Jack contrived at this juncture to signal to the girl to step away; and by appearing to attend with eagerness to Magennis, he prevented his remarking her exit.
“A man 's never really ruined till then,” continued he, slowly, and evidently sobering again as he went on. “Friends fall away from you, and your companions are sure to be fellows with something against them! You begin by thinking you 're doing a grand and a courageous thing! You string up your resolution to despise the world, and, take my word for it, the world pays you off at last. Ay,” said he, after a long pause, in which his features settled down into an expression of deep sorrow, and his voice quivered with emotion,—“ay, and I 'll tell you something worse than all,—you revenge all your disappointment on the poor girl that trusted you! and you break her heart to try and heal your own!”
With these last words he buried his head between his hands and sobbed fearfully.
“Leave me now,—leave me alone,” said he, without lifting his head. “Good-night—good-night to you!”
Massingbred arose without a word, and, taking a candle, ascended to his chamber, his last thoughts about his host being very unlike those with which he had first regarded him. From these considerations he turned to others more immediately concerning himself; nor could he conquer his misgivings that Magennis was a most unhappy selection for a friend in such an emergency.
“But then I really am without a choice,” said he to himself. “Joe Nelligan, perhaps, might—but no, he would have been infinitely more unfit than the other. At all events, Nelligan has himself severed the friendship that once existed between us.” And so he wandered on to thoughts of his former companionship with him. Regretful and gloomy enough were they, as are all memories of those in whose hearts we once believed we had a share, and from which we cannot reconcile ourselves to the exclusion.
“He had not the manliness to meet me when I had become aware of his real station! What a poor-spirited fellow! Just as if I cared what or who his father was! My theory is, Jack Massingbred can afford to know any man he pleases! Witness the roof that now shelters me, and the character of him who is my host!”
It was a philosophy he built much upon, for it was a form of self-love that simulated a good quality, many of his acquaintances saying, “At all events, there 's no snobbery about Massingbred; he 'll know, and even be intimate with, anybody.” Nor did the deception only extend to others. Jack himself fancied he was an excellent fellow,—frank, generous, and open-hearted.
It is a very strange fact—and fact it certainly is—that the men who reason most upon their own natures, look inwardly at their own minds, and scrutinize most their own motives, are frequently the least natural of all mankind! This self-inquiry is such thorough self-deception that he who indulges in it often becomes an actor. As for Massingbred, there was nothing real about him save his egotism! Gifted with very good abilities, aided by a strong “vitality,” he had great versatility; but of all powers, this same plastic habit tends most to render a man artificial.
Now, his present difficulty was by no means to his taste. He did not like his “quarrel;” he liked less the age and station of his adversary; and least of all was he pleased with the character of his “friend.” It was said of Sheridan, that when consulted about the music of his operas, he only asked, “Will it grind?”—that is, would it be popular enough for a street organ, and become familiar to every ear? So Jack Massingbred regarded each event in life by the test of how it would “tell,” in what wise could a newspaper report it, and how would it read in the Clubs? He fancied himself discussing the adventure at “White's,” and asking, “Can any one say what Massingbred's row was about? Was he poaching?—or how came he there? Was there a woman in it? And who is his friend Magennis?” In thoughts like these he passed hour after hour, walking his room from end to end, and waiting for morning.