CHAPTER LXXIV.

MELMOTTE MAKES A FRIEND.

"Have you been thinking any more about it?" Lord Nidderdale said to

the girl as soon as Madame Melmotte had succeeded in leaving them

alone together.

"I have thought ever so much more about it," said Marie.

"And what's the result?"

"Oh,--I'll have you."

"That's right," said Nidderdale, throwing himself on the sofa close

to her, so that he might put his arm round her waist.

"Wait a moment, Lord Nidderdale," she said.

"You might as well call me John."

"Then wait a moment,--John. You think you might as well marry me,

though you don't love me a bit."

"That's not true, Marie."

"Yes it is;--it's quite true. And I think just the same,--that I

might as well marry you, though I don't love you a bit."

"But you will."

"I don't know. I don't feel like it just at present. You had better

know the exact truth, you know. I have told my father that I did not

think you'd ever come again, but that if you did I would accept you.

But I'm not going to tell any stories about it. You know who I've

been in love with."

"But you can't be in love with him now."

"Why not? I can't marry him. I know that. And if he were to come to

me, I don't think that I would. He has behaved bad."

"Have I behaved bad?"

"Not like him. You never did care, and you never said you cared."

"Oh yes,--I have."

"Not at first. You say it now because you think that I shall like it.

But it makes no difference now. I don't mind about your arm being

there if we are to be married, only it's just as well for both of us

to look on it as business."

"How very hard you are, Marie."

"No, I ain't. I wasn't hard to Sir Felix Carbury, and so I tell you.

I did love him."

"Surely you have found him out now."

"Yes, I have," said Marie. "He's a poor creature."

"He has just been thrashed, you know, in the streets,--most

horribly." Marie had not been told of this, and started back from her

lover's arms. "You hadn't heard it?"

"Who has thrashed him?"

"I don't want to tell the story against him, but they say he has been

cut about in a terrible manner."

"Why should anybody beat him? Did he do anything?"

"There was a young lady in the question, Marie."

"A young lady! What young lady? I don't believe it. But it's nothing

to me. I don't care about anything, Lord Nidderdale;--not a bit. I

suppose you've made up all that out of your own head."

"Indeed, no. I believe he was beaten, and I believe it was about a

young woman. But it signifies nothing to me, and I don't suppose it

signifies much to you. Don't you think we might fix a day, Marie?"

"I don't care the least," said Marie. "The longer it's put off the

better I shall like it;--that's all."

"Because I'm so detestable?"

"No,--you ain't detestable. I think you are a very good fellow; only

you don't care for me. But it is detestable not being able to do what

one wants. It's detestable having to quarrel with everybody and never

to be good friends with anybody. And it's horribly detestable having

nothing on earth to give one any interest."

"You couldn't take any interest in me?"

"Not the least."

"Suppose you try. Wouldn't you like to know anything about the place

where we live?"

"It's a castle, I know."

"Yes;--Castle Reekie; ever so many hundred years old."

"I hate old places. I should like a new house, and a new dress, and

a new horse every week,--and a new lover. Your father lives at the

castle. I don't suppose we are to go and live there too."

"We shall be there sometimes. When shall it be?"

"The year after next."

"Nonsense, Marie."

"To-morrow."

"You wouldn't be ready."

"You may manage it all just as you like with papa. Oh, yes,--kiss

me; of course you may. If I'm to belong to you what does it matter?

No;--I won't say that I love you. But if ever I do say it, you

may be sure it will be true. That's more than you can say of

yourself,--John."

So the interview was over and Nidderdale walked back to the house

thinking of his lady love, as far as he was able to bring his mind to

any operation of thinking. He was fully determined to go on with it.

As far as the girl herself was concerned, she had, in these latter

days, become much more attractive to him than when he had first known

her. She certainly was not a fool. And, though he could not tell

himself that she was altogether like a lady, still she had a manner

of her own which made him think that she would be able to live with

ladies. And he did think that, in spite of all she said to the

contrary, she was becoming fond of him,--as he certainly had become

fond of her. "Have you been up with the ladies?" Melmotte asked him.

