There was another branch of the Carburys, the head branch, which was now represented by one Roger Carbury, of Carbury Hall. Roger Carbury was a gentleman of whom much will have to be said, but here, at this moment, it need only be told that he was passionately in love with his cousin Henrietta.

There was another branch of the Carburys, the head branch, which was represented by one Roger Carbury, of Carbury Hall: a gentlemen of which, at this moment, it need only be said that he was passionately in love with his cousin Henrietta.


He was, however, nearly forty years old, and there was one Paul Montague whom Henrietta had seen.


Mrs. Hurtle had consented at the joint request of Mrs. Pipkin and John Crumb to postpone her journey to New York and to go down to Bungay and grace the marriage of Ruby Ruggles, not so much from any love for the persons concerned, not so much even from any desire to witness a phase of English life, as from an irresistible tenderness towards Paul Montague.

Mrs. Hurtle had postponed her journey to New York to go to Bungay for the marriage of Ruby Ruggles, not so much from any love for the persons concerned, as from an irresistible tenderness towards Paul Montague.


She not only longed to see him once again, but she could with difficulty bring herself to leave the land in which he was living.

She longed to see him once again, and found it difficult to leave the land in which he was living.


There was no hope for her. She was sure of that.


She had condoned his treachery to her,--and for his sake had even been kind to the rival who had taken her place.


And then, though, in all her very restricted intercourse with such English people as she met, she never ceased to ridicule things English, yet she dreaded a return to her own country. In her heart of hearts she liked the somewhat stupid tranquillity of the life she saw, comparing it with the rough tempests of her past days.

And in her heart of hearts she liked the somewhat stupid tranquillity of life in England compared to the rough tempests of her past days.


Mrs. Pipkin, she thought, was less intellectual than any American woman she had ever known; and she was quite sure that no human being so heavy, so slow, and so incapable of two concurrent ideas as John Crumb had ever been produced in the United States;--but, nevertheless, she liked Mrs. Pipkin, and almost loved John Crumb.

She even liked Mrs. Pipkin, and almost loved John Crumb.


How different would her life have been could she have met a man who would have been as true to her as John Crumb was to his Ruby!

How different would her life have been if she had met a man as true as John Crumb!


She loved Paul Montague with all her heart, and she despised herself for loving him.


How weak he was;--how inefficient; how unable to seize glorious opportunities; how swathed and swaddled by scruples and prejudices;--how unlike her own countrymen in quickness of apprehension and readiness of action!

How weak he was; how inefficient; how swathed in scruples and prejudices!


But yet she loved him for his very faults, telling herself that there was something sweeter in his English manners than in all the smart intelligence of her own land.

Yet she loved him for his very faults, finding something sweet in his English manners.


The man had been false to her,--false as hell; had sworn to her and had broken his oath; had ruined her whole life; had made everything blank before her by his treachery! But then she also had not been quite true with him.

The man had been false to her; but then she had not been quite true with him.


She had not at first meant to deceive;--nor had he.


They had played a game against each other; and he, with all the inferiority of his intellect to weigh him down, had won,--because he was a man.

They had played a game against each other; and he had won - because he was a man.


She had much time for thinking, and she thought much about these things.


He could change his love as often as he pleased, and be as good a lover at the end as ever;--whereas she was ruined by his defection.

He could change his love as often as he pleased, whereas she was ruined by his defection.


He could look about for a fresh flower and boldly seek his honey; whereas she could only sit and mourn for the sweets of which she had been rifled.

He could look about for a fresh flower and boldly seek his honey; whereas she could only sit and mourn for the sweets of which she had been robbed.


She was not quite sure that such mourning would not be more bitter to her in California than in Mrs. Pipkin's solitary lodgings at Islington.


"So he was Mr. Montague's partner,--was he now?"

"So Mr. Fisker was Mr. Montague's partner, was he?"


asked Mrs. Pipkin a day or two after their return from the Crumb marriage.


For Mr. Fisker had called on Mrs. Hurtle, and Mrs. Hurtle had told Mrs. Pipkin so much.

For Mr. Fisker had called on Mrs. Hurtle.


"To my thinking now he's a nicer man than Mr. Montague."

"I think he's a nicer man than Mr. Montague."


Mrs. Pipkin perhaps thought that as her lodger had lost one partner she might be anxious to secure the other;--perhaps felt, too, that it might be well to praise an American at the expense of an Englishman.


"There's no accounting for tastes, Mrs. Pipkin."


"I always did say that of him, Mrs. Hurtle."


"And Mr. Fisker is--an American citizen."

"And Mr. Fisker is - an American citizen.


Mrs. Hurtle when she said this was very far gone in tenderness.


said Mrs. Pipkin, who did not in the least understand the meaning of her friend's last remark.


"Mr. Fisker came to me with tidings from San Francisco which I had not heard before, and has offered to take me back with him."

He came to me with news from San Francisco, and has offered to take me back with him.


Mrs. Pipkin's apron was immediately at her eyes. "I must go some day, you know."
"I suppose you must. I couldn't hope as you'd stay here always.

I must go some day, you know."
"I suppose you must. I couldn't hope as you'd stay here always, Mrs. Hurtle," said Mrs. Pipkin, starting to weep.


I never shall forget the comfort it's been.


There hasn't been a week without everything settled; and most ladylike,--most ladylike!


You seem to me, Mrs. Hurtle, just as though you had the bank in your pocket."


All this the poor woman said, moved by her sorrow to speak the absolute truth.


"Mr. Fisker isn't in any way a special friend of mine. But I hear that he will be taking other ladies with him, and I fancy I might as well join the party.

"Mr. Fisker will be taking other ladies with him, and I might as well join the party.


It will be less dull for me, and I shall prefer company just at present for many reasons.


We shall start on the first of September."


As this was said about the middle of August there was still some remnant of comfort for poor Mrs. Pipkin.


A fortnight gained was something; and as Mr. Fisker had come to England on business, and as business is always uncertain, there might possibly be further delay.


Then Mrs. Hurtle made a further communication to Mrs. Pipkin, which, though not spoken till the latter lady had her hand on the door, was, perhaps, the one thing which Mrs. Hurtle had desired to say. "By-the-bye, Mrs. Pipkin, I expect Mr. Montague to call to-morrow at eleven.

Mrs. Hurtle added, with her hand on the door, "By-the-bye, Mrs. Pipkin, I expect Mr. Montague to call tomorrow at eleven.


She had feared that unless some such instructions were given, there might be a little scene at the door when the gentleman came.


Then Mrs. Pipkin went away abashed,--feeling that she had made a great mistake in preferring any other man to Mr. Montague, if, after all, recent difficulties were to be adjusted.


On the following morning Mrs. Hurtle dressed herself with almost more than her usual simplicity, but certainly with not less than her usual care, and immediately after breakfast seated herself at her desk, nursing an idea that she would work as steadily for the next hour as though she expected no special visitor. Of course she did not write a word of the task which she had prescribed to herself. Of course she was disturbed in her mind, though she had dictated to herself absolute quiescence.

On the following morning Mrs. Hurtle dressed herself with more than her usual simplicity, but certainly no less than her usual care, and sat at her desk, although she was too disturbed in her mind to work.


She almost knew that she had been wrong even to desire to see him.

She knew that she had been wrong even to desire to see him.


She had forgiven him, and what more was there to be said? She had seen the girl, and had in some fashion approved of her.

She had forgiven him, and had seen the girl, and what more was to be said?


Her curiosity had been satisfied, and her love of revenge had been sacrificed.


She had no plan arranged as to what she would now say to him, nor did she at this moment attempt to make a plan.

She had not planned what she would now say to him.


She could tell him that she was about to return to San Francisco with Fisker, but she did not know that she had anything else to say.


Her heart leaped within her, and she made a last great effort to be tranquil.


She heard the steps on the stairs, and then the door was opened and Mr. Montague was announced by Mrs. Pipkin herself.

She heard the steps on the stairs, and then the door was opened and Mr. Montague was announced.


Mrs. Pipkin, however, quite conquered by a feeling of gratitude to her lodger, did not once look in through the door, nor did she pause a moment to listen at the keyhole.


"I thought you would come and see me once again before I went," said Mrs. Hurtle, not rising from her sofa, but putting out her hand to greet him.

"I thought you would come and see me once again before I went," said Mrs. Hurtle, putting out her hand to greet him.


"Sit there opposite, so that we can look at one another.


"I hope it has not been a trouble to you."


"Of course I came when you left word for me to do so."


"I certainly should not have expected it from any wish of your own."


"I should not have dared to come, had you not bade me.

"I should not have dared to come, had you not asked me.


"I know nothing of the kind;--but as you are here we will not quarrel as to your motives.

"I know nothing of the kind; but as you are here we will not quarrel about it.


She only wanted to have somebody to tell her that somebody had maligned you.

She only wanted to have somebody to tell her that you had been maligned.


She was ready to believe any one who would say a good word for you.

She was ready to believe anyone who would say a good word for you."


Perhaps I wasn't just the person to do it, but I believe even I was sufficient to serve the turn."


I do not want to tell you fibs at our last meeting.


But I told her what was quite as serviceable to you as though I had sung your virtues by the hour without ceasing.


I explained to her how very badly you had behaved to me.


I let her know that from the moment you had seen her, you had thrown me to the winds."


One does not scruple a lie for a friend, you know!


I could not go into all the little details of your perfidies.


I could not make her understand during one short and rather agonizing interview how you had allowed yourself to be talked out of your love for me by English propriety even before you had seen her beautiful eyes.


There was no reason why I should tell her all my disgrace,--anxious as I was to be of service.


Besides, as I put it, she was sure to be better pleased.


But I did tell her how unwillingly you had spared me an hour of your company;--what a trouble I had been to you;--how you would have shirked me if you could!"

But I did tell her what a trouble I had been to you; how you would have shirked me if you could!"


"That wretched journey to Lowestoft was the great crime.


