Will Warburton

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 42, 18 February 1905, Page 14

Will Warburton

, . By GEORGE GISSING (Author of "Demos," "The Nether World," etc.)

SYNOPSIS OF INSTALMENTS I.—IV. Will Warburton, a yonng fellow who it In partnership with Godfrey Sherwood In the sugar business, has returned from a three weeks' holiday in Switzerland, where he has met the fiancee of his friend Franks, au artist, who presently calls to announce the sale of a picture, and his determination to get married on the strength of his success. Business has been bad with Messrs Sherwood for some time past, but amongst the letters Warburton finds waiting for him on his return, Is one from his partner, Baying, "Great opportunity in, view. Our fortunes are made." The scheme on investigation proves to do the purchase of a jam making business from one Applegarth—a business of such ■promise* that Warburton ie Induced to consider the advisability of persuading his mother and sister to Invest their little capital In It. CHAPTER VTH. Warburton often returned from Whitechapel to Chelsea on foot, enjoying the long walk after his day" in the office, j This evening, a heavily clouded sky and Bobbing wind told him that rain was not far off; nevertheless, wishing to think hard, which he could never do so well as when walking at a brisk pace, he set off in the familiar direction —a straight cut. across South London. In Lower Kennington Lane he stopped, as' his habit was, at a little stationer's shop, over which was the name of Potts. During his last year in the West Indies he had befriended an English lad whose health was suffering from the climate, and eventually paid his passage to the United States, whither the young adventurer wished to go in pursuit of his fortune. Not long after he received a letter of thanks from the lad's father, and, on coming to London, he sought out Mr Potts, whose gratitude and its quaint expression had pleased him. The acquaintance continued; whenever Warburton passed the shop-he stepped in and made purchases —generally of things he did not in the least want. Potts had all the characteristics which were wont ta interest Will, and touch his sympathies; he was poor, weak of body, humbleepirited, and of an honest, simple mind. Nothing more natural and cordial than Will's bearing as he entered and held out ■his hand to the shopkeeper. How wa3 business? Any news lately from Jack? Jack, it seemed, was doing pretty well at Pittsburgh; would Mr Warburton care to read; a long letter that had arrived from him a week ago? To his satisfaction, Will found that the letter had enclosed a small sum of money, for a present on the father's birthday. Having, as usual, laden himself ■swith newspapers, periodicals, and notepaper, he went his way. At grimy Vauxhali he crossed the river, and pursued his course along Grosvenor road. Rain had begun to fall, and the driving of the wind obliged him to walk with the umbrella before his face. Happening to glance ahead, when not far from home, he saw, at a distance of twenty yards, a man whom he took for Norbert Franks. The artist was coming towards him, but suddenly he turned round about and walked rapidly away, disappearing in a moment down a side street. Franks it certainly was; impossible to mistake his figure, his gait, and Warburton felt sure that the. abrupt change of direction was caused by his friend's desire to avoid him. Al> the end f»f the byway he looked, and there was 4he familiar figure, marching with quick etep into the rainy distance. Odd! but perhaps it simply meant that Franks had not seen him. He reached home, wrote some letters,made preparations for leaving town by an early train next morning, and dined with his customary appetite. Whilst emoking his after-dinner pipe, he thought again of that queer little incident in Grosvenor road, and resolved of a sudden to go and see Franks. It still rained, so he took advantage of a passing hansom, and drove in a few minutes to the artist's lodgings on the south side of Battersca Park. The door was opened to him by the landlady, who smiled recognition. "No, sir, Mr Franka isn't at home, and hasn't been since after breakfast this morning. And I don't understand it, because he told mc last night that he'd be working all day, and I was to get meals for him as usual. And at ten o'clock the model came—that rough man he's putting into the new picture, you know, sir; and I had to send him away, when he'd waited more than an hour." Warburton was puzzled. "I'll take my turn at waiting," he eaid. "Will you please light the gas for mc in the studio?" The studio was merely, in lodginghouse language, the first floor front; a two-windowed room, with the advantage of north light. On the,walls