There was the comfort of thinking that this housekeeper had been inthe service of Rigg also, and might accept the idea that Mr. Bulstrodeentertained Raffles merely as a friend of her former master.
When there was food and drink spread before his visitor in thewainscoted parlor, and no witness in the room, Mr. Bulstrode said—
"Your habits and mine are so different, Mr. Raffles, that we canhardly enjoy each other's society. The wisest plan for both of us willtherefore be to part as soon as possible. Since you say that you wished tomeet me, you probably considered that you had some business totransact with me. But under the circumstances I will invite you to remainhere for the night, and I will myself ride over here early to-morrowmorning—before breakfast, in fact, when I can receive anyCommunication you have to make to me."
"With all my heart," said Raffles; "this is a comfortable place—a littledull for a continuance; but I can put up with it for a night, with thisgood liquor and the prospect of seeing you again in the morning. You're amuch better host than my stepson was; but Josh owed me a bit of agrudge for marrying his mother; and between you and me there wasnever anything but kindness."
Mr. Bulstrode, hoping that the peculiar mixture of joviality andsneering in Raffles' manner was a good deal the effect of drink, haddetermined to wait till he was quite sober before he spent more wordsupon him. But he rode home with a terribly lucid vision of the difficultythere would be in arranging any result that could be permanentlycounted on with this man. It was inevitable that he should wish to getrid of John Raffles, though his reappearance could not be regarded aslying outside the divine plan. The spirit of evil might have sent him tothreaten Mr. Bulstrode's subversion as an instrument of good; but thethreat must have been permitted, and was a chastisement of a new kind.It was an hour of anguish for him very different from the hours in whichhis struggle had been securely private, and which had ended with a sensethat his secret misdeeds were pardoned and his services accepted. Thosemisdeeds even when committed—had they not been half sanctified bythe singleness of his desire to devote himself and all he possessed to thefurtherance of the divine scheme? And was he after all to become a merestone of stumbling and a rock of offence? For who would understand thework within him? Who would not, when there was the pretext of castingdisgrace upon him, confound his whole life and the truths he hadespoused, in one heap of obloquy?
In his closest meditations the life-long habit of Mr. Bulstrode's mindclad his most egoistic terrors in doctrinal references to superhuman ends.But even while we are talking and meditating about the earth's orbit andthe solar system, what we feel and adjust our movements to is the stableearth and the changing day. And now within all the automatic successionof theoretic phrases—distinct and inmost as the shiver and the ache ofoncoming fever when we are discussing abstract pain, was the forecast ofdisgrace in the presence of his neighbors and of his own wife. For thepain, as well as the public estimate of disgrace, depends on the amountof previous profession. To men who only aim at escaping felony, nothingshort of the prisoner's dock is disgrace. But Mr. Bulstrode had aimed atbeing an eminent Christian.
It was not more than half-past seven in the morning when he againreached Stone Court. The fine old place never looked more like adelightful home than at that moment; the great white lilies were inflower, the nasturtiums, their pretty leaves all silvered with dew, wererunning away over the low stone wall; the very noises all around had aheart of peace within them. But everything was spoiled for the owner ashe walked on the gravel in front and awaited the descent of Mr. Raffles,with whom he was condemned to breakfast.
It was not long before they were seated together in the wainscotedparlor over their tea and toast, which was as much as Raffles cared totake at that early hour. The difference between his morning and eveningself was not so great as his companion had imagined that it might be; thedelight in tormenting was perhaps even the stronger because his spiritswere rather less highly pitched. Certainly his manners seemed moredisagreeable by the morning light.
"As I have little time to spare, Mr. Raffles," said the banker, whocould hardly do more than sip his tea and break his toast without eatingit, "I shall be obliged if you will mention at once the ground on whichyou wished to meet with me. I presume that you have a home elsewhereand will be glad to return to it."
"Why, if a man has got any heart, doesn't he want to see an oldfriend, Nick?—I must call you Nick—we always did call you young Nickwhen we knew you meant to marry the old widow. Some said you had ahandsome family likeness to old Nick, but that was your mother's fault,calling you Nicholas. Aren't you glad to see me again? I expected aninvite to stay with you at some pretty place. My own establishment isbroken up now my wife's dead. I've no particular attachment to any spot;I would as soon settle hereabout as anywhere."
