The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope [good story books to read .txt] 📗

for his actions when he took the poison. He was felo de se, and therefore carried away to the cross roads⁠—or elsewhere. But it may be imagined, I think, that during that night he may have become as mad as any other wretch, have been driven as far beyond his powers of endurance as any other poor creature who ever at any time felt himself constrained to go. He had not been so drunk but that he knew all that happened, and could foresee pretty well what would happen. The summons to attend upon the Lord Mayor had been served upon him. There were some, among them Croll and Mr. Brehgert, who absolutely knew that he had committed forgery. He had no money for the Longestaffes, and he was well aware what Squercum would do at once. He had assured himself long ago⁠—he had assured himself indeed not very long ago⁠—that he would brave it all like a man. But we none of us know what load we can bear, and what would break our backs. Melmotte’s back had been so utterly crushed that I almost think that he was mad enough to have justified a verdict of temporary insanity.

But he was carried away, no one knew whither, and for a week his name was hateful. But after that, a certain amount of whitewashing took place, and, in some degree, a restitution of fame was made to the manes of the departed. In Westminster he was always odious. Westminster, which had adopted him, never forgave him. But in other districts it came to be said of him that he had been more sinned against than sinning; and that, but for the jealousy of the old stagers in the mercantile world, he would have done very wonderful things. Marylebone, which is always merciful, took him up quite with affection, and would have returned his ghost to Parliament could his ghost have paid for committee rooms. Finsbury delighted for a while to talk of the great financier, and even Chelsea thought that he had been done to death by ungenerous tongues. It was, however, Marylebone alone that spoke of a monument.

Mr. Longestaffe came back to his house, taking formal possession of it a few days after the verdict. Of course he was alone. There had been no further question of bringing the ladies of the family up to town; and Dolly altogether declined to share with his father the honour of encountering the dead man’s spirit. But there was very much for Mr. Longestaffe to do, and very much also for his son. It was becoming a question with both of them how far they had been ruined by their connection with the horrible man. It was clear that they could not get back the title-deeds of the Pickering property without paying the amount which had been advanced upon them, and it was equally clear that they could not pay that sum unless they were enabled to do so by funds coming out of the Melmotte estate. Dolly, as he sat smoking upon the stool in Mr. Squercum’s office, where he now passed a considerable portion of his time, looked upon himself as a miracle of ill-usage.

“By George, you know, I shall have to go to law with the governor. There’s nothing else for it; is there, Squercum?”

Squercum suggested that they had better wait till they found what pickings there might be out of the Melmotte estate. He had made inquiries too about that, and had been assured that there must be property, but property so involved and tied up as to make it impossible to lay hands upon it suddenly. “They say that the things in the square, and the plate, and the carriages and horses, and all that, ought to fetch between twenty and thirty thousand. There were a lot of jewels, but the women have taken them,” said Squercum.

“By George, they ought to be made to give up everything. Did you ever hear of such a thing;⁠—the very house pulled down;⁠—my house; and all done without a word from me in the matter? I don’t suppose such a thing was ever known before, since properties were properties.” Then he uttered sundry threats against the Bideawhiles, in reference to whom he declared his intention of “making it very hot for them.”

It was an annoyance added to the elder Mr. Longestaffe that the management of Melmotte’s affairs fell at last almost exclusively into the hands of Mr. Brehgert. Now Brehgert, in spite of his many dealings with Melmotte, was an honest man, and, which was perhaps of as much immediate consequence, both an energetic and a patient man. But then he was the man who had wanted to marry Georgiana Longestaffe, and he was the man to whom Mr. Longestaffe had been particularly uncivil. Then there arose necessities for the presence of Mr. Brehgert in the house in which Melmotte had lately lived and had died. The dead man’s papers were still there⁠—deeds, documents, and such letters as he had not chosen to destroy;⁠—and these could not be removed quite at once. “Mr. Brehgert must of course have access to my private room, as long as it is necessary⁠—absolutely necessary,” said Mr. Longestaffe in answer to a message which was brought to him; “but he will of course see the expediency of relieving me from such intrusion as soon as possible.” But he soon found it preferable to come to terms with the rejected suitor, especially as the man was singularly good-natured and forbearing after the injuries he had received.

All minor debts were to be paid at once; an arrangement to which Mr. Longestaffe cordially agreed, as it included a sum of £300 due to him for the rent of his house in Bruton Street. Then by degrees it became known that there would certainly be a dividend of not less than fifty percent payable on debts which could be proved to have been owing by Melmotte, and perhaps of more;⁠—an arrangement which was very comfortable to Dolly, as it