第137章 CHAPTER XXX(6)

"Mr.Jessop!Look at Mr.Jessop!"

The old man had suddenly sank back,with a sort of choking groan.

His eyes were staring blankly,his cheek was the colour of ashes.

But when he saw every one looking at him he tried desperately to recover himself.

"'Tis nothing.Nothing of the slightest moment.Eh?"clutching tightly at the paper which Mrs.Halifax was kindly removing out of his hand."There's no news in it--none,I assure you."But from his agitation--from the pitiful effort he made to disguise it--it was plain enough that there was news.Plain also,as in these dangerous and critical times men were only too quick to divine,in what that news consisted.Tidings,which now made every newspaper a sight of fear,--especially this--the London Gazette.

Edwin caught and read the fatal page--the fatal column--known only too well.

"W--'s have stopped payment."

W--'s was a great London house,the favourite banking-house in our country,with which many provincial banks,and Jessop's especially,were widely connected,and would be no one knew how widely involved.

"W--'s stopped payment!"

A murmur--a hush of momentary suspense,as the Gazette was passed hurriedly from hand to hand;and then our guests,one and all,sat looking at one another in breathless fear,suspicion,or assured dismay.For,as every one was aware (we knew our neighbours'affairs so well about innocent Enderley),there was not a single household of that merry little company upon whom,near or remote,the blow would not fall--except ours.

No polite disguise could gloss over the general consternation.Few thought of Jessop--only of themselves.Many a father turned pale;many a mother melted into smothered tears.More than one honest countenance that five minutes before had beamed like the rising sun,all friendliness and jocularity,I saw shrink into a wizened,worldly face with greedy selfishness peering out of the corners of its eyes,eager to conceal its own alarms and dive as far as possible into the terrors of its neighbours.

"There will be a run on Jessop's bank to-morrow,"I heard one person saying;glancing to where the poor old banker still sat,with a vacant,stupefied smile,assuring all around him that "nothing had happened;really,nothing.""A run?I suppose so.Then it will be 'Sauve qui peut,'and the devil take the hindmost.""What say you to all this,Mr.Halifax?"

John still kept his place.He sat perfectly quiet,and had never spoken a syllable.

When Sir Herbert,who was the first to recover from the shock of these ill-tidings,called him by his name,Mr.Halifax looked quickly up.It was to see,instead of those two lines of happy faces,faces already gathering in troubled groups,faces angry,sullen,or miserable,all of which,with a vague distrust,seemed instinctively turned upon him.

"Mr.Halifax,"said the baronet,and one could see how,in spite of his steadfast politeness,he too was not without his anxieties--"this is an unpleasant breaking-in upon your kindly hospitalities.Isuppose,through this unpropitious event,each of us must make up our minds to some loss.Let me hope yours will be trifling."John made no answer.

"Or,perhaps--though I can hardly hope anything so fortunate--perhaps this failure will not affect you at all?"He waited--as did many others,for Mr.Halifax's reply;which was long in coming.However,since all seemed to expect it,it did come at last;but grave and sad as if it were the announcement of some great misfortune.

"No,Sir Herbert;it will not affect me at all."Sir Herbert,and not he alone--looked surprised--uneasily surprised.

Some mutters there were of "congratulation."Then arose a troubled murmur of talking,in which the master of the house was forgotten;until the baronet said,"My friends,I think we are forgetting our courtesy.Allow me to give you without more delay--the toast I was about to propose,--'Health,long life,and happiness to Mr.Guy Halifax.'"And so poor Guy's birthday toast was drunk;almost in silence;and the few words he said in acknowledgment were just listened to,scarcely heard.Every one rose from table,and the festivities were over.

One by one all our guests began to make excuse.One by one,involuntarily perhaps,yet not the less painfully and plainly,they all shrunk away from us,as if in the universal trouble we,who had nothing to fear,had no part nor lot.Formal congratulations,given with pale lips and wandering eyes;brusque adieux,as some of the more honest or less courteous showed but too obviously how cruelly,even resentfully,they felt the inequalities of fortune;hasty departures,full of a dismay that rejected angrily every shadow of consolation;--all these things John had to meet and to bear.

He met them with composure;scarcely speaking a word,as indeed what was there to say?To all the friendly speeches,real or pretended,he listened with a kind of sad gravity:of all harsher words than these--and there were not a few--he took not the least notice,but held his place as master of the house;generously deaf and blind to everything that it were as well the master of the house should neither hear nor see.

At last he was left,a very Pariah of prosperity,by his own hearth,quite alone.

The last carriage had rolled away;the tired household had gone to bed;there was no one in the study but me.John came in and stood leaning with both his arms against the fireplace,motionless and silent.He leant there so long,that at last I touched him.

"Well,Phineas!"

I saw this night's events had wounded him to the core.

"Are you thinking of these honest,friendly,disinterested guests of ours?Don't!They are not worth a single thought.""Not an angry thought,certainly."And he smiled at my wrath--a sad smile.

"Ah,Phineas!now I begin to understand what is meant by the curse of prosperity."