ladyship's name. There is no one with him at this moment. – Oh yes, my lady,' Checkley smiled superior. 'We are always busy. We have been busy in this office for fifty years and more. – But I am sure he'll see you. Take a chair, my lady. Allow me.'
Checkley, the old clerk, had other and younger clerks with him; but he kept in his own hands the duty, or the privilege, of going to the private room of the chief. He was sixty-seven when last we saw him. Therefore, he was now seventy-five; a little more bent in the shoulders, a little more feeble; otherwise unaltered. In age we either shrivel or we swell. Those live the longest who shrivel; and those who shrivel presently reach a point when they cease to shrink any more till they reach the ninetieth year. Checkley was bowed and bent and lean: his face was lined multitudinously: his cheeks were shrunken: but not more so than eight years before. He wrote down the name of the caller – Lady Dering – on a square piece of paper, and opened the door with an affectation of extreme care not to disturb the chief's nerves by a sharp turn of the handle, stepped in as if it was most important that no one should be able to peep into the room, and closed the door softly behind him. Immediately he reappeared, and held the door wide open, inviting the lady to step in. She was young; of good stature and figure, extremely handsome in face; of what is called the classical type, and very richly dressed. Her carriage might have been seen, on looking out of the window, waiting in the square.
'Lady Dering, sir,' said Checkley. Then he swiftly vanished, closing the door softly behind him.
'I am glad to see you, Hilda.' The old lawyer rose, tall and commanding, and bowed, offering his hand with a stately and old-fashioned courtesy which made ladies condone his unmarried condition. 'Why have you called this morning? You are not come on any business, I trust. Business with ladies who have wealthy husbands generally means trouble of some kind. You are not, for instance, in debt with your dressmaker?'
'No – no. Sir Samuel does not allow of any difficulties or awkwardness of that kind. It is not about myself that I am here, but about my sister, Elsie.'
'Yes? What about her? Sit down, and let me hear.'
'Well, you know Elsie has always been a trouble to us on account of her headstrong and wilful ways. She will not look on things from a reasonable point of view. You know that my mother is not rich, as I have learnt to consider rich, though of course she has enough for a simple life and a man-servant and a one-horse brougham. Do you know,' she added pensively, 'I have often found it difficult not to repine at a Providence which removes a father when he was beginning so well, and actually on the high-road to a great fortune.'
'It is certainly difficult to understand the wisdom of these disappointments and disasters. We must accept, Hilda, what we cannot escape or explain.'
'Yes – and my mother had nothing but a poor thousand a year! – though I am sure that she has greatly bettered her circumstances by her transactions in the City. Well – I have done all I can, by precept and by example, to turn my sister's mind into the right direction. Mr. Dering' – by long habit Hilda still called her guardian, now her brother-in-law, by his surname – 'you would hardly believe the folly that Elsie talks about money.'
'Perhaps because she has none. Those who have no property do not understand it. Young people do not know what it means or what it commands. And whether they have it or not, young people do not know what the acquisition of property means – the industry, the watchfulness, the carefulness, the self-denial. So Elsie talks folly about money – well, well' – he smiled indulgently – 'we shall see.'
'It is not only that she talks, but she acts. Mr. Dering, we are in despair about her. You know the Rodings?'
'Roding Brothers? Everybody knows Roding Brothers.'
'Algy Roding, the eldest son of the senior partner – enormously rich – is gone – quite gone – foolish about Elsie. He has been at me a dozen times about her. He has called at the house to see her. He cares nothing at all about her having no money. She refuses even to hear his name mentioned. Between ourselves, he has not been, I believe, a very steady young man; but of course he would settle down; we could entirely trust to a wife's influence in that respect: the past could easily be forgotten – in fact, Elsie need never know it: and the position would be splendid. Even mine would not compare with it.'
'Why does she object to the man?'
'Says he is an ugly little snob. There is a becoming spirit for a girl to receive so rich a lover! But that is not all. She might have him if she chose, snob or not, but she prefers one of your clerks – actually, Mr. Dering, one of your clerks.'
'I have learned something of this from your mother. She is engaged, I am told, to young Austin, one of my managing clerks.'
'Whose income is two hundred pounds a year. Oh! think of it! She refuses a man with ten thousand a year at the very least, and wants to marry a man with two hundred.'
'I suppose they do not propose to marry on this – this pittance – this two hundred a year?'
'They are engaged: she refuses to break it off: he has no money to buy a partnership: he must therefore continue a clerk on two hundred.'
'Managing clerks get more, sometimes; but, to be sure, the position is not good, and the income must always be small.'
'My mother will not allow the man in the house: Elsie goes out to meet him: oh, it is most irregular. I should be ashamed for Sir Samuel to know it. She actually goes out of the house every evening, and they walk about the square garden or in the Park till dark. It is exactly like a housemaid going out to meet her young man.'
'It does seem an unusual course; but I am no judge of what is becoming to a young lady.'
'Well – she needn't go on like a housemaid,' said her sister. 'Of course the position of things at home is strained, and I don't know what may happen at any moment. Elsie says that she shall be twenty-one next week, and that she means to act on her own judgment. She even talks of setting up a studio somewhere and painting portraits for money. That is a pleasant thing for me to contemplate. My own sister earning her own living by painting!'
'How do you think I can interfere in the matter? Lovers' quarrels or lovers' difficulties are not made or settled in this room.'
'Mr. Dering, there is no one in the world of whom she is afraid, except yourself. There is no one of whose opinion she thinks so much. Will you see her? Will you talk with her? Will you admonish her?'
'Why, Hilda, it so happens that I have already invited her to call upon me on her birthday, when she ceases to be my ward. I will talk to her if you please. Perhaps you may be satisfied with the result of my conversation.'
'I shall – I am sure I shall.'
'Let me understand. You desire that your sister shall marry a man who, if he is not already rich, should be at least on the high road to wealth. You cannot force her to accept even the richest young man in London unless she likes him, can you?'
'No. Certainly not. And we can hardly expect her to marry, as I did myself, a man whose wealth is already established. Unless she would take Algy Roding.'
'Very good. But he must have a certain income, so as to ensure the means of an establishment conducted at a certain level.'
'Yes. She need not live in Palace Gardens, but she ought to be able to live – say in Pembridge Square.'
'Quite so. I suppose, with an income of fifteen hundred or so to begin with. If I make her understand so much, you will be satisfied?'
'Perfectly. – My dear Mr. Dering, I really believe you have got the very
