<p><SPAN name="c10" id="c10"></SPAN> </p>
<p> </p>
<h3>CHAPTER X</h3>
<h3>Plenary Absolutions<br/> </h3>
<p>The letter which Miss Mackenzie received was from old Mr Slow, her
lawyer; and it was a very unpleasant letter. It was so unpleasant
that it made her ears tingle when she read it and remembered that the
person to whom special allusion was made was one whom she had taught
herself to regard as her friend. Mr Slow's letter was as
follows:<br/> </p>
<blockquote>
<p class="jright">7 Little St Dunstan Court,<br/>
April, 186—.</p>
<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Madam</span>,</p>
<p>I think it proper to write to you specially, about the
loan made by you to Messrs Rubb and Mackenzie, as the sum
lent is serious, and as there has been conduct on the part
of some one which I regard as dishonest. I find that what
we have done in the matter has been regulated rather by
the fact that you and Mr Mackenzie are brother and sister,
than by the ordinary course of such business; and I
perceive that we had special warrant given to us for this
by you in your letter of the 23rd November last; but,
nevertheless, it is my duty to explain to you that Messrs
Rubb and Mackenzie, or,—as I believe to be the case, Mr
Samuel Rubb, junior, of that firm,—have not dealt with
you fairly. The money was borrowed for the purpose of
buying certain premises, and, I believe, was laid out in
that way. But it was borrowed on the special understanding
that you, as the lender, were to have the title-deeds of
that property, and the first mortgage upon them. It was
alleged, when the purchase was being made, that the money
was wanted before the mortgage could be effected, and you
desired us to advance it. This we did, aware of the close
family connection between yourself and one of the firm. Of
course, on your instruction, we should have done this had
there been no such relationship, but in that case we
should have made further inquiry, and, probably, have
ventured to advise you. But though the money was so
advanced without the completion of the mortgage, it was
advanced on the distinct understanding that the security
proffered in the first instance was to be forthcoming
without delay. We now learn that the property is mortgaged
to other parties to its full value, and that no security
for your money is to be had.</p>
<p>I have seen both Mr Mackenzie and Mr Rubb, junior. As
regards your brother, I believe him to have been innocent
of any intention of the deceit, for deceit there certainly
has been. Indeed, he does not deny it. He offers to give
you any security on the business, such as the
stock-in-trade or the like, which I may advise you to
take. But such would in truth be of no avail to you as
security. He, your brother, seemed to be much distressed
by what has been done, and I was grieved on his behalf. Mr
Rubb,—the younger Mr Rubb,—expressed himself in a very
different way. He at first declined to discuss the matter
with me; and when I told him that if that was his way I
would certainly expose him, he altered his tone a little,
expressing regret that there should be delay as to the
security, and wishing me to understand that you were
yourself aware of all the facts.</p>
<p>There can be no doubt that deceit has been used towards
you in getting your money, and that Mr Rubb has laid
himself open to proceedings which, if taken against him,
would be absolutely ruinous to him. But I fear they would
be also ruinous to your brother. It is my painful duty to
tell you that your money so advanced is on a most
precarious footing. The firm, in addition to their present
liabilities, are not worth half the money; or, I fear I
may say, any part of it. I presume there is a working
profit, as two families live upon the business. Whether,
if you were to come upon them as a creditor, you could get
your money out of their assets, I cannot say; but you,
perhaps, will not feel yourself disposed to resort to such
a measure. I have considered it my duty to tell you all
the facts, and though your distinct authority to us to
advance the money absolves us from responsibility, I must
regret that we did not make further inquiries before we
allowed so large a sum of money to pass out of our hands.</p>
<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">I am, dear Madam,</span><br/>
<span class="ind12">Your faithful servant,</span></p>
<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Jonathan
Slow</span>.<br/> </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Mr Rubb's promised visit was to take place in eight or ten days from
the date on which this letter was received. Miss Mackenzie's ears, as
I have said, tingled as she read it. In the first place, it gave her
a terrible picture of the precarious state of her brother's business.
