CHAPTER X.

_In Which Captain Armine Increases His Knowledge of the

Value of Money, and Also Becomes Aware of the Advantage of

an Acquaintance Who Burns Coals_.

FERDINAND returned to his hotel in no very good humour, revolving in his

mind Miss Temple’s advice about optimism. What could she mean? Was there

really a conspiracy to make him marry his cousin, and was Miss Temple

one of the conspirators? He could scarcely believe this, and yet it was

the most probable, deduction from all that had been said and done. He

had lived to witness such strange occurrences, that no event ought now

to astonish him. Only to think that he had been sitting quietly in

a drawing-room with Henrietta Temple, and she avowedly engaged to be

married to another person, who was present; and that he, Ferdinand

Armine, should be the selected companion of their morning ride, and

be calmly invited to contribute to their daily amusement by his social

presence! What next? If this were not an insult, a gross, flagrant, and

unendurable outrage, he was totally at a loss to comprehend what was

meant by offended pride. Optimism, indeed! He felt far more inclined

to embrace the faith of the Manichee! And what a fool was he to have

submitted to such a despicable, such a degrading situation! What

infinite weakness not to be able to resist her influence, the influence

of a woman who had betrayed him! Yes! betrayed him. He had for some

period reconciled his mind to entertain the idea of Henrietta’s

treachery to him. Softened by time, atoned for by long suffering,

extenuated by the constant sincerity of his purpose, his original

imprudence, to use his own phrase in describing his misconduct, had

gradually ceased to figure as a valid and sufficient cause for her

behaviour to him. When he recollected how he had loved this woman,

what he had sacrificed for her, and what misery he had in consequence

entailed upon himself and all those dear to him; when he contrasted

his present perilous situation with her triumphant prosperity, and

remembered that while he had devoted himself to a love which proved

false, she who had deserted him was, by a caprice of fortune, absolutely

rewarded for her fickleness; he was enraged, he was disgusted, he

despised himself for having been her slave; he began even to hate her.

Terrible moment when we first dare to view with feelings of repugnance

the being that our soul has long idolised! It is the most awful of

revelations. We start back in horror, as if in the act of profanation.

Other annoyances, however, of a less ethereal character, awaited our

hero on his return to his hotel. There he found a letter from his

lawyer, informing him that he could no longer parry the determination of

one of Captain Armine’s principal creditors to arrest him instantly for

a considerable sum. Poor Ferdinand, mortified and harassed, with his

heart and spirit alike broken, could scarcely refrain from a groan.

However, some step must be taken. He drove Henrietta from his thoughts,

and, endeavouring to rally some of his old energy, revolved in his mind

what desperate expedient yet remained.

His sleep was broken by dreams of bailiffs, and a vague idea of

Henrietta Temple triumphing in his misery; but he rose early, wrote a

diplomatic note to his menacing creditor, which he felt confident must

gain him time, and then, making a careful toilet, for when a man is

going to try to borrow money it is wise to look prosperous, he took his

way to a quarter of the town where lived a gentleman with whose brother

he had had some previous dealings at Malta, and whose acquaintance he

had made in England in reference to them.

It was in that gloomy quarter called Golden-square, the murky repose of

which strikes so mysteriously on the senses after the glittering bustle

of the adjoining Regent-street, that Captain Armine stopped before a

noble yet now dingy mansion, that in old and happier days might probably

have been inhabited by his grandfather, or some of his gay friends. A

brass plate on the door informed the world that here resided Messrs.

Morris and Levison, following the not very ambitious calling of coal

merchants. But if all the pursuers of that somewhat humble trade could

manage to deal in coals with the same dexterity as Messrs. Morris and

Levison, what very great coal merchants they would be!

