MY FRIENDS ARE PROVEN

At the door of my lodgings I was confronted by Banks, red with indignation and fidgety from uneasiness.

“O Lord, Mr. Carvel, what has happened, sir?” he cried.  “Your honour’s agent ‘as been here since noon.  Must I take orders from the likes o’ him, sir?”

Mr. Dix was indeed in possession of my rooms, lounging in the chair Dolly had chosen, smoking my tobacco.  I stared at him from the threshold.  Something in my appearance, or force of habit, or both brought him to his feet, and wiped away the smirk from his face.  He put down the pipe guiltily.  I told him shortly that I had heard the news which he must have got by the packet:  and that he should have his money, tho’ it took the rest of my life:  and the ten per cent I had promised him provided he would not press my Lord Comyn.  He hesitated, and drummed on the table.  He was the man of business again.

“What security am I to have, Mr. Carvel?” he asked.

“My word,” I said.  “It has never yet been broken, I thank God, nor my father’s before me.  And hark ye, Mr. Dix, you shall not be able to say that of Grafton.”  Truly I thought the principal and agent were now well matched.

“Very good, Mr. Carvel,” he said; “ten per cent.  I shall call with the papers on Monday morning.”

“I shall not run away before that,” I replied.

He got out, with a poor attempt at a swagger, without his customary protestations of duty and humble offers of service.  And I thanked Heaven he had not made a scene, which in my state of mind I could not have borne, but must have laid hands upon him.  Perhaps he believed Grafton not yet secure in his title.  I did not wonder then, in the heat of my youth, that he should have accepted my honour as security.  But since I have marvelled not a little at this.  The fine gentlemen at Brooks’s with whom I had been associating were none too scrupulous, and regarded money-lenders as legitimate prey.  Debts of honour they paid but tardily, if at all.  A certain nobleman had been owing my Lord Carlisle thirteen thousand pounds for a couple of years, that his Lordship had won at hazard.  And tho’ I blush to write it, Mr. Fox himself was notorious in such matters, and was in debt to each of the coterie of fashionables of which he was the devoted chief.

The faithful Banks vowed, with tears in his eyes, that he would never desert me.  And in that moment of dejection the poor fellow’s devotion brought me no little comfort.  At such times the heart is bitter.  We look askance at our friends, and make the task of comfort doubly hard for those that remain true.  I had a great affection for the man, and had become so used to his ways and unwearying service that I had not the courage to refuse his prayers to go with me to America.  I had not a farthing of my own—­he would serve me for nothing—­nay, work for me.  “Sure,” he said, taking off my coat and bringing me my gown,—­“Sure, your honour was not made to work.”  To cheer me he went on with some foolish footman’s gossip that there lacked not ladies with jointures who would marry me, and be thankful.  I smiled sadly.