Will Warburton

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 33, 8 February 1905, Page 11

Will Warburton

' mWSX a romange of keal life. ■ B By GEORGE GISSING (Author of "Demos," "The Nether World,'' etc.)

» i CHATSEER I. ••jjje- serf-wind in his hair, his eyes -Jeam-wifch the, fresh memory of Alpine "\Ssil Warbnxton sprang out of the driver a double fare, on to his shoulder a heavy bag, B d°jan ,u ft two stepS at a stridc ' l 0 a ,L.<Hu;the fourth floor of the manybuilding hard by Chelsea His rat-tat-tat brought to the a thin yellow face, cautious in the narrow opening. Mrs Hopper! How are MB^r-bo*' 33 - 6 ? 0 " 7 " , 7 ' He threw his bag into the passage, 4<nr 4iairy grasped the woman's hand. •■Ttnaa ready? Savagely hungry, jgiremethree minutes, and serve." For about that length of time there the bedroom a splashing and yjggjMr; then Warburton came forth jed cheeks. He seized upon a little io3e -of lettejs and packets which lay on W raoting-table, broke envelopes, rent and read with now an ejaculation of pleassnre., now a grunt of disgust, again a mirthful half roar. Then, dinner— **c ieeding of a famished man of lobnst appetite and digestion, a man three or four years on the green side of ijjjjjtt ft was a speedy business, in not . amsh mare than a quarter of an hour +he» disappeared a noble steak and its a. golden-crusted apple a substantial slice of right Cheddar, tiro bottles of creamy Bass. ' "Sow I can talk!" said Will to his as he threw himself into a deep eifflSr, and began lighting his pipe. 'vtfiu&s the news? I seem to have been arty three months rather than three I r ;weeks." fHr Franks called yesterday, sir, late j 8n the aiberncon. when I was here cleaning. Be was very glad to hear yon'd , te back to-day, and said he might look | in to-night." "Good! Wlmt else?" j "My brother-in-law wishes to see you, I sir. He's iv trouble again—lost his place at Boson's a. few days ago. I don't i «atfiy know bow it happened, but he'll | explain everything. He's very unfortunate, sir, is Allchin." '•Tell him to come before nine tomorrow morning, if he can." "Yes. sir. I'm sure it's very kind of you, sir." "What else?" "Nothiiig as I car think of just now, Iff.". Warburton knew from the woman's way of speaking that she had something still in her mind: but his pipe being well lit, and a pleasant lassitude creeping over him. he merely nodded. Mrs Hopper cleared the table, and withdrew. lie window looker! across the gardens of Chelsea Hospital (old-time Ranclagh) to the westward reach of the river, beyond which lay Battersea Park, with its lawns r and foliage. A beam of the July sunset struck suddenly through !thc room. .Warburton was aware of it tnlh lialf-elosed eyes; he wished to stir himsplf|- and look forth, but languor held Jiis limbs, and wreathing tobacco smoke Icept lis thoughts among tbe mountains. He might have quite dozed off hud not a sudden noise from within aroused him— the iinnristakable crash of falling crocktry. It made him laugh, a laugh of I humorous expostulation. A minute or j two passed, then came a timid tap at his 4oor, and Mrs Hopper showed her face. ''Another accident, sir, I'm sorry to *ay," were her faltering words. "Extensive V "A dish and two plates. I'm sorry to say, sir." "Oh, that's nothing." , "Of course I shall make them good, 'Pooh! Aren't there plates enough?" "Oh, quite enoughs—just yet, sir." subdued a chuckle, and aooked with friendly smile at his domestic, who stood squeezing herself f*£een the edge of the door and the habit when embarrassed. Srs Hopper had served him for three he knew all her weaknesses, but ifcought more of her virtues, chief of TOrich were honest intention and a Jnouerate aptitude for plain cooking. A 6kW» about this room would have jwveii to any visitor that Mrs Hopper's ™#5 of cleanliness were by no means *|>d, bwt her master had" made himm to a certain extent responsible for was defect: he paid little attention to W, provided that things were in their Wonted order. Mrs Hopper was not a ttsioent domestic; she eiunc at stated »<nirs. Ohviouelv a. widow, she liad v Spoor,_ Iwse-hung, trailing " little body, f^L 110 nonri smnent could plump or JOrtuy. Her visage was habitirallv dole- ™. but contracted itself at moments Mo a grin of quaint drollery, which bewayed her for something of a humorist. *$$ fingers is all gone silly to-day, *«. she pursued. "1 daresay it's be I haven't had much sleep these last "How's tbat?" «r*i„ _"-s my poor sistpr. sir—mv sister head K°f att ~ Slio ' s had onp of b " WOTSt ■»Jr 8 5m?