<p><SPAN name="c45" id="c45"></SPAN> </p>
<p> </p>
<h3>CHAPTER XLV</h3>
<h3>Mrs. Sexty Parker<br/> </h3>
<p>Though Mr. Wharton and Lopez met every day for the next week, nothing
more was said about the schedule. The old man was thinking about it
every day, and so also was Lopez. But Mr. Wharton had made his
demand, and, as he thought, nothing more was to be said on the
subject. He could not continue the subject as he would have done with
his son. But as day after day passed by he became more and more
convinced that his son-in-law's affairs were not in a state which
could bear to see the light. He had declared his purpose of altering
his will in the man's favour, if the man would satisfy him. And yet
nothing was done and nothing was said.</p>
<p>Lopez had come among them and robbed him of his daughter. Since the
man had become intimate in his house he had not known an hour's
happiness. The man had destroyed all the plans of his life, broken
through into his castle, and violated his very hearth. No doubt he
himself had vacillated. He was aware of that, and in his present mood
was severe enough in judging himself. In his desolation he had tried
to take the man to his heart,—had been kind to him, and had even
opened his house to him. He had told himself that as the man was the
husband of his daughter he had better make the best of it. He had
endeavoured to make the best of it, but between him and the man there
were such differences that they were poles asunder. And now it became
clear to him that the man was, as he had declared to the man's face,
no better than an adventurer!</p>
<p>By his will as it at present stood he had left two-thirds of his
property to Everett, and one-third to his daughter, with arrangements
for settling her share on her children, should she be married and
have children at the time of his death. This will had been made many
years ago, and he had long since determined to alter it, in order
that he might divide his property equally between his children;—but
he had postponed the matter, intending to give a large portion of
Emily's share to her directly on her marriage with Arthur Fletcher.
She had not married Arthur Fletcher;—but still it was necessary that
a new will should be made.</p>
<p>When he left town for Herefordshire he had not yet made up his mind
how this should be done. He had at one time thought that he would
give some considerable sum to Lopez at once, knowing that to a man in
business such assistance would be useful. And he had not altogether
abandoned that idea, even when he had asked for the schedule. He did
not relish the thought of giving his hard-earned money to Lopez, but,
still, the man's wife was his daughter, and he must do the best that
he could for her. Her taste in marrying the man was inexplicable to
him. But that was done;—and now how might he best arrange his
affairs so as to serve her interests?</p>
<p>About the middle of August he went to Herefordshire and she to the
seaside in Essex,—to the little place which Lopez had selected.
Before the end of the month the father-in-law wrote a line to his
son-in-law.<br/> </p>
<blockquote>
<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Lopez</span>,
[not without premeditation had he departed
from the sternness of that "Mr. Lopez," which in his anger
he had used at his <span class="nowrap">chambers]—</span></p>
<p>When we were discussing your affairs I asked you for a
schedule of your assets and liabilities. I can make no new
arrangement of my property till I receive this. Should I
die leaving my present will as the instrument under which
my property would be conveyed to my heirs, Emily's share
would go into the hands of trustees for the use of herself
and her possible children. I tell you this that you may
understand that it is for your own interest to comply with
my requisition.</p>
<p class="ind12">Yours,</p>
<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">A.
Wharton</span>.<br/> </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Of course questions were asked him as to how the newly married couple
were getting on. At Wharton these questions were mild and easily put
off. Sir Alured was contented with a slight shake of his head, and
Lady Wharton only remarked for the fifth or sixth time that "it was a
pity." But when they all went to Longbarns, the difficulty became
greater. Arthur was not there, and old Mrs. Fletcher was in full
strength. "So the Lopezes have come to live with you in Manchester
Square?" Mr. Wharton acknowledged that it was so with an affirmative
grunt. "I hope he's a pleasant inmate." There was a scorn in the old
woman's voice as she said this, which ought to have provoked any man.</p>
<p>"More so than most men would be," said Mr. Wharton.</p>
<p>"Oh, indeed!"</p>
<p>"He is courteous and forbearing, and does not think that everything
around him should be suited to his own peculiar fancies."</p>
<p>"I am glad that you are contented with the marriage, Mr. Wharton."</p>
<p>"Who has said that I am contented with it? No one ought to understand
or to share my discontent so cordially as yourself, Mrs.
