New Grub Street George Gissing (notion reading list TXT) 📖

informed that the new edition of On Neutral Ground and Hubert Reed will be ready next month. Need I say how glad I am that my friend’s work is not to be forgotten?”

This note he also put into the envelope, which he made ready for posting. Then he sat for a long time in profound thought.

Shortly after eleven his door opened, and Maud came in. She had been dining at Mrs. Lane’s. Her attire was still simple, but of quality which would have signified recklessness, but for the outlook whereof Jasper spoke to Whelpdale. The girl looked very beautiful. There was a flush of health and happiness on her cheek, and when she spoke it was in a voice that rang quite differently from her tones of a year ago; the pride which was natural to her had now a firm support; she moved and uttered herself in queenly fashion.

“Has anyone been?” she asked.

“Whelpdale.”

“Oh! I wanted to ask you, Jasper: do you think it wise to let him come quite so often?”

“There’s a difficulty, you see. I can hardly tell him to sheer off. And he’s really a decent fellow.”

“That may be. But⁠—I think it’s rather unwise. Things are changed. In a few months, Dora will be a good deal at my house, and will see all sorts of people.”

“Yes; but what if they are the kind of people she doesn’t care anything about? You must remember, old girl, that her tastes are quite different from yours. I say nothing, but⁠—perhaps it’s as well they should be.”

“You say nothing, but you add an insult,” returned Maud, with a smile of superb disregard. “We won’t reopen the question.”

“Oh dear no! And, by the by, I have a letter from Dolomore. It came just after you left.”

“Well?”

“He is quite willing to settle upon you a third of his income from the collieries; he tells me it will represent between seven and eight hundred a year. I think it rather little, you know; but I congratulate myself on having got this out of him.”

“Don’t speak in that unpleasant way! It was only your abruptness that made any kind of difficulty.”

“I have my own opinion on that point, and I shall beg leave to keep it. Probably he will think me still more abrupt when I request, as I am now going to do, an interview with his solicitors.”

“Is that allowable?” asked Maud, anxiously. “Can you do that with any decency?”

“If not, then I must do it with indecency. You will have the goodness to remember that if I don’t look after your interests, no one else will. It’s perhaps fortunate for you that I have a good deal of the man of business about me. Dolomore thought I was a dreamy, literary fellow. I don’t say that he isn’t entirely honest, but he shows something of a disposition to play the autocrat, and I by no means intend to let him. If you had a father, Dolomore would have to submit his affairs to examination. I stand to you in loco parentis, and I shall bate no jot of my rights.”

“But you can’t say that his behaviour hasn’t been perfectly straightforward.”

“I don’t wish to. I think, on the whole, he has behaved more honourably than was to be expected of a man of his kind. But he must treat me with respect. My position in the world is greatly superior to his. And, by the gods! I will be treated respectfully! It wouldn’t be amiss, Maud, if you just gave him a hint to that effect.”

“All I have to say is, Jasper, don’t do me an irreparable injury. You might, without meaning it.”

“No fear whatever of it. I can behave as a gentleman, and I only expect Dolomore to do the same.”

Their conversation lasted for a long time, and when he was again left alone Jasper again fell into a mood of thoughtfulness.

By a late post on the following day he received this letter:

“Dear Mr. Milvain⁠—I have received the proofs, and have just read them; I hasten to thank you with all my heart. No suggestion of mine could possibly improve this article; it seems to me perfect in taste, in style, in matter. No one but you could have written this, for no one else understood Edwin so well, or had given such thought to his work. If he could but have known that such justice would be done to his memory! But he died believing that already he was utterly forgotten, that his books would never again be publicly spoken of. This was a cruel fate. I have shed tears over what you have written, but they were not only tears of bitterness; it cannot but be a consolation to me to think that, when the magazine appears, so many people will talk of Edwin and his books. I am deeply grateful to Mr. Mortimer for having undertaken to republish those two novels; if you have an opportunity, will you do me the great kindness to thank him on my behalf? At the same time, I must remember that it was you who first spoke to him on this subject. You say that it gladdens you to think Edwin will not be forgotten, and I am very sure that the friendly office you have so admirably performed will in itself reward you more than any poor expression of gratitude from me. I write hurriedly, anxious to let you hear as soon as possible.

“Believe me, dear Mr. Milvain,

“Yours sincerely,

“Amy Reardon.”

XXXIV A Check

Marian was at work as usual in the Reading-room. She did her best, during the hours spent here, to convert herself into the literary machine which it was her hope would some day be invented for construction in a less sensitive material than human tissue. Her eyes seldom strayed beyond the limits of the desk; and if she had occasion to rise and go to the reference shelves, she looked at