THE SPENDTHRIFT.
We must now run rapidly through the next six years of Howel and Netta's career.
After spending nearly a year abroad, where Howel amused himself, in addition, to his usual diversions, by speculating in some German mines, they came back to England. They went for a time to Spendall Lodge in Yorkshire, on a visit to Sir Samuel Spendall, in order to be in the vicinity of the Doncaster races. Thence they went to Scarborough, where Howel left Netta, her child and maid in a lodging, whilst he attended the various races in other parts of the country.
About this time, Sir John Simpson died, and his son came into his fortune. Howel immediately bought a handsome house in Belgravia, furnished it expensively, and began life as a London fine gentleman.
It is needless to describe how Howel's income and position in society gradually dwindled down; or more properly, how his means fluctuated according as his horses lost or won, or his various speculations succeeded or failed. Long before his father died, he had mortgaged that father's very mortgages; and had spent a large portion of his wealth in paying off debts of honour, and freeing himself from the Jews, into whose hands he had got before he went to live at Abertewey.
During his four years' residence in London, it was evident that his means fluctuated in some wonderful way. His house was the rendezvous of men of all ranks who were on the turf, and his life was passed in a state of perpetual excitement. Netta did not see much of him, except at their own table, or that of their acquaintances. When she was alone with him, he was either quite silent, or abusive; the career of such a man will be better understood by most of my readers, than described by me. The resorts of black-legs, and the betting-books of men on the turf, the dishonourable payment of so-called debts of honour, the trickery of horse-dealers, horse-trainers, and horse-racers, and the wretched madness of professed gamblers, are things we have all heard of, but of which, happily, comparatively few of us know much, practically.
Howel managed to maintain his reputation as a gentleman and man of large fortune, even when he was, from time to time, on the verge of ruin; and the purchase of Sir Samuel Spendall's property in Yorkshire, when that baronet was obliged to leave the country for debt, confirmed the opinion of his wealth. Every one did not know that Sir Samuel, like Mr Simpson, owed him an enormous sum of money, for various bets, loans, and even mortgages, of which Howel kept quite as usurious an account as his father would have done before him, and at which the lawyers of those gentlemen shook their heads, although they could not disprove any item of it. Howel had learnt enough of law to serve his purposes, and to teach him how far he might venture to go, in the matter of interest and compound interest, with impunity.
Howel's friend, Mr Deep, was a lawyer by profession. He had duly taken out his stamps, and had chambers in Lincoln's Inn, and did such business as fell in his way amongst his sporting friends.
It was he who had been Howel's attorney in all his dealings with Sir Samuel Spendall, Mr Simpson and others, and although his reputation was not very good amongst his professional brethren, nothing dishonourable had ever been proved against him.
We will now look into the chambers of this worthy in Lincoln's Inn, and listen to a conversation that is passing between him and Howel, over what appears to be their mid-day potation of brandy and water. Howel's manner is excited, and his face at its darkest; Mr Deep is calm, and his face smooth as usual.
'You see, we must have money!' says Howel, 'I, at least, must have six thousand five hundred pounds before this month is out. I owe that to Dancy, who, of all men in the world, I don't choose to make wait. If I lose at the Derby, I must have twenty thousand more.'
'But the chances are you will win. Alma is pretty safe, I think.'
'Yes, if we can manage to drug Magnificent. I think I have Little Bill in my power; he will do anything for us. But this six thousand five hundred is the first thing to think of. I have mortgaged Spendall Lodge almost to its value. By the way, are you quite sure that Spendall has nothing against us? They say his mother is paying his debts, and that he will be able to come back.'
'Positive; besides, he never knows what money he has paid, or what receipts he has had, or what the amount of his mortgages was.'
'Simpson, again, I think he is sharper since his father's death. He was regularly frightened when he found what a sum he owed me; and if I hadn't got into a passion, and threatened to call him out for doubting my honour, I believe he would have checked our bill.'
'Can't you get more money on your house in town?'
'No; I have tried Levi and Jacobs, and they won't advance any more without better security.'
'Your mother; surely she would help you, if you were to make up a good story.'
'No; I ran down to see her the other day, and she had taken offence because she chose to think I had neglected her, and was as obstinate as an old mule. I believe she is getting stingy, too, and says she will keep her money as long as she lives, and then I may do what I like with it.'
'What is she worth?'
'Well, I should say by this time, she must have as good as six or seven hundred a-year. She hasn't lived up to her income, and what she has doled out to me now and then, hasn't touched the principal. She must have from fifteen to twenty thousand pounds one way and another.'
