"It is a mere business question with me. You do not require the money elsewhere,--at least so far as I know,--and the security is undeniable. As to the sentimental view of the matter, I know from the experience of that morning at Middlemeads that you are not likely to be biassed by any silliness of that kind. Only, you see, things have changed since then, and poor Streightley is in a very different position now."
"I don't think we need discuss Mr. Streightley's altered position, except so far as this proposition is concerned; and on that you have my decision, Mr. Thacker," said Mrs. Frere coldly.
"And that decision is final? I shall probably be asked to reverse it, and therefore may as well have my cue," said Thacker.
"Quite final. I prefer not to discuss Mr. Streightley or his affairs for the future."
"As you please," returned Mr. Thacker; and then he excused himself for his abrupt departure on the plea of business, and took his leave.
Mr. Thacker had not felt comfortable in Mrs. Frere's society of late; there was an alteration in her manner towards him--a gradual withdrawal of confidence, as he took it; but which was, in reality, only preoccupation of mind, and which Mr. Thacker could very ill brook. Nor were his relations with Gordon Frere at all of a satisfactory kind; that gentleman being accustomed to speak to his wife of Mr. Thacker as "your Hebraic agent, my dear," and to his friends of the same gentleman as "a Jew fellow, who's my wife's trustee, or something."
As Mr. Thacker lay back in his brougham on his way to the City, he fell into a fit of musing over all that had occurred. He drew poor Robert's letter from his pocket-book and read it through; then laid it down on his lap, and recalled the scene that had taken place--recalled Mrs. Frere's words and looks at certain parts of the interview; and said to himself:
"She's a wonder; she certainly is a wonder. Sticks to what she has made up her mind to like a leech; and as to moving her to pity, you might as well clap a blister on the Monument. I'm certain I'm right in my old opinion that she played for Streightley, and that she was as wild as possible when he did not see it, but married that pretty Miss Guyon instead. She'll never forgive him. And the next thing will be, that he won't be able to pay up the first instalment either; and then she'll have Middlemeads. Yes; and I shall have helped her to it too. Well, it must have come, I suppose, in the long-run, even if he had pulled through for a little; but I fancy this will smash him up at once. He must sell the house; that will get wind, and then--by Jove, poor fellow! I'm afraid it's all u-p!" And Mr. Thacker looked and felt much more sorry than might have been supposed. The next day he found it a very difficult and unpleasant task to write to Messrs. Streightley and Son, telling them that, "owing to circumstances over which he had no control," it would be impossible for him to comply with their request, but that he trusted, &c. However, there was no help for it; so, on the receipt of this note, Robert had an interview with Thacker; and within a week the house in Portland Place was stuck all over with bills, announcing the sale of the furniture and of the lease at an early date.
Perhaps during the whole of his trouble this period immediately antecedent to the sale in Portland Place was the most distressing to Robert Streightley. With the exception of an old woman and her daughter--mysterious people who lived in the kitchens, and were supposed to "do for the good gentleman"--every body had left the house but himself; and he used to roam through the various rooms, thinking of Katharine and of her associations with each. Not merely
"In hanging robe and vacant ornament"