Which facts, when, in due time, Arthur communicated them to Mr. Black, produced a careless comment, to the effect, “that very probably his Majesty had cause for uneasiness; people do say things are going deucedly queer up there; but there is no use talking,” added Mr. Black, “things are queer with everybody. I never was so hard up in my life; discount is a thing past praying for. If you take a bill to the bank now, with, say, even my Lord Mayor’s name on it, the manager looks at you as if you were no better than a thief. It is no good being down-hearted, though; if care killed the cat, I still see no reason why care should kill us. We shall find the ‘Protector’ looking up yet, never fear, and the shares at a premium again. Deuce a share is at a premium in the City, I think, at this present minute of speaking. Where the money gets to, every now and then, passes my understanding. The parsons talk about riches taking unto themselves legs or wings, and fleeing away, or something of that kind, don’t they? If their reverences were in my office for a month, they would find out there is more truth in the statement than most of them actually believe. Fly! by Jove! that’s no word to express the pace they go at. Electricity is a fool to it;” and so Mr. Black rattled on, till Arthur, utterly overwhelmed, bade him “Good-day,” feeling much too dispirited to put the question he had intended about those bills which would soon be falling due once again.
For things had come to such a pass, that Squire Dudley was compelled to cut down his expenditure by every possible means. Even at Berrie Down he never more scrupulously looked at a sovereign before changing it than now, when it occurred to him not merely as a possibility, but as a probability, that there might be a terrible reverse to the speculative picture to which, while the Protector was still a myth of the promoter’s fancy, Mr. Black had acted as travelling showman.
No more visions of wealth and position for Arthur—no more dreams of standing for the county, of re-establishing the Dudleys as great people—of keeping up a certain state at Berrie Down—of ease, and comfort, and competence.
His ideas in many respects were much changed since he came to London; and had it only been possible for him to see a way of ridding the Hollow of all the encumbrances he had thrust upon it, the secretary would have been a happy man.
Like the prodigal, he had gathered all together, and travelled into a far country—a strange country, where he met with those who helped him to waste his substance and devour his living.
And now, behold, the days of famine were at hand, when no man would give unto him; when he fell into even a worse plight than the poor sinner who would fain have satisfied his hunger with the husks the swine did eat; for the prodigal had a home to which he could return, while Arthur had none.
Longingly, sickeningly almost, his thoughts turned back to Berrie Down as he walked through the streets of the accursed City (so he styled London), where he had come to seek his fortune.
If the past could only be restored to him, he moaned in spirit, how differently he would act! If he only could have foreseen his present strait—if he only could have imagined such a termination to his hopes!
If—if—if! So the impotent, feebly-repentant strain ran on; if—if—if—although the measure of his misery was as yet nothing like full.
Berrie Down was still mortgaged for only half its value. He had his house in Lincoln’s Inn Fields—his regularly paid salary—his shares, which might yet bring him in some return.