New Grub Street [167]
had said, or on some point of his behaviour. The explanation of this was that Carter had begun to think there might be a foundation for Mrs Yule's hypothesis--that the novelist was not altogether in his sound senses. At first he scouted the idea, but as time went on it seemed to him that Reardon's countenance certainly had a gaunt wildness which suggested disagreeable things. Especially did he remark this after his return from an August holiday in Norway. On coming for the first time to the City Road branch he sat down and began to favour Reardon with a lively description of how he had enjoyed himself abroad; it never occurred to him that such talk was not likely to inspirit the man who had passed his August between the garret and the hospital, but he observed before long that his listener was glancing hither and thither in rather a strange way.
'You haven't been ill since I saw you?' he inquired.
'Oh no!'
'But you look as if you might have been. I say, we must manage for you to have a fortnight off, you know, this month.'
'I have no wish for it,' said Reardon. 'I'll imagine I have been to Norway. It has done me good to hear of your holiday.'
'I'm glad of that; but it isn't quite the same thing, you know, as having a run somewhere yourself.'
'Oh, much better! To enjoy myself may be mere selfishness, but to enjoy another's enjoyment is the purest satisfaction, good for body and soul. I am cultivating altruism.'
'What's that?'
'A highly rarefied form of happiness. The curious thing about it is that it won't grow unless you have just twice as much faith in it as is required for assent to the Athanasian Creed.'
'Oh!'
Carter went away more than puzzled. He told his wife that evening that Reardon had been talking to him in the most extraordinary fashion--no understanding a word he said.
All this time he was on the look-out for employment that would be more suitable to his unfortunate clerk. Whether slightly demented or not, Reardon gave no sign of inability to discharge his duties; he was conscientious as ever, and might, unless he changed greatly, be relied upon in positions of more responsibility than his present one. And at length, early in October, there came to the secretary's knowledge an opportunity with which he lost no time in acquainting Reardon. The latter repaired that evening to Clipstone Street, and climbed to Biffen's chamber. He entered with a cheerful look, and exclaimed:
'I have just invented a riddle; see if you can guess it. Why is a London lodging-house like the human body?'
Biffen looked with some concern at his friend, so unwonted was a sally of this kind.
'Why is a London lodging-house--? Haven't the least idea.'
'Because the brains are always at the top. Not bad, I think, eh?'
'Well, no; it'll pass. Distinctly professional though. The general public would fail to see the point, I'm afraid. But what has come to you?'
'Good tidings. Carter has offered me a place which will be a decided improvement. A house found--or rooms, at all events--and salary a hundred and fifty a year.
'By Plutus! That's good hearing. Some duties attached, I suppose?'
'I'm afraid that was inevitable, as things go. It's the secretaryship of a home for destitute boys at Croydon. The post is far from a sinecure, Carter assures me. There's a great deal of purely secretarial work, and there's a great deal of practical work, some of it rather rough, I fancy. It seems doubtful whether I am exactly the man. The present holder is a burly fellow over six feet high, delighting in gymnastics, and rather fond of a fight now and then when opportunity offers. But he is departing at Christmas--going somewhere as a missionary; and I can have the place if I choose.'
'As I suppose you do?'
'Yes. I shall try it, decidedly.'
Biffen waited a little, then asked:
'I suppose your wife will go with you?'
'There's no saying.'
Reardon tried to answer indifferently, but it could be seen that he was agitated between hopes and fears.
'You'll ask her, at all events?'
'Oh yes,' was the
'You haven't been ill since I saw you?' he inquired.
'Oh no!'
'But you look as if you might have been. I say, we must manage for you to have a fortnight off, you know, this month.'
'I have no wish for it,' said Reardon. 'I'll imagine I have been to Norway. It has done me good to hear of your holiday.'
'I'm glad of that; but it isn't quite the same thing, you know, as having a run somewhere yourself.'
'Oh, much better! To enjoy myself may be mere selfishness, but to enjoy another's enjoyment is the purest satisfaction, good for body and soul. I am cultivating altruism.'
'What's that?'
'A highly rarefied form of happiness. The curious thing about it is that it won't grow unless you have just twice as much faith in it as is required for assent to the Athanasian Creed.'
'Oh!'
Carter went away more than puzzled. He told his wife that evening that Reardon had been talking to him in the most extraordinary fashion--no understanding a word he said.
All this time he was on the look-out for employment that would be more suitable to his unfortunate clerk. Whether slightly demented or not, Reardon gave no sign of inability to discharge his duties; he was conscientious as ever, and might, unless he changed greatly, be relied upon in positions of more responsibility than his present one. And at length, early in October, there came to the secretary's knowledge an opportunity with which he lost no time in acquainting Reardon. The latter repaired that evening to Clipstone Street, and climbed to Biffen's chamber. He entered with a cheerful look, and exclaimed:
'I have just invented a riddle; see if you can guess it. Why is a London lodging-house like the human body?'
Biffen looked with some concern at his friend, so unwonted was a sally of this kind.
'Why is a London lodging-house--? Haven't the least idea.'
'Because the brains are always at the top. Not bad, I think, eh?'
'Well, no; it'll pass. Distinctly professional though. The general public would fail to see the point, I'm afraid. But what has come to you?'
'Good tidings. Carter has offered me a place which will be a decided improvement. A house found--or rooms, at all events--and salary a hundred and fifty a year.
'By Plutus! That's good hearing. Some duties attached, I suppose?'
'I'm afraid that was inevitable, as things go. It's the secretaryship of a home for destitute boys at Croydon. The post is far from a sinecure, Carter assures me. There's a great deal of purely secretarial work, and there's a great deal of practical work, some of it rather rough, I fancy. It seems doubtful whether I am exactly the man. The present holder is a burly fellow over six feet high, delighting in gymnastics, and rather fond of a fight now and then when opportunity offers. But he is departing at Christmas--going somewhere as a missionary; and I can have the place if I choose.'
'As I suppose you do?'
'Yes. I shall try it, decidedly.'
Biffen waited a little, then asked:
'I suppose your wife will go with you?'
'There's no saying.'
Reardon tried to answer indifferently, but it could be seen that he was agitated between hopes and fears.
'You'll ask her, at all events?'
'Oh yes,' was the