your sister does not reduce me to the ranks, I hope.”
The Major drummed his knuckles on the table, after this impressive delivery.
“Hem!” he resumed. “Now, sir, understand, before you speak a word, that I can see through any number of infernal lies. I see that you’re prepared for prevarication. By George! it shall come out of you, if I get it by main force. The Duke compelled me to give you that appointment in my Company. Now, sir, did you, or did you not, go to him and deliberately state to him that you believed the affairs of the Company to be in a bad condition—infamously handled, likely to involve his honour as a gentleman? I ask you, sir, did you do this, or did you not do it?”
Evan waited till the sharp rattle of the Major’s close had quieted.
“If I am to answer the wording of your statement, I may say that I did not.”
“Very good; very good; that will do. Are you aware that the Duke has sent in his resignation as a Director of our Company?”
“I hear of it first from you.”
“Confound your familiarity!” cried the irritable officer, rising. “Am I always to be told that I married your sister? Address me, sir, as becomes your duty.”
Evan heard the words “beggarly tailor” mumbled: “out of the gutters,” and “cursed connection.” He stood in the attitude of attention, while the Major continued:
“Now, young man, listen to these facts. You came to me this day last week, and complained that you did not comprehend some of our transactions and affairs. I explained them to your damned stupidity. You went away. Three days after that, you had an interview with the Duke. Stop, sir! What the devil do you mean by daring to speak while I am speaking? You saw the Duke, I say. Now, what took place at that interview?
The Major tried to tower over Evan powerfully, as he put this query. They were of a common height, and to do so he had to rise on his toes, so that the effect was but momentary.
“I think I am not bound to reply,” said Evan.
“Very well, sir; that will do.” The Major’s fingers were evidently itching for an absent rattan. “Confess it or not, you are dismissed from your post. Do you hear? You are kicked in the street. A beggarly tailor you were born, and a beggarly tailor you will die.”
“I must beg you to stop, now,” said Evan. “I told you that I was not bound to reply: but I will. If you will sit down, Major Strike, you shall hear what you wish to know.”
This being presently complied with, though not before a glare of the Major’s eyes had shown his doubt whether it might not be construed into insolence, Evan pursued:
“I came to you and informed you that I could not reconcile the cash-accounts of the Company, and that certain of the later proceedings appeared to me to jeopardise its prosperity. Your explanations did not satisfy me. I admit that you enjoined me to be silent. But the Duke, as a Director, had as strong a right to claim me as his servant, and when he questioned me as to the position of the Company, I told him what I thought, just as I had told you.”
“You told him we were jobbers and swindlers, sir!”
“The Duke inquired of me whether I would, under the circumstances, while proceedings were going on which I did not approve of, take the responsibility of allowing my name to remain—”
“Ha! ha! ha!” the Major burst out. This was too good a joke. The name of a miserable young tailor!—“Go on, sir, go on!” He swallowed his laughter like oil on his rage.
“I have said sufficient.”
Jumping up, the Major swore by the Lord, that he had said sufficient.
“Now, look you here, young man.” He squared his figure before Evan, eyeing him under a hard frown, “You have been playing your game again, as you did down at that place in Hampshire. I heard of it—deserved to be shot, by Heaven! You think you have got hold of the Duke, and you throw me over. You imagine, I dare say, that I will allow my wife to be talked about to further your interests—you self-seeking young dog! As long as he lent the Company his name, I permitted a great many things. Do you think me a blind idiot, sir? But now she must learn to be satisfied with people who’ve got no titles, or carriages, and who can’t give hundred guinea compliments. You’re all of a piece—a set of . . . .”
The Major paused, for half a word was on his mouth which had drawn lightning to Evan’s eyes.
Not to be baffled, he added: “But look you, sir. I may be ruined. I dare say the Company will go to the dogs—every ass will follow a duke. But, mark: this goes on no more. I will be no woman’s cully. Mind, sir, I take excellent care that you don’t traffic in your sister!”
The Major delivered this culminating remark with a well-timed deflection of his forefinger, and slightly turned aside when he had done.
You might have seen Evan’s figure rocking, as he stood with his eyes steadily levelled on his sister’s husband.
The Major who, whatever he was, was physically no coward, did not fail to interpret the look, and challenge it.
Evan walked to the door, opened it, and said, between his teeth, “You must go at once.”
“Eh, sir, eh? what’s this?” exclaimed the warrior: but the door was open, Mr. Goren was in the shop; the scandal of an assault in such a house, and the consequent possibility of his matrimonial alliance becoming bruited in the newspapers, held his arm after it had given an involuntary jerk. He marched through with becoming dignity, and marched out into the street; and if necks unelastic and heads erect may be taken as the sign of a proud soul and of nobility of mind, my artist has the Major for his model.
Evan displayed no such a presence. He returned to the little parlour, shut and locked the door to the shop, and forgetting that one was near, sat down, covered his eyes, and gave way to a fit of tearless sobbing. With one foot in the room Caroline hung watching him. A pain that she