What would he do,—he with his wife, and all his children, if things
were in such a state as Mr Slow described them? And yet a month or
two ago he was giving champagne and iced puddings for dinner! And
then what words that discreet old gentleman, Mr Slow, had spoken
about Mr Rubb, and what things he had hinted over and above what he
had spoken! Was it not manifest that he conceived Mr Rubb to have
been guilty of direct fraud?</p>
<p>Miss Mackenzie at once made up her mind that her money was gone! But,
in truth, this did not much annoy her. She had declared to herself
once before that if anything was wrong about the money she would
regard it as a present made to her brother; and when so thinking of
it, she had, undoubtedly, felt that it was, not improbably, lost to
her. It was something over a hundred a year to be deducted from her
computed income, but she would still be able to live at the Paragon
quite as well as she had intended, and be able also to educate
Susanna. Indeed, she could do this easily and still save money, and,
therefore, as regarded the probable loss, why need she be unhappy?</p>
<p>Before the morning was over she had succeeded in white-washing Mr
Rubb in her own mind. It is, I think, certainly the fact that women
are less pervious to ideas of honesty than men are. They are less
shocked by dishonesty when they find it, and are less clear in their
intellect as to that which constitutes honesty. Where is the woman
who thinks it wrong to smuggle? What lady's conscience ever pricked
her in that she omitted the armorial bearings on her silver forks
from her tax papers? What wife ever ceased to respect her husband
because he dealt dishonestly in business? Whereas, let him not go to
church, let him drink too much wine, let him go astray in his
conversation, and her wrath arises against these faults. But this
lack of feminine accuracy in the matter of honesty tends rather to
charity in their judgment of others, than to deeds of fraud on the
part of women themselves.</p>
<p>Miss Mackenzie, who desired nothing that was not her own, who
scrupulously kept her own hands from all picking and stealing, gave
herself no peace, after reading the lawyer's letter, till she was
able to tell herself that Mr Rubb was to be forgiven for what he had
done. After all, he had, no doubt, intended that she should have the
promised security. And had not he himself come to her in London and
told her the whole truth,—or, if not the whole truth, as much of it
as was reasonable to expect that he should be able to tell her at an
evening party after dinner? Of course Mr Slow was hard upon him.
Lawyers always were hard. If she chose to give Messrs Rubb and
Mackenzie two thousand five hundred pounds out of her pocket, what
was that to him? So she went on, till at last she was angry with Mr
Slow for the language he had used.</p>
<p>It was, however, before all things necessary that she should put Mr
Slow right as to the facts of the case. She had, no doubt, condoned
whatever Mr Rubb had done. Mr Rubb undoubtedly had her sanction for
keeping her money without security. Therefore, by return of post, she
wrote the following short letter, which rather astonished Mr Slow
when he received <span class="nowrap">it—</span><br/> </p>
<blockquote>
<p class="jright">Littlebath, April, 186—.</p>
<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Sir</span>,</p>
<p>I am much obliged by your letter about the money; but the
truth is that I have known for some time that there was to
be no mortgage. When I was in town I saw Mr Rubb at my
brother's house, and it was understood between us then
that the matter was to remain as it is. My brother and his
partner are very welcome to the money.</p>
<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">Believe me to be,</span><br/>
<span class="ind10">Yours sincerely,</span></p>
<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Margaret
Mackenzie</span>.<br/> </p>
</blockquote>
<p>The letter was a false letter; but I suppose Miss Mackenzie did not
know that she was writing falsely. The letter was certainly false,
because when she spoke of the understanding "between us," having just
mentioned her brother and Mr Rubb, she intended the lawyer to believe
that the understanding was between them three; whereas, not a word
had been said about the money in her brother's hearing, nor was he
aware that his partner had spoken of the money.</p>
<p>Mr Slow was surprised and annoyed. As regarded his comfort as a
lawyer, his client's letter was of course satisfactory. It absolved
him not only from all absolute responsibility, but also from the
feeling which no doubt had existed within his own breast, that he had
in some sort neglected the lady's interest. But, nevertheless, he was
annoyed. He did not believe the statement that Rubb and Mackenzie had
had permission to hold the money without mortgage, and thought that
neither of the partners had themselves so conceived when he had seen
them. They had, however, been too many for him—and too many also for
the poor female who had allowed herself to be duped out of her money.