hung a few framed paintings, several unframed and unfinished, water-colour sketches, studies in crayon, photographs, and so on. In the midst stood the easel, supporting a large canvas, the artist's work on which showed already in a state of hopeful advancement. "The Slunimer" was his provisional name for this picture; he had not yet hit upon that more decorous title which might suit the Academy catalogue. A glance discovered the - subject. In a typical London slum, between small and vile houses, which lowered upon the narrow way, stood a tall, graceful, prettily-cfad young woman, obviously a!visitant from other spheres; iier one hand carried a book, and the other was held by a ragged, cripple child, who gazed up at her with a look of innocent adoration. Hard by stood a miserable creature with an infant at her breast, she too adoring the representative of health, wealth, , ,and charity. Behind, a costermonger, out of work, sprawled on the curb-stone, viewing the invader; he, with resentful eye, his lip suggestive of words unreportable. Where the face of the central figure should have ehone, the canvas still remained blank. "I'm afraid he's worried about her," said the landlady, when she had lit the gas, and stood with Warburton surveying the picture. "He can't find a model good-looking enough. I say to Mr Franks why not make it the portrait of bis own young lady? I'm sure she's goodlooking enough for anything, and—" Whilst speaking, the woman had turned to look at a picture on the wall. Words died upon her lips; consternation appeared in her face; she stood with finger extended. Warburton, glancing where he was , accustomed to see the portrait of Rosamund Elvan, also felt a shock. For, instead of the face which should have smiled upon him, he saw an uglyjiole.jn.the picture, the canvas a a bZv. violentl y «*"« ren <> * doSs° ! What^ 6 W*« exclaimed the landdo* I ynm-

A ROMANCE OF EEAL LIFE. '^^^f

Warburton was very uneasy. He no longer doubted that Franks" had purposely avoided him this afternoon. "I daresay," he with a pretence of carelessness, "the portrait had begun to vex him. He's often spoke of it discontentedly,' and talked of painting another. Ib Wasn't very good." Accepting, or seeming to accept this explanation, the landlady withdrew, and Will paced thoughtfully about the floor. He was back in Switzerland, in the valley which rises to the glacier of Trient. Before him rambled Ralph Pomfret and his wife; at his side was T.osamund Elvan, wWo tistened with a Jlatfering air of interest to all he said, but herself spoke seldom, and seemed, for the most part, preoccupied with some anxiety. He spoke of Norbert Franks; Miss Elvan replied mechanically, and at once made a remark about the landscape. At the i time, he had thought little of this; now i it revived in bis memory, and disturbed him. An hour passed. His patience was nearly at an end. He waited another ten minutes, then left the room, called to the landlady that he was going, and let himself out. Scarcely had he walked half a dozen yards, when he stood face to face with Franks. "Ah J Here you are! I -waited as long as I could " "I'll walk with you," said the artist, turning on his heels. He had shaken hands but limply. His look avoided Warburton'e. His speech was flat, wearied. "What's wrong, Franks?" "As you've been o the studio, I daresay you know." "I saw something that surprised mc." "Did it surprise you ?" asked Norbert, In a half-sullen undertone. "What do you mean by that?" said Will, with subdued resentment. The rain had. ceased; a high wind buffeted them as they went along the almost deserted street. The necessity of clutching at his hat might have ex plained Norbert's silence for a moment; but he strode on without speaking. "Of course, if you don't care to talk about it," said Will, stopping short. "I've been walking about all day," Franks replied; "and I've got hell inside mc; I'd rather not have met you to-right, that's the truth. But I can't let you go without asking a plain question. Did it surprise you to see that portrait smashed?" "Very much. What do you hint at?" "I had a letter this morning from Rosamund, saying she couldn't marry mc, and that all must be over between us. Does that surprise you?" "Yes, it docs. Such a-.possibility had never entered my mind." , Franks checker" hia step, just where the wind roared at an unprotected corner.. "I've no choice but to believe you," he said, irritably. "And no doubt I'm making a fool of myself. That is why I shot out of your way this afternoon —I wanted to wait till I got calmer. Let's say good-night.' 