The ponderous portal obeyed the signal of the bell, and apparently

opened without any human means; and Captain Armine, proceeding down

a dark yet capacious passage, opened a door, which invited him by

an inscription on ground glass that assured him he was entering the

counting-house. Here several clerks, ensconced within lofty walls of the

darkest and dullest mahogany, were busily employed; yet one advanced

to an aperture in this fortification and accepted the card which the

visitor offered him. The clerk surveyed the ticket with a peculiar

glance; and then, begging the visitor to be seated, disappeared. He

was not long absent, but soon invited Ferdinand to follow him. Captain

Armine was ushered up a noble staircase, and into a saloon that once

was splendid. The ceiling was richly carved, and there still might be

detected the remains of its once gorgeous embellishment in the faint

forms of faded deities and the traces of murky gilding. The walls of

this apartment were crowded with pictures, arranged, however, with

little regard to taste, effect, or style. A sprawling copy of Titian’s

Venus flanked a somewhat prim peeress by Hoppner; a landscape that

smacked of Gainsborough was the companion of a dauby moonlight, that

must have figured in the last exhibition; and insipid Roman matrons by

Hamilton, and stiff English heroes by Northcote, contrasted with a vast

quantity of second-rate delineations of the orgies of Dutch boors and

portraits of favourite racers and fancy dogs. The room was crowded with

ugly furniture of all kinds, very solid, and chiefly of mahogany; among

which were not less than three escritoires, to say nothing of the huge

horsehair sofas. A sideboard of Babylonian proportions was crowned

by three massive and enormous silver salvers, and immense branch

candlesticks of the same precious metal, and a china punch-bowl which

might have suited the dwarf in Brobdignag. The floor was covered with

a faded Turkey carpet. But amid all this solid splendour there were

certain intimations of feminine elegance in the veil of finely-cut

pink paper which covered the nakedness of the empty but highly-polished

fire-place, and in the hand-screens, which were profusely ornamented

with ribbon of the same hue, and one of which afforded a most accurate

if not picturesque view of Margate, while the other glowed with a huge

wreath of cabbage-roses and jonquils.

Ferdinand was not long alone, and Mr. Levison, the proprietor of all

this splendour, entered. He was a short, stout man, with a grave

but handsome countenance, a little bald, but nevertheless with an

elaborateness of raiment which might better have become a younger man.

He wore a plum-colored frock coat of the finest cloth; his green velvet

waistcoat was guarded by a gold chain, which would have been the envy

of a new town council; an immense opal gleamed on the breast of his

embroidered shirt; and his fingers were covered with very fine rings.

‘Your sarvant, Captin,’ said Mr. Levison, and he placed a chair for his

guest.

‘How are you, Levison?’ responded our hero in an easy voice. ‘Any news?’

Mr. Levison shrugged his shoulders, as he murmured, ‘Times is very bad,

Captin.’

‘Oh! I dare say,’ said Ferdinand; ‘I wish they were as well with me as

with you. By Jove, Levison, you must be making an immense fortune.’

Mr. Levison shook his head, as he groaned out, ‘I work hard, Captin; but

times is terrible.’

‘Fiddlededee! Come! I want you to assist me a little, old fellow. No

humbug between us.’

‘Oh!’ groaned Mr. Levison, ‘you could not come at a worse time; I don’t

know what money is.’

‘Of course. However, the fact is, money I must have; and so, old fellow,

we are old friends, and you must get it.’

‘What do you want, Captin?’ slowly spoke Mr. Levison, with an expression

of misery.

‘Oh! I want rather a tolerable sum, and that is the truth; but I only

want it for a moment.’

‘It is not the time, ‘tis the money,’ said Mr. Levison. ‘You know me and

my pardner, Captin, are always anxious to do what we can to sarve you.’

‘Well, now you can do me a real service, and, by Jove, you shall never

repent it. To the point; I must have 1,500L.’

‘One thousand five hundred pounds!’ exclaimed Mr. Levison. ‘’Tayn’t in

the country.’

‘Humbug! It must be found. What is the use of all this stuff with me? I

want 1,500L., and you must give it me.’

‘I tell you what it is, Captin,’ said Mr. Levison, leaning over the back

of a chair, and speaking with callous composure; ‘I tell you what it is,

me and my pardner are very willing always to assist you; but we want to

know when the marriage is to come off, and that’s the truth.’

‘Damn the marriage,’ said Captain Armine, rather staggered.

‘There it is, though,’ said Mr. Levison, very quietly. ‘You know,

Captin, there is the arrears on that ‘ere annuity, three years next

Michaelmas. I think it’s Michaelmas; let me see.’ So saying, Mr. Levison

opened an escritoire, and brought forward an awful-looking volume, and,

consulting the terrible index, turned to the fatal name of Armine. ‘Yes!

three years next Michaelmas, Captin.’

‘Well, you will be paid,’ said Ferdinand.

‘We hope so,’ said Mr. Levison; ‘but it is a long figure.’

‘Well, but you get capital interest?’