"Oh yes."

"And what does Marie say?"

"That you must fix the day."

"We'll have it very soon then;--some time next month. You'll want to

get away in August. And to tell the truth so shall I. I never was

worked so hard in my life as I've been this summer. The election and

that horrid dinner had something to do with it. And I don't mind

telling you that I've had a fearful weight on my mind in reference to

money. I never had to find so many large sums in so short a time! And

I'm not quite through it yet."

"I wonder why you gave the dinner then."

"My dear boy,"--it was very pleasant to him to call the son of a

marquis his dear boy,--"as regards expenditure that was a flea-bite.

Nothing that I could spend myself would have the slightest effect

upon my condition,--one way or the other."

"I wish it could be the same way with me," said Nidderdale.

"If you chose to go into business with me instead of taking Marie's

money out, it very soon would be so with you. But the burden is very

great. I never know whence these panics arise, or why they come, or

whither they go. But when they do come, they are like a storm at sea.

It is only the strong ships that can stand the fury of the winds and

waves. And then the buffeting which a man gets leaves him only half

the man he was. I've had it very hard this time."

"I suppose you are getting right now."

"Yes;--I am getting right. I am not in any fear if you mean that. I

don't mind telling you everything as it is settled now that you are

to be Marie's husband. I know that you are honest, and that if you

could hurt me by repeating what I say you wouldn't do it."

"Certainly I would not."

"You see I've no partner,--nobody that is bound to know my affairs.

My wife is the best woman in the world, but is utterly unable to

understand anything about it. Of course I can't talk freely to Marie.

Cohenlupe whom you see so much with me is all very well,--in his way,

but I never talk over my affairs with him. He is concerned with me in

one or two things,--our American railway for instance, but he has no

interest generally in my house. It is all on my own shoulders, and

I can tell you the weight is a little heavy. It will be the greatest

comfort to me in the world if I can get you to have an interest in

the matter."

"I don't suppose I could ever really be any good at business," said

the modest young lord.

"You wouldn't come and work, I suppose. I shouldn't expect that. But

I should be glad to think that I could tell you how things are going

on. Of course you heard all that was said just before the election.

For forty-eight hours I had a very bad time of it then. The fact

was that Alf and they who were supporting him thought that they

could carry the election by running me down. They were at it for

a fortnight,--perfectly unscrupulous as to what they said or what

harm they might do me and others. I thought that very cruel. They

couldn't get their man in, but they could and did have the effect of

depreciating my property suddenly by nearly half a million of money.

Think what that is!"

"I don't understand how it could be done."

"Because you don't understand how delicate a thing is credit. They

persuaded a lot of men to stay away from that infernal dinner, and

consequently it was spread about the town that I was ruined. The

effect upon shares which I held was instantaneous and tremendous. The

Mexican railway were at 117, and they fell from that in two days to

something quite nominal,--so that selling was out of the question.

Cohenlupe and I between us had about 8,000 of these shares. Think

what that comes to!" Nidderdale tried to calculate what it did come

to, but failed altogether. "That's what I call a blow;--a terrible

blow. When a man is concerned as I am with money interests, and

concerned largely with them all, he is of course exchanging one

property for another every day of his life,--according as the markets

go. I don't keep such a sum as that in one concern as an investment.

Nobody does. Then when a panic comes, don't you see how it hits?"

"Will they never go up again?"

"Oh yes;--perhaps higher than ever. But it will take time. And in the

meantime I am driven to fall back upon property intended for other

purposes. That's the meaning of what you hear about that place down

in Sussex which I bought for Marie. I was so driven that I was

obliged to raise forty or fifty thousand wherever I could. But that

will be all right in a week or two. And as for Marie's money,--that,

you know, is settled."

