Five Tales

J >> John Galsworthy >> Five Tales


"Oh! Ye-es. Are you from Messrs. Scrivens?"

With the swift reflection: 'As I thought!' Mr. Ventnor answered:

"Er--not exactly. I am a solicitor though; came just to ask about a
certain settlement that Mr. Pillin tells me you're entitled under."

"Phyllis dear!"

Seeing the girl about to rise from underneath the white stuff, Mr.
Ventnor said quickly:

"Pray don't disturb yourself--just a formality!" It had struck him at
once that the lady would have to speak the truth in the presence of this
third party, and he went on: "Quite recent, I think. This'll be your
first interest-on six thousand pounds? Is that right?" And at the limpid
assent of that rich, sweet voice, he thought: 'Fine woman; what eyes!'

"Thank you; that's quite enough. I can go to Scrivens for any detail.
Nice young fellow, Bob Pillin, isn't he?" He saw the girl's chin tilt,
and Mrs. Larne's full mouth curling in a smile.

"Delightful young man; we're very fond of him."

And he proceeded:

"I'm quite an old friend of his; have you known him long?"

"Oh! no. How long, Phyllis, since we met him at Guardy's? About a month.
But he's so unaffected--quite at home with us. A nice fellow."

Mr. Ventnor murmured:

"Very different from his father, isn't he?"

"Is he? We don't know his father; he's a shipowner, I think."

Mr. Ventnor rubbed his hands: "Ye-es," he said, "just giving up--a warm
man. Young Pillin's a lucky fellow--only son. So you met him at old Mr.
Heythorp's. I know him too--relation of yours, I believe."

"Our dear Guardy such a wonderful man."

Mr. Ventnor echoed: "Wonderful--regular old Roman."

"Oh! but he's so kind!" Mrs. Larne lifted the white stuff: "Look what
he's given this naughty gairl!"

Mr. Ventnor murmured: "Charming! Charming! Bob Pillin said, I think,
that Mr. Heythorp was your settlor."

One of those little clouds which visit the brows of women who have owed
money in their time passed swiftly athwart Mrs. Larne's eyes. For a
moment they seemed saying: 'Don't you want to know too much?' Then they
slid from under it.

"Won't you sit down?" she said. "You must forgive our being at work."

Mr. Ventnor, who had need of sorting his impressions, shook his head.

"Thank you; I must be getting on. Then Messrs. Scriven can--a mere
formality! Goodbye! Good-bye, Miss Larne. I'm sure the dress will be
most becoming."

And with memories of a too clear look from the girl's eyes, of a warm
firm pressure from the woman's hand, Mr. Ventnor backed towards the door
and passed away just in time to avoid hearing in two voices:

"What a nice lawyer!"

"What a horrid man!"

Back in his cab, he continued to rub his hands. No, she didn't know old
Pillin! That was certain; not from her words, but from her face. She
wanted to know him, or about him, anyway. She was trying to hook
young Bob for that sprig of a girl--it was clear as mud. H'm! it would
astonish his young friend to hear that he had called. Well, let it! And
a curious mixture of emotions beset Mr. Ventnor. He saw the whole thing
now so plainly, and really could not refrain from a certain admiration.
The law had been properly diddled! There was nothing to prevent a man
from settling money on a woman he had never seen; and so old Pillin's
settlement could probably not be upset. But old Heythorp could. It was
neat, though, oh! neat! And that was a fine woman--remarkably! He had a
sort of feeling that if only the settlement had been in danger, it might
have been worth while to have made a bargain--a woman like that
could have made it worth while! And he believed her quite capable of
entertaining the proposition! Her eye! Pity--quite a pity! Mrs. Ventnor
was not a wife who satisfied every aspiration. But alas! the settlement
was safe. This baulking of the sentiment of love, whipped up, if
anything, the longing for justice in Mr. Ventnor. That old chap should
feel his teeth now. As a piece of investigation it was not so bad--not
so bad at all! He had had a bit of luck, of course,--no, not luck--just
that knack of doing the right thing at the right moment which marks a
real genius for affairs.

But getting into his train to return to Mrs. Ventnor, he thought: 'A
woman like that would have been--!' And he sighed.




