Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
Book the Second: The Golden Thread
Chapter XII.
The Fellow of Delicacy
Mr. Stryver having made up his mind to that
magnanimous bestowal of good fortune on the
Doctor's daughter, resolved to make her
happiness known to her before he left town
for the Long Vacation.
After some mental debating of the point, he
came to the conclusion that it would be as
well to get all the preliminaries done
with, and they could then arrange at their
leisure whether he should give her his hand
a week or two before Michaelmas Term, or in
the little Christmas vacation between it
and Hilary.
As to the strength of his case, he had not
a doubt about it, but clearly saw his way
to the verdict.
Argued with the jury on substantial worldly
grounds--the only grounds ever worth taking
into account--it was a plain case, and had
not a weak spot in it.
He called himself for the plaintiff, there
was no getting over his evidence, the
counsel for the defendant threw up his
brief, and the jury did not even turn to
consider.
After trying it, Stryver, C.J., was
satisfied that no plainer case could be.
Accordingly, Mr. Stryver inaugurated the
Long Vacation with a formal proposal to
take Miss Manette to Vauxhall Gardens; that
failing, to Ranelagh; that unaccountably
failing too, it behoved him to present
himself in Soho, and there declare his
noble mind.
Towards Soho, therefore, Mr. Stryver
shouldered his way from the Temple, while
the bloom of the Long Vacation's infancy
was still upon it.
Anybody who had seen him projecting himself
into Soho while he was yet on Saint
Dunstan's side of Temple Bar, bursting in
his full-blown way along the pavement, to
the jostlement of all weaker people, might
have seen how safe and strong he was.
His way taking him past Tellson's, and he
both banking at Tellson's and knowing Mr.
Lorry as the intimate friend of the
Manettes, it entered Mr. Stryver's mind to
enter the bank, and reveal to Mr. Lorry the
brightness of the Soho horizon.
So, he pushed open the door with the weak
rattle in its throat, stumbled down the two
steps, got past the two ancient cashiers,
and shouldered himself into the musty back
closet where Mr. Lorry sat at great books
ruled for figures, with perpendicular iron
bars to his window as if that were ruled
for figures too, and everything under the
clouds were a sum.
"Halloa!" said Mr. Stryver.
"How do you do?
I hope you are well!"
It was Stryver's grand peculiarity that he
always seemed too big for any place, or
space.
He was so much too big for Tellson's, that
old clerks in distant corners looked up
with looks of remonstrance, as though he
squeezed them against the wall.
The House itself, magnificently reading the
paper quite in the far-off perspective,
lowered displeased, as if the Stryver head
had been butted into its responsible
waistcoat.
The discreet Mr. Lorry said, in a sample
tone of the voice he would recommend under
the circumstances, "How do you do, Mr.
Stryver?
How do you do, sir?" and shook hands.
There was a peculiarity in his manner of
shaking hands, always to be seen in any
clerk at Tellson's who shook hands with a
customer when the House pervaded the air.
He shook in a self-abnegating way, as one
who shook for Tellson and Co.
"Can I do anything for you, Mr. Stryver?"
asked Mr. Lorry, in his business character.
"Why, no, thank you; this is a private
visit to yourself, Mr. Lorry; I have come
for a private word."
"Oh indeed!" said Mr. Lorry, bending down
his ear, while his eye strayed to the House
afar off.
"I am going," said Mr. Stryver, leaning his
arms confidentially on the desk: whereupon,
although it was a large double one, there
appeared to be not half desk enough for
him: "I am going to make an offer of myself
in marriage to your agreeable little
friend, Miss Manette, Mr. Lorry."
"Oh dear me!" cried Mr. Lorry, rubbing his
chin, and looking at his visitor dubiously.
"Oh dear me, sir?" repeated Stryver,
drawing back.
"Oh dear you, sir?
What may your meaning be, Mr. Lorry?"
"My meaning," answered the man of business,
"is, of course, friendly and appreciative,
and that it does you the greatest credit,
and--in short, my meaning is everything you
could desire.
But--really, you know, Mr. Stryver--" Mr.
Lorry paused, and shook his head at him in
the oddest manner, as if he were compelled
against his will to add, internally, "you
know there really is so much too much of
you!"
"Well!" said Stryver, slapping the desk
with his contentious hand, opening his eyes
wider, and taking a long breath, "if I
understand you, Mr. Lorry, I'll be hanged!"
Mr. Lorry adjusted his little wig at both
ears as a means towards that end, and bit
the feather of a pen.