5 'You're tired out," said Warburton. "Don't go any further this way, but let mc walk back with you—l won't go in. I cant leave you in this state of mind. Of course, I begin to see what you mean, and a wilder idea never got into any man's head. Whatever the explanation of what has happened, I have nothing to do with it." "You say so, and I believe you." "Which means, that you don't. I sha'n't cut up rough; you're not yourself, and I can make all allowances. Think over what I've said, and come and have another talk. Not to-mor-row; I have to go down to St. Neots. But the day after, in the evening." '•Very well. Good-night." This time they did not shake hands. Franks turned abruptly, with a wave of the arm, and -walked off unsteadily, like a man in liquor. Observing this, Warburton said to himself that not improbably the artist had been trying to drown his misery, which might ac° count for his strange delusion. I'et this explanation did not put Will's mind at ease. Gloomily he made his way homeward through the roaring night. CHAIrER IX. Ten o'clock next morning saw him alighting from the tram at St. Neots. A conveyance for which he had telegraphed awaited Mm at the station; its driver, a young man of his own age (they had known each other from boyhood), grinned Ms broadest a s he ran towards Will on the platform, and relieved him of his bag. "Well, Sam, how goes it? Evervbodv flounshuig?-Drive first to Mr 'Turnbull's office." Mr Turnbull was a grey-headed man of three score, much troubled with lumbago, which made him stoop as he walked. He had a visage of extraordinary solemnity, and seemed to regard everyone, no matter how prosperous or cheerful,' with anxious commiseration. At the sight of Will, he endeavoured to smile, and his handshake, though the flabbiest possible, was meant for a cordial response to the youn» man's heartiness. - "I'm on my way to'the Haws, Mr Turnbull, and wanted to ask if you could come up and see us this evening?" 'Oh, with, pleasure," answered the lawyer, Ms tone that of one invited to a funeral, "You may count <m. mc." Were winding up at Sherwood's. I dont mean in bankruptcy'but that wouldn't be far off if we iLpt goiJ." .f*l * can well understand that" Zt Mr T U h rnb f' Mth a S leam olfaction. Though.a thoroughly kind man, it always brightened him to hear of misfortune especially when he had himself foretold it; and he had always taken F.u£ktiSZ£ mn ' s prospects 'VfiEve a project I should like to talk over with you—" said the lawyer , anxiously. As it concerns my mother and Jane— "Ah?" said Mr Turnbull with profound despondency. "Then we shall expect you. Will it rain, do you think?'? "I fear so. The glass is very low indeed. It wouldn't surprise mc if we had rain through the whole month of August." "Good heavens! I hope not," replied Will laughing. He drove out of the town again, in a different, direction, for about a mile. On rising ground, overlooking the green valley of the Ouse, stood a small, plain, solidly-built house, sheltered on the a row of fine hawthorns, nearly; as high as the top of its chhnMJ!* Iβ freat, foadewd along the

road by hollies as impenetrable as a stone -wall, lay a bright little flower garden. The Haws, originally built for the bailiff of an estate, long since broken up, was nearly a century old. Here Will's father was born, and here, after many wanderings, he had spent the greater part of bis married life. "Sam/ , said Will, as they drew up at the gate. "I don't think I shall pay for this drive. You're much richer than I am." "Very good, sir," was the chuckling reply, for Sam knew he always had to expect a joke of this kind from young Mr Warburton. "As you please, sir." "You couldn't lend mc half-a-crown, Sam?" "I daresay I could, sir, if you really wanted it.'* "Do. then." Will pocketed the half-crown, jumped off the trap, and took his bag. "After all, Sam, perhaps I'd better pay. Your wife might grumble. Here you are." He handed two shillings and sixpence in small change, which Sam took and examined with a grin of puzzlement. "Well, what's the matter? Don't you say thank you, nowadays?" "Yes. sir—thank you, sir—it's all right, Mr Will." "I should think it is, indeed. Be here to-morrow morning, to catch, the 0.30 up-tiain, Sam." Ac Will entered the garden, there came forward a girl of something and twenty, rather short-square shouldered, firmly planted on her feet, but withal brisk of movement; her face was remarkable for nothing but a grave good-hum-our. She wore a broad-brimmed straw hat, and her gardening gloves showed how she was occupied. Something of shyness appeared in the mutual greeting of brother and sister. "Of course, you got my letter this morning?" said Will. "Yea." "Mr Turnbull is coming up to-night." "Fm glad of that," said Jane, thoughtfully, rubbing her gloves together to shake off moist earth. "Of course he'll prophecy disaster, and plunge you both