'Ask her to come and visit you; take her about and make much of her, and then seize upon her in an unwary moment. Borrow the money, and say you will pay it back, which you know, you will be able to do, if you have any luck.'
'That's a bright idea. The old soul has always been hankering to come to London. Give me a pen and ink directly. Let me see; I know how she likes me to begin. "Dear and honoured mother." Faugh! shall we go on in the ancient style? "I hope this will find you well, as it leaves me at present." I only wish it would find her—well—I think that will do. I have told her that Netta and I will be delighted to see her, etc., etc. And Netta hates her, too.'
'By the way, Jenkins, could not Mrs Howel Jenkins get Dancy to give in about that money? She is a prime favourite.'
'Mrs Jenkins knows nothing of my money transactions, and certainly would be the last person I should wish to interfere in such a matter. Let us go and post this letter, and then I want to go to Tattersalls. Will you dine with me at the club at six? and afterwards we will keep our appointment with Dancy and Lord Dupe; we may make something of the latter, if we can't of the former.'
It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Howel reached his home. His little girl was ill in the measles, and Netta, feeling anxious about her, had been sitting up with her. When Howel entered the bedroom in which the mother and child were, he began to talk in a loud voice.
'Why on earth don't you go to bed, Netta?'
Netta put her finger on her lips, and pointed to the little bed in which her child was sleeping, then hurried into the next room, a kind of nursery and play-room, and sent the maid, who was sitting there, into the bedroom. Howel followed her; Netta saw that he had been drinking, and was greatly excited; he never was absolutely intoxicated, but he constantly drank too much.
'Why do you sit up I say, Netta?'
'Because Minette is so feverish; I did not like to leave her.'
The child had been called Minette by a French bonne, and they had all somehow adopted it as a name; her real name was Victoria.
'You didn't sit up for me, of course?'
'Certainly not; you are not so very agreeable when you come home, as to make me sit up for you.'
'I say, Netta, do you know I have written to invite my mother to come and pay us a visit.'
'Your mother! then you must amuse her, for I certainly won't.'
'I beg to say you will, and will do everything in your power to make her visit agreeable. It will be worse for you if you do not. What do you mean by always disobeying me?'
'You had better not strike me again, you coward, you! Justine will hear you. She can see and hear, if she can't understand.'
'I tell you what, Netta, everything may depend on our reception of my mother—your very living, and mine, and Minette's.'
'I don't care about living; I'd rather starve than live the life I do, and if I have Aunt 'Lizbeth, too, I shall run away, I am sure I shall.'
'With whom, madam?'
'With anybody or nobody; I don't care what becomes of me since you're so unkind. Perhaps you'd like to see my shoulder that you hurt yesterday? I haven't had the pleasure of seeing you since. Your shakes, and pinches ain't very soft, sir, I assure you.'
Netta threw off a portion of the white dressing-gown she had on, and displayed her round white neck and shoulder disfigured by a black-and-blue mark.
'I'll do the same to the other if you aggravate me any more,' said Howel, clenching his teeth, and moving towards Netta.
'Not to-night, anyhow,' said Netta, running through the door and short passage into her child's bedroom. She knew that he was always sufficiently master of himself not to expose himself before the servants.
'Justine, I shall sleep with Minette to-night—that is to say, I shall lie down on this sofa by her side. You can go to bed as usual,' said Netta.
And when Minette and Justine were fast asleep in their respective beds, poor Netta sat and cried the livelong night, with her feet upon the fender, and her eyes fixed upon the almost-extinguished fire.
The following morning, when she was watching her child, Howel came into the room. He went up to the bed on which Minette lay, and kissed her, and asked her how she did. The little girl looked pleased, and putting her arms round her father's neck, whispered,—
'Papa! do you know mamma has not been in bed all night? Will you tell her I am quite well, and ask her to go to bed?'
'I will, darling. I have a new picture-book for you downstairs Mamma will come and fetch it. Mamma, will you come and fetch a new book for Minette?'
Netta looked at Howel for the first time, and seeing that his face was tolerably pleasant, followed him out of the room, and down into the dining-room, where his breakfast was awaiting him.
'Netta! you must make my breakfast, and have some with me. Minette is better, and you needn't starve yourself to death,' said Howel, sitting down at the breakfast-table.
'Thank you,' replied Netta sulkily. 'I can't eat anything, I am a great deal too tired and wretched.'
'Netta, I am sorry I hurt you; but you do aggravate me so, and I have a great deal on my mind.'
Netta's face brightened a little.
'Why don't you tell me what you have on your mind, instead of bullying me from morning to night?'