2

With a neatly written cheque for fifty pounds in his pocket Bob Pillin
turned in at 23, Millicent Villas on the afternoon after Mr. Ventnor's
visit. Chivalry had won the day. And he rang the bell with an elation
which astonished him, for he knew he was doing a soft thing.

"Mrs. Larne is out, sir; Miss Phyllis is at home."

His heart leaped.

"Oh-h! I'm sorry. I wonder if she'd see me?"

The little maid answered

"I think she's been washin' 'er'air, sir, but it may be dry be now. I'll
see."

Bob Pillin stood stock still beneath the young woman on the wall. He
could scarcely breathe. If her hair were not dry--how awful! Suddenly
he heard floating down a clear but smothered "Oh! Gefoozleme!" and other
words which he could not catch. The little maid came running down.

"Miss Phyllis says, sir, she'll be with you in a jiffy. And I was to
tell you that Master Jock is loose, sir."

Bob Pillin answered "Tha-anks," and passed into the drawing-room.
He went to the bureau, took an envelope, enclosed the cheque, and
addressing it: "Mrs. Larne," replaced it in his pocket. Then he crossed
over to the mirror. Never till this last month had he really doubted his
own face; but now he wanted for it things he had never wanted. It had
too much flesh and colour. It did not reflect his passion. This was a
handicap. With a narrow white piping round his waistcoat opening, and a
buttonhole of tuberoses, he had tried to repair its deficiencies. But
do what he would, he was never easy about himself nowadays, never up
to that pitch which could make him confident in her presence. And until
this month to lack confidence had never been his wont. A clear, high,
mocking voice said:

"Oh-h! Conceited young man!"

And spinning round he saw Phyllis in the doorway. Her light brown
hair was fluffed out on her shoulders, so that he felt a kind of
fainting-sweet sensation, and murmured inarticulately:

"Oh! I say--how jolly!"

"Lawks! It's awful! Have you come to see mother?"

Balanced between fear and daring, conscious of a scent of hay and
verbena and camomile, Bob Pillin stammered:

"Ye-es. I--I'm glad she's not in, though."

Her laugh seemed to him terribly unfeeling.

"Oh! oh! Don't be foolish. Sit down. Isn't washing one's head awful?"

Bob Pillin answered feebly:

"Of course, I haven't much experience."

Her mouth opened.

"Oh! You are--aren't you?"

And he thought desperately: 'Dare I--oughtn't I--couldn't I somehow take
her hand or put my arm round her, or something?' Instead, he sat very
rigid at his end of the sofa, while she sat lax and lissom at the other,
and one of those crises of paralysis which beset would-be lovers fixed
him to the soul.

Sometimes during this last month memories of a past existence, when
chaff and even kisses came readily to the lips, and girls were fair
game, would make him think: 'Is she really such an innocent? Doesn't she
really want me to kiss her?' Alas! such intrusions lasted but a moment
before a blast of awe and chivalry withered them, and a strange and
tragic delicacy--like nothing he had ever known--resumed its sway. And
suddenly he heard her say:

"Why do you know such awful men?"

"What? I don't know any awful men."

"Oh yes, you do; one came here yesterday; he had whiskers, and he was
awful."

"Whiskers?" His soul revolted in disclaimer. "I believe I only know one
man with whiskers--a lawyer."

"Yes--that was him; a perfectly horrid man. Mother didn't mind him, but
I thought he was a beast."

"Ventnor! Came here? How d'you mean?"

"He did; about some business of yours, too." Her face had clouded over.
Bob Pillin had of late been harassed by the still-born beginning of a
poem:

"I rode upon my way and saw
A maid who watched me from the door."

It never grew longer, and was prompted by the feeling that her face
was like an April day. The cloud which came on it now was like an April
cloud, as if a bright shower of rain must follow. Brushing aside the two
distressful lines, he said:

"Look here, Miss Larne--Phyllis--look here!"

"All right, I'm looking!"

"What does it mean--how did he come? What did he say?"