"D--n it all, sir!" said Stryver, staring
at him, "am I not eligible?"
"Oh dear yes!
Yes.
Oh yes, you're eligible!" said Mr. Lorry.
"If you say eligible, you are eligible."
"Am I not prosperous?" asked Stryver.
"Oh! if you come to prosperous, you are
prosperous," said Mr. Lorry.
"And advancing?"
"If you come to advancing you know," said
Mr. Lorry, delighted to be able to make
another admission, "nobody can doubt that."
"Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr.
Lorry?" demanded Stryver, perceptibly
crestfallen.
"Well!
I--Were you going there now?" asked Mr.
"Straight!" said Stryver, with a plump of
his fist on the desk.
"Then I think I wouldn't, if I was you."
"Why?" said Stryver.
"Now, I'll put you in a corner,"
forensically shaking a forefinger at him.
"You are a man of business and bound to
have a reason.
State your reason.
Why wouldn't you go?"
"Because," said Mr. Lorry, "I wouldn't go
on such an object without having some cause
to believe that I should succeed."
"D--n _me_!" cried Stryver, "but this beats
everything."
Mr. Lorry glanced at the distant House, and
glanced at the angry Stryver.
"Here's a man of business--a man of years--
a man of experience--_in_ a Bank," said
Stryver; "and having summed up three
leading reasons for complete success, he
says there's no reason at all!
Says it with his head on!"
Mr. Stryver remarked upon the peculiarity
as if it would have been infinitely less
remarkable if he had said it with his head
off.
"When I speak of success, I speak of
success with the young lady; and when I
speak of causes and reasons to make success
probable, I speak of causes and reasons
that will tell as such with the young lady.
The young lady, my good sir," said Mr.
Lorry, mildly tapping the Stryver arm, "the
young lady.
The young lady goes before all."
"Then you mean to tell me, Mr. Lorry," said
Stryver, squaring his elbows, "that it is
your deliberate opinion that the young lady
at present in question is a mincing Fool?"
"Not exactly so.
I mean to tell you, Mr. Stryver," said Mr.
Lorry, reddening, "that I will hear no
disrespectful word of that young lady from
any lips; and that if I knew any man--which
I hope I do not--whose taste was so coarse,
and whose temper was so overbearing, that
he could not restrain himself from speaking
disrespectfully of that young lady at this
desk, not even Tellson's should prevent my
giving him a piece of my mind."
The necessity of being angry in a
suppressed tone had put Mr. Stryver's
blood-vessels into a dangerous state when
it was his turn to be angry; Mr. Lorry's
veins, methodical as their courses could
usually be, were in no better state now it
was his turn.
"That is what I mean to tell you, sir,"
said Mr. Lorry.
"Pray let there be no mistake about it."
Mr. Stryver sucked the end of a ruler for a
little while, and then stood hitting a tune
out of his teeth with it, which probably
gave him the toothache.
He broke the awkward silence by saying:
"This is something new to me, Mr. Lorry.
You deliberately advise me not to go up to
Soho and offer myself--_my_self, Stryver of
the King's Bench bar?"
"Do you ask me for my advice, Mr. Stryver?"
"Yes, I do."
"Very good.
Then I give it, and you have repeated it
correctly."
"And all I can say of it is," laughed
Stryver with a vexed laugh, "that this--ha,
ha!--beats everything past, present, and to
come."
"Now understand me," pursued Mr. Lorry.
"As a man of business, I am not justified
in saying anything about this matter, for,
as a man of business, I know nothing of it.
But, as an old fellow, who has carried Miss
Manette in his arms, who is the trusted
friend of Miss Manette and of her father
too, and who has a great affection for them
both, I have spoken.
The confidence is not of my seeking,
recollect.
Now, you think I may not be right?"
"Not I!" said Stryver, whistling.
"I can't undertake to find third parties in
common sense; I can only find it for
myself.
I suppose sense in certain quarters; you
suppose mincing bread-and-butter nonsense.
It's new to me, but you are right, I dare
say."
"What I suppose, Mr. Stryver, I claim to
characterise for myself--And understand me,
sir," said Mr. Lorry, quickly flushing
again, "I will not--not even at Tellson's--
have it characterised for me by any
gentleman breathing."
"There!
I beg your pardon!" said Stryver.
"Granted.
Thank you.
