“Forced! It’s liberty ’all here, and you can do as you please. Only when a fellow will take a drop with me he’s better company.”
“Then I’m d⸺ bad company, and you’d better get somebody else to be jolly with. To tell you the truth, Sexty, I suit you better at business than at this sort of thing. I’m like Shylock, you know.”
“I don’t know about Shylock, but I’m blessed if I think you suit me very well at anything. I’m putting up with a deal of ill-usage, and when I try to be happy with you, you won’t drink, and you tell me about Shylock. He was a Jew, wasn’t he?”
“That is the general idea.”
“Then you ain’t very much like him, for they’re a sort of people that always have money about ’em.”
“How do you suppose he made his money to begin with? What an ass you are!”
“That’s true. I am. Ever since I began putting my name on the same bit of paper with yours I’ve been an ass.”
“You’ll have to be one a bit longer yet;—unless you mean to throw up everything. At this present moment you are six or seven thousand pounds richer than you were before you first met me.”
“I wish I could see the money.”
“That’s like you. What’s the use of money you can see? How are you to make money out of money by looking at it? I like to know that my money is fructifying.”
“I like to know that it’s all there—and I did know it before I ever saw you. I’m blessed if I know it now. Go down and join the ladies, will you? You ain’t much of a companion up here.”
Shortly after that Lopez told Mrs. Parker that he had already bade adieu to her husband, and then he took his wife to their own lodgings.
XLVII
As for Love!
The time spent by Mrs. Lopez at Dovercourt was by no means one of complete happiness. Her husband did not come down very frequently, alleging that his business kept him in town, and that the journey was too long. When he did come he annoyed her either by moroseness and tyranny, or by an affectation of loving good-humour, which was the more disagreeable alternative of the two. She knew that he had no right to be good-humoured, and she was quite able to appreciate the difference between fictitious love and love that was real. He did not while she was at Dovercourt speak to her again directly about her father’s money—but he gave her to understand that he required from her very close economy. Then again she referred to the brougham which she knew was to be in readiness on her return to London; but he told her that he was the best judge of that. The economy which he demanded was that comfortless heartrending economy which nips the practiser at every turn, but does not betray itself to the world at large. He would have her save out of her washerwoman and linendraper, and yet have a smart gown and go in a brougham. He begrudged her postage stamps, and stopped the subscription at Mudie’s, though he insisted on a front seat in the Dovercourt church, paying half a guinea more for it than he would for a place at the side. And then before their sojourn at the place had come to an end he left her for awhile absolutely penniless, so that when the butcher and baker called for their money she could not pay them. That was a dreadful calamity to her, and of which she was hardly able to measure the real worth. It had never happened to her before to have to refuse an application for money that was due. In her father’s house such a thing, as far as she knew, had never happened. She had sometimes heard that Everett was impecunious, but that had simply indicated an additional call upon her father. When the butcher came the second time she wrote to her husband in an agony. Should she write to her father for a supply? She was sure that her father would not leave them in actual want. Then he sent her a cheque, enclosed in a very angry letter. Apply to her father! Had she not learned as yet that she was not to lean on her father any longer, but simply on him? And was she such a fool as to suppose that a tradesman could not wait a month for his money?
During all this time she had no friend—no person to whom she could speak—except Mrs. Parker. Mrs. Parker was very open and very confidential about the business, really knowing very much more about it than did Mrs. Lopez. There was some sympathy and confidence between her and her husband, though they had latterly been much lessened by Sexty’s conduct. Mrs. Parker talked daily about the business now that her mouth had been opened, and was very clearly of opinion that it was not a good business. “Sexty don’t think it good himself,” she said.
“Then why does he go on with it?”
“Business is a thing, Mrs. Lopez, as people can’t drop out of just at a moment. A man gets hisself entangled, and must free hisself as best he can. I know he’s terribly afeard;—and sometimes he does say such things of your husband!” Emily shrunk almost into herself as she heard this. “You mustn’t be angry, for indeed it’s better you should know all.”
“I’m not angry; only very unhappy. Surely Mr. Parker could separate himself from Mr. Lopez if he pleased?”
“That’s what I say to him. Give it up, though it be ever so much as you’ve to lose by him. Give it up, and begin again. You’ve always got your experience, and if it’s only a crust you can earn, that’s sure and safe. But then he declares that he means to pull through yet. I know what men