into the depths of discouragement. " But I don't mind that. I feel so confident myself that I want someone to speak on the other side. He'll have to make inquiries, of course, Where's mother?" The question was answered by Mrs Warburton herself, who at that moment came forth from the house; a tall, graceful woman, prematurely whiteheaded, and enfeebled by ill-health. _ Between her and Jane there was little resemblance of feature; Will, on the other hand, had inherited her oval face, arched brows and sensitive mouth. Emotipn had touched her cheek with the faintest glow, but ordinarily it was pale as her haud. Nothing, however, of the invalid declared itself in her tone or language; the voice, soft and musical, might have been that of a young woman, and its vivacity was only ie3s than that which marked the speech -of her son. "Come and look at the orange lilies," were her first words, after the greeting. "They've never been so fine." ''But notice Pompey first," said Jane. •■'He'Jl be offended in a minute." A St. Bernard, who had already made i such advances as his dignity permitted, stood close by Will, with eyes fixed upon him in grave and surprised reproach. The dog's name indicated a historical preference of Jane in her childhood; she Had always championed Pompey. against .Cassai, following therein her brother's guidance. "Halloa, old Magnus!" cried the visitor, cordially repairing his omission. "Come along with us and sec the lilies." It was only when all the eights of tl.e little garden had been visited, Mrs Warburton forgetting her weakness as she drew Will hither and thither, that tiie business for which they had met came under discussion. Discussion, indeed, it could hardly be called, for tl<e niotLer and sister were quite content to listen whilst Will talked, and accept his view of things.. Small as their Income was, they never thought of themselves as poor; with one maid-3ervant and the occasional help of a gardener, they had all the comfort they wished for, and were able to bestow of their superfluity in vegetables and fjowers upon less fortunate acquaintances. Until a year or two ago, Mrs Warburton had led a life of ceaseless activity, indoors and out; such waa the habit of her daughter, who enjoyed vigorous health, and cared little for sedentary pursuits and amusements. Their property, land and cottages hard by, had of late given them a good deal of trouble, and the proposal to sell had more than once been considered, but Air Turnbull, most cautious of counselloi's, urged delay. Now, at length, the hopedfor opportunity of a good investment seemed to have presented itself; Will's sanguine report of what he had learnt from Sherwood was gladly accepted. "It'll be a good thing for you as well," said Jane. "Yes, it comes just in thne. SheTwood Icnew what he was doing t now and then Fve thought he was risking too much, but he's a clear-headed fellow. The way he has kept thing 3 going so long in Ailie-street is really remarkable." "I daresay you had your share ia that Will," said Mrs Warburton. "A very small one; my work has never been more than routine. I don't pretend to be a man of business. If it had depended upon mc, the concern would have fallen to pieces years ago, like so many others. House after house has gone down; our turn must have come very soon. As it 13, we shall clear out with credit, and start afresh gloriously. By the bye, don't get any but Applegarth's jams in future." "That depends," said Jane, laughing, j "if we like them." In their simple and wholesome way of living, the Warburtons, of course, dined at midday, and Will, who rarely ate without appetite, surpassed himself as trencherman; nowhere had food such a savour for him as under this roof. The home-made bread and homegrown vegetables he was never tired of praising; such fragrant and tooth some loaves, he loudly protested, were to be eaten nowhere else in England. He began to talk of his holiday abroad, when all at once his countenance fell, his lips closed; in the pleasure of being "at home," he had forgotten all about Norbert Franks, and very unwelcome were the thoughts which attached themselves to this recollection of his days at Trient. "What's the matter?" asked Jane, noticing his change of look. "Oh, nothing—a stupid affair. I wrote to you about the Pomfrets and their nieep. I'm afraid that girl is an idiot. She used the opportunity of her absence, I find, to break with Franks. No excuse whatever; simply sent him about his business." "Oh!" exclaimed both the ladies, who had been*-interested in the artist's love story, as narrated to them, rather badly, by Will on former occasions. "Of course,' I don't know much about it; but it looks bad. Perhaps it's the best .thing could hare hajjgened to.