He quite succeeded in making Nidderdale believe every word that he

spoke, and he produced also a friendly feeling in the young man's

bosom, with something approaching to a desire that he might be of

service to his future father-in-law. Hazily, as through a thick fog,

Lord Nidderdale thought that he did see something of the troubles, as

he had long seen something of the glories, of commerce on an extended

scale, and an idea occurred to him that it might be almost more

exciting than whist or unlimited loo. He resolved too that whatever

the man might tell him should never be divulged. He was on this

occasion somewhat captivated by Melmotte, and went away from the

interview with a conviction that the financier was a big man;--one

with whom he could sympathise, and to whom in a certain way he could

become attached.

And Melmotte himself had derived positive pleasure even from a

simulated confidence in his son-in-law. It had been pleasant to

him to talk as though he were talking to a young friend whom he

trusted. It was impossible that he could really admit any one to a

participation in his secrets. It was out of the question that he

should ever allow himself to be betrayed into speaking the truth of

his own affairs. Of course every word he had said to Nidderdale had

been a lie, or intended to corroborate lies. But it had not been

only on behalf of the lies that he had talked after this fashion.

Even though his friendship with the young man were but a mock

friendship,--though it would too probably be turned into bitter

enmity before three months had passed by,--still there was a pleasure

in it. The Grendalls had left him since the day of the dinner,--Miles

having sent him a letter up from the country complaining of severe

illness. It was a comfort to him to have someone to whom he could

speak, and he much preferred Nidderdale to Miles Grendall.

This conversation took place in the smoking-room. When it was over

Melmotte went into the House, and Nidderdale strolled away to

the Beargarden. The Beargarden had been opened again though with

difficulty, and with diminished luxury. Nor could even this be done

without rigid laws as to the payment of ready money. Herr Vossner had

never more been heard of, but the bills which Vossner had left unpaid

were held to be good against the club, whereas every note of hand

which he had taken from the members was left in the possession of Mr.

Flatfleece. Of course there was sorrow and trouble at the Beargarden;

but still the institution had become so absolutely necessary to its

members that it had been reopened under a new management. No one had

felt this need more strongly during every hour of the day,--of the

day as he counted his days, rising as he did about an hour after noon

and going to bed three or four hours after midnight,--than did Dolly

Longestaffe. The Beargarden had become so much to him that he had

begun to doubt whether life would be even possible without such a

resort for his hours. But now the club was again open, and Dolly

could have his dinner and his bottle of wine with the luxury to which

he was accustomed.

But at this time he was almost mad with the sense of injury.

Circumstances had held out to him a prospect of almost unlimited ease

and indulgence. The arrangement made as to the Pickering estate would

pay all his debts, would disembarrass his own property, and would

still leave him a comfortable sum in hand. Squercum had told him that

if he would stick to his terms he would surely get them. He had stuck

to his terms and he had got them. And now the property was sold, and

the title-deeds gone,--and he had not received a penny! He did not

know whom to be loudest in abusing,--his father, the Bideawhiles, or

Mr. Melmotte. And then it was said that he had signed that letter! He

was very open in his manner of talking about his misfortune at the

club. His father was the most obstinate old fool that ever lived. As

for the Bideawhiles,--he would bring an action against them. Squercum

had explained all that to him. But Melmotte was the biggest rogue

the world had ever produced. "By George! the world," he said, "must

be coming to an end. There's that infernal scoundrel sitting in

Parliament just as if he had not robbed me of my property, and forged

my name, and--and--by George! he ought to be hung. If any man ever

deserved to be hung, that man deserves to be hung." This he spoke

openly in the coffee-room of the club, and was still speaking as

Nidderdale was taking his seat at one of the tables. Dolly had been

dining, and had turned round upon his chair so as to face some

half-dozen men whom he was addressing.

Nidderdale leaving his chair walked up to him very gently. "Dolly,"

said he, "do not go on in that way about Melmotte when I am in the

room. I have no doubt you are mistaken, and so you'll find out in a

day or two. You don't know Melmotte."

