Jack's Father, and other stories

Front matter

METHUEN'S NOVEL SERIES THREE SHILLINGS AND SIXPENCE. Messrs METHUEN will issue from time to time a Series of copyright Novels, by well-known Authors, handsomely bound, at the above popular price. The first volumes (ready) are : — F. MABEL ROBINSON. i. THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN. S. BARING GOULD, Author of " Mehalah," Grc. 2. JACQUETTA. Mrs LEITH ADAMS {Mrs Dt Courcy Laffan). 3. MY LAND OF BEULAH. G. MANVILLE FEW. 4. ELI'S CHILDREN. -S'. BARINGrÆggjLD, Author of '" Mehalah," be. 5. ARMINELL : A Social Romance. I lOJUOJ '■ ED.\A\LYALZ, Ajutfior of " Donoi<an," be. 6. DERRICK VAUGHAN, NOVELIST. With Portrait of Author. F. MABEL ROBIXSOX. 7. DISENCHANTMENT. M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. 8. DISARMED. .£ BARING GOULD. 9. MARGERY OF QUETHER. W. £. NORRIS. 10. JACK'S FATHER. Other Volumes will be announced in due course.

AND OTHER STORIES BY W. E. N ORRIS Author of •MAKCIA,' 'THE ROGUE,' ' MY FRIEND JIM,' ETC. . J-Uthucn & QTo. 18, BURY STREET, LONDON, W.C. 1891 [All rights reserved^ NOTE The acknowledgments of the Author are due to the Proprietors of Murray's Magazine, Longman's Magazine and the Comhill Maga zine, by whose kind permission these stories are re-issucd. CONTENTS PAGE Jack's Father, i The Romance of Paulilatino, ... 65 Mysterious Mrs Wilkinson, . . . 121 The Wingham Case, . . . . 165 A Queer Business, 217 Clever Lady .Sophia, 255 Poor Harry,

Chapter I

I often think that the world possesses, has pos sessed, and will possess an appreciable number of mute, inglorious Miltons. The reflection is as trite as you please, but it does not seem to be generally entertained ; for when I venture to give utterance to it I seldom or never find anybody to agree with me. It is the very nature of genius, I am told, to overcome obstacles, and a man who allows himself to be discouraged or put to silence by whatever cause, stands convicted ipso facto of being no genius at all. Not being myself a genius, I am easily put to silence ; but I keep my opinion, all the same. As I am now past middle age and a successful artist — in so far as anyone can be called successful who has made a good deal of money but has failed even to approach the standard of excellence which A he once hoped to reach — I have had some oppor tunities of forming an opinion upon this point.

People often consult me; young fellows and the parents of young fellows are eager to hear from one who is considered to have carried off prizes how that desirable result may be arrived at; and although, of course, I cannot give them the information that the}7 ask for, I am very willing to gratify them with the usual commonplace advice and encouragement. In return, some of them pro vide me with a vicarious interest in life. For every now and then I am brought into contact with a beginner who, I am quite certain, has the spark of true genius in him ; and it is because I have so many times seen that spark extinguished that I am unable to admit its immortality. To say this is, no doubt, to beg the question. Those who hold an opposite theory will maintain that the spark was never there ; so that there is nothing for it but that we should agree to differ, which is always the most comfortable plan.

No theorist will ever persuade me that Jack Morton might not have become the greatest English painter of our day ; and indeed I may add that in this instance my conviction is shared by more than one high authority. Why he never did become a great painter I am now about to relate; thouob I must own that I do so more for the sake of depicting a somewhat unusual character than for the sake of explaining what noboily would care to hear explained. The causes of success, if these could be accurately stated, would interest most people; the causes of failure are hardly worth inquiring into. I don't remember to have seen anything of Jack during his school and college days ; though I suppose I must have met him, for I have known his father all my life. It was one afternoon at the club that that amiable and popular gentleman caught me by the arm, saying, ' Maule, old man, I know how good-natured you are.

I wish you would look in upon that lad of mine and give him a hint or tw7o. He is going to be an artist, and he has been studying hard for some time past, and now I've set him up with a studio and all the necessary paraphernalia. It has been an expensive job,' added Colonel Morton, rather ruefully; 'but perhaps I may see my money back some fine day.' I replied that I hoped be might; and two hours later I was perfectly sure that he would. For, having nothing else to do, I strolled round to the address in Berners Street with which I had been furnished, and my first glance at the canvas upon which I found young Morton at work was enough to convince me that no hints of mine were re quired in that quarter. What audacity ! what precision! what a calm grappling with difficulties which most of us, knowing the length of our tether, find it so simple to avoid !