Mr. Roger Carbury, who I own is poison to me--"

Mr. Roger Carbury, who is poison to me-"


"Knowing him or not I choose to have my own opinion, sir.


I say that he is poison to me, and I say that he had so stuffed her mind with the flagrant sin of that journey, with the peculiar wickedness of our having lived for two nights under the same roof, with the awful fact that we had travelled together in the same carriage, till that had become the one stumbling block on your path to happiness."


"He never said a word to her of our being there."


She knew it;--and, as the only means of whitewashing you in her eyes, I did tell her how cruel and how heartless you had been to me.

She knew it; and, as the only means of whitewashing you in her eyes, I told her how cruel and heartless you had been to me.


I did explain how the return of friendship which you had begun to show me, had been frozen, harder than Wenham ice, by the appearance of Mr. Carbury on the sands.


Perhaps I went a little farther and hinted that the meeting had been arranged as affording you the easiest means of escape from me."


"You see I had your welfare to look after; and the baser your conduct had been to me, the truer you were in her eyes.

The baser your conduct had been to me, the truer you were in her eyes.


Do I not deserve some thanks for what I did?


Surely you would not have had me tell her that your conduct to me had been that of a loyal, loving gentleman.


I confessed to her my utter despair;--I abased myself in the dust, as a woman is abased who has been treacherously ill-used, and has failed to avenge herself.


I knew that when she was sure that I was prostrate and hopeless she would be triumphant and contented.

I knew that she would be triumphant and contented.


I told her on your behalf how I had been ground to pieces under your chariot wheels.


And now you have not a word of thanks to give me!"


"You know where to go for salve for such skin-deep scratches as I make.


Where am I to find a surgeon who can put together my crushed bones?


Do you not suppose that in thinking of you I have often thought of daggers?


Why have I not thrust one into your heart, so that I might rescue you from the arms of this puny, spiritless English girl?"

Why have I not thrust one into your heart?"


All this time she was still seated, looking at him, leaning forward towards him with her hands upon her brow.


"But, Paul, I spit out my words to you, like any common woman, not because they will hurt you, but because I know I may take that comfort, such as it is, without hurting you. You are uneasy for a moment while you are here, and I have a cruel pleasure in thinking that you cannot answer me. But you will go from me to her, and then will you not be happy?

"Paul, when you go from me to her, you will be happy.


When you are sitting with your arm round her waist, and when she is playing with your smiles, will the memory of my words interfere with your joy then?


Ask yourself whether the prick will last longer than the moment.


But where am I to go for happiness and joy?"


Can you understand what it is to have to live only on retrospects?"


"I wish I could say a word to comfort you."


"You cannot say a word to comfort me, unless you will unsay all that you have said since I have been in England.


But, Paul, I will not be cruel to the end.


I will tell you all that I know of my concerns, even though my doing so should justify your treatment of me.

I will tell you all that I know of my concerns, even though it may justify your treatment of me.


And he himself says that the divorce which was declared between us was no divorce.

And he says that our divorce was no divorce.


Mr. Fisker came here to me with tidings.

Mr. Fisker came here to me with the news.


Though he is not a man whom I specially love,--though I know that he has been my enemy with you,--I shall return with him to San Francisco."

Though he is not a man whom I specially love, I shall return with him to San Francisco.


"I am told that he is taking Madame Melmotte with him, and Melmotte's daughter."

He is taking Madame Melmotte with him, and Melmotte's daughter."


They are adventurers,--as I am, and I do not see why we should not suit each other."


"They say also that Fisker will marry Miss Melmotte."

"They say that Fisker will marry Miss Melmotte."


I shall not be jealous of Mr. Fisker's attentions to the young lady.


But it will suit me to have some one to whom I can speak on friendly terms when I am back in California.

But it will suit me to have friends when I am back in California."


I may have a job of work to do there which will require the backing of some friends.


I shall be hand-and-glove with these people before I have travelled half across the ocean with them."


"I hope they will be kind to you," said Paul.


I have conquered others by being kind, but I have never had much kindness myself.


Did I not conquer you, sir, by being gentle and gracious to you?

Did I not conquer you, sir, by being gentle and gracious?


Ah, how kind I was to that poor wretch, till he lost himself in drink!

Ah, how kind I was to that poor Hurtle, till he lost himself in drink!


And then, Paul, I used to think of better people, perhaps of softer people, of things that should be clean and sweet and gentle,--of things that should smell of lavender instead of wild garlic. I would dream of fair, feminine women,--of women who would be scared by seeing what I saw, who would die rather than do what I did. And then I met you, Paul, and I said that my dreams should come true.

And then, Paul, I used to think of better, softer people; and when I met you, I said that my dreams should come true.


I ought to have known that it could not be so.


I did not dare quite to tell you all the truth.

I did not dare to tell you all the truth.


I know I was wrong, and now the punishment has come upon me.


Well;--I suppose you had better say good-bye to me.

Well; I suppose you had better say good-bye to me."


Then she rose from her chair and stood before him with her arms hanging listlessly by her side.


Why should he,--if we are right in supposing that they who do good will be blessed for their good, and those who do evil cursed for their evil?


I cannot bring myself now not to wish that you would return to me. If you would come I should care nothing for the misery of that girl,--nothing, at least nothing now, for the misery I should certainly bring upon you.

If you would come back to me I should care nothing for that girl's misery.


As she asked this she took from out her bosom a small miniature portrait of himself which he had given her in New York, and held it towards him.

She took out a small miniature portrait of himself which he had given her in New York.


"If you wish it I will,--of course," he said.


"I would not part with it for all the gold in California.


Nothing on earth shall ever part me from it.


Should I ever marry another man,--as I may do,--he must take me and this together.


As you know, I have but little respect for the proprieties of life.


I do not see why I am to abandon the picture of the man I love because he becomes the husband of another woman.


Having once said that I love you I shall not contradict myself because you have deserted me.

Having once said that I love you, I shall not contradict myself because you have deserted me.


Paul, I have loved you, and do love you,--oh, with my very heart of hearts."

Paul, I have loved you, and do love you - oh, with my very heart of hearts."


So speaking she threw herself into his arms and covered his face with kisses.


"For one moment you shall not banish me.


All this to him was simply agony,--though as she had truly said it was an agony he would soon forget.


But to be told by a woman of her love,--without being able even to promise love in return,--to be so told while you are in the very act of acknowledging your love for another woman,--carries with it but little of the joy of triumph.


He did not want to see her raging like a tigress, as he had once thought might be his fate; but he would have preferred the continuance of moderate resentment to this flood of tenderness.

He did not want to see her raging like a tigress, as he had thought she might; but he would have preferred a moderate resentment to this flood of tenderness.


Of course he stood with his arm round her waist, and of course he returned her caresses; but he did it with such stiff constraint that she at once felt how chill they were.

Of course he stood with his arm round her waist, and of course he returned her caresses; but he did it with such stiff constraint that she felt how chill they were.


"There," she said, smiling through her bitter tears,--"there; you are released now, and not even my fingers shall ever be laid upon you again.

"There," she said, smiling through her bitter tears; "you are released now.


If I have annoyed you, at this our last meeting, you must forgive me."

If I have annoyed you, you must forgive me."


"When two persons have made fools of themselves as we have, there must I suppose be some punishment.


Yours will never be heavy after I am gone.


I do not start till the first of next month because that is the day fixed by our friend, Mr. Fisker, and I shall remain here till then because my presence is convenient to Mrs. Pipkin; but I need not trouble you to come to me again. Indeed it will be better that you should not.

It is better that you should not come to me again.


He took her by the hand, and stood for a moment looking at her, while she smiled and gently nodded her head at him.

He took her hand, and stood for a moment looking at her.


Then he essayed to pull her towards him as though he would again kiss her.

Then he tried to pull her towards him as though he would again kiss her.


But she repulsed him, still smiling the while.

But she repulsed him, smiling the while.


"No, sir; no; not again; never again, never,--never,--never again."


By that time she had recovered her hand and stood apart from him.

She recovered her hand and stood apart from him.


Then he turned round and left the room without uttering a word.


She stood still, without moving a limb, as she listened to his step down the stairs and to the opening and the closing of the door.

She stood still as she listened to his step down the stairs and the opening and closing of the door.


Then hiding herself at the window with the scanty drapery of the curtain she watched him as he went along the street.


When he had turned the corner she came back to the centre of the room, stood for a moment with her arms stretched out towards the walls, and then fell prone upon the floor.

She stood for a moment with her arms stretched out, and then fell prone upon the floor.


She had spoken the very truth when she said that she had loved him with all her heart.

She had spoken the truth when she said that she had loved him with all her heart.


[Illlustration: Mrs. Hurtle at the window.]


But that evening she bade Mrs. Pipkin drink tea with her and was more gracious to the poor woman than ever.

But that evening she bade Mrs. Pipkin drink tea with her, and was more gracious than ever.


When the obsequious but still curious landlady asked some question about Mr. Montague, Mrs. Hurtle seemed to speak very freely on the subject of her late lover,--and to speak without any great pain.

When the curious landlady asked about Mr. Montague, Mrs. Hurtle seemed to speak without any great pain.


They had put their heads together, she said, and had found that the marriage would not be suitable.


Each of them preferred their own country, and so they had agreed to part.


On that evening Mrs. Hurtle made herself more than usually pleasant, having the children up into her room, and giving them jam and bread-and-butter.


During the whole of the next fortnight she seemed to take a delight in doing all in her power for Mrs. Pipkin and her family.

During the next fortnight Mrs. Hurtle seemed to take delight in doing all in her power for Mrs. Pipkin and her family.


She gave toys to the children, and absolutely bestowed upon Mrs. Pipkin a new carpet for the drawing-room.

She gave toys to the children, and bestowed upon Mrs. Pipkin a new carpet for the drawing-room.


Then Mr. Fisker came and took her away with him to America; and Mrs. Pipkin was left,--a desolate but grateful woman.