She shook her head, and her hair quivered; the scent of camomile,
verbena, hay was wafted; then looking at her lap, she muttered:

"I wish you wouldn't--I wish mother wouldn't--I hate it. Oh! Money!
Beastly--beastly!" and a tearful sigh shivered itself into Bob Pillin's
reddening ears.

"I say--don't! And do tell me, because--"

"Oh! you know."

"I don't--I don't know anything at all. I never---"

Phyllis looked up at him. "Don't tell fibs; you know mother's borrowing
money from you, and it's hateful!"

A desire to lie roundly, a sense of the cheque in his pocket, a feeling
of injustice, the emotion of pity, and a confused and black astonishment
about Ventnor, caused Bob Pillin to stammer:

"Well, I'm d---d!" and to miss the look which Phyllis gave him through
her lashes--a look saying:

"Ah! that's better!"

"I am d---d! Look here! D'you mean to say that Ventnor came here about
my lending money? I never said a word to him---"

"There you see--you are lending!"

He clutched his hair.

"We've got to have this out," he added.

"Not by the roots! Oh! you do look funny. I've never seen you with your
hair untidy. Oh! oh!"

Bob Pillin rose and paced the room. In the midst of his emotion he
could not help seeing himself sidelong in the mirror; and on pretext of
holding his head in both his hands, tried earnestly to restore his hair.
Then coming to a halt he said:

"Suppose I am lending money to your mother, what does it matter? It's
only till quarter-day. Anybody might want money."

Phyllis did not raise her face.

"Why are you lending it?"

"Because--because--why shouldn't I?" and diving suddenly, he seized her
hands.

She wrenched them free; and with the emotion of despair, Bob Pillin took
out the envelope.

"If you like," he said, "I'll tear this up. I don't want to lend it, if
you don't want me to; but I thought--I thought--" It was for her alone
he had been going to lend this money!

Phyllis murmured through her hair:

"Yes! You thought that I--that's what's so hateful!"

Apprehension pierced his mind.

"Oh! I never--I swear I never--"

"Yes, you did; you thought I wanted you to lend it."

She jumped up, and brushed past him into the window.

So she thought she was being used as a decoy! That was awful--especially
since it was true. He knew well enough that Mrs. Larne was working his
admiration for her daughter for all that it was worth. And he said with
simple fervour:

"What rot!" It produced no effect, and at his wits' end, he almost
shouted: "Look, Phyllis! If you don't want me to--here goes!" Phyllis
turned. Tearing the envelope across he threw the bits into the fire.
"There it is," he said.

Her eyes grew round; she said in an awed voice: "Oh!"

In a sort of agony of honesty he said:

"It was only a cheque. Now you've got your way."

Staring at the fire she answered slowly:

"I expect you'd better go before mother comes."

Bob Pillin's mouth fell afar; he secretly agreed, but the idea of
sacrificing a moment alone with her was intolerable, and he said
hardily:

"No, I shall stick it!"

Phyllis sneezed.

"My hair isn't a bit dry," and she sat down on the fender with her back
to the fire.

A certain spirituality had come into Bob Pillin's face. If only he could
get that wheeze off: "Phyllis is my only joy!" or even: "Phyllis--do
you--won't you--mayn't I?" But nothing came--nothing.

And suddenly she said:

"Oh! don't breathe so loud; it's awful!"

"Breathe? I wasn't!"

"You were; just like Carmen when she's dreaming."

He had walked three steps towards the door, before he thought: 'What
does it matter? I can stand anything from her; and walked the three
steps back again.

She said softly:

"Poor young man!"

He answered gloomily:

"I suppose you realise that this may be the last time you'll see me?"

"Why? I thought you were going to take us to the theatre."

"I don't know whether your mother will--after---"

Phyllis gave a little clear laugh.

"You don't know mother. Nothing makes any difference to her."

And Bob Pillin muttered:

"I see." He did not, but it was of no consequence. Then the thought of
Ventnor again ousted all others. What on earth-how on earth! He searched
his mind for what he could possibly have said the other night. Surely he
had not asked him to do anything; certainly not given him their address.
There was something very odd about it that had jolly well got to be
cleared up! And he said:

"Are you sure the name of that Johnny who came here yesterday was
Ventnor?"

Phyllis nodded.