My breath was fairly taken away ; and when I got it back again I made use of it to pronounce the warmest eulogium that any neophyte has ever heard from me. The young man was not as overwhelmed as perhaps I may have expected him to be. He thanked me and seemed pleased by my approval ; but he had the air of having known pretty well beforehand what was the artistic value of bis composition, and indeed I soon discovered that he was a beginner only in the sense of having wisely deferred his debut until he should feel sure of him self. ' When one has decided to be a professional artist,' he observed, in answer to some further, remarks of mine, ' the main thing is that one should know how to make one's profession pay.' Now, by my way of thinking, this is so very far from being the main thing, that, generally speaking, any young artist who started with such an assumption would at once forfeit my sympathy ami assistance, whatever these may be worth ; but I did not civilly turn my back upon Jack Morton, because, to begin with, his work was so admirable, and besides, after we bad conversed a little longer, I saw reason to modify the unfavourable opinion which his first words had inclined me to form of him.

It was creditable to him, and indeed only right, that he should desire above all things to reimburse bis father, to whom, as he explained to me with a certain eagerness, he owed everything. ' I have been costing the governor money all my life,' said he, ' and now, through no fault of his own, he has no money to spare ; so that it is high time for me to begin paying off my debts, you see.' In truth it was notorious tbat Colonel Morton had been the victim of a cruel stroke of ill-fortune, the old uncle to whose property he had expected to succeed, who had always treated him as the heir, and who (I suppose) had made him a corresponding allowance, having recently died, and having, to eveiybod37's astonishment, bequeathed the whole of his estates to a distant kinsman. It was said that a joking allusion, made by Colonel Morton at the club, to the unconscionable age which his relative had attaineiJ, had been reported by some kind friend to the old gentleman; but however that may have been, Colonel Morton was cut off with a few thousands, and it was necessary that Colonel Morton's son should earn his own living.

That being so, one could hardly blame Jack for desiring popularity as well as striving after perfection. The two aims are not very easily reconcilable; yet they admit of reconciliation, if a man possess both genius and patience. One of these I knew that Jack had, and the other he claimed for him self. ' I don't expect to be offered a thousand pounds to-morrow,' said he, 'only I must get on the right tack, if I can.' ' Then you may find it out for yourself,' I returned, laughing, 'I will have no hand in clipping your wings. You know as well as I do that what you have upon your easel there is not the sort of thing to take the public of this country by storm.' From the very first it was evident enough to me that he knew7 most things as well as I did, and some a great deal better. There was a quiet con sciousness of power about him which one does not often meet with in so young a man.

His ej-es sparkled more than once in the course of the de sultory chat about art and artists which ensued ; it was easy to see that he did not lack enthusiasm ; but he had his emotions well under control — a little too well for my taste, to tell the truth. For the rest, he was a fine, handsome young fellow, as unlike bis father in person as he was in manner. His closely-cropped hair was as black as a raven's wing ; but his eyes, which were large and luminous, were brown. His eyebrows were arched and his chin was broad and square. His mouth was the mouth of an artist — full, mobile, and sensitive. Upon the whole, a contradictory sort of a face. At the conclusion of our interview I was not at all sure that I liked Jack Morton. Afterwards, when I knew him better, I both liked and under stood him better; but he was always very reserved.

It was a long time before I really knew him and a still longer time before we became friends. Friends we did eventually become, notwithstanding the difference in our ages ; and, indeed, I may say that I was the only intimate friend whom Jack had in the world, though his acquaintances were numerous. At all events, he would submit, with his quiet, rather sad smile, to rebukes from me which I doubt whether he would have tolerated from anyone else. For a time came when I could not but rebuke him, little as I was able to flatter myself that my rebukes were likely to meet with attention. The fact is that he disappointed me terribly. His success was very rapid and very great — far more so than I had anticipated, or should have believed possible. In less than a twelvemonth that young man had risen from absolute obscurity to fame, and to fame of a legitimate kind too.

His picture of Hercules slaying the Neinæan lion, the first that he sent in to the Academy, was hung on the line, and its merits met with the recognition which they deserved. He sold the picture well, and one would have thought that, after such a start, he had only to go on as he had begun and prosper. Yet, to my amazement and regret, he did no such thing. Certainly he prospered pecuniarily ; but it was by dashing off a vast number of small pictures, not one of which was in any way worthy of him. They were clever, of course — some of them exceed ingly so ; but he gave neither the time nor the care to them that he ought to have given. The critics became more guarded in their praises of him, and those who, like myself, had predicted for him a glorious career, were forced to admit with sorrow, that the}7 had misjudged their man. 'One must live,' he would say, with a shrug of his shoulders, in answer to my upbraidings.

