Lucile [68]
render one grateful. As soon as he could, Lord Alfred contrived to escape, nor be food Any more for those somewhat voracious embraces. Then the two men sat down and scann'd each other's faces: And Alfred could see that his cousin was taken With unwonted emotion. The hand that had shaken His own trembled somewhat. In truth he descried At a glance, something wrong.
V.
"What's the matter?" he cried. "What have you to tell me?"
JOHN.
What! have you not heard?
ALFRED.
Heard what?
JOHN.
This sad business--
ALFRED.
I? no, not a word.
JOHN.
You received my last letter?
ALFRED.
I think so. If not, What then?
JOHN.
You have acted upon it?
ALFRED.
On what?
JOHN.
The advice that I gave you--
ALFRED.
Advice?--let me see? You ALWAYS are giving advice, Jack, to me. About Parliament, was it?
JOHN.
Hang Parliament! no, The Bank, the Bank, Alfred!
ALFRED.
What Bank?
JOHN.
Heavens! I know You are careless;--but surely you have not forgotten,-- Or neglected . . . I warn'd you the whole thing was rotten. You have drawn those deposits at least?
ALFRED.
No, I meant To have written to-day; but the note shall be sent To-morrow, however.
JOHN.
To-morrow? too late! Too late! oh, what devil bewitch'd you to wait?
ALFRED.
Mercy save us! you don't mean to say . . .
JOHN.
Yes, I do.
ALFRED.
What! Sir Ridley?
JOHN.
Smash'd, broken, blown up, bolted too!
ALFRED.
But his own niece? . . . In Heaven's name, Jack . . .
JOHN.
Oh, I told you The old hypocritical scoundrel would . . .
ALFRED.
Hold! you Surely can't mean we are ruin'd?
JOHN.
Sit down! A fortnight ago a report about town Made me most apprehensive. Alas, and alas! I at once wrote and warn'd you. Well, now let that pass. A run on the Bank about five days ago Confirm'd my forebodings too terribly, though. I drove down to the city at once; found the door Of the Bank close: the Bank had stopp'd payment at four. Next morning the failure was known to be fraud: Warrant out for McNab: but McNab was abroad: Gone--we cannot tell where. I endeavor'd to get Information: have learn'd nothing certain as yet-- Not even the way that old Ridley was gone: Or with those securities what he had done: Or whether they had been already call'd out: If they are not, their fate is, I fear, past a doubt. Twenty families ruin'd, they say: what was left,-- Unable to find any clew to the cleft The old fox ran to earth in,--but join you as fast As I could, my dear Alfred?*
*These events, it is needless to say, Mr. Morse, Took place when Bad News as yet travell'd by horse; Ere the world, like a cockchafer, buzz'd on a wire, Or Time was calcined by electrical fire; Ere a cable went under the hoary Atlantic, Or the word Telegram drove grammarians frantic.
VI.
He stopp'd here, aghast At the change in his cousin, the hue of whose face Had grown livid; and glassy his eyes fix'd on space. "Courage, courage!" . . . said John, . . . "bear the blow like a man!" And he caught the cold hand of Lord Alfred. There ran Through that hand a quick tremor. "I bear it," he said, "But Matilda? the blow is to her!" And his head Seem'd forced down, as he said it.
JOHN.
Matilda? Pooh, pooh! I half think I know the girl better than you. She has courage enough--and to spare. She cares less Than most women for luxury, nonsense, and dress.
ALFRED.
The fault has
V.
"What's the matter?" he cried. "What have you to tell me?"
JOHN.
What! have you not heard?
ALFRED.
Heard what?
JOHN.
This sad business--
ALFRED.
I? no, not a word.
JOHN.
You received my last letter?
ALFRED.
I think so. If not, What then?
JOHN.
You have acted upon it?
ALFRED.
On what?
JOHN.
The advice that I gave you--
ALFRED.
Advice?--let me see? You ALWAYS are giving advice, Jack, to me. About Parliament, was it?
JOHN.
Hang Parliament! no, The Bank, the Bank, Alfred!
ALFRED.
What Bank?
JOHN.
Heavens! I know You are careless;--but surely you have not forgotten,-- Or neglected . . . I warn'd you the whole thing was rotten. You have drawn those deposits at least?
ALFRED.
No, I meant To have written to-day; but the note shall be sent To-morrow, however.
JOHN.
To-morrow? too late! Too late! oh, what devil bewitch'd you to wait?
ALFRED.
Mercy save us! you don't mean to say . . .
JOHN.
Yes, I do.
ALFRED.
What! Sir Ridley?
JOHN.
Smash'd, broken, blown up, bolted too!
ALFRED.
But his own niece? . . . In Heaven's name, Jack . . .
JOHN.
Oh, I told you The old hypocritical scoundrel would . . .
ALFRED.
Hold! you Surely can't mean we are ruin'd?
JOHN.
Sit down! A fortnight ago a report about town Made me most apprehensive. Alas, and alas! I at once wrote and warn'd you. Well, now let that pass. A run on the Bank about five days ago Confirm'd my forebodings too terribly, though. I drove down to the city at once; found the door Of the Bank close: the Bank had stopp'd payment at four. Next morning the failure was known to be fraud: Warrant out for McNab: but McNab was abroad: Gone--we cannot tell where. I endeavor'd to get Information: have learn'd nothing certain as yet-- Not even the way that old Ridley was gone: Or with those securities what he had done: Or whether they had been already call'd out: If they are not, their fate is, I fear, past a doubt. Twenty families ruin'd, they say: what was left,-- Unable to find any clew to the cleft The old fox ran to earth in,--but join you as fast As I could, my dear Alfred?*
*These events, it is needless to say, Mr. Morse, Took place when Bad News as yet travell'd by horse; Ere the world, like a cockchafer, buzz'd on a wire, Or Time was calcined by electrical fire; Ere a cable went under the hoary Atlantic, Or the word Telegram drove grammarians frantic.
VI.
He stopp'd here, aghast At the change in his cousin, the hue of whose face Had grown livid; and glassy his eyes fix'd on space. "Courage, courage!" . . . said John, . . . "bear the blow like a man!" And he caught the cold hand of Lord Alfred. There ran Through that hand a quick tremor. "I bear it," he said, "But Matilda? the blow is to her!" And his head Seem'd forced down, as he said it.
JOHN.
Matilda? Pooh, pooh! I half think I know the girl better than you. She has courage enough--and to spare. She cares less Than most women for luxury, nonsense, and dress.
ALFRED.
The fault has