Then the squire went to bed, and Bernard sat over
the dining-room fire, meditating on it all. How
would the world expect that he should behave to Crosbie?
and what should he do when he met Crosbie at the club?
The Board
Crosbie, as we already know, went to his office in
Whitehall on the morning after his escape from Sebright’s,
at which establishment he left the Squire of Allington
in conference with Fowler Pratt. He had seen
Fowler Pratt again that same night, and the course
of the story will have shown what took place at that
interview.
He went early to his office, knowing that he had before
him the work of writing two letters, neither of which
would run very glibly from his pen. One was to
be his missive to the squire, to be delivered by his
friend; the other, that fatal epistle to poor Lily,
which, as the day passed away, he found himself utterly
unable to accomplish. The letter to the squire
he did write, under certain threats; and, as we have
seen, was considered to have degraded himself to the
vermin rank of humanity by the meanness of his production.
But on reaching his office he found that other cares
awaited him,—cares which he would have
taken much delight in bearing, had the state of his
mind enabled him to take delight in anything.
On entering the lobby of his office, at ten o’clock,
he became aware that he was received by the messengers
assembled there with almost more than their usual
deference. He was always a great man at the General
Committee Office; but there are shades of greatness
and shades of deference, which, though quite beyond
the powers of definition, nevertheless manifest themselves
clearly to the experienced ear and eye. He walked
through to his own apartment, and there found two
official letters addressed to him lying on his table.
The first which came to hand, though official, was
small, and marked private, and it was addressed in
the handwriting of his old friend, Butterwell, the
outgoing secretary. “I shall see you in
the morning, nearly as soon as you get this,”
said the semi-official note; “but I must be
the first to congratulate you on the acquisition of
my old shoes. They will be very easy in the wearing
to you, though they pinched my corns a little at first.
I dare say they want new soling, and perhaps they
are a little down at the heels; but you will find
some excellent cobbler to make them all right, and
will give them a grace in the wearing which they have
sadly lacked since they came into my possession.
I wish you much joy with them,” &c., &c.
He then opened the larger official letter, but that
had now but little interest for him. He could
have made a copy of the contents without seeing them.
The Board of Commissioners had had great pleasure in
promoting him to the office of secretary, vacated by
the promotion of Mr Butterwell to a seat at their
own Board; and then the letter was signed by Mr Butterwell
himself.