"May I ask why you returned from America? I considered that thestrong wish you expressed to go there, when an adequate sum wasfurnished, was tantamount to an engagement that you would remainthere for life."
"Never knew that a wish to go to a place was the same thing as awish to stay. But I did stay a matter of ten years; it didn't suit me to stayany longer. And I'm not going again, Nick." Here Mr. Raffles winkedslowly as he looked at Mr. Bulstrode.
"Do you wish to be settled in any business? What is your callingnow?"
"Thank you, my calling is to enjoy myself as much as I can. I don'tcare about working any more. If I did anything it would be a littletravelling in the tobacco line—or something of that sort, which takes aman into agreeable company. But not without an independence to fallback upon. That's what I want: I'm not so strong as I was, Nick, thoughI've got more color than you. I want an independence."
"That could be supplied to you, if you would engage to keep at adistance," said Mr. Bulstrode, perhaps with a little too much eagerness inhis undertone.
"That must be as it suits my convenience," said Raffles coolly. "I seeno reason why I shouldn't make a few acquaintances hereabout. I'm notashamed of myself as company for anybody. I dropped my portmanteauat the turnpike when I got down—change of linen—genuine—honorbright—more than fronts and wristbands; and with this suit of mourning,straps and everything, I should do you credit among the nobs here." Mr.Raffles had pushed away his chair and looked down at himself,particularly at his straps. His chief intention was to annoy Bulstrode, buthe really thought that his appearance now would produce a good effect,and that he was not only handsome and witty, but clad in a mourningstyle which implied solid connections.
"If you intend to rely on me in any way, Mr. Raffles," said Bulstrode,after a moment's pause, "you will expect to meet my wishes."
"Ah, to be sure," said Raffles, with a mocking cordiality. "Didn't Ialways do it? Lord, you made a pretty thing out of me, and I got butlittle. I've often thought since, I might have done better by telling the oldwoman that I'd found her daughter and her grandchild: it would havesuited my feelings better; I've got a soft place in my heart. But you'veburied the old lady by this time, I suppose—it's all one to her now. Andyou've got your fortune out of that profitable business which had such ablessing on it. You've taken to being a nob, buying land, being a countrybashaw. Still in the Dissenting line, eh? Still godly? Or taken to theChurch as more genteel?"
This time Mr. Raffles' slow wink and slight protrusion of his tonguewas worse than a nightmare, because it held the certitude that it was nota nightmare, but a waking misery. Mr. Bulstrode felt a shudderingnausea, and did not speak, but was considering diligently whether heshould not leave Raffles to do as he would, and simply defy him as aslanderer. The man would soon show himself disreputable enough tomake people disbelieve him. "But not when he tells any ugly-lookingtruth about you," said discerning consciousness. And again: it seemed nowrong to keep Raffles at a distance, but Mr. Bulstrode shrank from thedirect falsehood of denying true statements. It was one thing to lookback on forgiven sins, nay, to explain questionable conformity to laxcustoms, and another to enter deliberately on the necessity of falsehood. But since Bulstrode did not speak, Raffles ran on, by way of usingtime to the utmost.
"I've not had such fine luck as you, by Jove! Things wentconfoundedly with me in New York; those Yankees are cool hands, and aman of gentlemanly feelings has no chance with them. I married when Icame back—a nice woman in the tobacco trade—very fond of me—butthe trade was restricted, as we say. She had been settled there a goodmany years by a friend; but there was a son too much in the case. Joshand I never hit it off. However, I made the most of the position, and I'vealways taken my glass in good company. It's been all on the square withme; I'm as open as the day. You won't take it ill of me that I didn't lookyou up before. I've got a complaint that makes me a little dilatory. Ithought you were trading and praying away in London still, and didn'tfind you there. But you see I was sent to you, Nick—perhaps for ablessing to both of us."