Such were Mr Slow's feelings on the matter, and then he dismissed the
subject from his mind.</p>
<p>The next day, about noon, Miss Mackenzie was startled almost out of
her propriety by the sudden announcement at the drawing-room door of
Mr Rubb. Before she could bethink herself how she would behave
herself, or whether it would become her to say anything of Mr Slow's
letter to her, he was in the room.</p>
<p>"Miss Mackenzie," he said, hurriedly—and yet he had paused for a
moment in his hurry till the servant had shut the door—"may I shake
hands with you?"</p>
<p>There could, Miss Mackenzie thought, be no objection to so ordinary a
ceremony; and, therefore, she said, "Certainly," and gave him her
hand.</p>
<p>"Then I am myself again," said Mr Rubb; and having so said, he sat
down.</p>
<p>Miss Mackenzie hoped that there was nothing the matter with him, and
then she also sat down at a considerable distance.</p>
<p>"There is nothing the matter with me," said he, "as you are still so
kind to me. But tell me, have you not received a letter from your
lawyer?"</p>
<p>"Yes, I have."</p>
<p>"And he has done all in his power to blacken me? I know it. Tell me,
Miss Mackenzie, has he not blackened me? Has he not laid things to my
charge of which I am incapable? Has he not accused me of getting
money from you under false pretences,—than do which, I'd sooner have
seen my own brains blown out? I would, indeed."</p>
<p>"He has written to me about the money, Mr Rubb."</p>
<p>"Yes; he came to me, and behaved shamefully to me; and he saw your
brother, too, and has been making all manner of ignominious
inquiries. Those lawyers can never understand that there can be
anything of friendly feeling about money. They can't put friendly
feelings into their unconscionable bills. I believe the world would
go on better if there was no such thing as an attorney in it. I
wonder who invented them, and why?"</p>
<p>Miss Mackenzie could give him no information on this point, and
therefore he went on:</p>
<p>"But you must tell me what he has said, and what it is he wants us to
do. For your sake, if you ask us, Miss Mackenzie, we'll do anything.
We'll sell the coats off our backs, if you wish it. You shall never
lose one shilling by Rubb and Mackenzie as long as I have anything to
do with the firm. But I'm sure you will excuse me if I say that we
can do nothing at the bidding of that old cormorant."</p>
<p>"I don't know that there's anything to be done, Mr Rubb."</p>
<p>"Is not there? Well, it's very generous in you to say so; and you
always are generous. I've always told your brother, since I had the
honour of knowing you, that he had a sister to be proud of. And, Miss
Mackenzie, I'll say more than that; I've flattered myself that I've
had a friend to be proud of. But now I must tell you why I've come
down to-day; you know I was to have been here next week. Well, when
Mr Slow came to me and I found what was up, I said to myself at once
that it was right you should know exactly—exactly—how the matter
stands. I was going to explain it next week, but I wouldn't leave you
in suspense when I knew that that lawyer was going to trouble you."</p>
<p>"It hasn't troubled me, Mr Rubb."</p>
<p>"Hasn't it though, really? That's so good of you again! Now the truth
is—but it's pretty nearly just what I told you that day after
dinner, when you agreed, you know, to what we had done."</p>
<p>Here he paused, as though expecting an answer.</p>
<p>"Yes, I did agree."</p>
<p>"Just at present, while certain other parties have a right to hold
the title-deeds, and I can't quite say how long that may be, we
cannot execute a mortgage in your favour. The title-deeds represent
the property. Perhaps you don't know that."</p>
<p>"Oh yes, I know as much as that."</p>
<p>"Well then, as we haven't the title-deeds, we can't execute the
mortgage. Perhaps you'll say you ought to have the title-deeds."</p>
<p>"No, Mr Rubb, I don't want to say anything of the kind. If my money
can be of any assistance to my brother—to my brother and you—you
are welcome to the use of it, without any mortgage. I will show you a
copy of the letter I sent to Mr Slow."</p>
<p>"Thanks; a thousand thanks! and may I see the letter which Mr Slow
wrote?"</p>
<p>"No, I think not. I don't know whether it would be right to show it
to you."</p>
<p>"I shouldn't think of doing anything about it; that is, resenting it,
you know. Only then we should all be on the square together."</p>
<p>"I think I'd better not. Mr Slow, when he wrote it, probably did not
mean that I should show it to you."</p>