-*~ thc extra s P ep ia]. »* call ■thre* a lime its last *d more than W «. ys ' and not °" p minute of rest l£-£ orthiD ?g { *"" ouir!l v R Was all sympathy: he enthat f Dt the Qa -" p a * though it were *ir and ™ ™ tbnsit ? friend. Change of »o W T< ; POSe WGre obv ious remedies: ' «nt obrioi, s>y. these things Were WV i quc " s " tioll for « working woman "Do °, a f " v sWI »ttgs a week. £o to" 1, of any P lace she f '°" ld IwT Warburtou - i>ddin S careyg> U the means were provided." i&UjL r ;r 0p P er squeezed herself more Ser wT n 6m betweeri door and jamb. »ad wl ™T bent in an abashed'way. i&Cw 8 T ke if ' was 5n a tbick ' '"The!*- y JUSt intel % ible - a !' tt,e Jod £ in S " mise at *>v'w„' j T- wlierp We fo ?° when ■ ':•ss?** eouM afford it.' &*T%iX here - Clet a doctor " s STwhi 6r Southend would do; if fts? p t wou,d - And ' nßt send Bjsney» *' Don't worry about the ttrSf l^ 6 MaWed Mr * Hopper to in. adTiee ' Sho * tamraered ' Tin ' ' dib,v^- y ° ur ofcber sister—Mrs All*-! ' l£ Why Jr l^ 01 ! enc > uired t^y'ealth S S S doin S pretty well in ; •tyW v her bab y ?*****■ I M an tv \!° pe yotfll excuse mc, sir, •&fe back 1 ?™*!? ws J ust when y<" n 1 *"* aatorni yonr h °fi<lay, and when-!

■*-♦ ' bis return from a holiday. Mrs Hopper always presumed him to be despondent m view of the resumption of daily work. i tie was beginning to talk of Mrs All- ! chin s troubles, when at the outer door, sounded a long nervous knock. "Ha! That's Mr Franks.". Mrs Hopper ran to admit the visitor. CHAPTER 11. "Warburton!" cried ;i high-pitched voice from the passage. -Have you seen 'The Art World?' " And there rushed into tlie room a tall, auburn headed young man of five-and-twenty, his comely face glowing in excitement. With one hand he grasped his friend's in the other he held out a magazine. "You haven't seen it! Look here' What d'you think of that, confound you!" lie had opened the magazine so as to display an illustration, entitled 'Sanctuary,"' and stated to be after a painting by Norbert Pranks. "Isn't it good? Doesn't it come out well?—dence take you, why don't you speak?'' "Not bad—for a photogravure," said Warburton. who had the air of a grave elder in the presence of this ebullient youth. "Be hanged! We know all about that. The thing ss that it's there. Don't you feel any surprise? Haven't you "got anything to say? Don't you see what this means, you old ragamuffin?" "Shouldn't wonder if it meant coin of the realm—for your shrewd dealer." 'Tor mc too, my boy, for mc too! Not out of this thing, of course. But I've arrived, I'm lance, the way is clear! Why, you don't seem to know what it means getting into The Art World." "I seem to remember," said Warburton, smilirjg, "that a month or two ago, you hadn't language contemptuous enough for this magazine and all connected with if." "Don't be. an s.ss," shrilled the other, who was all this time circling about the little room with preat gesticulation. "Of course one talks like that when one hasn't enough to eat and can't sell a picture. I don't pretend to have altered my opinion about photogravures, and all that. But come now, the thing itSelf? Be honest, Warburton. Is it bad, now? Can you look at that picture and say that it is worthless?" *"I never said anything of the kind." "No. no! You're, too deucedly goodna.'urtd. But I always detected what you were thinking, and I saw it. didn't surpvise you at all when the Academy muffs refused if." "There you're wrong." fried Watburtou, 'T was really surprised." "Confound your impudence! Well, you may think what you like. I maintain thai the thing isn't half bad. It grows upon mc. I see its merits more and more." Franks was holding np the picture eyeing it intently.\ "Sanctuary" represented Hie interior of an 6\(. village church. On the ground against a pillar. | crouched a young and beautiful woman, her dress and general aspect indicating the last degree of vagrant wretchedness; worn out, she had fallen asleep iv a most graceful attitude, and the rays of a winter sunset smote upon her pallid countenance. Before her stood tne village clergyman, who had evidentj ly just entered and found her there; his white head was bent in the wonted attitnde of clerical benevolence; in his face blended a gentle wonder and a compassionate tenderness. "If that had been hung at Burlington House, Warburton, it would have been the picture of the year.