III
The Whelp
It was very remarkable that a young gentleman who had been brought up under one continuous system of unnatural restraint, should be a hypocrite; but it was certainly the case with Tom. It was very strange that a young gentleman who had never been left to his own guidance for five consecutive minutes, should be incapable at last of governing himself; but so it was with Tom. It was altogether unaccountable that a young gentleman whose imagination had been strangled in his cradle, should be still inconvenienced by its ghost in the form of grovelling sensualities; but such a monster, beyond all doubt, was Tom.
тАЬDo you smoke?тАЭ asked Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, when they came to the hotel.
тАЬI believe you!тАЭ said Tom.
He could do no less than ask Tom up; and Tom could do no less than go up. What with a cooling drink adapted to the weather, but not so weak as cool; and what with a rarer tobacco than was to be bought in those parts; Tom was soon in a highly free and easy state at his end of the sofa, and more than ever disposed to admire his new friend at the other end.
Tom blew his smoke aside, after he had been smoking a little while, and took an observation of his friend. тАЬHe donтАЩt seem to care about his dress,тАЭ thought Tom, тАЬand yet how capitally he does it. What an easy swell he is!тАЭ
Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, happening to catch TomтАЩs eye, remarked that he drank nothing, and filled his glass with his own negligent hand.
тАЬThankтАЩee,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬThankтАЩee. Well, Mr.┬аHarthouse, I hope you have had about a dose of old Bounderby tonight.тАЭ Tom said this with one eye shut up again, and looking over his glass knowingly, at his entertainer.
тАЬA very good fellow indeed!тАЭ returned Mr.┬аJames Harthouse.
тАЬYou think so, donтАЩt you?тАЭ said Tom. And shut up his eye again.
Mr.┬аJames Harthouse smiled; and rising from his end of the sofa, and lounging with his back against the chimneypiece, so that he stood before the empty fire-grate as he smoked, in front of Tom and looking down at him, observed:
тАЬWhat a comical brother-in-law you are!тАЭ
тАЬWhat a comical brother-in-law old Bounderby is, I think you mean,тАЭ said Tom.
тАЬYou are a piece of caustic, Tom,тАЭ retorted Mr.┬аJames Harthouse.
There was something so very agreeable in being so intimate with such a waistcoat; in being called Tom, in such an intimate way, by such a voice; in being on such offhand terms so soon, with such a pair of whiskers; that Tom was uncommonly pleased with himself.
тАЬOh! I donтАЩt care for old Bounderby,тАЭ said he, тАЬif you mean that. I have always called old Bounderby by the same name when I have talked about him, and I have always thought of him in the same way. I am not going to begin to be polite now, about old Bounderby. It would be rather late in the day.тАЭ
тАЬDonтАЩt mind me,тАЭ returned James; тАЬbut take care when his wife is by, you know.тАЭ
тАЬHis wife?тАЭ said Tom. тАЬMy sister Loo? O yes!тАЭ And he laughed, and took a little more of the cooling drink.
James Harthouse continued to lounge in the same place and attitude, smoking his cigar in his own easy way, and looking pleasantly at the whelp, as if he knew himself to be a kind of agreeable demon who had only to hover over him, and he must give up his whole soul if required. It certainly did seem that the whelp yielded to this influence. He looked at his companion sneakingly, he looked at him admiringly, he looked at him boldly, and put up one leg on the sofa.
тАЬMy sister Loo?тАЭ said Tom. тАЬShe never cared for old Bounderby.тАЭ
тАЬThatтАЩs the past tense, Tom,тАЭ returned Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, striking the ash from his cigar with his little finger. тАЬWe are in the present tense, now.тАЭ
тАЬVerb neuter, not to care. Indicative mood, present tense. First person singular, I do not care; second person singular, thou dost not care; third person singular, she does not care,тАЭ returned Tom.
тАЬGood! Very quaint!тАЭ said his friend. тАЬThough you donтАЩt mean it.тАЭ
тАЬBut I do mean it,тАЭ cried Tom. тАЬUpon my honour! Why, you wonтАЩt tell me, Mr.┬аHarthouse, that you really suppose my sister Loo does care for old Bounderby.тАЭ
тАЬMy dear fellow,тАЭ returned the other, тАЬwhat am I bound to suppose, when I find two married people living in harmony and happiness?тАЭ
Tom had by this time got both his legs on the sofa. If his second leg had not been already there when he was called a dear fellow, he would have put it up at that great stage of the conversation. Feeling it necessary to do something then, he stretched himself out at greater length, and, reclining with the back of his head on the end of the sofa, and smoking with an infinite assumption of negligence, turned his common face, and not too sober eyes, towards the face looking down upon him so carelessly yet so potently.
тАЬYou know our governor, Mr.┬аHarthouse,тАЭ said Tom, тАЬand therefore, you neednтАЩt be surprised that Loo married old Bounderby. She never had a lover, and the governor proposed old Bounderby, and she took him.тАЭ
тАЬVery dutiful in your interesting sister,тАЭ said Mr.┬аJames Harthouse.