<p>"You're right; you're always right. But you'll let me see your
answer."</p>
<p>Then Miss Mackenzie went to her desk, and brought him a copy of the
note she had written to the lawyer. He read it very carefully, twice
over; and then she could see, when he refolded the paper, that his
eyes were glittering with satisfaction.</p>
<p>"Miss Mackenzie, Miss Mackenzie," he said, "I think that you are an
angel!"</p>
<p>And he did think so. In so much at that moment he was at any rate
sincere. She saw that he was pleased, and she was pleased herself.</p>
<p>"There need be no further trouble about it," she said; and as she
spoke she rose from her seat.</p>
<p>And he rose, too, and came close to her. He came close to her,
hesitated for a moment, and then, putting one hand behind her waist,
though barely touching her, he took her hand with his other hand. She
thought that he was going to kiss her lips, and for a moment or two
he thought so too; but either his courage failed him or else his
discretion prevailed. Whether it was the one or the other, must
depend on the way in which she would have taken it. As it was, he
merely raised her hand and kissed that. When she could look into his
face his eyes were full of tears.</p>
<p>"The truth is," said he, "that you have saved us from ruin;—that's
the real truth. Damn all lying!"</p>
<p>She started at the oath, but in an instant she had forgiven him that
too. There was a sound of reality about it, which reconciled her to
the indignity; though, had she been true to her faith as a
Stumfoldian, she ought at least to have fainted at the sound.</p>
<p>"I hardly know what I am saying, Miss Mackenzie, and I beg your
pardon; but the fact is you could sell us up if you pleased. I didn't
mean it when I first got your brother to agree as to asking you for
the loan; I didn't indeed; but things were going wrong with us, and
just at that moment they went more wrong than ever; and then came the
temptation, and we were able to make everything right by giving up
the title-deeds of the premises. That's how it was, and it was I that
did it. It wasn't your brother; and though you may forgive me, he
won't."</p>
<p>This was all true, but how far the truth should be taken towards
palliating the deed done, I must leave the reader to decide; and the
reader will doubtless perceive that the truth did not appear until Mr
Rubb had ascertained that its appearance would not injure him. I
think, however, that it came from his heart, and that it should count
for something in his favour. The tear which he rubbed from his eye
with his hand counted very much in his favour with Miss Mackenzie;
she had not only forgiven him now, but she almost loved him for
having given her something to forgive. With many women I doubt
whether there be any more effectual way of touching their hearts than
ill-using them and then confessing it. If you wish to get the
sweetest fragrance from the herb at your feet, tread on it and bruise
it.</p>
<p>She had forgiven him, and taken him absolutely into favour, and he
had kissed her hand, having all but embraced her as he did so; but on
the present occasion he did not get beyond that. He lacked the
audacity to proceed at once from the acknowledgment of his fault to a
declaration of his love; but I hardly think that he would have
injured himself had he done so. He should have struck while the iron
was hot, and it was heated now nearly to melting; but he was abashed
by his own position, and having something real in his heart, having
some remnant of generous feeling left about him, he could not make
such progress as he might have done had he been cool enough to
calculate all his advantages.</p>
<p>"Don't let it trouble you any more," Miss Mackenzie said, when he had
dropped her hand.</p>
<p>"But it does trouble me, and it will trouble me."</p>
<p>"No," she said, with energy, "it shall not; let there be an end of
it. I will write to Tom, and tell him that he is welcome to the
money. Isn't he my brother? You are both welcome to it. If it has
been of service to you, I am very happy that it should be so. And
now, Mr Rubb, if you please, we won't have another word about it."</p>
<p>"What am I to say?"</p>
<p>"Not another word."</p>
<p>It seemed as though he couldn't speak another word, for he went to
the window and stood there silently, looking into the street. As he
did so, there came another visitor to Miss Mackenzie, whose ringing
at the doorbell had not been noticed by them, and Miss Baker was
announced while Mr Rubb was still getting the better of his feelings.