*' "I think it very likely." "Yes, I know what you mean, you sarcastic old ruffian. But there's another point of view. Is the drawing good or not? Is the colonr good or not? Of course you know nothing about it, but J. teD you, for yonr information, I think it's a confoundedly clever bit of work. There remains the subject- and what's the barm in it? The incident's quite possible. And why shouldn't tbe girl be good-looking?" "Angelic!" "Well, why not? There are girls with angelic faces. Don't I. know one?" Warburton, who had been sitting with a leg over the arm of his chair, suddenly changed his position. "That reminds mc," he said. "I came across the Pomfrcts in Switzerland." 'Where! "When?" '"At Trient, ten days ago. I. spent three or four days with them. Hasn't Miss El van mentioned it?" "I haven't heard from her for a long time," replied Framko. "Well, for more than a week. Did you meet them by chance?" •'Quite. 1 had n idea that the Pomfrets and their niece were somewhere in Switzerland." "Vague idea!" cried the. artist. "Why. I told you all about it, and growled for live or six hours one evening here because I couldn't go with them." v '!=o you did," said Warburton, "but I'm afraid I was thinking of something else, and when I. started for the AlpSj 1 had really, forgotten all about it. I made up my mind suddenly, you knew. We're having a trooiWesome time in Ailie Street, and it -was 'holiday now or never. By the bye, we shall have to wind up. Sugar spells rum. We must get out of it whilst we can do so with a whole skin." "Ah. really?" muttered Franks. "Tell -ne about, that presently: I want to hear Of Kosamund. You sow a good deal of her. of course?" '•I walked from Chamonix over th« Col de Bahne —grand view " of Mount Blanc there! Then down to Trient, in the valley below. And there, as I went in to dinner at the hotel, I found the three. Good old Pomfret would have mc stay awhile, and I was glad erf the- chance of 'long talks with Queer oM bird. Ralph Pomfrot." "Yes, yes. so he is," muttered the artist, absently. "But Kosamund —was. she enjoying herself?" "Very much, I think. She certainly looked very well." "Have much talk with her?" asked Franks, as if carelessly. "We discussed you. of course. I for l «-et whether our conclusion was favourable or not." The artist laughed, and strode about the room with his hands in his pockets." "You know what?" he exclaimed, seeming to look closely at a print on the ; wall. "I'm going to be married before the end of the year. On that point Pvemade up my mind- I went yesterday' io see a house at Rflhani—Sirs Cross's,- ■■ by tne bye, it's .to let. a* Michaelmas,

rent forty-five. All but settled that I shall take it. Risk be. hanged. I'm going to make money. What an ass I was to take that fellow's first offer for 'Sanctuary:' It was low water with mc and I felt bilious. Fifty guineas! Your fault, a good deal, you know; you made mc think worse of it than it deserved. You'll see; Blackstaffe '11 make a small fortune out of it; of course he has all the rights—idiot that I was! Well, it'js too late to talk about that.—And I say, old man, don't take my growl too literally. I don't really mean that you were to blame. I should be an ungrateful cur if I thought such a thing." "How's 'The Slummer' getting on?" asked Warburton good humouredly". "Well, I was going to say that I shall have it finished in a few weeks. If Bickerstaffe wants 'The Slummer' he'll have to pay for it. Of course it must go to the Academy, and of course I shall keep all the rights—unless Blackstaffe makes a really handsome offer. Why. it ought to be worth five or six hundred to mc at least. would start us. But I don't care, even I only get half that, I shall be married all the same. Rosamund has plenty of pluck. I couldn't ask her to start life on a pound a week—about my average for the last two years; but with two or three hundred in hand, and a decent little nOuse, like that of Mrs Cross's, at a reasonable rent—well, we shall risk it. I'm sick of waiting. And it isn't fair to a girl— that's my view. Two years now; an engagement that lasts more than two years isn't likely to come to much good. You'll think my behaviour pretty