He was called upon to meet Rowan on friendly terms, and he obeyed. The friendship was not very cordial, but such as it was it served its purpose. The meeting took place in the dining-room of the brewery, and Mrs. Tappitt was present on the occasion. The lady received her visitor with some little affectation of grandeur, while T., standing with his hands in his pockets on his own rug, looked like a whipped hound. The right hand he was soon forced to bring forth, as Rowan demanded it that he might shake it.
“I am very glad that this affair has been settled between us amicably,” said Luke, while he still held the hand of the abdicating brewer.
“Yes; well, I suppose it’s for the best,” said Tappitt, bringing out his words uncomfortably and with hesitation. “Take care and mind what you’re about, or I suppose I shall have to come back again.”
“There’ll be no fear of that, I think,” said Rowan.
“I hope not,” said Mrs. Tappitt, with a tone that showed that she was much better able to master the occasion than her husband. “I hope not; but this is a great undertaking for so young a man, and I trust you feel your responsibility. It would be disagreeable to us, of course, to have to return to the brewery after having settled ourselves pleasantly at Torquay; but we shall have to do so if things go wrong with you.”
“Don’t be frightened, Mrs. Tappitt; you shall never have to come back here.”
“I hope not; but it is always well to be on one’s guard. I am sure you must be aware that Mr. Tappitt has behaved to you very generously; and if you have the high principle for which we are willing to give you credit, and which you ought to possess for the management of such an undertaking as the brewery, you will be careful that me and my daughters shan’t be put to inconvenience by any delay in paying up the income regularly.”
“Don’t be afraid about that, Mrs. Tappitt.”
“Into the bank on quarter day, if you please, Mr. Rowan. Short accounts make long friends. And as Mr. T. won’t want to be troubled with letters and suchlike, you can send me a line to Montpellier Villa, Torquay, just to say that it’s done.”
“Oh, I’ll see to that,” said Tappitt.
“My dear, as Mr. Rowan is so young for the business there’ll be nothing like getting him to write a letter himself, saying that the money is paid. It’ll keep him up to the mark like, and I’m sure I shan’t mind the trouble.”
“Don’t you be alarmed about the money, Mrs. Tappitt,” said Rowan, laughing; “and in order that you may know how the old shop is going on, I’ll always send you at Christmas sixteen gallons of the best stuff we’re brewing.”
“That will be a very proper little attention, Mr. Rowan, and we shall be happy to drink success to the establishment. Here’s some cake and wine on the table, and perhaps you’ll do us the favour to take a glass—so as to bury any past unkindness. T., my love, will you pour out the wine?”
It was twelve o’clock in the day, and the port wine, which had been standing for the last week in its decanter, was sipped by Luke Rowan without any great relish. But it also served its purpose—and the burial service over past unkindness was performed with as much heartiness as the nature of the entertainment admitted. It was not as yet full four months since Rowan had filled Rachel’s glass with champagne in that same room. Then he had made himself quite at home in the house as a member of Mr. Tappitt’s family; but now he was going to be at home there as master of the establishment. As he put down the glass he could not help looking round the room, and suggesting to himself the changes he would make. As seen at present, the parlour of the brewery was certainly a dull room. It was very long since the wainscoting had been painted, longer since the curtains or carpets had been renewed. It was dark and dingy. But then so were the Tappitts themselves. Before Rachel should be brought there he would make the place as bright as herself.
They said to him no word about his marriage. As for Tappitt he said few words about anything; and Mrs. Tappitt, with all her wish to be gracious, could not bring herself to mention Rachel Ray. Even between her and her daughters there was no longer any utterance of Rachel’s name. She had once declared to Augusta, with irrepressible energy, that the man was a greater fool than she had ever believed possible, but after that it had been felt that the calamity would be best endured in silence.
When that interview in the dining-room was over, Rowan saw no more of Mrs. Tappitt. Business made it needful that he should be daily about the brewery, and there occasionally he met the poor departing man wandering among the vats and empty casks like a brewer’s ghost. There was no word spoken between them as to business. The accounts, the keys, and implements were all handed over through Worts; and Rowan found himself in possession of the whole establishment with no more trouble than would have been necessary in settling himself in a new lodging.
That promise which he had half made of sending bridecake to