Then Mr. Fisker came and took her away with him to America; and Mrs. Pipkin was left desolate but grateful.


"They do tell bad things about them Americans," she said to a friend in the street, "and I don't pretend to know.

"They tell bad things about them Americans," she said to a friend.


But for a lodger, I only wish Providence would send me another just like the one I have lost.

"But I only wish Providence would send me another lodger like the one I have lost.


She had that good nature about her she liked to see the bairns eating pudding just as if they was her own."


I think Mrs. Pipkin was right, and that Mrs. Hurtle, with all her faults, was a good-natured woman.


On the day after the visit just recorded, Paul Montague received the following letter from Mrs. Hurtle:--

On the next day, Paul Montague received this letter from Mrs. Hurtle:

Chapter 27: Mrs. Hurtle Goes to the Play


I think that perhaps we hardly made ourselves understood to each other yesterday, and I am sure that you do not understand how absolutely my whole life is now at stake.

I think that perhaps we hardly understood each other yesterday, and I am sure that you do not understand how absolutely my whole life is now at stake.


I need only refer you to our journey from San Francisco to London to make you conscious that I really love you.


She cannot throw it from her as a man may do amidst the affairs of the world.

She cannot throw it from her as a man may.


Nor, if it has to be thrown from her, can she bear the loss as a man bears it.

Nor can she bear the loss as a man bears it.


Her thoughts have dwelt on it with more constancy than his;--and then too her devotion has separated her from other things.

Her thoughts have dwelt on it with more constancy than his; and her devotion has separated her from other things.


My devotion to you has separated me from everything.


But I scorn to come to you as a suppliant.


If you choose to say after hearing me that you will put me away from you because you have seen some one fairer than I am, whatever course I may take in my indignation, I shall not throw myself at your feet to tell you of my wrongs.

If you say that you will discard me because you have seen some one fairer, I shall not throw myself at your feet.


I wish, however, that you should hear me.


You say that there is some one you love better than you love me, but that you have not committed yourself to her.

You say that there is someone you love better than me, but that you have not committed yourself to her.


Alas, I know too much of the world to be surprised that a man's constancy should not stand out two years in the absence of his mistress.


A man cannot wrap himself up and keep himself warm with an absent love as a woman does.


But I think that some remembrance of the past must come back upon you now that you have seen me again.

But I think that you must remember the past now that you have seen me again.


I think that you must have owned to yourself that you did love me, and that you could love me again.

I think that you must know that you did love me, and that you could love me again.


You sin against me to my utter destruction if you leave me.


I have given up every friend I have to follow you.


As regards the other--nameless lady, there can be no fault; for, as you tell me, she knows nothing of your passion.

As regards the other lady, there can be no fault; for she knows nothing of your passion.


You hinted that there were other reasons,--that we know too little of each other.

You hinted that there were other reasons - that we know too little of each other.


You meant no doubt that you knew too little of me.

You meant that you knew too little of me.


Is it not the case that you were content when you knew only what was to be learned in those days of our sweet intimacy, but that you have been made discontented by stories told you by your partners at San Francisco?

Yet have you not merely been made discontented by stories told you at San Francisco?


If this be so, trouble yourself at any rate to find out the truth before you allow yourself to treat a woman as you propose to treat me.

Find out the truth before you treat me the way you propose to.


I think you are too good a man to cast aside a woman you have loved,--like a soiled glove,--because ill-natured words have been spoken of her by men, or perhaps by women, who know nothing of her life.

I think you are too good a man to cast aside a woman like a soiled glove, because ill-natured words have been spoken of her by people who know nothing of her life.


My late husband, Caradoc Hurtle, was Attorney-General in the State of Kansas when I married him, I being then in possession of a considerable fortune left to me by my mother.

My late husband, Caradoc Hurtle, was Attorney-General in Kansas when I married him, bringing to him a fortune left to me by my mother.


He spent what money he could get of mine, and then left me and the State, and took himself to Texas;--where he drank himself to death.

He spent my money, and then left me and took himself to Texas - where he drank himself to death.


I did not follow him, and in his absence I was divorced from him in accordance with the laws of Kansas State.


I then went to San Francisco about property of my mother's, which my husband had fraudulently sold to a countryman of ours now resident in Paris,--having forged my name.

I then went to San Francisco about property of my mother's, which my husband had fraudulently sold, having forged my name.


There I met you, and in that short story I tell you all that there is to be told.

There I met you, and that is all that there is to be told.


It may be that you do not believe me now; but if so, are you not bound to go where you can verify your own doubts or my word?

Maybe you do not believe me; but if so, are you not bound to go where you can verify your doubts?


I try to write dispassionately, but I am in truth overborne by passion.

I try to write dispassionately, but I am in truth overcome by passion.


I also have heard in California rumours about myself, and after much delay I received your letter.

I also have heard in California rumours about myself.


I resolved to follow you to England as soon as circumstances would permit me.

When I received your letter, I resolved to follow you to England as soon as I could.


I have been forced to fight a battle about my property, and I have won it. I had two reasons for carrying this through by my personal efforts before I saw you. I had begun it and had determined that I would not be beaten by fraud. And I was also determined that I would not plead to you as a pauper.

I have been forced to fight a battle for my property, and I have won it; for I was determined that I would not plead to you as a pauper.


We have talked too freely together in past days of our mutual money matters for me to feel any delicacy in alluding to them. When a man and woman have agreed to be husband and wife there should be no delicacy of that kind.

When a man and woman have agreed to be husband and wife there should be no delicacy in talking about money.


When we came here together we were both embarrassed.


We both had some property, but neither of us could enjoy it.


Since that I have made my way through my difficulties. From what I have heard at San Francisco I suppose that you have done the same.

I have made my way through my difficulties, and from what I have heard at San Francisco, I suppose you have done the same.


I at any rate shall be perfectly contented if from this time our affairs can be made one.


Since I last saw you in New York I have not had altogether a good time.

Since I last saw you in New York I have not had a good time.


I have had a great struggle and have been thrown on my own resources and have been all alone.

I have had a great struggle and have been thrown on my own resources.


Very cruel things have been said of me. You heard cruel things said, but I presume them to have been said to you with reference to my late husband. Since that they have been said to others with reference to you.

Very cruel things have been said of me - some of them with reference to you.


I have not now come, as my countrymen do generally, backed with a trunk full of introductions and with scores of friends ready to receive me.

I have no friends here ready to receive me.


It was necessary to me that I should see you and hear my fate,--and here I am. I appeal to you to release me in some degree from the misery of my solitude.

I needed to see you and hear my fate - and I appeal to you to release me from the misery of my solitude.


You know,--no one so well,--that my nature is social and that I am not given to be melancholy.

You know that I am not usually melancholy.


Let us be cheerful together, as we once were, if it be only for a day.

Let us be cheerful together, as we once were, if only for a day.


Let me see you as I used to see you, and let me be seen as I used to be seen.


Come to me and take me out with you, and let us dine together, and take me to one of your theatres.

Come and take me out, and let us dine together, and go to one of your theatres.


If you wish it I will promise you not to allude to that revelation you made to me just now, though of course it is nearer to my heart than any other matter.

If you wish I will promise not to allude to that revelation you made to me.


Perhaps some woman's vanity makes me think that if you would only see me again, and talk to me as you used to talk, you would think of me as you used to think.

Perhaps a woman's vanity makes me think that if you would only see me again, and talk to me as you used to talk, you would think of me as you used to think.


You need not fear but you will find me at home. I have no whither to go,--and shall hardly stir from the house till you come to me.

You will find me at home, for I have nowhere else to go.


Send me a line, however, that I may have my hat on if you are minded to do as I ask you.


This letter took her much time to write, though she was very careful so to write as to make it seem that it had flown easily from her pen.

This letter took her much time to write, though she was very careful to make it seem that it had flown easily from her pen.


She copied it from the first draught, but she copied it rapidly, with one or two premeditated erasures, so that it should look to have been done hurriedly.

She copied it rapidly from the first draft, with one or two premeditated erasures, so that it should look to have been done hurriedly.


She had at any rate suppressed any show of anger. In calling him to her she had so written as to make him feel that if he would come he need not fear the claws of an offended lioness:--and yet she was angry as a lioness who had lost her cub.

She had suppressed her anger - and yet she was as angry as a lioness who had lost her cub.


She had almost ignored that other lady whose name she had not yet heard.


She had spoken of her lover's entanglement with that other lady as a light thing which might easily be put aside.


She had said much of her own wrongs, but had not said much of the wickedness of the wrong doer.


Invited as she had invited him, surely he could not but come to her!

Invited as she had invited him, surely he must come to her!


And then, in her reference to money, not descending to the details of dollars and cents, she had studied how to make him feel that he might marry her without imprudence.


As she read it over to herself she thought that there was a tone through it of natural feminine uncautious eagerness.

As she read it over she thought that it had a tone of natural feminine eagerness.


She put her letter up in an envelope, stuck a stamp on it and addressed it,--and then threw herself back in her chair to think of her position.

She put her letter in an envelope, addressed it, and then threw herself back in her chair to think.


He should marry her,--or there should be something done which should make the name of Winifrid Hurtle known to the world!

He should marry her - or the name of Winifrid Hurtle would become known to the world!


She had no plan of revenge yet formed. She would not talk of revenge,--she told herself that she would not even think of revenge,--till she was quite sure that revenge would be necessary.

She had no plan of revenge yet formed - she told herself she would not even think of revenge, till she was quite sure that revenge would be necessary.


But she did think of it, and could not keep her thoughts from it for a moment.


Could it be possible that she, with all her intellectual gifts as well as those of her outward person, should be thrown over by a man whom well as she loved him,--and she did love him with all her heart,--she regarded as greatly inferior to herself!

Could it be possible that she, with all her cleverness and good looks, should be thrown over by a man who - well as she loved him - she regarded as greatly inferior to herself?


He had promised to marry her; and he should marry her, or the world should hear the story of his perjury!