cool, on one point. I don't forget, you old usurer, that I owe you something more than a hundred pounds—"' "Pooh!"' "Be poohed yourself! But for you, I should have gone without dinner many a. day: but for you, I should most likely have had to chuck painting altogether, and turn clerk or dock-labourer. But let mc stay in your debt a little longer, old man. I can't put off my marriage any longer, and just at first I shall want all the money I can lay my hands on." At this moment Mrs Hopper entered with a lamp. There was a pause in the conversation. Franks lit a cigarette, and tried to sit still, but was very soon .pacing the floor again. A tumbler of whisky and soda reanimated his flajrsrins talk. I "No!" he exclaimed. "I'm not going j to admit that 'Sanctuary' is cheap and sentimental, awl all the rest of it. The | j more I think about it, the more conI vinced I a.m that it's nothing to be ashamed of. People have got hold, of j the idea that if a thing is popular it I must be bad art. That's all rot. T'm j going in for popularity. Look here! | Suppose that's what I was meant for? ; I What if it's the best I have in mc. to j j do? Shouldn't I be a jackass if I scorned I to make money .by what, for mc. wa-S . good work, and preferred lo starve I . whilst I turned out pretentious stuff! I that was worth nothing from my point I of view?" j "I shouldn't wonder if you're right," ! I said Warburton reflectively. "In any j case, I know as much about art""as T do I about the different calculus. To make money is a good and joyful 'thing as I long as one doesn't bleed the poor. So go ahead, my son, and luck be with yon!" "I can't find my mcdeJ yet for the Slumnrer'3 head. It mustn't be too like the girl, but at the sa.mc time it must lie a popular type of beauty. I've .been hlauntdng refreshment bars sund florists' shops; lots of good material, but never quite the thing. There's a damsel at the Crystal Palace —.but this doesn't interest you. you old misogynist." "Old what?" exclaimed Warburton, with an air of genuine surprise. "Have I got the word wrong? I'm not much of a classic—" "The word's all right. But that's your idea of mc. is it?" The artist stood and gazed at hie I friend with an odd expression, as if a joke had been arrested on his lips <by graver thought. '""Isn't it true?" "Perhaps it is; yes, yes, I daresay." And he turned at once to another subject. CHAPTER MI. The year was 1886. When at Business. Warburton sat in a high, bare room, which looked upon 'little Ailre-street, in Wb?teeha.pel; the air he breathed had a taste and odour strongly saccharine. If his eye strayed to one of the walls. ?.e. sraw a map of the West Indies: if to another, it fell upon a heap of Ht. Kitts: if to the third, there was before him a plan of a sugar estate on that little island. Here he sat for certain hoars of the i solid day, issuing orders to clerks, re- I ceiving commercial callers, studying trade journals in sundry languages—often reading some book which had n:> obvious ' reference to the sugar refining industry. If was not Will's ideal of life, but hither he had suffered himiself to be led by circumstance, and his musings suggested no practicable issue into a more . congenial world. The death of his father ovjben be was sixteen had left ihim with a certain liberty for abaping a career. What he saw definitely before him was a small share in the St. Kitts property of Messr3 Shepwood Brothers, a small share in the London .business of the same firm, and a . small sum of ready money —Hiese things to .be 'his when he attained to majority. His mother and sister, who lived in a little country house town m Huirtmgdonshire, were modestiy but securely provided for, and Will might Kave gone quietly on with his studies .bill he could resolve upon a course in life. But no sooner was he freed from paternal restraint than the lad grew restive; nothing would please him but an adventure in foreign lands; and when it became clear that he Was only wasting bis time srt slrfiooL Mrs Warbnrt.on let him go to the West Indies, v. here a place was •found for him in the house of Sherwood Brothers. At St. Kitts, Will remained till he was bne-and-bweaty. Ixmg before that, he had grown heartily tired of his work, disgusted with the etiolate, and oppressed with" home sick-' ness, but pride forbade nun to retarn until -he could do so as a free man. One