The absurd part of it was that he didn't live : he merely existed. He had not a single extravagant habit that I could discover : he seldom took a holiday ; and the annual cost of his keep and residence in those wretched Berners Street rooms of his might, I was pretty sure, have been defraj-ed by the price of one of his paintings. The natural inference was that he had some secret drain upon his resources ; but this was not a theory which met with common acceptance. His brother-artists, who were not particularly fond of him, declared that the fellow was a miser ; and indeed it looked very much as though he must be. 'Poor, dear Jack!' said his father, whom I en countered one afternoon, as usual, in tbe hall of the club. ' He has an old head on young shoulders — a deuce of an old head ! When I was his age — ah, well ! when I was his age I wasn't half such a good fellow as he is ; and I'm sure it ill becomes me to criticise him, for no man ever bad a better son.

Still, I wish he would go about a little more and amuse himself. "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy," you know. I sometimes think Jack is a very dull boy.' 'Couldn't you induce him to enter society rather more, you who are always in society ? ' I suggested. 'Oh, for the matter of that he does dine out a good deal,' answered Colonel Morton ; ' but he grudges the time, and he doesn't enjoy himself. I fancy he has somehow lost the trick of enjoying himself. The fact of the matter is tbat he ought to marry; domestic felicity would be more in his line than social amusements.' He reflected for a moment, stroking his moustache and smiling, and then said : ' Do you know Mrs Marchmont ? ' I did happen to know Mrs Marchmont — a rich, handsome widow, no longer in her first youth. Not a very refined woman, nor (it was said) a very good-tempered one either. ' Surely,' said I, laughing, 'you don't contemplate arranging a marriage between your son and Mrs Marchmont!' He looked up at me with those ingenuous blue eyes of his in a slightly surprised manner. ' Well, do you know,' he answered confidentially, 'some such idea came into my head last night, I confess.

I met Jack at her house, where we were both dining, and it struck me that she was in terested in him — decidedly interested. And she has any amount of money, you know.' ' Did he seem to be interested in her ? ' I inquired. 'My dear fellow,' returned Colonel Morton, with a laugh, ' docs Jack ever look interested in anybody or anything out of a picture-frame ? ' I could not say that I had ever seen Jack look particularly interested in an}7 woman. He differed in that respect from his father, who had always been more or less of a ladies' man, and who, I daresay, had only been deterreil from marrying a seconil time by a natural unwillingness to relin quish the comfort and freedom of bachelor exist ence. Colonel Morton liked to be comfortable, and certainly knew how to make himself so. He had a luxurious first-floor set of rooms in St James's Street, where he often entertained his friends at breakfast ; he also often invited them to dine at his club hard by, ami they were always delighted to come, because his company was as good as his dinners.

I don't think I ever knew a man who was more universally liked. In the matter of money, he was the exact opposite of Jack, being, I should say, a little too lavish for his means. One could not suppose that he was well off; yet he stinted neither himself nor others, and the charitable applied to him for alms without any fear of being sent empty away. I sometimes wondered whether any of the son's earnings found their way into the father's pocket. It seemed quite probable, for they were devoted to one another, despite the dissimilarity in their characters. In deed, Jack was never weary of praising his ' dear old governor,' and admiring the cheerful philosophy with which that gentleman had submitted to the loss of an inheritance which he had had every right to count upon. On the following morning Jack paid me an early visit at my studio.

It was quite an unprecedented thing for him to leave his work at that hour of the day, and I expressed my astonishment at seeing him. ' Oh, well,' said he, with rather an embarrassed laugh, ' it's no good trying to work when you're not in a mood for it.' ' But I thought you were always in the mood for it,' I remarked. To this he made no reply, but sat swinging his stick and smoking pensively. It was evident that he had something to say and did not exactly know how to set about saying it; so, just by way of o-ivinothe conversation a start, I observed : & o ' I met your father at the club yesterday. He told me you and he had been dining out with Mrs Marchmont the night before.' Jack was too dark - complexioned a man to change colour easily ; but as I said this, there came a conscious sort of look into his eyes which I thought might be reganled as the equivalent of a blush.