Paul Montague felt that he was surrounded by difficulties as soon as he read the letter.


That his heart was all the other way he was quite sure; but yet it did seem to him that there was no escape from his troubles open to him.

It did not seem that there was any escape open to him.


There was not a single word in this woman's letter that he could contradict.

There was not a single word in the letter that he could contradict.


He had loved her and had promised to make her his wife,--and had determined to break his word to her because he found that she was enveloped in dangerous mystery. He had so resolved before he had ever seen Hetta Carbury, having been made to believe by Roger Carbury that a marriage with an unknown American woman,--of whom he only did know that she was handsome and clever,--would be a step to ruin. The woman, as Roger said, was an adventuress,--might never have had a husband,--might at this moment have two or three,--might be overwhelmed with debt,--might be anything bad, dangerous, and abominable.

He had loved her and had promised to marry her - and had determined to break his word because, as Roger said, she was an adventuress, about whom he knew almost nothing.


All that he had heard at San Francisco had substantiated Roger's views.


"Any scrape is better than that scrape," Roger had said to him. Paul had believed his Mentor, and had believed with a double faith as soon as he had seen Hetta Carbury.

"Any scrape is better than that scrape," Roger had said, and Paul had believed him; and had believed doubly once he had met Hetta Carbury.


It was impossible, after what had passed between them, that he should leave Mrs. Hurtle at her lodgings at Islington without any notice.

It was impossible, after what had passed between them, that he should leave Mrs. Hurtle immediately.


It was clear enough to him that she would not consent to be so left.

It was clear that she would not consent to be so left.


Then her present proposal,--though it seemed to be absurd and almost comical in the tragical condition of their present circumstances,--had in it some immediate comfort.


To take her out and give her a dinner, and then go with her to some theatre, would be easy and perhaps pleasant.

To take her out to dinner and the theatre would be easy and perhaps pleasant.


It would be easier, and certainly much pleasanter, because she had pledged herself to abstain from talking of her grievances.


Then he remembered some happy evenings, delicious hours, which he had so passed with her, when they were first together at New York.

He remembered some delightful evenings which he had so passed with her, when they were first together at New York.


There could be no better companion for such a festival.


She could talk,--and she could listen as well as talk. And she could sit silent, conveying to her neighbour the sense of her feminine charms by her simple proximity. He had been very happy when so placed.

She could both talk and listen, and he had been very happy to sit next to her.


Had it been possible he would have escaped the danger now, but the reminiscence of past delights in some sort reconciled him to the performance of this perilous duty.

The reminiscence partly reconciled him to doing this perilous duty.


But when the evening should be over, how would he part with her?

But when the evening was over, how would he part with her?


When the pleasant hour should have passed away and he had brought her back to her door, what should he say to her then?


He must make some arrangement as to a future meeting.


He knew that he was in a great peril, and he did not know how he might best escape it.

He knew that he was in great peril, and he did not know how to escape it.


He could not now go to Roger Carbury for advice; for was not Roger Carbury his rival?

He could not ask Roger Carbury for advice; for was not Roger his rival?


It would be for his friend's interest that he should marry the widow.


Roger Carbury, as he knew well, was too honest a man to allow himself to be guided in any advice he might give by such a feeling, but, still, on this matter, he could no longer tell everything to Roger Carbury.


He could not say all that he would have to say without speaking of Hetta;--and of his love for Hetta he could not speak to his rival.


He had no other friend in whom he could confide.


There was no other human being he could trust, unless it was Hetta herself.


He thought for a moment that he would write a stern and true letter to the woman, telling her that as it was impossible that there should ever be marriage between them, he felt himself bound to abstain from her society.

He thought for a moment of writing a stern and true letter to Mrs. Hurtle, telling her that he felt himself bound to stay away.


But then he remembered her solitude, her picture of herself in London without even an acquaintance except himself, and he convinced himself that it would be impossible that he should leave her without seeing her.

But then he remembered her solitude in London, and he convinced himself that he ought to see her.


I will come for you to-morrow at half-past five.

I will come for you tomorrow at half-past five.


We will dine together at the Thespian;--and then I will have a box at the Haymarket.

We will dine together at the Thespian; and then I will have a box at the Haymarket Theatre.


The Thespian is a good sort of place, and lots of ladies dine there.


Some half-formed idea ran through his brain that P. M. was a safer signature than Paul Montague.


Then came a long train of thoughts as to the perils of the whole proceeding.


She had told him that she had announced herself to the keeper of the lodging-house as engaged to him, and he had in a manner authorised the statement by declining to contradict it at once.

She had told her landlady that she was engaged to him, and he had not contradicted it.


And now, after that announcement, he was assenting to her proposal that they should go out and amuse themselves together.

And now he was agreeing to go out with her.


Hitherto she had always seemed to him to be open, candid, and free from intrigue.


He had known her to be impulsive, capricious, at times violent, but never deceitful.


Perhaps he was unable to read correctly the inner character of a woman whose experience of the world had been much wider than his own.


His mind misgave him that it might be so; but still he thought that he knew that she was not treacherous.


And yet did not her present acts justify him in thinking that she was carrying on a plot against him?


The note, however, was sent, and he prepared for the evening of the play, leaving the dangers of the occasion to adjust themselves. He ordered the dinner and he took the box, and at the hour fixed he was again at her lodgings.

However, the note was sent, and he ordered the dinner and the box. At the hour fixed he was again at her lodgings.


The woman of the house with a smile showed him into Mrs. Hurtle's sitting-room, and he at once perceived that the smile was intended to welcome him as an accepted lover. It was a smile half of congratulation to the lover, half of congratulation to herself as a woman that another man had been caught by the leg and made fast.

The woman who owned the lodging-house showed him into Mrs. Hurtle's sitting-room, welcoming him with a congratulatory smile.


What man, who has been caught and made sure, has not felt a certain dissatisfaction at being so treated, understanding that the smile is intended to convey to him a sense of his own captivity?


It has, however, generally mattered but little to us.


If we have felt that something of ridicule was intended, because we have been regarded as cocks with their spurs cut away, then we also have a pride when we have declared to ourselves that upon the whole we have gained more than we have lost.


But with Paul Montague at the present moment there was no satisfaction, no pride,--only a feeling of danger which every hour became deeper, and stronger, with less chance of escape.

Paul Montague felt no satisfaction at this - only a sense of danger which every hour became stronger.


He was almost tempted at this moment to detain the woman, and tell her the truth,--and bear the immediate consequences. But there would be treason in doing so, and he would not, could not do it.

He was almost tempted to tell the woman the truth; but he could not do it.


He was left hardly a moment to think of this.


Almost before the woman had shut the door, Mrs. Hurtle came to him out of her bedroom, with her hat on her head.

Mrs. Hurtle came out of her bedroom, with her hat on.


Nothing could be more simple than her dress, and nothing prettier.


It was now June, and the weather was warm, and the lady wore a light gauzy black dress,--there is a fabric which the milliners I think call grenadine,--coming close up round her throat.

It was now June, and the weather was warm, and she wore a light, gauzy black dress coming close up round her throat.


It was very pretty, and she was prettier even than her dress.

It was very pretty, and she was even prettier.


And she had on a hat, black also, small and simple, but very pretty.

Her hat was black also, small and simple.


There are times at which a man going to a theatre with a lady wishes her to be bright in her apparel,--almost gorgeous; in which he will hardly be contented unless her cloak be scarlet, and her dress white, and her gloves of some bright hue,--unless she wear roses or jewels in her hair.


It is thus our girls go to the theatre now, when they go intending that all the world shall know who they are.


But there are times again in which a man would prefer that his companion should be very quiet in her dress,--but still pretty; in which he would choose that she should dress herself for him only.

There are times at which a man going to a theatre with a lady wishes her to look bright and gorgeous; but there are also times when he would prefer that his companion should be very quiet in her dress, but still pretty; in other words, that she should dress for him only.


All this Mrs. Hurtle had understood accurately; and Paul Montague, who understood nothing of it, was gratified.

All this Mrs. Hurtle had understood; and Paul, who understood nothing of it, was gratified.


"You told me to have a hat, and here I am,--hat and all."

"You told me to have a hat, and here I am - hat and all."


She gave him her hand, and laughed, and looked pleasantly at him, as though there was no cause of unhappiness between them. The lodging-house woman saw them enter the cab, and muttered some little word as they went off.

She gave him her hand, and laughed pleasantly as they entered a cab.


Paul did not hear the word, but was sure that it bore some indistinct reference to his expected marriage.


Neither during the drive, nor at the dinner, nor during the performance at the theatre, did she say a word in allusion to her engagement.

Neither during the drive, nor at the dinner, nor at the theatre, did she say a word about the engagement.


It was with them, as in former days it had been at New York.


She whispered pleasant words to him, touching his arm now and again with her finger as she spoke, seeming ever better inclined to listen than to speak.

She whispered pleasant words, touching his arm now and again, seeming more inclined to listen than to speak.


Now and again she referred, after some slightest fashion, to little circumstances that had occurred between them, to some joke, some hour of tedium, some moment of delight; but it was done as one man might do it to another,--if any man could have done it so pleasantly.

Now and again she referred, in the lightest fashion, to little things that had happened between them, to some joke, some hour of tedium, some moment of delight.


There was a scent which he had once approved, and now she bore it on her handkerchief.


There was a ring which he had once given her, and she wore it on the finger with which she touched his sleeve.


With his own hands he had once adjusted her curls, and each curl was as he had placed it.


She had a way of shaking her head, that was very pretty,--a way that might, one would think, have been dangerous at her age, as likely to betray those first grey hairs which will come to disturb the last days of youth. He had once told her in sport to be more careful. She now shook her head again, and, as he smiled, she told him that she could still dare to be careless.

She had a way of shaking her head that was very pretty, which she did now.