'Because a woman cannot understand such matters. But if I do not get some money this month we shall be ruined. I have asked my mother up to see whether she will advance it, and that will depend on our treatment of her. Will you be kind to her?'
'I suppose you will give me some of the money, if you get it, to pay servants' wages, and other bills? I am dunned for money from morning to night, and never have a farthing to pay.'
'I shall be able to pay everything next month. I am sure of plenty of money.'
'And I suppose you want to get money from your mother to pay bets, or something of the sort? Why won't you tell me?'
'Yes; I owe it to your friend Dancy. Perhaps you will help me to pay him.'
'He is no friend of mine. I don't like him; but he would do more for me than you would, and is kinder too. But I don't want to be under any obligation to him.'
'If you wish to keep a house over your head, or me out of a prison, you must either ask him, as a personal favour, to let me off the debt, or you must help me to get the money out of my mother.'
'Howel, I don't like underhand ways. I don't mind trying to be civil to Aunt 'Lizbeth, provided you tell her exactly how you are situated, and promise me never to bet with Captain Dancy, or borrow money of him again.'
'I promise most faithfully.'
'And if you can't afford to live in this grand house, Howel, why don't you give it up, and take to the law, or anything to get your living? Perhaps, if you did, we should be happy again. I would rather work like a slave, and not keep a servant, and live in a small lodging, or anything, than see you so altered.'
Here Netta began to cry.
'If I get this money from mother, and what I expect from other sources, we shall be all right again, and then—'
'And then, Howel, you will give up horse-racing and betting and gambling and bad company, and think more of Minette and me—your poor unhappy Netta—your wife—your little cousin that you used to say you loved!—oh, Howel! Howel! that you hate so now, and treat so unkindly.'
Netta had been standing by the fire-place hitherto, but at this juncture she went towards Howel timidly, and kneeling down by his side as he sat at the table, put her hands on his arm, and fixed her tearful eyes on his face.
Howel was touched. We know that there are moments in the lives of the worst of men when better feelings overcome the evil ones; and Howel was not utterly bad; and now his guardian angel seemed to be making a great effort to reclaim him from his sins. He really loved Netta as much as he could love anything. Was she not the only creature in the world who had really loved him?
'Then you do not quite hate me, Netta?' he said, putting his arm round her neck, 'I thought all the old love was gone.'
'No, no, Howel! Dear, dear Howel! I love you in my heart! but you are so changed—so—so—you don't care for my company now. You never come home and play and sing as you used to do. You never speak to Minette; you never speak to me except—'
Here Netta leant her head on Howel's knees, and began to sob. He put his hand on her head, smoothed her hair, and finally raised her from the ground, and took her in his arms to his weak, wicked heart—a heart not wholly depraved, because there was still in it love for his wife.
For a long time she clung to him; her arms round his neck, her cheek to his cheek, her beating heart to his bosom, as if she was afraid that the spell would be broken if once she let go. Howel kissed her pale cheek, wiped those large black eyes, and comforted her as she had never hoped to be comforted again. Vague thoughts entered his mind of the possibility of beginning life afresh—of being a better husband and father—of giving up his wild, sinful courses. 'Shall the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard his spots.'
'I will do anything, Howel, darling—anything you wish,' suddenly murmured Netta, returning his caresses, 'only you will promise never to be unkind again. I will beg, starve for you as long as you love me; but you know I am hot-tempered, and when you are cross I get angry; and then you are violent, and I am hard and sullen and wicked—oh, so wicked! I think I must have lived fifty years in the last five years, Howel, I feel so old and altered. Don't make me so hard-hearted again, Howel, bach, or I shall die, indeed I shall; I feel it now at my heart.'
Netta put her hand on her heart as she leant against Howel. He raised her, and saw that she was of a deathly paleness.
'Don't be—frightened—I have—it—often—only—a spasm,' she gasped, as frightened he went to the sideboard, and poured out some brandy into one of the tea cups, and putting a little water to it, gave it her to drink.
She soon revived, and recovering a little of her old colour again, put her arms round Howel, and thanked him for being so kind. Howel was aware, for the first time for many years, that conscience is not a myth; his smote him.
'Will you stay at home to-day, Howel?' asked Netta. 'I will write myself to your mother, if you will.'
'Yes, Netta, dear, I will. Now, shall we carry the picture-book to Minette?'
'No; you must have your breakfast now, and I will make it. Oh! I am so happy.'
'And you do not care for Dancy, Netta?'
'No; I hate him.'
Howel kept his word, and stayed at home that one day with Netta and her child, and she wrote that day down on the tablets of her memory as the brightest spot in six years of trouble and distrust.