thing this apprenticeship to life had taught Jrirn—that toe was no/ made for subordination. "I don't care how poor I am," thus he wrote to his mother, "but I will be my own master. To be at other people's orders, brings out all the bad in mc; it makes mc sullen and bearish, and ill sorts of ugly' things, which I certainly am not when my true self has play. So, you see, I must find some independent way of life. If I had to live by carrying round a Punch and Jady show, I should vastly prefer it to making a large income as somebody's servant." Meanwhile, unfortunately for a young man of this temperament, his prospects had become less assured. There- was perturbation hi tbe* sugar world; income from St. KJ**s and Iron* WMtenbapel

had sensibly diminished, and, it seemed but too likely, would continue to do so. For some half-year Will lived in London, '"looking about him," then he announced j that Godfrey Sherwood, ut present sole I ! representative of Sherwood Bros., had of- ! i fered him an active partnership in Little ! Ailie-street, and that hj had accepted it. I He entered upon this position without zeal, but six months' investigation had taught him that to earn money without ! surrendering his independence was no [very easy thing: he probably might wait I a long time before an opening would j present itself more attractive than this at the sugar-refinery. I Godfrey Sherwood was a schoolfellow of his, but some two or three years older; much good feeling existed between them, their tastes and tempers having just that difference in similarity which is the surest bond of friendship. Judged by his talk, Sherwood was all vigour, energy, fire; his personal habits, on the Other hand, inclined a tranquility and ; ease—a great reader, he loved the literature of romance and adventure, knew by heart authors such as Malcry and Iroissart, had on his shelves all the books of travel and adventure he could procure. As a boy he seemed destined to any life save that of humdrum commerce, of which he sppke with con temp I and abhorrence; and there was no reason winhe should not have gratified his desire of seeing the world, of leading what he called "the life of a man." Yet here he was, sitting each day in a countinghouse in Whiteehapel, with nothing behind him but a few rambles on the Continent, and certainly with no immediate intention of going far afield. His father's death left him in sole command of the business, and his reasonable course would have been to retire from it as soon as possible, for foreign competition was making itself felt in the English trade, and niany firms more solidly established than that in Little Ailiestreet had either come to grief or withdrawn from the struggle. But Godfrey's inertia kept him in the familiar routine, with day to day postponement of practical decision. When Warburton came back from St. Kitts, and their friendship was renewed, Godfrey's talk gave full play to his imaginative energies. Yes, yes, the refining business wai at a bad pass just now, but this was only temporary; those firms that could weather the storm for a year or two longer would enter upon a time of brilliant prosperity. Was it to be supposed that the Government would allow a great industry to perish out of mere regard for the I fetish of Free Trade! City men with I first-hand information declared that "measures" were being prepared; in one , way or another, the English trade would 'be rescued and made triumphant over those bounty-fed foreigners. "Hold on?" cried Sherwood. "Of course 1 mean to hold on. There's pleasure and honour in the thing. 1 enjoy the fight. I've had thoughts of getting into Parliament, to speak for sugar. One might do worse, you know. There'll be a dissolution next year, certain. Firstrate fun, fighting a constituency. But in that case i must have a partner here— why that's an idea. How would it suit you? Why not join mc?" And so the thing came about. The terms which Godfrey offered were so •enerous that Will had to reduce them before he accepted; even thus, he found his income at a stroke, all but doubledSherwood, to be sure, did not stand for Parliament, nor was anything definite heard about that sugar-protecting budget which he still believed in. In Little Ailie-street business steadily declined. "It's a disgrace to England!" cried Godfrey. "Monstrous that not a finger should be lifted to save