There are a thousand little silly softnesses which are pretty and endearing between acknowledged lovers, with which no woman would like to dispense, to which even men who are in love submit sometimes with delight; but which in other circumstances would be vulgar,--and to the woman distasteful. There are closenesses and sweet approaches, smiles and nods and pleasant winkings, whispers, innuendoes and hints, little mutual admirations and assurances that there are things known to those two happy ones of which the world beyond is altogether ignorant. Much of this comes of nature, but something of it sometimes comes by art. Of such art as there may be in it Mrs. Hurtle was a perfect master.

There are a thousand little silly softnesses which are endearing between acknowledged lovers; and Mrs. Hurtle was a perfect master of the art of these.


No allusion was made to their engagement,--not an unpleasant word was spoken; but the art was practised with all its pleasant adjuncts. Paul was flattered to the top of his bent; and, though the sword was hanging over his head, though he knew that the sword must fall,--must partly fall that very night,--still he enjoyed it.

Not an unpleasant word was spoken; Paul was flattered; and though the sword was hanging over his head, still he enjoyed it.


There are men who, of their natures, do not like women, even though they may have wives and legions of daughters, and be surrounded by things feminine in all the affairs of their lives.

There are men who do not like women, even though they may have wives and legions of daughters.


Others again have their strongest affinities and sympathies with women, and are rarely altogether happy when removed from their influence. Paul Montague was of the latter sort.

But others have their strongest affinities and sympathies with women, and Paul Montague was of the latter sort.


At this time he was thoroughly in love with Hetta Carbury, and was not in love with Mrs. Hurtle. He would have given much of his golden prospects in the American railway to have had Mrs. Hurtle reconveyed suddenly to San Francisco. And yet he had a delight in her presence.

At this time he was thoroughly in love with Hetta Carbury, and was not in love with Mrs. Hurtle; yet he delighted in her presence.


"The acting isn't very good," he said when the piece was nearly over.

"The acting isn't very good," he said towards the end of the play.


What we enjoy or what we suffer depends upon the humour.


The acting is not first-rate, but I have listened and laughed and cried, because I have been happy."


He was bound to tell her that he also had enjoyed the evening, and was bound to say it in no voice of hypocritical constraint.


"And one has so little that is really jolly, as you call it.


I wonder whether any girl ever did sit and cry like that because her lover talked to another woman.


What I find fault with is that the writers and actors are so ignorant of men and women as we see them every day.

What I find fault with is that the writers and actors are so ignorant of people as we see them every day.


It's all right that she should cry, but she shouldn't cry there."


The position described was so nearly her own, that he could say nothing to this.


She had so spoken on purpose,--fighting her own battle after her own fashion, knowing well that her words would confuse him.

She spoke knowing that her words would confuse him.


She may be found crying because she is unable to hide them;--but she does not willingly let the other woman see them.

She may be found crying because she is unable to hide them; but she does not let the other woman see them.


"Medea did not weep when she was introduced to Creusa."


"There's a dash of the savage princess about most of them.


And I have had no nosegay brought in a wheelbarrow to throw on to the stage.


I'm not a bit afraid of a London cab by myself."

I'm not afraid of a London cab by myself."


But of course he accompanied her to Islington.


He owed her at any rate as much as that.


She continued to talk during the whole journey. What a wonderful place London was,--so immense, but so dirty!

She talked during the journey of what a wonderful place London was - so immense, but so dirty!


New York of course was not so big, but was, she thought, pleasanter.


But Paris was the gem of gems among towns.


She did not like Frenchmen, and she liked Englishmen even better than Americans; but she fancied that she could never like English women.

She did not like Frenchmen, and she liked Englishmen; but she fancied that she could never like English women.


I like good conduct, and law, and religion too if it be not forced down one's throat; but I hate what your women call propriety.

"I like good conduct, but I hate what your women call propriety.


I suppose what we have been doing to-night is very improper; but I am quite sure that it has not been in the least wicked."

I suppose what we have been doing tonight is very improper; but I am quite sure that it has not been in the least wicked."


"I don't think it has," said Paul Montague very tamely.


It is a long way from the Haymarket to Islington, but at last the cab reached the lodging-house door.

At last the cab reached the lodging-house door.


"Even about the houses there is an air of stiff-necked propriety which frightens me."


She was getting out as she spoke, and he had already knocked at the door.


"Come in for one moment," she said as he paid the cabman.


The woman the while was standing with the door in her hand.

The lodging-house woman was standing with the door in her hand.


It was near midnight,--but, when people are engaged, hours do not matter.

It was near midnight, but, when people are engaged, hours do not matter.


The woman of the house, who was respectability herself,--a nice kind widow, with five children, named Pipkin,--understood that and smiled again as he followed the lady into the sitting-room.

The woman of the house - who was a nice, respectable widow, with five children, named Mrs. Pipkin - smiled again as he followed Mrs. Hurtle into her sitting-room.


She had already taken off her hat and was flinging it on to the sofa as he entered.


"Shut the door for one moment," she said; and he shut it.


Then she threw herself into his arms, not kissing him but looking up into his face.


I will not bear to be separated from you.


No, no;--never. I swear it, and you may believe me. There is nothing I cannot do for love of you,--but to lose you."

No, no; there is nothing I cannot do for love of you - but to lose you."


Then she pushed him from her and looked away from him, clasping her hands together.

Then she pushed him from her and clasped her hands together.


"But Paul, I mean to keep my pledge to you to-night.

"But Paul, I mean to keep my pledge to you tonight.


It was to be an island in our troubles, a little holiday in our hard school-time, and I will not destroy it at its close.

It was to be an island in our troubles, a little holiday in our hard school-time, and I will not destroy it.


You will see me again soon,--will you not?"

You will see me again soon - will you not?"


He nodded assent, then took her in his arms and kissed her, and left her without a word.


On Friday, the 21st June, the Board of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway sat in its own room behind the Exchange, as was the Board's custom every Friday.

On Friday 21st June, the Board of the Railway sat, as it did every Friday.


On this occasion all the members were there, as it had been understood that the chairman was to make a special statement.

All the members were there, as it had been understood that the chairman was to make a special statement.


There was the great chairman as a matter of course.


In the midst of his numerous and immense concerns he never threw over the railway, or delegated to other less experienced hands those cares which the commercial world had intrusted to his own.


Lord Alfred was there, with Mr. Cohenlupe, the Hebrew gentleman, and Paul Montague, and Lord Nidderdale,--and even Sir Felix Carbury.


Sir Felix had come, being very anxious to buy and sell, and not as yet having had an opportunity of realising his golden hopes, although he had actually paid a thousand pounds in hard money into Mr. Melmotte's hands.

Even Sir Felix had come, being very anxious to buy and sell, and not as yet having had an opportunity of realising his golden hopes, although he had paid Mr. Melmotte a thousand pounds.


The secretary, Mr. Miles Grendall, was also present as a matter of course.


The Board always met at three, and had generally been dissolved at a quarter past three.

The Board always met at three, and had generally been dissolved at a quarter past.


Lord Alfred and Mr. Cohenlupe sat at the chairman's right and left hand.

Lord Alfred and Mr. Cohenlupe sat next to Mr. Melmotte.


Paul Montague generally sat immediately below, with Miles Grendall opposite to him;--but on this occasion the young lord and the young baronet took the next places.

Paul Montague usually sat immediately below, with Miles Grendall opposite him; but on this occasion Lord Nidderdale and Carbury took these places.


It was a nice little family party, the great chairman with his two aspiring sons-in-law, his two particular friends,--the social friend, Lord Alfred, and the commercial friend Mr. Cohenlupe,--and Miles, who was Lord Alfred's son.


It would have been complete in its friendliness, but for Paul Montague, who had lately made himself disagreeable to Mr. Melmotte;--and most ungratefully so, for certainly no one had been allowed so free a use of the shares as the younger member of the house of Fisker, Montague, and Montague.


It was understood that Mr. Melmotte was to make a statement.


Lord Nidderdale and Sir Felix had conceived that this was to be done as it were out of the great man's own heart, of his own wish, so that something of the condition of the company might be made known to the directors of the company.


But this was not perhaps exactly the truth.


Paul Montague had insisted on giving vent to certain doubts at the last meeting but one, and, having made himself very disagreeable indeed, had forced this trouble on the great chairman.

Montague was out of favour, having insisted on giving vent to certain doubts at the last meeting but one, and making himself very disagreeable to the great chairman.


On the intermediate Friday the chairman had made himself very unpleasant to Paul, and this had seemed to be an effort on his part to frighten the inimical director out of his opposition, so that the promise of a statement need not be fulfilled.


What nuisance can be so great to a man busied with immense affairs, as to have to explain,--or to attempt to explain,--small details to men incapable of understanding them?

What nuisance can be so great to a man busied with immense affairs, as to have to explain small details to men incapable of understanding them?


He had not intended, he said, to dispute the commercial success of the company.


But he felt very strongly, and he thought that his brother directors should feel as strongly, that it was necessary that they should know more than they did know.

He felt very strongly, he said, that the directors needed to know more than they did know.


Lord Alfred had declared that he did not in the least agree with his brother director.

Lord Alfred had declared that he did not agree.


"If anybody don't understand, it's his own fault," said Mr. Cohenlupe.


But Paul would not give way, and it was understood that Mr. Melmotte would make a statement.

But Paul would not give way, and it was understood that Mr. Melmotte would therefore make a statement.


The "Boards" were always commenced by the reading of a certain record of the last meeting out of a book.

The "Boards" always began with the reading of a record of the last meeting.


This was always done by Miles Grendall; and the record was supposed to have been written by him.

This was done by Miles Grendall; and the record was supposed to have been written by him.


But Montague had discovered that this statement in the book was always prepared and written by a satellite of Melmotte's from Abchurch Lane who was never present at the meeting.

But Montague had discovered that the statement was written by a satellite of Melmotte's from Abchurch Lane, who was not at the meeting.


The adverse director had spoken to the secretary,--it will be remembered that they were both members of the Beargarden,--and Miles had given a somewhat evasive reply.

When he asked Miles about this, Miles had given a somewhat evasive reply.


