“Business!” said Mrs. John, “what do I know about business? However,” she added, “if he is so desirous, perhaps you had better show him up. Your master is always pleased when I pay a little attention to the clerks. He says it does good.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said William.
Being a reasonable human creature he was touched in spite of himself by the extraordinary sight of this poor, fine lady, sitting in her short sleeves on the edge of the volcano, and knowing nothing about it. It was too bad of master, William thought, if so be—To leave the poor lady entirely in the dark so that she did not know no more than a baby what the clerk could want with her. William speculated, too, on his own circumstances as he went downstairs. If so be—It was a good place, and he would be sorry to lose it. But he remembered that somebody had said the Sandersons were looking out for a butler.
“Mrs. Vernon will see you, sir,” he said in the midst of these thoughts; and Mr. Rule followed him eagerly upstairs.
But what could Mrs. John do? Her dress was spotted muslin, as most dresses were in those days; it was cut rather low on the shoulders, though she was not dressed for company. She had pretty little ringlets falling upon her cheeks, and short sleeves, and a band round her waist with a shining clasp. She was considered brilliant in conversation, and sang, “We Met, ’Twas in a Crowd,” and the songs previously mentioned, with so much feeling that people had been known to weep as they listened. The clerk had heard of all these accomplishments, and as he hurried in, his eye was caught by the harp in its corner, which was also one of the fashions of the time. He could not help being a little overawed by it, notwithstanding his dreadful anxiety. Poor lady! the thought passed through his mind as similar thoughts had passed through William’s—Would all this be sold away from her? White muslin dresses with low necks have the advantage that they quite seem to separate their wearers from everyday life. We have no doubt that the dying out of chivalry, and the way in which women nowadays insist on doing their own business, and most likely other people’s too, is in great part to be put down to high dresses and long sleeves. In these habiliments a lady looks not so very much different from other people. She feels herself free to go into common life. But Mrs. John sat there helpless, ignorant, quite composed and easy in her mind, with pretty feet in sandalled slippers peeping from under her dress. Mr. Rule had time for all this distressed, regretful sympathy before he could stammer out in a hurry his anxious question—or rather his hope—that Mr. Vernon would be home tomorrow—early?
“I am sure I don’t know,” said Mrs. John. “It would be scarcely worth his while to go away if he was to be back so soon. He said perhaps tomorrow, but more likely next week.”
“Next week!” cried Mr. Rule; “then he may just as well stay away altogether; it will then be too late.”
“Dear me!” said Mrs. John, politely, willing to show an interest; but she did not know what more to say.
“Perhaps you know where he is, ma’am?” said the anxious clerk: for this was the time when people said ma’am. “We might send an express after him. If he were here, things might still be tided over. Excuse me, Mrs. Vernon, but if you can give me any information—”
“Dear me,” said Mrs. John, “my husband was going to London, I think. Is it about business, or anything I may know?”
“All the world will know tomorrow,” cried the agitated clerk, “unless you can give me some assistance. I don’t like to trouble a lady, but what can I do? Mrs. Vernon, tomorrow is market day, and as sure as that day comes if he is not here to make some provision for it, we shall have a run on the bank.”
“A run on the bank!” said Mrs. John, dismayed. “What does that mean?”
“It means that we shall have to pay every note that is presented us in gold: and that everybody will rush upon us with our notes in their hands: and all the people who have deposit accounts will withdraw their money. It means Ruin,” said Mr. Rule, very much flustered indeed, wiping the perspiration from his brow. He had an account himself, and a considerable sum to his credit. Oh, the fool he had been to let it lie there instead of investing it! but then, he had been waiting for a good investment, and in the meantime, Vernon’s was as safe, safer than the Bank of England. He had believed that till today.
Mrs. John sat looking at him with bewildered eyes.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “The bank of course is for that, isn’t it? I never understand how you do it,” she added, with a little of the sprightliness for which she was distinguished. “It has always been a mystery to me what good it can do you to take all the trouble of paying people’s bills for them, and locking up their money, and having all that responsibility; but I cannot deny that it seems to answer,” she concluded with a little simper.
The harassed clerk looked at her with a pity that was almost tragic. If she had not been so handsome and so fine, and surrounded with all these luxuries, it is very likely he would have been impatient, and considered her a fool.
He replied gently—
“I dare say, ma’am, it is difficult for you to form an idea of business; but I am almost forgetting, sitting talking to you, how dreadfully serious it is. If I knew where Mr. Vernon was, I would send a post-chaise directly. We are lost if