Of course he turned round when he heard the lady's name, and of
course he was introduced by his hostess. Miss Mackenzie was obliged
to make some apology for the gentleman's presence.</p>
<p>"Mr Rubb was expected next week, but business brought him down to-day
unexpectedly."</p>
<p>"Quite unexpectedly," said Mr Rubb, making a violent endeavour to
recover his equanimity.</p>
<p>Miss Baker looked at Mr Rubb, and disliked him at once. It should be
remembered that she was twenty years older than Miss Mackenzie, and
that she regarded the stranger, therefore, with a saner and more
philosophical judgment than her friend could use,—with a judgment on
which the outward comeliness of the man had no undue influence; and
it should be remembered also that Miss Baker, from early age, and by
all the association of her youth, had been taught to know a gentleman
when she saw him. Miss Mackenzie, who was by nature the cleverer
woman of the two, watched her friend's face, and saw by a glance that
she did not like Mr Rubb, and then, within her own bosom, she called
her friend an old maid.</p>
<p>"We're having uncommonly fine weather for the time of year," said Mr
Rubb.</p>
<p>"Very fine weather," said Miss Baker. "I've called, my dear, to know
whether you'll go in with me next door and drink tea this evening?"</p>
<p>"What, with Miss Todd?" asked Miss Mackenzie, who was surprised at
the invitation.</p>
<p>"Yes, with Miss Todd. It is not one of her regular nights, you know,
and her set won't be there. She has some old friends with her,—a Mr
Wilkinson, a clergyman, and his wife. It seems that her old enemy and
your devoted slave, Mr Maguire, knows Mr Wilkinson, and he's going to
be there."</p>
<p>"Mr Maguire is no slave of mine, Miss Baker."</p>
<p>"I thought he was; at any rate his presence will be a guarantee that
Miss Todd will be on her best behaviour, and that you needn't be
afraid."</p>
<p>"I'm not afraid of anything of that sort."</p>
<p>"But will you go?"</p>
<p>"Oh, yes, if you are going."</p>
<p>"That's right; and I'll call for you as I pass by. I must see her
now, and tell her. Good-morning, Sir;" whereupon Miss Baker bowed
very stiffly to Mr Rubb.</p>
<p>"Good-morning, Ma'am," said Mr Rubb, bowing very stiffly to Miss
Baker.</p>
<p>When the lady was gone, Mr Rubb sat himself again down on the sofa,
and there he remained for the next half-hour. He talked about the
business of the firm, saying how it would now certainly be improved;
and he talked about Tom Mackenzie's family, saying what a grand thing
it was for Susanna to be thus taken in hand by her aunt; and he asked
a question or two about Miss Baker, and then a question or two about
Mr Maguire, during which questions he learned that Mr Maguire was not
as yet a married man; and from Mr Maguire he got on to the Stumfolds,
and learned somewhat of the rites and ceremonies of the Stumfoldian
faith. In this way he prolonged his visit till Miss Mackenzie began
to feel that he ought to take his leave.</p>
<p>Miss Baker had gone at once to Miss Todd, and had told that lady that
Miss Mackenzie would join her tea-party. She had also told how Mr
Rubb, of the firm of Rubb and Mackenzie, was at this moment in Miss
Mackenzie's drawing-room.</p>
<p>"I'll ask him to come, too," said Miss Todd. Then Miss Baker had
hesitated, and had looked grave.</p>
<p>"What's the matter?" said Miss Todd.</p>
<p>"I'm not quite sure you'll like him," said Miss Baker.</p>
<p>"Probably not," said Miss Todd; "I don't like half the people I meet,
but that's no reason I shouldn't ask him."</p>
<p>"But he is—that is, he is not exactly—"</p>
