“I should then divide that with Mr. Parker. We intend to register at any rate as many as nine partners. Would you object to hold it with me?” Lopez, as he asked the question, looked at her as though he were offering her half his heart.
“No,” said Lizzie, slowly, “I don’t suppose I should object to that.”
“I should be doubly eager about the affair if I were in partnership with you.”
“It’s such a venture.”
“Nothing venture nothing have.”
“But I’ve got something as it is, Mr. Lopez, and I don’t want to lose it all.”
“There’s no chance of that if you join us.”
“You think Bios is so sure!”
“Quite safe,” said Lopez.
“You must give me a little more time to think about it,” said Lady Eustace at last, panting with anxiety, struggling with herself, anxious for the excitement which would come to her from dealing in Bios, but still fearing to risk her money.
This had taken place immediately after Mr. Wharton’s offer of the £5,000, in making which he had stipulated that Emily should be left at home. Then a few days went by, and Lopez was pressed for his money at the office of the San Juan mine. Did he or did he not mean to take up the mining shares allotted to him? If he did mean to do so, he must do it at once. He swore by all his gods that of course he meant to take them up. Had not Mr. Wharton himself been at the office saying that he intended to pay for them? Was not that sufficient guarantee? They knew well enough that Mr. Wharton was a man to whom the raising of £5,000 could be a matter of no difficulty. But they did not know, never could know, how impossible it was to get anything done by Mr. Wharton. But Mr. Wharton had promised to pay for the shares, and when money was concerned his word would surely suffice. Mr. Hartlepod, backed by two of the Directors, said that if the thing was to go on at all, the money must really be paid at once. But the conference was ended by allowing the new local manager another fortnight in which to complete the arrangement.
Lopez allowed four days to pass by, during each of which he was closeted for a time with Lady Eustace, and then made an attempt to get at Mr. Wharton through his wife. “Your father has said that he will pay the money for me,” said Lopez.
“If he has said so he certainly will do it.”
“But he has promised it on the condition that you should remain at home. Do you wish to desert your husband?” To this she made no immediate answer. “Are you already anxious to be rid of me?”
“I should prefer to remain at home,” she said in a very low voice.
“Then you do wish to desert your husband?”
“What is the use of all this, Ferdinand? You do not love me. You did not marry me because I loved you.”
“By heaven I did;—for that and that only.”
“And how have you treated me?”
“What have I done to you?”
“But I do not mean to make accusations, Ferdinand. I should only add to our miseries by that. We should be happier apart.”
“Not I. Nor is that my idea of marriage. Tell your father that you wish to go with me, and then he will let us have the money.”
“I will tell him no lie, Ferdinand. If you bid me go, I will go. Where you find a home I must find one too if it be your pleasure to take me. But I will not ask my father to give you money because it is my pleasure to go. Were I to say so he would not believe me.”
“It is you who have told him to give it me only on the condition of your staying.”
“I have told him nothing. He knows that I do not wish to go. He cannot but know that. But he knows that I mean to go if you require it.”
“And you will do nothing for me?”
“Nothing—in regard to my father.” He raised his fist with the thought of striking her, and she saw the motion. But his arm fell again to his side. He had not quite come to that yet. “Surely you will have the charity to tell me whether I am to go, if it be fixed,” she said.
“Have I not told you so twenty times?”
“Then it is fixed.”
“Yes;—it is fixed. Your father will tell you about your things. He has promised you some beggarly sum—about as much as a tallow-chandler would give his daughter.”
“Whatever he does for me will be sufficient for me. I am not afraid of my father, Ferdinand.”
“You shall be afraid of me before I have done with you,” said he, leaving the room.
Then as he sat at his club, dining there alone, there came across his mind ideas of what the world would be like to him if he could leave his wife at home and take Lizzie Eustace with him to Guatemala. Guatemala was very distant, and it would matter little there whether the woman he brought with him was his wife or no. It was clear enough to him that his wife desired no more of his company. What were the conventions of the world to him? This other woman had money at her own command. He could not make it his own because he could not marry her, but he fancied that it might be possible to bring her so far under his control as to make the money almost as good as his own. Mr. Wharton’s money was very hard to reach, and would be as hard to reach—perhaps harder—when Mr. Wharton was dead, as now, during his life. He had said a good deal to the lady since the interview of which a report has been given. She had declared herself to be afraid of Bios. She did not in