"Mistaken!" Dolly still continued to exclaim with a loud voice. "Am

I mistaken in supposing that I haven't been paid my money?"

"I don't believe it has been owing very long."

"Am I mistaken in supposing that my name has been forged to a

letter?"

"I am sure you are mistaken if you think that Melmotte had anything

to do with it."

"Squercum says--"

"Never mind Squercum. We all know what are the suspicions of a fellow

of that kind."

"I'd believe Squercum a deuced sight sooner than Melmotte."

"Look here, Dolly. I know more probably of Melmotte's affairs than

you do or perhaps than anybody else. If it will induce you to remain

quiet for a few days and to hold your tongue here,--I'll make myself

responsible for the entire sum he owes you."

"The devil you will."

"I will indeed."

Nidderdale was endeavouring to speak so that only Dolly should hear

him, and probably nobody else did hear him; but Dolly would not lower

his voice. "That's out of the question, you know," he said. "How

could I take your money? The truth is, Nidderdale, the man is a

thief, and so you'll find out, sooner or later. He has broken open a

drawer in my father's room and forged my name to a letter. Everybody

knows it. Even my governor knows it now,--and Bideawhile. Before many

days are over you'll find that he will be in gaol for forgery."

This was very unpleasant, as every one knew that Nidderdale was

either engaged or becoming engaged to Melmotte's daughter. "Since you

will speak about it in this public way--" began Nidderdale.

"I think it ought to be spoken about in a public way," said Dolly.

"I deny it as publicly. I can't say anything about the letter except

that I am sure Mr. Melmotte did not put your name to it. From what I

understand there seems to have been some blunder between your father

and his lawyer."

"That's true enough," said Dolly; "but it doesn't excuse Melmotte."

"As to the money, there can be no more doubt that it will be paid

than that I stand here. What is it?--twenty-five thousand, isn't it?"

"Eighty thousand, the whole."

"Well,--eighty thousand. It's impossible to suppose that such a man

as Melmotte shouldn't be able to raise eighty thousand pounds."

"Why don't he do it then?" asked Dolly.

All this was very unpleasant and made the club less social than

it used to be in old days. There was an attempt that night to get

up a game of cards; but Nidderdale would not play because he was

offended with Dolly Longestaffe; and Miles Grendall was away in the

country,--a fugitive from the face of Melmotte, and Carbury was in

hiding at home with his countenance from top to bottom supported

by plasters, and Montague in these days never went to the club. At

the present moment he was again in Liverpool, having been summoned

thither by Mr. Ramsbottom. "By George," said Dolly, as he filled

another pipe and ordered more brandy and water, "I think everything

is going to come to an end. I do indeed. I never heard of such a

thing before as a man being done in this way. And then Vossner has

gone off, and it seems everybody is to pay just what he says they

owed him. And now one can't even get up a game of cards. I feel as

though there were no good in hoping that things would ever come right

again."

The opinion of the club was a good deal divided as to the matter

in dispute between Lord Nidderdale and Dolly Longestaffe. It was

admitted by some to be "very fishy." If Melmotte were so great a man

why didn't he pay the money, and why should he have mortgaged the

property before it was really his own? But the majority of the men

thought that Dolly was wrong. As to the signature of the letter,

Dolly was a man who would naturally be quite unable to say what he

had and what he had not signed. And then, even into the Beargarden

there had filtered, through the outer world, a feeling that people

were not now bound to be so punctilious in the paying of money as

they were a few years since. No doubt it suited Melmotte to make use

of the money, and therefore,--as he had succeeded in getting the

property into his hands,--he did make use of it. But it would be

forthcoming sooner or later! In this way of looking at the matter the

Beargarden followed the world at large. The world at large, in spite

of the terrible falling-off at the Emperor of China's dinner, in

spite of all the rumours, in spite of the ruinous depreciation of

the Mexican Railway stock, and of the undoubted fact that Dolly

Longestaffe had not received his money, was inclined to think that

Melmotte would "pull through."