Well, Mr. Stryver, I was about to say:--it
might be painful to you to find yourself
mistaken, it might be painful to Doctor
Manette to have the task of being explicit
with you, it might be very painful to Miss
Manette to have the task of being explicit
with you.
You know the terms upon which I have the
honour and happiness to stand with the
family.
If you please, committing you in no way,
representing you in no way, I will
undertake to correct my advice by the
exercise of a little new observation and
judgment expressly brought to bear upon it.
If you should then be dissatisfied with it,
you can but test its soundness for
yourself; if, on the other hand, you should
be satisfied with it, and it should be what
it now is, it may spare all sides what is
best spared.
What do you say?"
"How long would you keep me in town?"
"Oh! It is only a question of a few hours.
I could go to Soho in the evening, and come
to your chambers afterwards."
"Then I say yes," said Stryver: "I won't go
up there now, I am not so hot upon it as
that comes to; I say yes, and I shall
expect you to look in to-night.
Good morning."
Then Mr. Stryver turned and burst out of
the Bank, causing such a concussion of air
on his passage through, that to stand up
against it bowing behind the two counters,
required the utmost remaining strength of
the two ancient clerks.
Those venerable and feeble persons were
always seen by the public in the act of
bowing, and were popularly believed, when
they had bowed a customer out, still to
keep on bowing in the empty office until
they bowed another customer in.
The barrister was keen enough to divine
that the banker would not have gone so far
in his expression of opinion on any less
solid ground than moral certainty.
Unprepared as he was for the large pill he
had to swallow, he got it down.
"And now," said Mr. Stryver, shaking his
forensic forefinger at the Temple in
general, when it was down, "my way out of
this, is, to put you all in the wrong."
It was a bit of the art of an Old Bailey
tactician, in which he found great relief.
"You shall not put me in the wrong, young
lady," said Mr. Stryver; "I'll do that for
you."
Accordingly, when Mr. Lorry called that
night as late as ten o'clock, Mr. Stryver,
among a quantity of books and papers
littered out for the purpose, seemed to
have nothing less on his mind than the
subject of the morning.
He even showed surprise when he saw Mr.
Lorry, and was altogether in an absent and
preoccupied state.
"Well!" said that good-natured emissary,
after a full half-hour of bootless attempts
to bring him round to the question.
"I have been to Soho."
"To Soho?" repeated Mr. Stryver, coldly.
"Oh, to be sure!
What am I thinking of!"
"And I have no doubt," said Mr. Lorry,
"that I was right in the conversation we
had.
My opinion is confirmed, and I reiterate my
advice."
"I assure you," returned Mr. Stryver, in
the friendliest way, "that I am sorry for
it on your account, and sorry for it on the
poor father's account.
I know this must always be a sore subject
with the family; let us say no more about
it."
"I don't understand you," said Mr. Lorry.
"I dare say not," rejoined Stryver, nodding
his head in a smoothing and final way; "no
matter, no matter."
"But it does matter," Mr. Lorry urged.
"No it doesn't; I assure you it doesn't.
Having supposed that there was sense where
there is no sense, and a laudable ambition
where there is not a laudable ambition, I
am well out of my mistake, and no harm is
done.
Young women have committed similar follies
often before, and have repented them in
poverty and obscurity often before.
In an unselfish aspect, I am sorry that the
thing is dropped, because it would have
been a bad thing for me in a worldly point
of view; in a selfish aspect, I am glad
that the thing has dropped, because it
would have been a bad thing for me in a
worldly point of view--it is hardly
necessary to say I could have gained
nothing by it.
There is no harm at all done.
I have not proposed to the young lady, and,
between ourselves, I am by no means
certain, on reflection, that I ever should
have committed myself to that extent.
Mr. Lorry, you cannot control the mincing
vanities and giddinesses of empty-headed
girls; you must not expect to do it, or you
will always be disappointed.
Now, pray say no more about it.
I tell you, I regret it on account of
others, but I am satisfied on my own
account.
And I am really very much obliged to you
for allowing me to sound you, and for
giving me your advice; you know the young
lady better than I do; you were right, it
never would have done."
Mr. Lorry was so taken aback, that he
looked quite stupidly at Mr. Stryver
shouldering him towards the door, with an
appearance of showering generosity,
forbearance, and goodwill, on his erring
head.
"Make the best of it, my dear sir," said
Stryver; "say no more about it; thank you
again for allowing me to sound you; good
night!"
Mr. Lorry was out in the night, before he
knew where he was.
Mr. Stryver was lying back on his sofa,
winking at his ceiling.