"A cussed deal of trouble and all that, you know!


He's used to it, and it's what he's meant for.


I'm not going to flurry myself about stuff of that kind."


Montague after this had spoken on the subject both to Nidderdale and Felix Carbury.

So Montague had spoken on the subject both to Nidderdale and Felix Carbury.


"He couldn't do it, if it was ever so," Nidderdale had said.

"He couldn't do it," Nidderdale had said.


"I don't think I'd bully him if I were you.


He gets 500 a-year, and if you knew all he owes, and all he hasn't got, you wouldn't try to rob him of it."


With Felix Carbury Montague had as little success.

With Felix Carbury, Montague had as little success.


Sir Felix hated the secretary, had detected him cheating at cards, had resolved to expose him,--and had then been afraid to do so.

Sir Felix hated Miles Grendall, had detected him cheating at cards, had resolved to expose him - and had then been afraid to do so.


He had told Dolly Longestaffe, and the reader will perhaps remember with what effect.


He had not mentioned the affair again, and had gradually fallen back into the habit of playing at the club. Loo, however, had given way to whist, and Sir Felix had satisfied himself with the change.

He had not mentioned the affair again, and had gradually fallen back into the habit of playing at the club, since they were now playing whist instead of loo.


He still meditated some dreadful punishment for Miles Grendall, but, in the meantime, felt himself unable to oppose him at the Board.


Since the day at which the aces had been manipulated at the club he had not spoken to Miles Grendall except in reference to the affairs of the whist-table.


The "Board" was now commenced as usual. Miles read the short record out of the book,--stumbling over every other word, and going through the performance so badly that had there been anything to understand no one could have understood it.

The "Board" now commenced as usual: Miles read the short record out of the book, stumbling over every other word, so that if there had been anything to understand no one could have understood it.


"Gentlemen," said Mr. Melmotte, in his usual hurried way, "is it your pleasure that I shall sign the record?"

"Gentlemen," said Mr. Melmotte, in his usual hurried way, "shall I sign the record?"


Paul Montague rose to say that it was not his pleasure that the record should be signed. But Melmotte had made his scrawl, and was deep in conversation with Mr. Cohenlupe before Paul could get upon his legs.

Paul Montague rose to object; but Melmotte had made his scrawl, and was already deep in conversation with Mr. Cohenlupe.


Melmotte, however, had watched the little struggle.


Melmotte, whatever might be his faults, had eyes to see and ears to hear.


He perceived that Montague had made a little struggle and had been cowed; and he knew how hard it is for one man to persevere against five or six, and for a young man to persevere against his elders.

He perceived that Montague had made a little struggle and had been cowed; and he knew how hard it is for one man to persevere against five or six.


Nidderdale was filliping bits of paper across the table at Carbury.


Miles Grendall was poring over the book which was in his charge.


Lord Alfred sat back in his chair, the picture of a model director, with his right hand within his waistcoat.


He looked aristocratic, respectable, and almost commercial.


In that room he never by any chance opened his mouth, except when called on to say that Mr. Melmotte was right, and was considered by the chairman really to earn his money.


Melmotte for a minute or two went on conversing with Cohenlupe, having perceived that Montague for the moment was cowed.

The other men were unconcerned, so Melmotte went on talking to Cohenlupe.


Then Paul put both his hands upon the table, intending to rise and ask some perplexing question.


Melmotte saw this also and was upon his legs before Montague had risen from his chair.

Melmotte saw this also and was upon his legs first.


"Gentlemen," said Mr. Melmotte, "it may perhaps be as well if I take this occasion of saying a few words to you about the affairs of the company."


Then, instead of going on with his statement, he sat down again, and began to turn over sundry voluminous papers very slowly, whispering a word or two every now and then to Mr. Cohenlupe.

Then, instead of going on with his statement, he sat down again, and began to turn over some voluminous papers very slowly, whispering a word or two every now and then to Mr. Cohenlupe.


Lord Alfred never changed his posture and never took his hand from his breast.


Nidderdale and Carbury filliped their paper pellets backwards and forwards.


Montague sat profoundly listening,--or ready to listen when anything should be said. As the chairman had risen from his chair to commence his statement, Paul felt that he was bound to be silent.

Montague sat ready to listen, feeling that he was bound to be silent.


When a speaker is in possession of the floor, he is in possession even though he be somewhat dilatory in looking to his references, and whispering to his neighbour.


And, when that speaker is a chairman, of course some additional latitude must be allowed to him.


Montague understood this, and sat silent.


It seemed that Melmotte had much to say to Cohenlupe, and Cohenlupe much to say to Melmotte.


Since Cohenlupe had sat at the Board he had never before developed such powers of conversation.

Cohenlupe had never before shown such powers of conversation.


He had been there twenty minutes, was tired of his present amusement, having been unable to hit Carbury on the nose, and suddenly remembered that the Beargarden would now be open.

He had been there twenty minutes, and suddenly remembered that the Beargarden would now be open.


He was no respecter of persons, and had got over any little feeling of awe with which the big table and the solemnity of the room may have first inspired him.


"I suppose that's about all," he said, looking up at Melmotte.

"I suppose that's about all," he said, looking at Melmotte.


"Well;--perhaps as your lordship is in a hurry, and as my lord here is engaged elsewhere,"--turning round to Lord Alfred, who had not uttered a syllable or made a sign since he had been in his seat,--"we had better adjourn this meeting for another week."

"Well, perhaps as your lordship is in a hurry, and as my lord here is engaged elsewhere," - turning round to Lord Alfred, who had not uttered a syllable - "we had better adjourn this meeting for another week."


"I cannot allow that," said Paul Montague.


"I suppose then we must take the sense of the Board," said the Chairman.


"I have been discussing certain circumstances with our friend and Chairman," said Cohenlupe, "and I must say that it is not expedient just at present to go into matters too freely."

"I have been discussing certain circumstances with our Chairman," said Cohenlupe, "and I must say that it is not expedient just at present to go into matters too freely."


"My lords and gentlemen," said Melmotte.


Lord Alfred bowed down to the table and muttered something which was intended to convey most absolute confidence.

Lord Alfred, bowing, muttered something about absolute confidence.


"All right," said Lord Nidderdale; "go on;" and he fired another pellet with improved success.


"I trust," said the Chairman, "that my young friend, Sir Felix, doubts neither my discretion nor my ability."


"Oh dear, no;--not at all," said the baronet, much flattered at being addressed in this kindly tone. He had come there with objects of his own, and was quite prepared to support the Chairman on any matter whatever.

"Oh dear, no, not at all," said the baronet, much flattered, and quite prepared to support the Chairman on any matter whatever.


"My Lords and Gentlemen," continued Melmotte, "I am delighted to receive this expression of your confidence.


If I know anything in the world I know something of commercial matters.


I am able to tell you that we are prospering.


I do not know that greater prosperity has ever been achieved in a shorter time by a commercial company.


I think our friend here, Mr. Montague, should be as feelingly aware of that as any gentleman."

I think our friend here, Mr. Montague, should be as aware of that as any gentleman."


"What do you mean by that, Mr. Melmotte?"


"What do I mean?--Certainly nothing adverse to your character, sir.


Your firm in San Francisco, sir, know very well how the affairs of the Company are being transacted on this side of the water.

"Your firm in San Francisco, sir, know very well how the affairs of the Company are being transacted here.


No doubt you are in correspondence with Mr. Fisker.


The telegraph wires are open to you, sir.


But, my Lords and Gentlemen, I am able to inform you that in affairs of this nature great discretion is necessary.

But, my Lords and Gentlemen, in affairs of this nature great discretion is necessary.


On behalf of the shareholders at large whose interests are in our hands, I think it expedient that any general statement should be postponed for a short time, and I flatter myself that in that opinion I shall carry the majority of this Board with me."

On behalf of our shareholders, I think it expedient that any general statement should be postponed for a short time, and I flatter myself that in that opinion I shall carry the majority of this Board with me.


Mr. Melmotte did not make his speech very fluently; but, being accustomed to the place which he occupied, he did manage to get the words spoken in such a way as to make them intelligible to the company.


"I now move that this meeting be adjourned to this day week," he added.

I now move that this meeting be adjourned to this day week."


"I second that motion," said Lord Alfred, without moving his hand from his breast.

"I second that motion," said Lord Alfred.


"I understood that we were to have a statement," said Montague.


"You've had a statement," said Mr. Cohenlupe.


"I will put my motion to the vote," said the Chairman.


"I shall move an amendment," said Paul, determined that he would not be altogether silenced.

"I shall move an amendment," said Paul, determined not to be silenced.


"There is nobody to second it," said Mr. Cohenlupe.


"I shall ask Lord Nidderdale to second it, and when he has heard it I think that he will not refuse."

I shall ask Lord Nidderdale to second it."


"At any rate I claim the right of saying a few words.

"At any rate I claim the right of saying a few words," continued Paul.


I do not say whether every affair of this Company should or should not be published to the world."


"You'd break up everything if you did," said Cohenlupe.


"Perhaps everything ought to be broken up.


That as we sit here as directors and will be held to be responsible as such by the public, we ought to know what is being done.

"As we sit here as directors and will be held responsible as such by the public, we ought to know what is being done.


We ought to know where the shares really are.


I for one do not even know what scrip has been issued."


"You've bought and sold enough to know something about it," said Melmotte.


Paul Montague became very red in the face.


"I, at any rate, began," he said, "by putting what was to me a large sum of money into the affair."

"I began," he said, "by putting what was to me a large sum of money into the affair."


"That's more than I know," said Melmotte.


"Whatever shares you have, were issued at San Francisco, and not here."


"I have taken nothing that I haven't paid for," said Montague.


"Nor have I yet had allotted to me anything like the number of shares which my capital would represent.


But I did not intend to speak of my own concerns."


"It looks very like it," said Cohenlupe.


"So far from it that I am prepared to risk the not improbable loss of everything I have in the world.

