THE CONQUEST OF MR. VIMPANY
THE Irish lord came in--with his medical friend sulkily in attendance
on him. He looked at Fanny, and asked where her mistress was.
"My lady is in her room, sir."
Hearing this, he turned sharply to Mountjoy. On the point of speaking,
he seemed to think better of it, and went to his wife's room. The maid
followed. "Get rid of him now," she whispered to Hugh, glancing at the
doctor. Mr. Vimpany was in no very approachable humour--standing at the
window, with his hands in his empty pockets, gloomily looking out. But
Hugh was not disposed to neglect the opportunity; he ventured to say:
"You don't seem to be in such good spirits as usual."
The doctor gruffly expressed his opinion that Mr. Mountjoy would not be
particularly cheerful, in his place. My lord had taken him to the
office, on the distinct understanding that he was to earn a little
pocket-money by becoming one of the contributors to the newspaper. And
how had it ended? The editor had declared that his list of writers was
full, and begged leave to suggest that Mr. Vimpany should wait for the
next vacancy. A most impertinent proposal! Had Lord Harry--a
proprietor, remember--exerted his authority? Not he! His lordship had
dropped the doctor "like a hot potato," and had meanly submitted to his
own servant. What did Mr. Mountjoy think of such conduct as that?
Hugh answered the question, with his own end in view. Paving the way
for Mr. Vimpany's departure from the cottage at Passy, he made a polite
offer of his services.
"Can't I help you out of your difficulty?" he said.
"You!" cried the doctor. "Have you forgotten how you received me, sir,
when I asked for a loan at your hotel in London?"
Hugh admitted that he might have spoken hastily. "You took me by
surprise," he said, "and (perhaps I was mistaken, on my side) I thought
you were, to say the least of it, not particularly civil. You did
certainly use threatening language when you left me. No man likes to be
treated in that way."
Mr. Vimpany's big bold eyes stared at Mountjoy in a state of
bewilderment. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?" he asked.
"I am incapable, Mr. Vimpany, of an act of rudeness towards anybody."
"If you come to that," the doctor stoutly declared, "I am incapable
too. It's plain to me that we have been misunderstanding each other.
Wait a bit; I want to go back for a moment to that threatening language
which you complained of just now. I was sorry for what I had said as
soon as your door was shut on me. On my way downstairs I did think of
turning back and making a friendly apology before I gave you up.
Suppose I had done that?" Mr. Vimpany asked, wondering internally
whether Mountjoy was foolish enough to believe him.
Hugh advanced a little nearer to the design that he had in view.
"You might have found me more kindly disposed towards you," he said,
"than you had anticipated."
This encouraging reply cost him an effort. He had stooped to the
unworthy practice of perverting what he had said and done on a former
occasion, to serve a present interest. Remind himself as he might of
the end which, in the interests of Iris, did really appear to justify
the means, he still sank to a place in his own estimation which he was
honestly ashamed to occupy.
Under other circumstances his hesitation, slight as it was, might have
excited suspicion. As things were, Mr. Vimpany could only discover
golden possibilities that dazzled his eyes. "I wonder whether you're in
the humour," he said, "to be kindly disposed towards me now?"
It was needless to be careful of the feelings of such man as this.
"Suppose you had the money you want in your pocket," Hugh suggested,
"what would you do with it?"
"Go back to London, to be sure, and publish the first number of that
work of mine I told you of."
"And leave your friend, Lord Harry?"
"What good is my friend to me? He's nearly as poor as I am--he sent for
me to advise him--I put him up to a way of filling both our pockets,
and he wouldn't hear of it. What sort of a friend do you call that?"
Pay him and get rid of him. There was the course of proceeding
suggested by the private counsellor in Mountjoy's bosom.
"Have you got the publisher's estimate of expenses?" he asked.
The doctor instantly produced the document.
To a rich man the sum required was, after all, trifling enough.
Mountjoy sat down at the writing-table. As he took up a pen, Mr.
Vimpany's protuberant eyes looked as if they would fly out of his head.
"If I lend you the money--" Hugh began.
"Yes? Yes?" cried the doctor.
"I do so on condition that nobody is to know of the loan but
ourselves."
"Oh, sir, on my sacred word of honour--" An order on Mountjoy's bankers
in Paris for the necessary amount, with something added for travelling
expenses, checked Mr. Vimpany in full career of protestation. He tried
to begin again: "My friend! my benefactor--"
He was stopped once more. His friend and benefactor pointed to the
clock.
"If you want the money to-day, you have just time to get to Paris
before the bank closes."
Mr. Vimpany did want the money--always wanted the money; his gratitude
burst out for the third time: "God bless you!"
The object of that highly original form of benediction pointed through
the window in the direction of the railway station. Mr. Vimpany
struggled no longer to express his feelings--he had made his last
sacrifice to appearances--he caught the train.
The door of the room had been left open. A voice outside said: "Has he
gone?"
"Come in, Fanny," said Mountjoy. "He will return to London either
to-night or to-morrow morning."
The strange maid put her head in at the door. "I'll be at the
terminus," she said, "and make sure of him."
Her head suddenly disappeared, before it was possible to speak to her
again. "Was there some other person outside? The other person entered
the room; it was Lord Harry. He spoke without his customary smile.
"I want a word with you, Mr. Mountjoy."
"About what, my lord?"
That direct question seemed to confuse the Irishman. He hesitated.
"About you," he said, and stopped to consider. "And another person," he
added mysteriously.
Hugh was constitutionally a hater of mysteries. He felt the need of a
more definite reply, and asked for it plainly:
"Does your lordship associate that other person with me?"
"Yes, I do."
"Who is the person?"
"My wife."