‘Pish!’ said Mr. Levison; ‘ten per cent.! Why! it is giving away the

money. Why! that’s the raw, Captin. With this here new bill annuities is

nothink. Me and my pardner don’t do no annuities now. It’s giving money

away; and all this here money locked up; and all to sarve you.’

‘Well; you will not help me,’ said Ferdinand, rising.

‘Do you raly want fifteen hundred?’ asked Mr. Levison.

‘By Jove, I do.’

‘Well now, Captin, when is this marriage to come off?’

‘Have I not told you a thousand times, and Morris too, that my cousin is

not to marry until one year has passed since my grandfather’s death? It

is barely a year. But of course, at this moment, of all others, I cannot

afford to be short.’

‘Very true, Captin; and we are the men to sarve you, if we could. But we

cannot. Never was such times for money; there is no seeing it. However,

we will do what we can. Things is going very bad at Malta, and that’s

the truth. There’s that young Catchimwhocan, we are in with him wery

deep; and now he has left the Fusiliers and got into Parliament, he

don’t care this for us. If he would only pay us, you should have the

money; so help me, you should.’

‘But he won’t pay you,’ said Ferdinand. ‘What can you do?’

‘Why, I have a friend,’ said Mr. Levison, ‘who I know has got three

hundred pound at his bankers, and he might lend it us; but we shall have

to pay for it.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Ferdinand. ‘Well, three hundred.’

‘I have not got a shilling myself,’ said Mr. Levison. ‘Young Touchemup

left us in the lurch yesterday for 750L., so help me, and never gave

us no notice. Now, you are a gentleman, Captin; you never pay, but you

always give us notice.’

Ferdinand could not help smiling at Mr. Levison’s idea of a gentleman.

‘Well, what else can you do?’

‘Why, there is two hundred coming in to-morrow,’ said Mr. Levison; ‘I

can depend on that.’

‘Well, that is five.’

‘And you want fifteen hundred,’ said Mr. Levison. ‘Well, me and my

pardner always like to sarve you, and it is very awkward certainly for

you to want money at this moment. But if you want to buy jewels, I can

get you any credit you like, you know.’

‘We will talk of that by and by,’ said Ferdinand.

‘Fifteen hundred pound!’ ejaculated Mr. Levison. ‘Well, I suppose we

must make it 700L. somehow or other, and you must take the rest in

coals.’

‘Oh, by Jove, Levison, that is too bad.’

‘I don’t see no other way,’ said Mr. Levison, rather doggedly.

‘But, damn it, my good fellow, my dear Levison, what the deuce am I to

do with 800L. worth of coals?’

‘Lord! My dear Captin, 800L. worth of coals is a mere nothink. With your

connection, you will get rid of them in a morning. All you have got to

do, you know, is to give your friends an order on us, and we will let

you have cash at a little discount.’

‘Then you can let me have the cash now at a little discount, or even a

great; I cannot get rid of 800L. worth of coals.’

‘Why, ‘tayn’t four hundred chaldron, Captin,’ rejoined Mr. Levison.

‘Three or four friends would do the thing. Why, Baron Squash takes ten

thousand chaldron of us every year; but he has such a knack, he gits the

Clubs to take them.’

‘Baron Squash, indeed! Do you know whom you are talking to, Mr. Levison?

Do you think that I am going to turn into a coal merchant? your

working partner, by Jove! No, sir; give me the 700L., without the coals,

and charge what interest you please.’ ‘We could not do it, Captin.

‘Tayn’t our way.’ ‘I ask you once more, Mr. Levison, will you let me

have the money, or will you not?’

‘Now, Captin, don’t be so high and mighty! ‘Tayn’t the way to do

business. Me and my pardner wish to sarve you; we does indeed. And if

a hundred pound will be of any use to you, you shall have it on your

acceptance; and we won’t be curious about any name that draws; we won’t

indeed.’

‘Well, Mr. Levison,’ said Ferdinand, rising, ‘I see we can do nothing

to-day. The hundred pounds would be of no use to me. I will think over

your proposition. Good morning to you.’

‘Ah, do!’ said Mr. Levison, bowing and opening the door, ‘do, Captin; we

wish to sarve you, we does indeed. See how we behave about that arrears.

Think of the coals; now do. Now for a bargin; come! Come, Captin, I dare

say now you could get us the business of the Junior Sarvice Club; and

then you shall have the seven hundred on your acceptance for three

months, at two shillings in the pound; come!’