Fletcher;—and no one ought to be more chary of speaking of it. You
and I had hoped other things, and old people do not like to be
disappointed. But I needn't paint the devil blacker than he is."</p>
<p>"I'm afraid that, as usual, he is rather black."</p>
<p>"Mother," said John Fletcher, "the thing has been done and you might
as well let it be. We are all sorry that Emily has not come nearer to
us; but she has had a right to choose for herself, and I for one
wish,—as does my brother also,—that she may be happy in the lot she
has chosen."</p>
<p>"His conduct to Arthur at Silverbridge was so nice!" said the
pertinacious old woman.</p>
<p>"Never mind his conduct, mother. What is it to us?"</p>
<p>"That's all very well, John; but according to that nobody is to talk
about anybody."</p>
<p>"I would much prefer, at any rate," said Mr. Wharton, "that you would
not talk about Mr. Lopez in my hearing."</p>
<p>"Oh; if that is to be so, let it be so. And now I understand where I
am." Then the old woman shook herself, and endeavoured to look as
though Mr. Wharton's soreness on the subject were an injury to her as
robbing her of a useful topic.</p>
<p>"I don't like Lopez, you know," Mr. Wharton said to John Fletcher
afterwards. "How would it be possible that I should like such a man?
But there can be no good got by complaints. It is not what your
mother suffers, or what even I may suffer,—or worse again, what
Arthur may suffer, that makes the sadness of all this. What will be
her life? That is the question. And it is too near me, too important
to me, for the endurance either of scorn or pity. I was glad that you
asked your mother to be silent."</p>
<p>"I can understand it," said John. "I do not think that she will
trouble you again."</p>
<p>In the mean time Lopez received Mr. Wharton's letter at Dovercourt,
and had to consider what answer he should give to it. No answer could
be satisfactory,—unless he could impose a false answer on his
father-in-law so as to make it credible. The more he thought of it,
the more he believed that this would be impossible. The cautious old
lawyer would not accept unverified statements. A certain sum of
money,—by no means illiberal as a present,—he had already extracted
from the old man. What he wanted was a further and a much larger
grant. Though Mr. Wharton was old he did not want to have to wait for
the death even of an old man. The next two or three years,—probably
the very next year,—might be the turning-point of his life. He had
married the girl, and ought to have the girl's fortune,—down on the
nail! That was his idea; and the old man was robbing him in not
acting up to it. As he thought of this he cursed his ill luck. The
husbands of other girls had their fortunes conveyed to them
immediately on their marriage. What would not £20,000 do for him, if
he could get it into his hand? And so he taught himself to regard the
old man as a robber and himself as a victim. Who among us is there
that does not teach himself the same lesson? And then too how
cruelly, how damnably he had been used by the Duchess of Omnium! And
now Sexty Parker, whose fortune he was making for him, whose fortune
he at any rate intended to make, was troubling him in various ways.
"We're in a boat together," Sexty had said. "You've had the use of my
money, and by heavens you have it still. I don't see why you should
be so stiff. Do you bring your missus to Dovercourt, and I'll take
mine, and let 'em know each other." There was a little argument on
the subject, but Sexty Parker had the best of it, and in this way the
trip to Dovercourt was arranged.</p>
<p>Lopez was in a very good humour when he took his wife down, and he
walked her round the terraces and esplanades of that not sufficiently
well-known marine paradise, now bidding her admire the sea and now
laughing at the finery of the people, till she became gradually
filled with an idea that as he was making himself pleasant, she also
ought to do the same. Of course she was not happy. The gilding had so
completely and so rapidly been washed off her idol that she could not
be very happy. But she also could be good-humoured. "And now," said
he, smiling, "I have got something for you to do for me,—something
that you will find very disagreeable."</p>
<p>"What is it? It won't be very bad, I'm sure."</p>
<p>"It will be very bad, I'm afraid. My excellent but horribly vulgar
partner, Mr. Sextus Parker, when he found that I was coming here,
insisted on bringing his wife and children here also. I want you to
know them."</p>
<p>"Is that all? She must be very bad indeed if I can't put up with
that."</p>
<p>"In one sense she isn't bad at all. I believe her to be an excellent
woman, intent on spoiling her children and giving her husband a good
dinner every day. But I think you'll find that she is,—well,—not
quite what you call a lady."</p>
<p>"I shan't mind that in the least. I'll help her to spoil the
children."</p>
<p>"You can get a lesson there, you know," he said, looking into her
face. The little joke was one which a young wife might take with
pleasure from her husband, but her life had already been too much
embittered for any such delight. Yes; the time was coming when that
trouble also would be added to her. She dreaded she knew not what,
and had often told herself that it would be better that she should be
childless.</p>
<p>"Do you like him?" she said.</p>
<p>"Like him. No;—I can't say I like him. He is useful, and in one
sense honest."</p>
<p>"Is he not honest in all senses?"</p>
<p>"That's a large order. To tell you the truth, I don't know any man
who is."</p>
<p>"Everett is honest."</p>
<p>"He loses money at play which he can't pay without assistance from
his father. If his father had refused, where would then have been his
honesty? Sexty is as honest as others, I dare say, but I shouldn't
like to trust him much farther than I can see him. I shan't go up to
town to-morrow, and we'll both look in on them after luncheon."</p>
<p>In the afternoon the call was made. The Parkers, having children, had
dined early, and he was sitting out in a little porch smoking his
pipe, drinking whisky and water, and looking at the sea. His eldest
girl was standing between his legs, and his wife, with the other
three children round her, was sitting on the doorstep. "I've brought
my wife to see you," said Lopez, holding out his hand to Mrs. Parker,
as she rose from the ground.</p>
<p>"I told her that you'd be coming," said Sexty, "and she wanted me to
put off my pipe and little drop of drink; but I said that if Mrs.
