Having lived for several years upon an allowance of something under twelve hundred pounds a year, he felt that he could manage to subsist on twelve thousand. This was the thought that came to him automatically, so soon as he had discovered his financial position. His next thought was that, by his own folly, he had rendered himself incapable of enjoying this sudden increase in revenue.
If he had only been patient—if he had only been trustful for one week longer!
He felt very bitterly on the subject of his folly—his cruelty—his fraud; the fact being that he entertained some preposterous theory of individual responsibility.
He had never had inculcated on him the principles of heredity, otherwise he would have understood fully that he could no more have avoided carrying out a plan of deception upon a woman, than the pointer puppy—where would the Evolutionists be without their pointer puppy?—can avoid pointing.
Whether the adoption of the scientific explanation of what he had done would have alleviated his bitterness or not, is quite another question. The philosophy that accounts for suffering does not go the length of relieving suffering. The science that gives the gout a name that few persons can pronounce, does not prevent an ordinary gouty subject from swearing; which seems rather a pity.
Among the visitors whom Harold saw in these days was Edmund Airey. Mr. Airey did not think it necessary to go through the form of expressing his sympathy for his friend’s bereavement. His only allusion to the bereavement was to be found in a sneer at Scotland Yard.
Could he do anything for Harold, he wondered. If he could do anything, Harold might depend on his doing it.
Harold said, “Thank you, old chap, I don’t think I can reasonably ask you to work out for me, in tabulated form, the net value of leases that have yet to run from ten to sixty years.”
“Therein the patient must minister to himself,” said Edmund. “I suppose it is, after all, only a question of administration. If you want any advice—well, you have asked my advice before now. You have even gone the length of taking my advice—yes, sometimes. That’s more than the majority of people do—unless my advice bears out their own views. Advice, my dear Harold, is the opinion asked by one man of another when he has made up his mind what course to adopt.”
“I have always found your counsel good,” said Harold. “You know men and their motives. I have often wondered if you knew anything about women.”