one of our most important industries. You, of course, are free to retire at any moment, Will. For my own part, here I stand, come what may. If it's ruin, ruin let it be. I'll fight to the last. A man owes mc ten thousand pounds. When I recover it, and I may any day—l shall put every penny into the business." "Ton thousand pounds!" exclaimed Warburton iv astonishment. "A trade debt, do you mean?" "No, no. A friend of mine, son of a millionaire, who got into difficulties some time ago, and borrowed of mc to clear himself. Good interest, and principal safe as Consols. In a year at most I shall have the money back, and every penny shall go into the business." Will had his private view of the matter, and not seldom suffered a good deal of 'uneasiness as he saw the inevitable doom approach. But already it was too •late to withdraw his share from tbe concern; that would have been merely to take'advantage of Sherwood's generosity, and Will was himself not less chivalrous. In Godfrey's phrase they continued "to fight the ship," and perhaps would have held out to the moment of sinking, had not the accession of the Liberals to power in the spring of this present year caused Sherwood so deep a disgust that he turned despondent, and began to talk of surrender to hopeless circumstance. •'lt's all up with us, Will. This Government spells ruin, and will count it one of its chief glories if we come to grief. But. by heaven, they shan't have that joy. We'll square up. quietly, comfortably, with dignity. We'll come out of this fight with arms and baggage. It's still possible, you know. Well sell the St. Kitts estate to the Germans. We'll find someone to buy us up here —tlie place would suit a brewer. And then — by Jove! wcTl make jam." Jam?'' '"'lsn't it an idea? Cheap sugar has ckmo for tbe refiners, but it's a fortune for tbe jam trade. Why not pnt all we can realise into a jam factory? Well go down into the country; find some delightful place where land is cheap; start a fruit farm; run up a building. Doesn't, it take you, Will? Think of going to business every day through lanes overhung with fruit tree blossoms! Better that, than the filth and stench and gloom and uproaT of Whiteehapel— what? We might found a village for our work-people—the ideal village, perfectly healthy', every cottage beautiful, Eh? What f How does it strike you. Will?" "Pleasant. But the money?" "We shall have enough to start; I think we shall. If not, we'll find a moneyed man to join us." "What about that ten thousand pounds?" Suggested" Warburton. Sherwood shook bis head. "Can't get it just yet. To tell you tne truth it depends on the death, of tbe man's father. No, but, if necessary, someone will easily be found. Isn't the idea magnificent ? How it would rile the Government, if they heard of it! Ho, ho." One could never be sure how far Godfrey was serious when he talked like this; the humorous impulse so blended with the excitability of his imagination, that people who knew him little and lieard him talking at large thought him something of a crack-brain. The odd thing was that, with all his peculiarities, he had many of the characteristics of a sound man of business; indeed, had it been otherwise, the balancesheets of the refinery must long ago have shown a disastrous deficit. As Warbnrton knew, things had been managed with, bo little prudence iu»d saija-

city; what he did not so clearly understand was that Sherwood bad simply adhered to the traditions of the firm, following very- exactly the path marked out for him by his father and his uncle, | both notable traders. Concerning Godfrey's privaSe resources, Warburton knew little or nothing; it seemed probable that, the elder Sherwood had left a considerable fortune, which his only sou must have inherited. No doubt, said Will to himself, this large reserve was the explanation of his pactner's courage. .So the St. Kitts estate was sold, and, with all the deliberate dignity demanded by the frfct that the Government's eye was upon them. Sherwood Brothers proceeded to terminate their affairs in Whitecliapel. In July. Warburton took his three weeiks' holiday, there being nothing better j : or him to do. And among the letters he found on his table when : he returned, was one from Sherwood, which contained only these words: "Great opportunity in view. Our fortunes are made!" (To be continued next f day.)