"So far from it that I am prepared to risk the loss of everything I have in the world.


I am determined to know what is being done with the shares, or to make it public to the world at large that I, one of the directors of the Company, do not in truth know anything about it.

I am determined to know what is being done with the shares, or to tell the world at large that I, one of the directors, do not in truth know anything about it.


I cannot, I suppose, absolve myself from further responsibility; but I can at any rate do what is right from this time forward,--and that course I intend to take."


"The gentleman had better resign his seat at this Board," said Melmotte.


"There will be no difficulty about that."


"Bound up as I am with Fisker and Montague in California I fear that there will be difficulty."


"Not in the least," continued the Chairman.


"You need only gazette your resignation and the thing is done.

"You need only give your resignation and the thing is done.


I had intended, gentlemen, to propose an addition to our number.


When I name to you a gentleman, personally known to many of you, and generally esteemed throughout England as a man of business, as a man of probity, and as a man of fortune, a man standing deservedly high in all British circles, I mean Mr. Longestaffe of Caversham--"

When I name to you a gentleman, personally known to many of you, and esteemed as a man of business, probity, and fortune - I mean Mr. Longestaffe of Caversham-"


"I mean Mr. Adolphus Longestaffe, senior, of Caversham.

"I mean Mr. Adolphus Longestaffe, senior.


I am sure that you will all be glad to welcome him among you.


I had thought to strengthen our number by this addition.


But if Mr. Montague is determined to leave us,--and no one will regret the loss of his services so much as I shall,--it will be my pleasing duty to move that Adolphus Longestaffe, senior, Esquire, of Caversham, be requested to take his place.

But if Mr. Montague is determined to leave us, it will be my pleasing duty to move that Adolphus Longestaffe Esquire should take his place.


If on reconsideration Mr. Montague shall determine to remain with us,--and I for one most sincerely hope that such reconsideration may lead to such determination,--then I shall move that an additional director be added to our number, and that Mr. Longestaffe be requested to take the chair of that additional director."

If on reconsideration Mr. Montague shall determine to remain with us - and I sincerely hope that he will - then I shall move that Mr. Longstaffe be added to our number as an additional director."


The latter speech Mr. Melmotte got through very glibly, and then immediately left the chair, so as to show that the business of the Board was closed for that day without any possibility of reopening it.

Mr. Melmotte immediately left the chair, so as to show that the business of the Board was closed for that day.


Paul went up to him and took him by the sleeve, signifying that he wished to speak to him before they parted.

Paul went up to him and took him by the sleeve, signifying that he wished to speak before they parted.


"Certainly," said the great man, bowing.


"Carbury," he said, looking round on the young baronet with his blandest smile, "if you are not in a hurry, wait a moment for me.


I have a word or two to say before you go.


Now, Mr. Montague, what can I do for you?"


Paul began his story, expressing again the opinion which he had already very plainly expressed at the table.

Paul began to express again the opinion which he had already expressed at the table.


But Melmotte stopped him very shortly, and with much less courtesy than he had shown in the speech which he had made from the chair.

But Melmotte stopped him with less courtesy than before.


"The thing is about this way, I take it, Mr. Montague;--you think you know more of this matter than I do."

"The thing is, Mr. Montague - you think you know more of this matter than I do."


"And I think that I know more of it than you do.


But as I don't intend to give way to you, perhaps the less we speak together about it the better.


You can't be in earnest in the threat you made, because you would be making public things communicated to you under the seal of privacy,--and no gentleman would do that.


But as long as you are hostile to me, I can't help you;--and so good afternoon."

As long as you are hostile to me, I can't help you; and so good afternoon."


Then, without giving Montague the possibility of a reply, he escaped into an inner room which had the word "Private" painted on the door, and which was supposed to belong to the chairman individually.

Then, without giving Montague the possibility of a reply, he escaped into an inner room and shut the door behind him.


He shut the door behind him, and then, after a few moments, put out his head and beckoned to Sir Felix Carbury.

After a few moments, he put out his head and beckoned to Sir Felix Carbury.


Lord Alfred with his son were already on the stairs.


Cohenlupe was engaged with Melmotte's clerk on the record-book.


Paul Montague finding himself without support and alone, slowly made his way out into the court.

Paul Montague slowly made his way out into the courtyard.


Sir Felix had come into the city intending to suggest to the Chairman that having paid his thousand pounds he should like to have a few shares to go on with.

Sir Felix had come intending to suggest to the Chairman that having paid his thousand pounds he should like to have a few shares to go on with.


He was, indeed, at the present moment very nearly penniless, and had negotiated, or lost at cards, all the I.O.U.

He was very nearly penniless, and had negotiated, or lost at cards, all the I.O.U.


's which were in any degree serviceable.


He still had a pocket-book full of those issued by Miles Grendall; but it was now an understood thing at the Beargarden that no one was to be called upon to take them except Miles Grendall himself;--an arrangement which robbed the card-table of much of its delight.

He still had a pocket-book full of those issued by Miles Grendall; but it was now understood at the Beargarden that no one was to be called upon to take them except Miles himself.


Beyond this, also, he had lately been forced to issue a little paper himself,--in doing which he had talked largely of his shares in the railway.

Beyond this, Felix had lately been forced to issue an I.O.U. or two himself.


He had actually paid a thousand pounds down in hard cash, a commercial transaction which, as performed by himself, he regarded as stupendous. It was almost incredible to himself that he should have paid any one a thousand pounds, but he had done it with much difficulty,--having carried Dolly junior with him all the way into the city,--in the belief that he would thus put himself in the way of making a continual and unfailing income.

He had paid a thousand pounds down in hard cash, in the belief that he would thus put himself in the way of making a continual income.


He understood that as a director he would be always entitled to buy shares at par, and, as a matter of course, always able to sell them at the market price. This he understood to range from ten to fifteen and twenty per cent. profit.

He understood that as a director he would be always entitled to buy shares at par, and be able to sell them at the market price - giving him from ten to twenty per cent profit.


He would have nothing to do but to buy and sell daily.

He would have nothing to do but to buy and sell.


He was told that Lord Alfred was allowed to do it to a small extent; and that Melmotte was doing it to an enormous extent.


But before he could do it he must get something,--he hardly knew what,--out of Melmotte's hands.

But before he could do it he must get something - he hardly knew what - out of Melmotte's hands.


Melmotte certainly did not seem disposed to shun him, and therefore there could be no difficulty about the shares.

Melmotte certainly did not seem to shun him, and therefore there could be no danger about the shares.


As to danger;--who could think of danger in reference to money intrusted to the hands of Augustus Melmotte?


"I am delighted to see you here," said Melmotte, shaking him cordially by the hand.


"You come regularly, and you'll find that it will be worth your while.


"There's nothing like attending to business.


"And let me see you sometimes up at my place in Abchurch Lane.

"And let me see you sometimes at my place in Abchurch Lane.


I can put you more in the way of understanding things there than I can here.


This is all a mere formal sort of thing.


"We are obliged to have this kind of thing for men like that fellow Montague.


He is a friend of a cousin of mine; and the women know him at home.


He isn't a pal of mine if you mean that."


"If he makes himself disagreeable, he'll have to go to the wall;--that's all.

"If he makes himself disagreeable, he'll have to go.


Was your mother speaking to you of what I said to her?"

Did your mother tell you what I said to her?"


"No, Mr. Melmotte," said Sir Felix, staring with all his eyes.

"No, Mr. Melmotte," said Sir Felix, staring.


"I was talking to her about you, and I thought that perhaps she might have told you.


This is all nonsense, you know, about you and Marie."


But there had suddenly come upon his brow that heavy look of a determined purpose which all who knew the man were wont to mark.

But there had suddenly come into it a heavy look of determined purpose.


Sir Felix had observed it a few minutes since in the Board-room, when the chairman was putting down the rebellious director.


"You understand that; don't you?" continued Melmotte.


Sir Felix still looked at him, but made no reply.


You haven't got a brass farthing, you know.


You've no income at all; you're just living on your mother, and I'm afraid she's not very well off.

You're just living on your mother, and she's not well off.


How can you suppose that I shall give my girl to you?"


Felix still looked at him but did not dare to contradict a single statement made.


Yet when the man told him that he had not a brass farthing he thought of his own thousand pounds which were now in the man's pocket.

Yet when the man told him that he had not a brass farthing he thought of his thousand pounds which were now in the man's pocket.


"You're a baronet, and that's about all, you know," continued Melmotte.

"You're a baronet, and that's about all," said Melmotte.


"The Carbury property, which is a very small thing, belongs to a distant cousin who may leave it to me if he pleases;--and who isn't very much older than you are yourself."

"The Carbury property, which is a very small thing, belongs to a distant cousin who may leave it however he pleases; and who isn't much older than you are yourself."


"Oh, come, Mr. Melmotte; he's a great deal older than me."


"It wouldn't matter if he were as old as Adam.


The thing is out of the question, and you must drop it."


Then the look on his brow became a little heavier.


She was engaged to him before you ever saw her.


Sir Felix had not the courage to say that he expected to get the girl he loved.


But as the man waited for an answer he was obliged to say something.


"I suppose it's the old story," he said.


You want my money, and she wants you, just because she has been told to take somebody else.


You want something to live on;--that's what you want.


When we understand each other I'll put you in the way of making money."


"Of course I'm not very well off," said Felix.


"About as badly as any young man that I can hear of.


You give me your written promise that you'll drop this affair with Marie, and you shan't want for money."


I'll put you in the way of doing so well with these shares that you shall be able to marry any other girl you please;--or to live without marrying, which you'll find to be better."

And then I'll put you in the way of doing so well with these shares that you shall be able to marry any other girl you please - or to live without marrying, which you'll find to be better."


There was something worthy of consideration in Mr. Melmotte's proposition.


Marriage of itself, simply as a domestic institution, had not specially recommended itself to Sir Felix Carbury.

Marriage had not specially recommended itself to him.