I wassorry tosee it. I had, I confess, sometimes feared that Jack was rather too fond of money, and that he might be planning an alliance with a wealthy widow who was 'interested in him' seemed less unlikely than I could have wished it to be. I laid aside my pallet and brushes ami planted myself in front of him. ' Now, Jack,' said I, 'if any man may venture to speak plainly to you, I suppose I may. Don't you do it, my boy. It's all very fine to be rich ; but there's such a thing as paying too long a price for riches, and a nasty-tempered wife ' 'What on earth are you talking about?'inter rupted Jack, opening his eyes very wide. I explained myself in a few words, and had the satisfaction of making him laugh heartily by my explanation. He had a jolly, boyish sort of laugh, which was all the more pleasant to hear because it seemed to be so little in harmony with his rather sombre cast of countenance.

One did not often hear it, however. 1 Isn't that just like the dear old governor ! ' he exclaimed. ' If he could have his way, he would turn me out to grass for the rest of my days, with nothing to do except to eat and drink and grow fat. But I'm afraid I can't marry Mrs Marchmont, even to please him.' He added some what diffidently, after a moment of silence, 'Mrs Marchmont wasn't the only lady at that dinner party.' And so it dawned upon me that my friend Jack was in love, and that I was to be honoured by being made the depositary of his secret. It took him some time to disburden himself — he was not, perhaps, much accustomed to making such confes sions — but the upshot of it was that he was devotedly attached to the sweetest and loveliest girl in the whole world. Her name was Alice Maitland, and she was the only child of a widowed mother.

He had met her some three weeks before at the house of Mrs Marchmont, who lived near the Maitlands in the country, and who had kindly taken them under her wing during the first season which Alice had spent in London. The young lady, it seemed, had all the virtues and only one defect: she was not an heiress. In fact, there was every reason to suppose that she would have no marriage portion at all. ' Well, if you want my advice,' said I, ' I am quite ready to give it you. You can well afford to marry ; and even if you were a poorer man than you are, I should unhesitatingly recommend you to marry the girl whom vou love.' But it appeared that Jack did not want my advice ; and indeed I might have known him better than to imagine that he required any assistance in making up his mind. 'Only I couldn't keep it to myself any longer,' he said ; ' I felt as if I must tell somebody.

Did you ever have tbat feeling ? ' I had experienced it often enough in the course of m}7 life; but I should hardly have expected bim to experience it, and I said so. He smiled rather sadly. 'I know what you mean,' he answered. ' I don't think I am naturally secretive; but ' He did not finish his sentence, and I could not finish it for him, for in truth I had always thought him reserved by nature ; but it struck me as a little pathetic that a man of his age shouhl be driven to make a confidant of an old fellow like me. At my time of life, to be sure, one is apt to be a patient listener ; and I believe tbat during the next hour I showed myself worthy in that respect of the com pliment which had been paid to me. What seemed to me rather absurd and overstrained was the doubt which Jack expressed over and over again as to whether he had any right to ask a refined and delicately-nurtured girl like Miss Maitland to share the hardships and uncertainties of an artist's life.

There was no uncertainty at all about his power to give her all that a reasonable woman could require, and if he had hitherto put up with hardships, I could not but think that they had been voluntarily incurred. He neither admitted nor contradicted that asser tion ; but he said, 'It is unlikely that I shall ever be rich ; and I should like to be rich — for her sake.' Then, getting up and laughing: 'After all, how do I know that she will look at me? I want you to look at her, though, if you will ; I want to hear what you think. Not that you will be able to help admiring her.' The least that I could do was to reply that I should be delighted to inspect the young lady on the earliest opportunity, and to express to the best of my ability the feelings of admiration with which she was sure to inspire me.

So, when he mentioned that he had a sort of half-appointment to meet Mrs and Miss Maitland at the Grosvenor Gallery on the ensuing morning, I willingly promised to accom pany him thither; and away he went, whistling an operatic air. He whistled it a little sharp; but that may have been from want of practice. Never before had I heard Jack whistle.

Chapter II

In the Grosvenor Gallery one sees, or used to see, a good many pictures representing a type of female beauty of which one may make so bold as to say tbat it is not such as would commend itself favour ably to nine out of ten chance spectators. I, whose notions of beauty were formed long ago, have never found myself able to feel any fancy for it. But one of the few advantages of being well on in life is that (unless one has the misfortune to be that most hopeless of all fools, an old fool) one has learnt to be tolerant and to admit, amongst other things, that beauty is not a term which can be de fined by the aid of any set of rules. If anybody finds gratification to the eye in contemplating sunken cheeks and angular figures he has a perfect right to do so, and far be it from me to deny that Miss Alice Maitland had attractions, although these were not conspicuous to me.