тАЬYes, but she wouldnтАЩt have been as dutiful, and it would not have come off as easily,тАЭ returned the whelp, тАЬif it hadnтАЩt been for me.тАЭ
The tempter merely lifted his eyebrows; but the whelp was obliged to go on.
тАЬI persuaded her,тАЭ he said, with an edifying air of superiority. тАЬI was stuck into old BounderbyтАЩs bank (where I never wanted to be), and I knew I should get into scrapes there, if she put old BounderbyтАЩs pipe out; so I told her my wishes, and she came into them. She would do anything for me. It was very game of her, wasnтАЩt it?тАЭ
тАЬIt was charming, Tom!тАЭ
тАЬNot that it was altogether so important to her as it was to me,тАЭ continued Tom coolly, тАЬbecause my liberty and comfort, and perhaps my getting on, depended on it; and she had no other lover, and staying at home was like staying in jailтБатАФespecially when I was gone. It wasnтАЩt as if she gave up another lover for old Bounderby; but still it was a good thing in her.тАЭ
тАЬPerfectly delightful. And she gets on so placidly.тАЭ
тАЬOh,тАЭ returned Tom, with contemptuous patronage, тАЬsheтАЩs a regular girl. A girl can get on anywhere. She has settled down to the life, and she donтАЩt mind. It does just as well as another. Besides, though Loo is a girl, sheтАЩs not a common sort of girl. She can shut herself up within herself, and thinkтБатАФas I have often known her sit and watch the fireтБатАФfor an hour at a stretch.тАЭ
тАЬAy, ay? Has resources of her own,тАЭ said Harthouse, smoking quietly.
тАЬNot so much of that as you may suppose,тАЭ returned Tom; тАЬfor our governor had her crammed with all sorts of dry bones and sawdust. ItтАЩs his system.тАЭ
тАЬFormed his daughter on his own model?тАЭ suggested Harthouse.
тАЬHis daughter? Ah! and everybody else. Why, he formed me that way!тАЭ said Tom.
тАЬImpossible!тАЭ
тАЬHe did, though,тАЭ said Tom, shaking his head. тАЬI mean to say, Mr.┬аHarthouse, that when I first left home and went to old BounderbyтАЩs, I was as flat as a warming-pan, and knew no more about life, than any oyster does.тАЭ
тАЬCome, Tom! I can hardly believe that. A jokeтАЩs a joke.тАЭ
тАЬUpon my soul!тАЭ said the whelp. тАЬI am serious; I am indeed!тАЭ He smoked with great gravity and dignity for a little while, and then added, in a highly complacent tone, тАЬOh! I have picked up a little since. I donтАЩt deny that. But I have done it myself; no thanks to the governor.тАЭ
тАЬAnd your intelligent sister?тАЭ
тАЬMy intelligent sister is about where she was. She used to complain to me that she had nothing to fall back upon, that girls usually fall back upon; and I donтАЩt see how she is to have got over that since. But she donтАЩt mind,тАЭ he sagaciously added, puffing at his cigar again. тАЬGirls can always get on, somehow.тАЭ
тАЬCalling at the bank yesterday evening, for Mr.┬аBounderbyтАЩs address, I found an ancient lady there, who seems to entertain great admiration for your sister,тАЭ observed Mr.┬аJames Harthouse, throwing away the last small remnant of the cigar he had now smoked out.
тАЬMother Sparsit!тАЭ said Tom. тАЬWhat! you have seen her already, have you?тАЭ
His friend nodded. Tom took his cigar out of his mouth, to shut up his eye (which had grown rather unmanageable) with the greater expression, and to tap his nose several times with his finger.
тАЬMother SparsitтАЩs feeling for Loo is more than admiration, I should think,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬSay affection and devotion. Mother Sparsit never set her cap at Bounderby when he was a bachelor. Oh no!тАЭ
These were the last words spoken by the whelp, before a giddy drowsiness came upon him, followed by complete oblivion. He was roused from the latter state by an uneasy dream of being stirred up with a boot, and also of a voice saying: тАЬCome, itтАЩs late. Be off!тАЭ
тАЬWell!тАЭ he said, scrambling from the sofa. тАЬI must take my leave of you though. I say. Yours is very good tobacco. But itтАЩs too mild.тАЭ
тАЬYes, itтАЩs too mild,тАЭ returned his entertainer.
тАЬItтАЩsтБатАФitтАЩs ridiculously mild,тАЭ said Tom. тАЬWhereтАЩs the door! Good night!тАЭ
He had another odd dream of being taken by a waiter through a mist, which, after giving him some trouble and difficulty, resolved itself into the main street, in which he stood alone. He then walked home pretty easily, though not yet free from an impression of the presence and influence of his new friendтБатАФas if he were lounging somewhere in the air, in the same negligent attitude, regarding him with the same look.
The whelp went home, and went to bed. If he had had any sense of what he had done that night, and had been less of a whelp and more of a brother, he might have turned short on the road, might have gone down to the ill-smelling river that was dyed black, might have gone to bed in it for good and all, and have curtained his head forever with its filthy waters.