A few horses at Leighton, Ruby Ruggles or any other beauty, and life at the Beargarden were much more to his taste.

A few horses, Ruby Ruggles or any other beauty, and life at the Beargarden were much more to his taste.


And then he was quite alive to the fact that it was possible that he might find himself possessed of the wife without the money.

And he was quite aware that he might find himself possessed of the wife without the money.


Marie, indeed, had a grand plan of her own, with reference to that settled income; but then Marie might be mistaken,--or she might be lying.

Marie might be mistaken about the amount settled on her - or she might be lying.


If he were sure of making money in the way Melmotte now suggested, the loss of Marie would not break his heart.

If he were sure of making money, the loss of Marie would not break his heart.


"By-the-bye, Mr. Melmotte," said he, "could you let me have those shares?"


And the heavy brow became still heavier.


"Don't you know?--I gave you a thousand pounds, and I was to have ten shares."

"I gave you a thousand pounds, and I was to have ten shares."


"You must come about that on the proper day, to the proper place."


"It is the twentieth of each month I think."


Sir Felix looked very blank at hearing this, knowing that this present was the twenty-first of the month.

Sir Felix looked very blank at hearing this, since it was now the twenty-first.


"A lot of fellows owe me money, but it's so hard to get it."


"That tells a story of gambling," said Mr. Melmotte.

"That tells of gambling," said Mr. Melmotte.


"You think I'd give my girl to a gambler?"


"Nidderdale's in it quite as thick as I am."


"Nidderdale has a settled property which neither he nor his father can destroy.

"Nidderdale has a settled property which he cannot destroy.


But don't you be such a fool as to argue with me.

But don't be such a fool as to argue with me.


If you'll do that I'll stick to you and make a man of you.


And if you want a couple of hundred pounds I'll give you a cheque for it before you leave the room.


On my word of honour as a gentleman, if my daughter were to marry you, she'd never have a single shilling.

But if my daughter were to marry you, she'd never have a single shilling."


I should immediately make a will and leave all my property to St. George's Hospital.


I have quite made up my mind about that."


"And couldn't you manage that I should have the shares before the twentieth of next month?"


Perhaps I could let you have a few of my own.


At any rate I won't see you short of money."


The terms were enticing and the letter was of course written.


Melmotte himself dictated the words, which were not romantic in their nature.

Melmotte himself dictated the words, which were not romantic:


In consideration of the offers made by you to me, and on a clear understanding that such a marriage would be disagreeable to you and to the lady's mother, and would bring down a father's curse upon your daughter, I hereby declare and promise that I will not renew my suit to the young lady, which I hereby altogether renounce.

In consideration of the offers made by you, and on a clear understanding that such a marriage would be disagreeable to you and to the lady's mother, I hereby declare and promise that I will not renew my suit to the young lady, which I hereby altogether renounce.


AUGUSTUS MELMOTTE, Esq., --, Grosvenor Square.


The letter was dated 21st July, and bore the printed address of the offices of the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway.

The letter was dated 21st July, and bore the printed address of the offices of the Railway.


"You'll give me that cheque for 200, Mr. Melmotte?"


The financier hesitated for a moment, but did give the baronet the cheque as promised.


"And you'll see about letting me have those shares?"


"You can come to me in Abchurch Lane, you know."


Sir Felix said that he would call in Abchurch Lane.


As he went westward towards the Beargarden, the baronet was not happy in his mind.

As he went westward towards the Beargarden, the baronet was not happy.


Ignorant as he was as to the duties of a gentleman, indifferent as he was to the feelings of others, still he felt ashamed of himself.

Ignorant as he was about the duties of a gentleman, indifferent as he was to the feelings of others, still he felt ashamed.


He was treating the girl very badly. Even he knew that he was behaving badly.

He knew that he was treating the girl very badly.


He was so conscious of it that he tried to console himself by reflecting that his writing such a letter as that would not prevent his running away with the girl, should he, on consideration, find it to be worth his while to do so.

He tried to console himself by reflecting that his writing such a letter would not prevent his running away with the girl, should he, on consideration, find it worth his while to do so.


That night he was again playing at the Beargarden, and he lost a great part of Mr. Melmotte's money.


He did in fact lose much more than the 200; but when he found his ready money going from him he issued paper.

In fact he lost much more than the 200; but he paid in I.O.U.s.


Augustus Melmotte was becoming greater and greater in every direction,--mightier and mightier every day.

Augustus Melmotte was becoming greater and mightier every day.


He was learning to despise mere lords, and to feel that he might almost domineer over a duke.


In truth he did recognise it as a fact that he must either domineer over dukes, or else go to the wall.


It can hardly be said of him that he had intended to play so high a game, but the game that he had intended to play had become thus high of its own accord.

He had not intended to play so high a game, but the game had become high of its own accord.


A man cannot always restrain his own doings and keep them within the limits which he had himself planned for them.

A man cannot always keep his doings within the limits which he has planned.


They will very often fall short of the magnitude to which his ambition has aspired. They will sometimes soar higher than his own imagination.

They will often fall short of his aspirations; they will sometimes soar higher than he had imagined.


He had contemplated great things; but the things which he was achieving were beyond his contemplation.


The reader will not have thought much of Fisker on his arrival in England.


Fisker was, perhaps, not a man worthy of much thought.

Fisker was, perhaps, not worthy of much thought.


He had never written a line worth reading.


He had sprung out of some Californian gully, was perhaps ignorant of his own father and mother, and had tumbled up in the world on the strength of his own audacity.

He had sprung out of some Californian gully, and had tumbled up in the world on the strength of his own audacity.


But, such as he was, he had sufficed to give the necessary impetus for rolling Augustus Melmotte onwards into almost unprecedented commercial greatness. When Mr. Melmotte took his offices in Abchurch Lane, he was undoubtedly a great man, but nothing so great as when the South Central Pacific and Mexican Railway had become not only an established fact, but a fact established in Abchurch Lane. The great company indeed had an office of its own, where the Board was held; but everything was really managed in Mr. Melmotte's own commercial sanctum.

But, such as he was, he had given the necessary impetus for rolling Augustus Melmotte onward into almost unprecedented commercial greatness, thanks to the Mexican Railway. The great company had its own office, where the Board was held; but everything was really managed in Mr. Melmotte's offices at Abchurch Lane.


Obeying, no doubt, some inscrutable law of commerce, the grand enterprise,--"perhaps the grandest when you consider the amount of territory manipulated, which has ever opened itself before the eyes of a great commercial people," as Mr. Fisker with his peculiar eloquence observed through his nose, about this time to a meeting of shareholders at San Francisco,--had swung itself across from California to London, turning itself to the centre of the commercial world as the needle turns to the pole, till Mr. Fisker almost regretted the deed which himself had done.

The enterprise had swung itself across from California to London, as a compass needle turns to the pole, till Mr. Fisker almost regretted the deed which he had done.


And Melmotte was not only the head, but the body also, and the feet of it all.

And Melmotte was not only the head, but the body of it all.


The shares seemed to be all in Melmotte's pocket, so that he could distribute them as he would; and it seemed also that when distributed and sold, and when bought again and sold again, they came back to Melmotte's pocket.

The shares seemed to be all in Melmotte's pocket, so that he could distribute them as he would; and it seemed when sold, they came back to Melmotte's pocket.


Men were contented to buy their shares and to pay their money, simply on Melmotte's word.

Men were content to buy shares simply on Melmotte's word.


Sir Felix had realised a large portion of his winnings at cards,--with commendable prudence for one so young and extravagant,--and had brought his savings to the great man. The great man had swept the earnings of the Beargarden into his till, and had told Sir Felix that the shares were his.

Sir Felix had brought his winnings at cards to the great man, who had swept the money into his till, and had told Sir Felix that the shares were his.


Sir Felix had been not only contented, but supremely happy.


He could now do as Paul Montague was doing,--and Lord Alfred Grendall. He could realize a perennial income, buying and selling.

He could now do as Paul Montague was doing: get a perennial income, buying and selling.


It was only after the reflection of a day or two that he found that he had as yet got nothing to sell.

It was only after a day or two's reflection that he found that he had nothing yet to sell.


It was not only Sir Felix that was admitted into these good things after this fashion.


In the meantime the bills in Grosvenor Square were no doubt paid with punctuality,--and these bills must have been stupendous.

In the meantime the bills in Grosvenor Square were no doubt paid - and these bills must have been stupendous.


The very servants were as tall, as gorgeous, almost as numerous, as the servants of royalty,--and remunerated by much higher wages.

The very servants were as tall, gorgeous, and numerous as the servants of royalty.


There were four coachmen with egregious wigs, and eight footmen, not one with a circumference of calf less than eighteen inches.


And now there appeared a paragraph in the "Morning Breakfast Table," and another appeared in the "Evening Pulpit," telling the world that Mr. Melmotte had bought Pickering Park, the magnificent Sussex property of Adolphus Longestaffe, Esq., of Caversham.

And now there appeared a paragraph in the Morning Breakfast Table, and another in the Evening Pulpit, telling the world that Mr. Melmotte had bought Pickering Park, the magnificent Sussex property of Adolphus Longestaffe.


The father and son who never had agreed before, and who now had come to no agreement in the presence of each other, had each considered that their affairs would be safe in the hands of so great a man as Mr. Melmotte, and had been brought to terms. The purchase-money, which was large, was to be divided between them.

The purchase-money was to be divided between father and son.


The thing was done with the greatest ease,--there being no longer any delay as is the case when small people are at work. The magnificence of Mr. Melmotte affected even the Longestaffe lawyers.

The thing was done with the greatest ease, for the magnificence of Mr. Melmotte affected even the Longestaffe lawyers.


Were I to buy a little property, some humble cottage with a garden,--or you, O reader, unless you be magnificent,--the money to the last farthing would be wanted, or security for the money more than sufficient, before we should be able to enter in upon our new home.

Were I to buy some humble cottage, the money would be wanted to the last farthing before we should be able to enter our new home.