"And he was short, and had whiskers?"

"Yes; red, and red eyes."

He murmured reluctantly:

"It must be him. Jolly good cheek; I simply can't understand. I shall go
and see him. How on earth did he know your address?"

"I expect you gave it him."

"I did not. I won't have you thinking me a squirt."

Phyllis jumped up. "Oh! Lawks! Here's mother!" Mrs. Larne was coming
up the garden. Bob Pillin made for the door. "Good-bye," he said; "I'm
going." But Mrs. Larne was already in the hall. Enveloping him in fur
and her rich personality, she drew him with her into the drawing-room,
where the back window was open and Phyllis gone.

"I hope," she said, "those naughty children have been making you
comfortable. That nice lawyer of yours came yesterday. He seemed quite
satisfied."

Very red above his collar, Bob Pillin stammered:

"I never told him to; he isn't my lawyer. I don't know what it means."

Mrs. Larne smiled. "My dear boy, it's all right. You needn't be so
squeamish. I want it to be quite on a business footing."

Restraining a fearful inclination to blurt out: "It's not going to be on
any footing!" Bob Pillin mumbled: "I must go; I'm late."

"And when will you be able---?"

"Oh! I'll--I'll send--I'll write. Good-bye!" And suddenly he found that
Mrs. Larne had him by the lapel of his coat. The scent of violets and
fur was overpowering, and the thought flashed through him: 'I believe
she only wanted to take money off old Joseph in the Bible. I can't leave
my coat in her hands! What shall I do?'

Mrs. Larne was murmuring:

"It would be so sweet of you if you could manage it today"; and her hand
slid over his chest. "Oh! You have brought your cheque-book--what a nice
boy!"

Bob Pillin took it out in desperation, and, sitting down at the bureau,
wrote a cheque similar to that which he had torn and burned. A warm kiss
lighted on his eyebrow, his head was pressed for a moment to a furry
bosom; a hand took the cheque; a voice said: "How delightful!" and a
sigh immersed him in a bath of perfume. Backing to the door, he gasped:

"Don't mention it; and--and don't tell Phyllis, please. Good-bye!"

Once through the garden gate, he thought: 'By gum! I've done it now.
That Phyllis should know about it at all! That beast Ventnor!'

His face grew almost grim. He would go and see what that meant anyway!




3

Mr. Ventnor had not left his office when his young friend's card was
brought to him. Tempted for a moment to deny his own presence, he
thought: 'No! What's the good? Bound to see him some time!' If he had
not exactly courage, he had that peculiar blend of self-confidence and
insensibility which must needs distinguish those who follow the law; nor
did he ever forget that he was in the right.

"Show him in!" he said.

He would be quite bland, but young Pillin might whistle for an
explanation; he was still tormented, too, by the memory of rich curves
and moving lips, and the possibilities of better acquaintanceship.

While shaking the young man's hand his quick and fulvous eye detected
at once the discomposure behind that mask of cheek and collar, and
relapsing into one of those swivel chairs which give one an advantage
over men more statically seated, he said:

"You look pretty bobbish. Anything I can do for you?"

Bob Pillin, in the fixed chair of the consultor, nursed his bowler on
his knee.

"Well, yes, there is. I've just been to see Mrs. Larne."

Mr. Ventnor did not flinch.

"Ah! Nice woman; pretty daughter, too!" And into those words he put
a certain meaning. He never waited to be bullied. Bob Pillin felt the
pressure of his blood increasing.

"Look here, Ventnor," he said, "I want an explanation."

"What of?"

"Why, of your going there, and using my name, and God knows what."

Mr. Ventnor gave his chair two little twiddles before he said

"Well, you won't get it."

Bob Pillin remained for a moment taken aback; then he muttered
resolutely:

"It's not the conduct of a gentleman."

Every man has his illusions, and no man likes them disturbed. The
gingery tint underlying Mr. Ventnor's colouring overlaid it; even the
whites of his eyes grew red.

"Oh!" he said; "indeed! You mind your own business, will you?"

"It is my business--very much so. You made use of my name, and I don't
choose---"

"The devil you don't! Now, I tell you what---"

Mr. Ventnor leaned forward--"you'd better hold your tongue, and
not exasperate me. I'm a good-tempered man, but I won't stand your
impudence."