Mr. Raffles ended with a jocose snuffle: no man felt his intellectmore superior to religious cant. And if the cunning which calculates onthe meanest feelings in men could be, called intellect, he had his share,for under the blurting rallying tone with which he spoke to Bulstrode,there was an evident selection of statements, as if they had been somany moves at chess. Meanwhile Bulstrode had determined on his move,and he said, with gathered resolution—
"You will do well to reflect, Mr. Raffles, that it is possible for a manto overreach himself in the effort to secure undue advantage. Although Iam not in any way bound to you, I am willing to supply you with aregular annuity—in quarterly payments—so long as you fulfil a promiseto remain at a distance from this neighborhood. It is in your power tochoose. If you insist on remaining here, even for a short time, you willget nothing from me. I shall decline to know you."
"Ha, ha!" said Raffles, with an affected explosion, "that reminds meof a droll dog of a thief who declined to know the constable."
"Your allusions are lost on me sir," said Bulstrode, with white heat;"the law has no hold on me either through your agency or any other."
"You can't understand a joke, my good fellow. I only meant that Ishould never decline to know you. But let us be serious. Your quarterlypayment won't quite suit me. I like my freedom."
Here Raffles rose and stalked once or twice up and down the room,swinging his leg, and assuming an air of masterly meditation. At last hestopped opposite Bulstrode, and said, "I'll tell you what! Give us a coupleof hundreds—come, that's modest—and I'll go away—honor bright!—pickup my portmanteau and go away. But I shall not give up my Liberty for adirty annuity. I shall come and go where I like. Perhaps it may suit me tostay away, and correspond with a friend; perhaps not. Have you themoney with you?"
"No, I have one hundred," said Bulstrode, feeling the immediateriddance too great a relief to be rejected on the ground of futureuncertainties. "I will forward you the other if you will mention anaddress."
"No, I'll wait here till you bring it," said Raffles. "I'll take a stroll andhave a snack, and you'll be back by that time."
Mr. Bulstrode's sickly body, shattered by the agitations he had gonethrough since the last evening, made him feel abjectly in the power ofthis loud invulnerable man. At that moment he snatched at a temporaryrepose to be won on any terms. He was rising to do what Rafflessuggested, when the latter said, lifting up his finger as if with a suddenrecollection—
"I did have another look after Sarah again, though I didn't tell you;I'd a tender conscience about that pretty young woman. I didn't find her,but I found out her husband's name, and I made a note of it. But hang it,I lost my pocketbook. However, if I heard it, I should know it again. I'vegot my faculties as if I was in my prime, but names wear out, by Jove!Sometimes I'm no better than a confounded tax-paper before the namesare filled in. However, if I hear of her and her family, you shall know,Nick. You'd like to do something for her, now she's your step-daughter."
"Doubtless," said Mr. Bulstrode, with the usual steady look of hislight-gray eyes; "though that might reduce my power of assisting you."
As he walked out of the room, Raffles winked slowly at his back, andthen turned towards the window to watch the banker riding away—virtually at his command. His lips first curled with a smile and thenopened with a short triumphant laugh.
"But what the deuce was the name?" he presently said, half aloud,scratching his head, and wrinkling his brows horizontally. He had notreally cared or thought about this point of forgetfulness until it occurredto him in his invention of annoyances for Bulstrode.
"It began with L; it was almost all l's I fancy," he went on, with asense that he was getting hold of the slippery name. But the hold was tooslight, and he soon got tired of this mental chase; for few men were moreimpatient of private occupation or more in need of making themselvescontinually heard than Mr. Raffles. He preferred using his time inpleasant conversation with the bailiff and the housekeeper, from whomhe gathered as much as he wanted to know about Mr. Bulstrode'sposition in Middlemarch.
After all, however, there was a dull space of time which neededrelieving with bread and cheese and ale, and when he was seated alonewith these resources in the wainscoted parlor, he suddenly slapped hisknee, and exclaimed, "Ladislaw!" That action of memory which he hadtried to set going, and had abandoned in despair, had suddenlycompleted itself without conscious effort—a common experience,agreeable as a completed sneeze, even if the name remembered is of novalue. Raffles immediately took out his pocket-book, and wrote down thename, not because he expected to use it, but merely for the sake of notbeing at a loss if he ever did happen to want it. He was not going to tellBulstrode: there was no actual good in telling, and to a mind like that ofMr. Raffles there is always probable good in a secret.
