New Grub Street - George Gissing (e book reader free TXT) 📗

of this kind, unintelligible to people who have always lived at ease, had been the lifelong rule with him. With a sensation of gladness at having free time before her, Marian turned to where Milvain was standing, in front of one of the bookcases. He wore no symbol of mourning, but his countenance was far graver than usual, and rather paler. They shook hands in silence.

“I am so grieved⁠—” Marian began with broken voice.

“Thank you. I know the girls have told you all about it. We knew for the last month that it must come before long, though there was a deceptive improvement just before the end.”

“Please to sit down, Mr. Milvain. Father went out not long ago, and I don’t think he will be back very soon.”

“It was not really Mr. Yule I wished to see,” said Jasper, frankly. “If he had been at home I should have spoken with him about what I have in mind, but if you will kindly give me a few minutes it will be much better.”

Marian glanced at the expiring fire. Her curiosity as to what Milvain had to say was mingled with an anxious doubt whether it was not too late to put on fresh coals; already the room was growing very chill, and this appearance of inhospitality troubled her.

“Do you wish to save it?” Jasper asked, understanding her look and movement.

“I’m afraid it has got too low.”

“I think not. Life in lodgings has made me skilful at this kind of thing; let me try my hand.”

He took the tongs and carefully disposed small pieces of coal upon the glow that remained. Marian stood apart with a feeling of shame and annoyance. But it is so seldom that situations in life arrange themselves with dramatic propriety; and, after all, this vulgar necessity made the beginning of the conversation easier.

“That will be all right now,” said Jasper at length, as little tongues of flame began to shoot here and there.

Marian said nothing, but seated herself and waited.

“I came up to town yesterday,” Jasper began. “Of course we have had a great deal to do and think about. Miss Harrow has been very kind indeed to the girls; so have several of our old friends in Wattleborough. It was necessary to decide at once what Maud and Dora are going to do, and it is on their account that I have come to see you.”

The listener kept silence, with a face of sympathetic attention.

“We have made up our minds that they may as well come to London. It’s a bold step; I’m by no means sure that the result will justify it. But I think they are perhaps right in wishing to try it.”

“They will go on with literary work?”

“Well, it’s our hope that they may be able to. Of course there’s no chance of their earning enough to live upon for some time. But the matter stands like this. They have a trifling sum of money, on which, at a pinch, they could live in London for perhaps a year and a half. In that time they may find their way to a sort of income; at all events, the chances are that a year and a half hence I shall be able to help them to keep body and soul together.”

The money of which he spoke was the debt owed to their father by William Milvain. In consequence of Mrs. Milvain’s pressing application, half of this sum had at length been paid and the remainder was promised in a year’s time, greatly to Jasper’s astonishment. In addition, there would be the trifle realised by the sale of furniture, though most of this might have to go in payment of rent unless the house could be relet immediately.

“They have made a good beginning,” said Marian.

She spoke mechanically, for it was impossible to keep her thoughts under control. If Maud and Dora came to live in London it might bring about a most important change in her life; she could scarcely imagine the happiness of having two such friends always near. On the other hand, how would it be regarded by her father? She was at a loss amid conflicting emotions.

“It’s better than if they had done nothing at all,” Jasper replied to her remark. “And the way they knocked that trifle together promises well. They did it very quickly, and in a far more workmanlike way than I should have thought possible.”

“No doubt they share your own talent.”

“Perhaps so. Of course I know that I have talent of a kind, though I don’t rate it very high. We shall have to see whether they can do anything more than mere booksellers’ work; they are both very young, you know. I think they may be able to write something that’ll do for The English Girl, and no doubt I can hit upon a second idea that will appeal to Jolly and Monk. At all events, they’ll have books within reach, and better opportunities every way than at Finden.”

“How do their friends in the country think of it?”

“Very dubiously; but then what else was to be expected? Of course, the respectable and intelligible path marked out for both of them points to a lifetime of governessing. But the girls have no relish for that; they’d rather do almost anything. We talked over all the aspects of the situation seriously enough⁠—it is desperately serious, no doubt of that. I told them fairly all the hardships they would have to face⁠—described the typical London lodgings, and so on. Still, there’s an adventurous vein in them, and they decided for the risk. If it came to the worst I suppose they could still find governess work.”

“Let us hope better things.”

“Yes. But now, I should have felt far more reluctant to let them come here in this way hadn’t it been that they regard you as a friend. Tomorrow morning you will probably hear from one or both of them. Perhaps it would have been better if I had left them