<p>"What is he, and what is he not, exactly?" asked Miss Todd.</p>
<p>"Why, he is a tradesman, you know," said Miss Baker.</p>
<p>"There's no harm that I know of in that," said Miss Todd. "My uncle
that left me my money was a tradesman."</p>
<p>"No," said Miss Baker, energetically; "he was a merchant in
Liverpool."</p>
<p>"You'll find it very hard to define the difference, my dear," said
Miss Todd. "At any rate I'll ask the man to come;—that is, if it
won't offend you."</p>
<p>"It won't in the least offend me," said Miss Baker.</p>
<p>So a note was at once written and sent in to Miss Mackenzie, in which
she was asked to bring Mr Rubb with her on that evening. When the
note reached Miss Mackenzie, Mr Rubb was still with her.</p>
<p>Of course she communicated to him the invitation. She wished that it
had not been sent; she wished that he would not accept it,—though on
that head she had no doubt; but she had not sufficient presence of
mind to keep the matter to herself and say nothing about it. Of
course he was only too glad to drink tea with Miss Todd. Miss
Mackenzie attempted some slight manœuvre to induce Mr Rubb to go
direct to Miss Todd's house; but he was not such an ass as that; he
knew his advantage, and kept it, insisting on his privilege of coming
there, to Miss Mackenzie's room, and escorting her. He would have to
escort Miss Baker also; and things, as he thought, were looking well
with him. At last he rose to go, but he made good use of the
privilege of parting. He held Miss Mackenzie's hand, and pressed it.</p>
<p>"You mustn't be angry," he said, "if I tell you that you are the best
friend I have in the world."</p>
<p>"You have better friends than me," she said, "and older friends."</p>
<p>"Yes; older friends; but none,—not one, who has done for me so much
as you have; and certainly none for whom I have so great a regard.
May God bless you, Miss Mackenzie!"</p>
<p>"May God bless you, too, Mr Rubb!"</p>
<p>What else could she say? When his civility took so decorous a shape,
she could not bear to be less civil than he had been, or less
decorous. And yet it seemed to her that in bidding God bless him with
that warm pressure of the hand, she had allowed to escape from her an
appearance of affection which she had not intended to exhibit.</p>
<p>"Thank you; thank you," said he; and then at last he went.</p>
<p>She seated herself slowly in her own chair near the window,—the
chair in which she was accustomed to sit for many solitary hours, and
asked herself what it all meant. Was she allowing herself to fall in
love with Mr Rubb, and if so, was it well that it should be so? This
would be bringing to the sternest proof of reality her philosophical
theory on social life. It was all very well for her to hold a bold
opinion in discussions with Miss Baker as to a "man being a man for
a' that," even though he might not be a gentleman; but was she
prepared to go the length of preferring such a man to all the world?
Was she ready to go down among the Rubbs, for now and ever, and give
up the society of such women as Miss Baker? She knew that it was
necessary that she should come to some resolve on the matter, as Mr
Rubb's purpose was becoming too clear to her. When an unmarried
gentleman of forty tells an unmarried lady of thirty-six that she is
the dearest friend he has in the world, he must surely intend that
they shall, neither of them, remain unmarried any longer. Then she
thought also of her cousin, John Ball; and some vague shadow of
thought passed across her mind also in respect of the Rev. Mr
Maguire.</p>
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