed the book - if there be any such lady and any such book - had never seen her!"


Lady Carbury was very angry with herself, and very angry also with Mr. Alf.

Lady Carbury was very angry with herself, and with Mr. Alf.


She had not only meant to be piteous, but had made the attempt and then had allowed herself to be carried away into anger.

She had allowed herself to be carried away


She had degraded herself to humility, and had then wasted any possible good result by a foolish fit of chagrin.

, and had wasted any possible good result.


The world in which she had to live was almost too hard for her.


When left alone she sat weeping over her sorrows; but when from time to time she thought of Mr. Alf and his conduct, she could hardly repress her scorn.

She sat weeping over her sorrows; but when she thought of Mr. Alf she could hardly repress her scorn.


Of course he could have done it had he chosen.


But the assumed honesty of the man was infinitely worse to her than his lies.


No doubt the "Pulpit" had two objects in its criticisms.


The object common to all papers, that of helping friends and destroying enemies, of course prevailed with the "Pulpit."


There was the second purpose of enticing readers by crushing authors,--as crowds used to be enticed to see men hanged when executions were done in public.


But neither the one object nor the other was compatible with that Aristidean justice which Mr. Alf arrogated to himself and to his paper.


She hoped with all her heart that Mr. Alf would spend a great deal of money at Westminster, and then lose his seat.


On the following morning she herself took the manuscript to Messrs. Leadham and Loiter, and was hurt again by the small amount of respect which seemed to be paid to the collected sheets.

Next morning she took the manuscript to Messrs. Leadham and Loiter, and was hurt again by the small amount of respect they paid to her sheets.


There was the work of six months; her very blood and brains,--the concentrated essence of her mind,--as she would say herself when talking with energy of her own performances; and Mr. Leadham pitched it across to a clerk, apparently perhaps sixteen years of age, and the lad chucked the parcel unceremoniously under a counter.

There was the work of six months; her very blood and brains; and Mr. Leadham pitched it across to a clerk of about sixteen years of age, who chucked the parcel unceremoniously under a counter.


An author feels that his work should be taken from him with fast-clutching but reverential hands, and held thoughtfully, out of harm's way, till it be deposited within the very sanctum of an absolutely fireproof safe.

An author feels that his work should be taken from him with reverential hands, and placed in an absolutely fireproof safe.


Oh, heavens, if it should be lost!--or burned!--or stolen!

Oh, heavens, if it should be lost! or burned! or stolen!


Those scraps of paper, so easily destroyed, apparently so little respected, may hereafter be acknowledged to have had a value greater, so far greater, than their weight in gold!


If "Tom Jones" had been consumed by flames!


And who knows but that this may be another "Robinson Crusoe,"--a better than "Tom Jones"?


"Quite safe,--quite safe," said Mr. Leadham, who was rather busy, and who perhaps saw Lady Carbury more frequently than the nature and amount of her authorship seemed to him to require.

"Quite safe," said Mr. Leadham, who was rather busy.


"It seemed to be,--put down there,--under the counter!"


They're left there till they're packed."


"There are two or three dozen going to our reader this week.


He's down in Skye, and we keep them till there's enough to fill the sack."

He's in Skye, and we keep them till there's enough to fill the sack.


There are not many of them would pay the expense.


We send them by long sea to Glasgow, because just at this time of the year there is not much hurry.

We send them by sea to Glasgow, because at this time of the year there is not much hurry."


If that ship should be lost on its journey by long sea to Glasgow!

If that ship should be lost on its journey to Glasgow!


That evening, as was now almost his daily habit, Mr. Broune came to her.

That evening, as was now almost his daily habit, Mr. Broune came to see Lady Carbury.


There was something in the absolute friendship which now existed between Lady Carbury and the editor of the "Morning Breakfast Table," which almost made her scrupulous as to asking from him any further literary favour.

Now that they were friends, she had scruples about asking him for any further literary favour.


She fully recognised,--no woman perhaps more fully,--the necessity of making use of all aid and furtherance which might come within reach.


With such a son, with such need for struggling before her, would she not be wicked not to catch even at every straw?


But this man had now become so true to her, that she hardly knew how to beg him to do that which she, with all her mistaken feelings, did in truth know that he ought not to do.

This man had now become so true to her, that she hardly knew how to beg him to do anything which she knew he ought not to do.


He had asked her to marry him, for which,--though she had refused him,--she felt infinitely grateful.

He had asked her to marry him, for which she felt infinitely grateful.


And though she had refused him, he had lent her money, and had supported her in her misery by his continued counsel.

And he had lent her money, and had advised her in her misery.


If he would offer to do this thing for her she would accept his kindness on her knees,--but even she could not bring herself to ask to have this added to his other favours.


Her first word to him was about Mr. Alf.


"I don't suppose he'll really let it go out of his own hands.


He'll share the work, and keep the authority.


