New Grub Street by George Gissing (best mobile ebook reader .txt) 📕

so humble and so good. I do hope that father will be kinder to her. But there’s no telling yet what the result of this may be. I feel guilty when I stand before him.”

“But he must feel glad that you have five thousand pounds.”

Marian delayed her reply for a moment, her eyes down.

“Yes, perhaps he is glad of that.”

“Perhaps!”

“He can’t help thinking, Dora, what use he could have made of it. It has always been his greatest wish to have a literary paper of his own⁠—like The Study, you know. He would have used the money in that way, I am sure.”

“But, all the same, he ought to feel pleasure in your good fortune.”

Marian turned to another subject.

“Think of the Reardons; what a change all at once! What will they do, I wonder? Surely they won’t continue to live apart?”

“We shall hear from Jasper.”

Whilst they were discussing the affairs of that branch of the family, Maud returned. There was ill-humour on her handsome face, and she greeted Marian but coldly. Throwing off her hat and gloves and mantle she listened to the repeated story of John Yule’s bequests.

“But why ever has Mrs. Reardon so much more than anyone else?” she asked.

“We can only suppose it is because she was the favourite child of the brother he liked best. Yet at her wedding he gave her nothing, and spoke contemptuously of her for marrying a literary man.”

“Fortunate for her poor husband that her uncle was able to forgive her. I wonder what’s the date of the will? Who knows but he may have rewarded her for quarrelling with Mr. Reardon.”

This excited a laugh.

“I don’t know when the will was made,” said Marian. “And I don’t know whether uncle had even heard of the Reardons’ misfortunes. I suppose he must have done. My cousin John was at the funeral, but not my aunt. I think it most likely father and John didn’t speak a word to each other. Fortunately the relatives were lost sight of in the great crowd of Wattleborough people; there was an enormous procession, of course.”

Maud kept glancing at her sister. The ill-humour had not altogether passed from her face, but it was now blended with reflectiveness.

A few moments more, and Marian had to hasten home. When she was gone the sisters looked at each other.

“Five thousand pounds,” murmured the elder. “I suppose that is considered nothing.”

“I suppose so.⁠—He was here when Marian came, but didn’t stay.”

“Then you’ll take him the news this evening?”

“Yes,” replied Dora. Then, after musing, “He seemed annoyed that you were at the Lanes’ again.”

Maud made a movement of indifference.

“What has been putting you out?”

“Things were rather stupid. Some people who were to have come didn’t turn up. And⁠—well, it doesn’t matter.”

She rose and glanced at herself in the little oblong mirror over the mantelpiece.

“Did Jasper ever speak to you of a Miss Rupert?” asked Dora.

“Not that I remember.”

“What do you think? He told me in the calmest way that he didn’t see why Marian should think of him as anything but the most ordinary friend⁠—said he had never given her reason to think anything else.”

“Indeed! And Miss Rupert is someone who has the honour of his preference?”

“He says she is about thirty, and rather masculine, but a great heiress. Jasper is shameful!”

“What do you expect? I consider it is your duty to let Marian know everything he says. Otherwise you help to deceive her. He has no sense of honour in such things.”

Dora was so impatient to let her brother have the news that she left the house as soon as she had had tea on the chance of finding Jasper at home. She had not gone a dozen yards before she encountered him in person.

“I was afraid Marian might still be with you,” he said, laughing. “I should have asked the landlady. Well?”

“We can’t stand talking here. You had better come in.”

He was in too much excitement to wait.

“Just tell me. What has she?”

Dora walked quickly towards the house, looking annoyed.

“Nothing at all? Then what has her father?”

“He has nothing,” replied his sister, “and she has five thousand pounds.”

Jasper walked on with bent head. He said nothing more until he was upstairs in the sitting-room, where Maud greeted him carelessly.

“Mrs. Reardon anything?”

Dora informed him.

“What?” he cried incredulously. “Ten thousand? You don’t say so!”

He burst into uproarious laughter.

“So Reardon is rescued from the slum and the clerk’s desk! Well, I’m glad; by Jove, I am. I should have liked it better if Marian had had the ten thousand and he the five, but it’s an excellent joke. Perhaps the next thing will be that he’ll refuse to have anything to do with his wife’s money; that would be just like him.” After amusing himself with this subject for a few minutes more, he turned to the window and stood there in silence.

“Are you going to have tea with us?” Dora inquired.

He did not seem to hear her. On a repetition of the inquiry, he answered absently:

“Yes, I may as well. Then I can go home and get to work.”

During the remainder of his stay he talked very little, and as Maud also was in an abstracted mood, tea passed almost in silence. On the point of departing he asked:

“When is Marian likely to come here again?”

“I haven’t the least idea,” answered Dora.

He nodded, and went his way.

It was necessary for him to work at a magazine article which he had begun this morning, and on reaching home he spread out his papers in the usual businesslike fashion. The subject out of which he was manufacturing “copy” had its difficulties, and was not altogether congenial to him; this morning he had laboured with unwonted effort to produce about a page of manuscript, and now that he tried to resume the task his thoughts would not centre upon it. Jasper was too young to have thoroughly mastered the art of somnambulistic composition; to write, he was still obliged to give exclusive attention to the matter under treatment.