‘That might be a little hard. But I can at least thank you, sir, for the kindness of the other night.’
‘It was nothing,’ said John, confusedly. ‘Won’t you sit down? It was very surprising to see a—a person like you——’
‘In such circumstances and such company, you would say? For the circumstances—yes; but, for the company, it’s the best this world can give any man, the company of a faithful friend. Joe’s not very polished, and if he’s clever it’s perhaps not in a laudable way: but he’s faithful. I believe he’ll never forsake me, sir. He’s as faithful as if I were a prince and he a knight. A poor pair of nobilities we’d make. You needn’t say so. I can see it in your eyes.’
‘I hope he is as faithful as you think,’ said John, ‘but——’
‘But me no buts,’ said the stranger, ‘if I give up Joe, I give up everything. I have nothing but Joe to trust to. Oh, yes, he’s faithful: for if he weren’t I should sink into ruin altogether. Don’t say anything against him—he’s all I have.’
The speaker gave John a look—which he thought more pathetic than anything he had ever seen, and which went at once to his heart—a look which betrayed a knowledge of Joe and of all that was in John’s mind concerning him, and of the unstable foundation on which his confidence reposed. The pathos and the wistfulness and the humour that were in it betrayed to John’s mind the existence of a sort of passionless self-conscious despairing, such as he had never glimpsed at before, or believed in the possibility of. Joe was this poor wretch’s only prop, but in his heart he knew Joe better than anyone else, and was half-amused in the depths of his desolation that he himself should still be capable of this human clinging to the only being who stood by him. This was what his eyes said to John’s. Joe’s faithfulness was a sort of woeful jest to him, yet his poor sheet-anchor, too.
‘Have you no relations?’ John said; he could not tell why, for what right had he to question this unfortunate man?
‘Relations,’ said the other, ‘are not fond of a man in my circumstances. You know where I’ve come from, I believe, sir, and what I am. May I ask you what made you so kind to me—the other night?’
John looked at Joe, who stood behind looking on, his eyes prowling round in a sort of hungry investigation. The other had drawn a chair to the table, and seated himself, but Joe stood looking about him, like a predatory animal examining if perhaps there might be something to devour.
‘Would your friend mind,’ said John, ‘if I were to ask him to step into the hall?’