Franks, for it may mean that he hasn't made money fast enough to please her." "But you gave us quite another idea of Miss Elvan," said his mother. "Yes, I dare say I did. Who knows? I don't pretend to understand such things." A little before sunset came Mr Turnbull, who took supper at The Haws, and was fetched away by his coachman at ten o'clock. With this old friend, who, in Will's eyes, looked no older now than when he first knew him in early childhood, they talked freely of the Applegarth business, and Mr Turnbull promised to make inquiries at once. Of course, he took a despondent view of jam. Jam, he inclined to think, was being overdone j after all, the country could consume only certain quantity of even the most wholesome preserves, and a glut of jam already threatened the market. Applegarth? By the bye, did he not remember proceedings in bankruptcy connected with that unusual name J He must look into the matter And, talking about bankruptcy— oh! how bad his lumbago was to-night! poor Thomas Hart, of Three Ash Farm was going to be sold up. Dear, dear/ On every side, look where one would, nothing but decline and calamity. What was England coming to ? Day by day he had expected to see the failure of Sherwood Brothers; how had they escaped the common doom of sugar refiners? •Free trade, free trade; all very fine in theory, but look at its results on corn and sugar. For his own part he favoured a policy of moderate protection. All this was not more than Will had foreseen. It would be annoying if Mr Turnbull ultimately took an adverse view of his propoaal; in that case, though his mother was quite free to manage her property as she chose, Will felt that he should not venture to urge his scheme against the lawyer's advice, and money must be sought elsewhere. A few days would decide the matter. As he went upstairs to bed, he dismissed worries from his mind. The old quiet, the old comfort of home. Not a souud but that of pattering rain in the still night. As always, the room smelt of lavender, blended with that indescribable fragrance which comes of extreme cleanliness in an old country house. But for changed wall paper and carpet, everything was as Will remembered it ever since he could remember anything at all; the same simple furniture, the same white curtains, the same pictures, the same little hanging shelf, with books given to him in childhood. He thought of the elder brother who had died at school, and lay in the little churchyard far away. His only dark memory, "that of the poor boy's death after a very short illness, before that other blow which made him fatherless. The earlier retrospect was one of happiness unbroken; for all childish sorrows lost themselves in the very present sense of peace and love enveloping those faraway His parents' life, as he saw it then, as in reflection he saw it now, remained an ideal; he did not care to hope for himself, or to imagine, any other form of domestic contentment. As a child, lie would have held nothing less conceivable than a moment's discord between father and mother, and manhood's meditation did but confirm him in the same view. The mutual loyalty of kindred hearts and minds—that was the be3t life to give. And Will's thoughts turned once more to Norbert Franks j he, poor fellow, doubtless now raging against the faithlessness which had blackened all his sky. In this moment of softened feeling, of lucid calm, Warburton saw Rosamund's behaviour in a new light. Perhaps she was not blameworthy at all, but rather deserving of all praise; for, if she had come to know, beyond doubt, that she did not love Norbert Franks as she had thought, then to break the engagement was her simple duty, and the courage with which she had taken this step must be set to her credit. Naturally, it would be some time before Franks himself took that view. A third person, whose vanity was not concerned, might moralise thus: Will checked himself on an unpleasant thought. Was "bis" vanity, in