I don't mean to say B that she in any way resembled the woe-begone damsels who looked down from their frames upon the scene of our introduction to one another; on the contrary, she was a somewhat plump little lady, with fair hair and eyes of an uncertain blue, and commonplace, regular features. I only take tbe liberty of mentioning now what nothing would have induced me to mention at the time — namely, that to me she appeared insipid and uninteresting. I will allow that most people would have called her pretty. My disappointment was not, I trust, perceptible ; and if it had been, Jack would probably have failed to detect it. It was not upon my7 unworthy countenance that his attention was riveted, nor, I think, was he so eager to give me an opportunity of criticising Miss Maitland as to make use of me in the quality of a companion for her mother.

At any rate, the }'oung people speedily found an ex cuse for w7andering away; and Mrs Maitland, who said sbe was rather tired, asked me whether I would mind sitting down for a few minutes in front of I forget whose celebrated work, and ex plaining to her in what its excellency consisted. Because she could not preteml to be any judge of pictures. I did as I was requested and very soon dis covered that her modest estimate of her capacities was not misplaced. She certainly knew nothing at all about art, and I gathered that she was very well contented to remain in ignorance. On the other hand, she was evidently7 anxious to increase her stock of information about artists in general and about Jack Morton in particular. She was a quiet, ladylike little woman — just the sort of woman that her daughter would be in another twenty or thirty years — and her method of questioning me, though ingenuous enough, was not marked by any unseemly7 directness.

In fact, I believe that our colloquy must have lasted for the best part of an hour. Fortunately I had nothing to conceal. I gave Jack the best of characters; I was able to assure her that men who had reached his eminence in the artistic profession were in the receipt of handsome incomes ; and in return for communications which appeared to satisfy her, she was so good as to ask me to tea. ' We are not at all gay people,' she said ; ' we go out very little. But I wanted dear Alice just for once to see what a London season was like ; though we only see it from the outside, as it were.' As we walked away, after bidding the ladies good-bye, Jack had almost as much to say in praise of the elder as of the younger. ' There's nothing worldly about Mrs Maitland,' he declared. 'I believe she would give her daughter to a poor man just as willingly as to a rich one.

That is, if her daughter wished it, you know.' ' Does her daughter wish it ? ' I inquired. He laughed and sighed. 'I can't tell,' he answered. ' Perhaps I am too sanguine ; perhaps she doesn't quite realise ■' Then he suddenly changed the subject. ' Do you know, Maule,' said he, ' I've had an offer which makes my mouth water ? Lord Newick wants me to paint the panels of his ball room for him. His place was burnt down two years ago, as I daresay you remember, and I believe he means ]to make the new building as perfect in the way of decoration as he can. He wrote me a very7 civil note, giving me carte blanche as to design. He said he would rather trust my judgment than his own.' I congratulated Jack with all my heart. Lord Newick is considered to be eccentric ; but he is a genuine connoisseur, as well as one of the wealthiest men in England, and I suppose there is no living artist who would not gladly accept from him such a commission as Jack had mentioned.

Neverthe less, there was an artist living at that time who hesitated about it. ' The question is,' said Jack, as we made our way down Bond Street, ' whether I should be justified in undertaking this job. I should like to undertake it for more reasons than one, not the least of them being that Mrs Maitland lives within a few miles of Newick Castle ; but if I do it is certain that I must make everything else give way to it, and I'm by no means sure that it wouldn't pay me better to stay where I am and go on producing pot boilers.' ' Upon my word, Jack,' I exclaimed with some heat,' you disgust me ! Have you no ambition at all ? Good heavens, man ! is pay the one and only thing to be considered ? ' AVell,' he answered quietly, 'I have to consider it.' I really did not see why he should be obliged to consider it so closely7 as all that.

Lord Newick was quite certain to be liberal ; but even if that had not been certain, a man who has any respect for himself and his craft should be prepared to make small pecuniary sacrifices upon occasion. The labourer is worthy of his hire, and doubtless a good deal of insincere nonsense has been talked about art for art's sake ; yet an artist is not, or at any rate ought not to be, a mere hawker of his wares and the obedient servant of the highest bidder. All this, and more, I said to Jack, who listened to me, as he always did, with exemplary patience. But on this occasion he departed from his ordinary custom so far as to intimate that he had a sufficient reply to offer to my rebukes. 'I have often wanted to tell you about it,' said he; 'only I can't talk out here in tbe street. Have you time to come back to my diggings with me ?' Strictly speaking I had not time; for I am a busy man, and I had already wasted a morning ; but I would gladly have thrown back my work for a month for the sake of hearing some satisfactory explanation of what had hitherto been to me in explicable.