Clenching his bowler hat, and only kept in his seat by that sense of
something behind, Bob Pillin ejaculated:

"Impudence! That's good--after what you did! Look here, why did you?
It's so extraordinary!"

Mr. Ventnor answered:

"Oh! is it? You wait a bit, my friend!"

Still more moved by the mystery of this affair, Bob Pillin could only
mutter:

"I never gave you their address; we were only talking about old
Heythorp."

And at the smile which spread between Mr. Ventnor's whiskers, he jumped
up, crying:

"It's not the thing, and you're not going to put me off. I insist on an
explanation."

Mr. Ventnor leaned back, crossing his stout legs, joining the tips of
his thick fingers. In this attitude he was always self-possessed.

"You do--do you?"

"Yes. You must have had some reason."

Mr. Ventnor gazed up at him.

"I'll give you a piece of advice, young cock, and charge you nothing
for it, too: Ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies. And here's
another: Go away before you forget yourself again."

The natural stolidity of Bob Pilings face was only just proof against
this speech. He said thickly:

"If you go there again and use my name, I'll Well, it's lucky for you
you're not my age. Anyway I'll relieve you of my acquaintanceship in
future. Good-evening!" and he went to the door. Mr. Ventnor had risen.

"Very well," he said loudly. "Good riddance! You wait and see which boot
the leg is on!"

But Bob Pillin was gone, leaving the lawyer with a very red face, a very
angry heart, and a vague sense of disorder in his speech. Not only
Bob Pillin, but his tender aspirations had all left him; he no longer
dallied with the memory of Mrs. Larne, but like a man and a Briton
thought only of how to get his own back, and punish evildoers. The
atrocious words of his young friend, "It's not the conduct of a
gentleman," festered in the heart of one who was made gentle not merely
by nature but by Act of Parliament, and he registered a solemn vow to
wipe the insult out, if not with blood, with verjuice. It was his duty,
and they should d---d well see him do it!




IV

Sylvanus Heythorp seldom went to bed before one or rose before eleven.
The latter habit alone kept his valet from handing in the resignation
which the former habit prompted almost every night.

Propped on his pillows in a crimson dressing-gown, and freshly shaved,
he looked more Roman than he ever did, except in his bath. Having
disposed of coffee, he was wont to read his letters, and The Morning
Post, for he had always been a Tory, and could not stomach paying a
halfpenny for his news. Not that there were many letters--when a man has
reached the age of eighty, who should write to him, except to ask for
money?

It was Valentine's Day. Through his bedroom window he could see the
trees of the park, where the birds were in song, though he could not
hear them. He had never been interested in Nature--full-blooded men with
short necks seldom are.

This morning indeed there were two letters, and he opened that which
smelt of something. Inside was a thing like a Christmas card, save that
the naked babe had in his hands a bow and arrow, and words coming out
of his mouth: "To be your Valentine." There was also a little pink note
with one blue forget-me-not printed at the top. It ran:


"DEAREST GUARDY,--I'm sorry this is such a mangy little valentine; I
couldn't go out to get it because I've got a beastly cold, so I asked
Jock, and the pig bought this. The satin is simply scrumptious. If you
don't come and see me in it some time soon, I shall come and show it
to you. I wish I had a moustache, because my top lip feels just like a
matchbox, but it's rather ripping having breakfast in bed. Mr. Pillin's
taking us to the theatre the day after to-morrow evening. Isn't it
nummy! I'm going to have rum and honey for my cold.

"Good-bye,

"Your PHYLLIS."


So this that quivered in his thick fingers, too insensitive to feel it,
was a valentine for him!