Lopez was the lady I took her to be she wouldn't begrudge a
hard-working fellow his pipe and glass on a holiday."</p>
<p>There was a soundness of sense in this which mollified any feeling of
disgust which Emily might have felt at the man's vulgarity. "I think
you are quite right, Mr. Parker. I should be very sorry
if,—<span class="nowrap">if—"</span></p>
<p>"If I was to put my pipe out. Well, I won't. You'll take a glass of
sherry, Lopez? Though I'm drinking spirits myself, I brought down a
hamper of sherry wine. Oh, nonsense;—you must take something. That's
right, Jane. Let us have the stuff and the glasses, and then they can
do as they like." Lopez lit a cigar, and allowed his host to pour out
for him a glass of "sherry wine," while Mrs. Lopez went into the
house with Mrs. Parker and the children.</p>
<p>Mrs. Parker opened herself out to her new friend immediately. She
hoped that they two might see "a deal of each other;—that is, if you
don't think me too pushing." Sextus, she said, was so much away,
coming down to Dovercourt only every other day! And then, within the
half hour which was consumed by Lopez with his cigar, the poor woman
got upon the general troubles of her life. Did Mrs. Lopez think that
"all this speckelation was just the right thing?"</p>
<p>"I don't think that I know anything about it, Mrs. Parker."</p>
<p>"But you ought;—oughtn't you, now? Don't you think that a wife ought
to know what it is that her husband is after;—specially if there's
children? A good bit of the money was mine, Mrs. Lopez; and though I
don't begrudge it, not one bit, if any good is to come out of it to
him or them, a woman doesn't like what her father has given her
should be made ducks and drakes of."</p>
<p>"But are they making ducks and drakes?"</p>
<p>"When he don't tell me I'm always afeard. And I'll tell you what I
know just as well as two and two. When he comes home a little
flustered, and then takes more than his regular allowance, he's been
at something as don't quite satisfy him. He's never that way when
he's done a good day's work at his regular business. He takes to the
children then, and has one glass after his dinner, and tells me all
about it,—down to the shillings and pence. But it's very seldom he's
that way now."</p>
<p>"You may think it very odd, Mrs. Parker, but I don't in the least
know what my husband is—in business."</p>
<p>"And you never ask?"</p>
<p>"I haven't been very long married, you know;—only about ten months."</p>
<p>"I'd had my fust by that time."</p>
<p>"Only nine months, I think, indeed."</p>
<p>"Well; I wasn't very long after that. But I took care to know what it
was he was a-doing of in the city long before that time. And I did
use to know everything, till—" She was going to say, till Lopez had
come upon the scene. But she did not wish, at any rate as yet, to be
harsh to her new friend.</p>
<p>"I hope it is all right," said Emily.</p>
<p>"Sometimes he's as though the Bank of England was all his own. And
there's been more money come into the house;—that I must say. And
there isn't an open-handeder one than Sexty anywhere. He'd like to
see me in a silk gown every day of my life;—and as for the children,
there's nothing smart enough for them. Only I'd sooner have a little
and safe, than anything ever so fine, and never be sure whether it
wasn't going to come to an end."</p>
<p>"There I agree with you, quite."</p>
<p>"I don't suppose men feels it as we do; but, oh, Mrs. Lopez, give me
a little, safe, so that I may know that I shan't see my children
want. When I thinks what it would be to have them darlings' little
bellies empty, and nothing in the cupboard, I get that low that I'm
nigh fit for Bedlam."</p>
<p>In the mean time the two men outside the porch were discussing their
affairs in somewhat the same spirit. At last Lopez showed his friend
Wharton's letter, and told him of the expected schedule. "Schedule be
<span class="nowrap">d––––d,</span>
you know," said Lopez. "How am I to put down a rise of 12s.
6d. a ton on Kauri gum in a schedule? But when you come to 2000 tons
it's £1250."</p>
<p>"He's very old;—isn't he?"</p>
<p>"But as strong as a horse."</p>
<p>"He's got the money?"</p>
<p>"Yes;—he has got it safe enough. There's no doubt about the money."</p>
<p>"What he talks about is only a will. Now you want the money at once."</p>
<p>"Of course I do;—and he talks to me as if I were some old fogy with
an estate of my own. I must concoct a letter and explain my views;
and the more I can make him understand how things really are the
better. I don't suppose he wants to see his daughter come to grief."</p>
<p>"Then the sooner you write it the better," said Mr. Parker.</p>
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