truth, unconcerned in this story? Why, then, had he been conscious of a sub-emotion, quite unavowable, which contradicted his indignant sympathy during that talk last night in the street? If the lover's jealousy ivere as ridiculous as he pretended, why did he feel what now he could confess to himself was an unworthy titillation? When Franks seemed to accuse him of some p"art in the girl'a disloyalty? Vanity, that, sure enough; vanity of a very weak and futile kind. He would stamp the last traces of it out of his being. Happily it was but vanity, and no deeper feeling. Of this he was assured by the reposeful sigh with which he turned his' head upon the pillow, drowsing to oblivion. One unbroken sleep brought him to sunrise; a golden glimmer upon the blind in his return to consciousness, told him that the rain was over, and tempted him to look forth. What he saw was decisive; with such a sky as that gleaming over the summer world, who could lie in bed? Will always dressed as i? in a fury; seconds sufficed him for details of the toilet, which, had he spent minutes over them, would, have fretted his nerves intolerably. His bath was one wild welter—not even the ceiling being safe from splashes; he clad himself in a brief series of plunges; his shaving might have earned the applause of an assembly gathered to behold feats of swift dexterity. Quietly he descended the stairs, and found the house-door already open; this might only mean that the servant was already up, but he suspected that the early riser was Jane. So it proved; he walked towards the kitchen garden, and there stood his sister, the sun making her face rosy. "Come and help to pick scarlet runners," was her greeting, as he approached. "Aren't they magnificent?" Her eyes sparkled with pleasure as she pointed to the heavy clusters of darkgreen pods, hanging amid leaves and scarlet bloom. "Splendid crop!" exclaimed Will, with answering enthusiasm. "Doesn't the scent do one good?" went on his sister. "When I come into the garden on a morning like this, I have a feeling—oh, I can't describe it to you—perhaps you wouldn't understand " "I know," said Will, nodding. "It's as if nature calling out to mc, like a friend, to come and admire and enjoy what she has done. I feel grateful for the things that earth offers mc." Not often did Jane speak like this.: as a rule she was anything but effusive or poetical. But a peculiar animation shone in her looks this morning, and sounded in her voice. Very soon the reason was manifest; she began-to speak of the Applegarth business, and declared her great satisfaction with it. "There'll be an end of mother's worry/ she said, "and I can't tell , you how glad I shall be. It seems to mo that women oughtn't to have to think about money, and mother hates the name of it; she always has done.* Oh, what a blessing when it's all off our .hands! Wβ shouldn't care, even if the brought -aa fesa.

"And it is certain, to bring you more," remarked Will, "perhaps considerably more." "Well, I shan't object to that; there are lots of uses for money; but it doesn't matter." Jane's sincerity was evident. She dismissed the matter, and her basket being full of beans, seized a fork to dig potatoes. "Here, let mc do that," cried Will, interposing. "You? Well, then, as a rery great .favour." "Of course I mean that. It's gr.and to turn ap potatoes. What sort are these?" "Pink eyed flukes," replied Jane, watching him with keen interest. "We haven't touched them yet." "Mealy, eh?" '•Balls of flour!" Their voices joined in a cry of exultation, as the fork threw out even a finer root than they had expected. When enough had been dug, they strolled about, looking at other vegetables. Jane pointed to some Savoy seedlings, which she was going to plant out to-day. Then sounded a joyous bark, and Pompey J come bounding towards them. "That means the milk boy is here," said Jane. "Pompey always goes to drink a glass—warm." (To be continued next Wednesday.)"