Forty years ago that young thing's grandmother had given him his last.
It made him out a very old chap! Forty years ago! Had that been
himself living then? And himself, who, as a youth came on the town
in 'forty-five? Not a thought, not a feeling the same! They said you
changed your body every seven years. The mind with it, too, perhaps!
Well, he had come to the last of his bodies, now! And that holy woman
had been urging him to take it to Bath, with her face as long as
a tea-tray, and some gammon from that doctor of his. Too full a
habit--dock his port--no alcohol--might go off in a coma any night!
Knock off not he! Rather die any day than turn tee-totaller! When a man
had nothing left in life except his dinner, his bottle, his cigar, and
the dreams they gave him--these doctors forsooth must want to cut them
off! No, no! Carpe diem! while you lived, get something out of it. And
now that he had made all the provision he could for those youngsters,
his life was no good to any one but himself; and the sooner he went off
the better, if he ceased to enjoy what there was left, or lost the power
to say: "I'll do this and that, and you be jiggered!" Keep a stiff lip
until you crashed, and then go clean! He sounded the bell beside him
twice-for Molly, not his man. And when the girl came in, and stood,
pretty in her print frock, her fluffy over-fine dark hair escaping from
under her cap, he gazed at her in silence.

"Yes, sirr?"

"Want to look at you, that's all."

"Oh I an' I'm not tidy, sirr."

"Never mind. Had your valentine?"

"No, sirr; who would send me one, then?"

"Haven't you a young man?"

"Well, I might. But he's over in my country.

"What d'you think of this?"

He held out the little boy.

The girl took the card and scrutinised it reverently; she said in a
detached voice:

"Indeed, an' ut's pretty, too."

"Would you like it?"

"Oh I if 'tis not taking ut from you."

Old Heythorp shook his head, and pointed to the dressing-table.

"Over there--you'll find a sovereign. Little present for a good girl."

She uttered a deep sigh. "Oh! sirr, 'tis too much; 'tis kingly."

"Take it."

She took it, and came back, her hands clasping the sovereign and the
valentine, in an attitude as of prayer.

The old man's gaze rested on her with satisfaction.

"I like pretty faces--can't bear sour ones. Tell Meller to get my bath
ready."

When she had gone he took up the other letter--some lawyer's writing,
and opening it with the usual difficulty, read:


"February 13, 1905.

"SIR,--Certain facts having come to my knowledge, I deem it my duty to
call a special meeting of the shareholders of 'The Island Navigation
Coy.,' to consider circumstances in connection with the purchase of Mr.
Joseph Pillin's fleet. And I give you notice that at this meeting your
conduct will be called in question.

"I am, Sir,

"Yours faithfully,

"CHARLES VENTNOR.
"SYLVANUS HEYTHORP,ESQ."


Having read this missive, old Heythorp remained some minutes without
stirring. Ventnor! That solicitor chap who had made himself unpleasant
at the creditors' meetings!

There are men whom a really bad bit of news at once stampedes out of all
power of coherent thought and action, and men who at first simply do not
take it in. Old Heythorp took it in fast enough; coming from a lawyer it
was about as nasty as it could be. But, at once, with stoic wariness
his old brain began casting round. What did this fellow really know?
And what exactly could he do? One thing was certain; even if he knew
everything, he couldn't upset that settlement. The youngsters were all
right. The old man grasped the fact that only his own position was at
stake. But this was enough in all conscience; a name which had been
before the public fifty odd years--income, independence, more perhaps.
It would take little, seeing his age and feebleness, to make his
Companies throw him over. But what had the fellow got hold of? How
decide whether or no to take notice; to let him do his worst, or try and
get into touch with him? And what was the fellow's motive? He held ten
shares! That would never make a man take all this trouble, and over a
purchase which was really first-rate business for the Company. Yes!
His conscience was quite clean. He had not betrayed his Company--on the
contrary, had done it a good turn, got them four sound ships at a low
price--against much opposition. That he might have done the Company a
better turn, and got the ships at fifty-four thousand, did not trouble
him--the six thousand was a deuced sight better employed; and he had not
pocketed a penny piece himself! But the fellow's motive? Spite? Looked
like it. Spite, because he had been disappointed of his money, and
defied into the bargain! H'm! If that were so, he might still be got
to blow cold again. His eyes lighted on the pink note with the blue
forget-me-not. It marked as it were the high water mark of what was left
to him of life; and this other letter in his hand-by Jove! Low water
mark! And with a deep and rumbling sigh he thought: 'No, I'm not going
to be beaten by this fellow.'