As for Westminster, I don't believe he has a chance.


If that poor wretch Melmotte could beat him when everybody was already talking about the forgeries, how is it likely that he should stand against such a candidate as they'll get now?"

If that poor wretch Melmotte could beat him when everybody was already talking about the forgeries, how could he win now?"


We were speaking of my new book,--my novel.

We were speaking of my new book, my novel


He assured me most positively that he had nothing further to do with the paper."

, and he assured me most positively that he had nothing to do with the paper."


"He did not care to make you a promise, I dare say."


"Neither will I make a promise, but we'll see what we can do.


If we can't be good-natured, at any rate we will say nothing ill-natured.

At any rate we will say nothing ill-natured.


Lady Carbury as she told the title of her new book to her old friend seemed to be almost ashamed of it.


"Let them send it early,--a day or two before it's out, if they can.

"Let them send it a day or two before it's out.


I can't answer, of course, for the opinion of the gentleman it will go to, but nothing shall go in that you would dislike.

I can't answer for the opinion of the reviewer, but nothing shall go in that you would dislike.


And as he took her hand, he looked at her almost as though the old susceptibility were returning to him.

As he took her hand, he looked at her almost as though the old susceptibility were returning to him.


As she sat alone after he had gone, thinking over it all,--thinking of her own circumstances and of his kindness,--it did not occur to her to call him an old goose again.

But after he had gone, it did not occur to her to call him an old goose again.


She felt now that she had mistaken her man when she had so regarded him.

She felt that she had mistaken him back then.


That first and only kiss which he had given her, which she had treated with so much derision, for which she had rebuked him so mildly and yet so haughtily, had now a somewhat sacred spot in her memory.

That first and only kiss, which she had treated with such derision, had now a somewhat sacred spot in her memory.


Through it all the man must have really loved her!


Was it not marvellous that such a thing should be?


And how had it come to pass that she in all her tenderness had rejected him when he had given her the chance of becoming his wife?

And how had it come to pass that she had rejected him when he had given her the chance of becoming his wife?


After leaving Melmotte's house on Sunday morning Paul Montague went to Roger Carbury's hotel and found his friend just returning from church.

After leaving Melmotte on Sunday morning Paul Montague went to Roger Carbury's hotel and found his friend just returning from church.

Chapter 42: "Can You be Ready in Ten Minutes?"


He was bound to go to Islington on that day, but had made up his mind that he would defer his visit till the evening.


He would dine early and be with Mrs. Hurtle about seven o'clock.

Mrs. Hurtle till seven o'clock that evening.


But it was necessary that Roger should hear the news about Ruby Ruggles.


"It's not so bad as you thought," said he, "as she is living with her aunt."


"She says her grandfather knows where she is, and that he doesn't want her back again."

"She says her grandfather knows where she is, and that he doesn't want her back."


"Then it doesn't matter whether the woman's her aunt or not.


I'll go and see her and try to get her back to Bungay."


Roger hesitated for a moment, and then answered, "He'd give Felix such a thrashing as no man ever had before.

Roger hesitated for a moment, and then answered, "He'd give Felix a thrashing.


My cousin deserves it as well as any man ever deserved a thrashing; but there are reasons why I should not like it.

My cousin deserves it; but I should not like it.


And he could not force her back with him.


I don't suppose the girl is all bad,--if she could see the truth."

I don't suppose the girl is all bad - if she could see the truth."


"At any rate I'll go and see her," said Roger.


"Perhaps I shall see your widow at the same time."


Paul sighed, but said nothing more about his widow at that moment.


"I'll walk up to Welbeck Street now," said Roger, taking his hat.


Paul felt that he could not go to Welbeck Street with his friend.


He dined in solitude at the Beargarden, and then again made that journey to Islington in a cab.

dined in solitude at the Beargarden, and then went to Islington in a cab.


As he went he thought of the proposal that had been made to him by Melmotte.

As he went he thought of Melmotte's proposal.


If he could do it with a clear conscience, if he could really make himself believe in the railway, such an expedition would not be displeasing to him.

If he could do it with a clear conscience, if he could really make himself believe in the railway, such an expedition would be welcome to him.


He had said already more than he had intended to say to Hetta Carbury; and though he was by no means disposed to flatter himself, yet he almost thought that what he had said had been well received.

He had already said more than he had intended to say to Hetta Carbury; and


At the moment they had been disturbed, but she, as she heard the sound of her mother coming, had at any rate expressed no anger.


He had almost been betrayed into breaking a promise.


Were he to start now on this journey, the period of the promise would have passed by before his return.

Were he to start now on this journey, the period of the promise would have ended before his return.


Of course he would take care that she should know that he had gone in the performance of a duty.


And then he would escape from Mrs. Hurtle, and would be able to make those inquiries which had been suggested to him.

And he would escape from Mrs. Hurtle, and would be able to make inquiries about her.


It was possible that Mrs. Hurtle should offer to go with him,--an arrangement which would not at all suit him.

However, Mrs. Hurtle might offer to go with him - which would not suit him at all.


But then how could he do this without a belief in the railway generally?

But how could he go without a belief in the railway?


And how was it possible that he should have such belief?


Mr. Ramsbottom did not believe in it, nor did Roger Carbury.

Mr. Ramsbottom did not believe in it; nor did Roger Carbury.


He himself did not in the least believe in Fisker, and Fisker had originated the railway.


Then, would it not be best that he should take the Chairman's offer as to his own money?

Would it not be best to take the Chairman's offer as to his own money?


If he could get his 6,000 back and have done with the railway, he would certainly think himself a lucky man.

If he could get his 6,000 back and have done with the railway, he would think himself a lucky man.


But he did not know how far he could with honesty lay aside his responsibility; and then he doubted whether he could put implicit trust in Melmotte's personal guarantee for the amount.

But he did not know how far he could with honesty lay aside his responsibility; and he doubted whether he could trust Melmotte's guarantee for the amount.


This at any rate was clear to him,--that Melmotte was very anxious to secure his absence from the meetings of the Board.

At any rate, it was clear to him that Melmotte was very anxious to secure his absence from the meetings of the Board.


Now he was again at Mrs. Pipkin's door, and again it was opened by Ruby Ruggles.


His heart was in his mouth as he thought of the things he had to say.


"The ladies have come back from Southend, Miss Ruggles?"


"Oh yes, sir, and Mrs. Hurtle is expecting you all the day."

"Oh yes, sir, and Mrs. Hurtle is expecting you."


Then she put in a whisper on her own account.


whispered, "You didn't tell him as you'd seen me, Mr. Montague?"


"Then you might as well have left it alone, and not have been ill-natured,--that's all," said Ruby as she opened the door of Mrs. Hurtle's room.

"Then you might have left it alone, that's all," said Ruby as she opened the door of Mrs. Hurtle's room.


Mrs. Hurtle got up to receive him with her sweetest smile,--and her smile could be very sweet.

Mrs. Hurtle received him with her sweetest smile - and her smile could be very sweet.


She was a witch of a woman, and, as like most witches she could be terrible, so like most witches she could charm.

Like most witches she could be terrible, and like most witches she could charm.


"Only fancy," she said, "that you should have come the only day I have been two hundred yards from the house, except that evening when you took me to the play.

"Only fancy," she said, "that you should have come the only day I have been away from the house.


"Because I don't like to miss you, even for a day.


But I wasn't well, and I fancied that the house was stuffy, and Mrs. Pipkin took a bright idea and proposed to carry me off to Southend.

But I wasn't well, and I fancied that the house was stuffy, and Mrs. Pipkin proposed to carry me off to Southend.


She declared that Southend was Paradise."


Do your people really go to Southend and fancy that that is the sea?"


I never went to Southend myself,--so that you know more about it than I do."


"How very English it is,--a little yellow river,--and you call it the sea!

How very English - a little yellow river, and you call it the sea!"


"Yes; you've been at San Francisco, and heard the seals howling.


"I suppose we do have the sea here in England.


It's generally supposed we're an island."


If you choose to go to the west of Ireland, I suppose you'd find the Atlantic.


But nobody ever does go there for fear of being murdered."


Paul thought of the gentleman in Oregon, but said nothing;--thought, perhaps, of his own condition, and remembered that a man might be murdered without going either to Oregon or the west of Ireland.


"But we went to Southend, I, and Mrs. Pipkin and the baby, and upon my word I enjoyed it.


She was so afraid that the baby would annoy me, and I thought the baby was so much the best of it.


And then we ate shrimps, and she was so humble.

We ate shrimps, and Mrs. Pipkin was so humble.


You must acknowledge that with us nobody would be so humble.


She has got all her children, and nothing but what she can make out of these lodgings.

She has got all those children, and nothing but what she can earn from these lodgings.


People are just as poor with us;--and other people who happen to be a little better off, pay for them.


But nobody is humble to another, as you are here.


Of course we like to have money as well as you do, but it doesn't make so much difference."


"He who wants to receive, all the world over, will make himself as agreeable as he can to him who can give."


However we got back all right yesterday evening, and then I found that you had been here,--at last."

We got back yesterday evening, and then I found that you had been here, at last."


"You knew that I had to go to Liverpool."


Did you get your business done at Liverpool?"


"Yes;--one generally gets something done, but never anything very satisfactorily.


"I should have thought that that was satisfactory.


"Everybody talks of it as being the greatest thing ever invented.


I wish I was a man that I might be concerned with a really great thing like that.

I wish I was a man so that I might be involved with a great thing like that.


I should like to manage the greatest bank in the world, or to be Captain of the biggest fleet, or to make the largest railway.


It would be better even than being President of a Republic, because one would have more of one's own way.