PART FOUR
CHAPTER XXIII. A PROPOSED INVESTMENT
Alfred Yule's behaviour under his disappointment seemed to prove
that even for him the uses of adversity could be sweet. On the
day after his return home he displayed a most unwonted mildness
in such remarks as he addressed to his wife, and his bearing
towards Marian was gravely gentle. At meals he conversed, or
rather monologised, on literary topics, with occasionally one of
his grim jokes, pointed for Marian's appreciation. He became
aware that the girl had been overtaxing her strength of late, and
suggested a few weeks of recreation among new novels. The
coldness and gloom which had possessed him when he made a formal
announcement of the news appeared to have given way before the
sympathy manifested by his wife and daughter; he was now
sorrowful, but resigned.
He explained to Marian the exact nature of her legacy. It was to
be paid out of her uncle's share in a wholesale stationery
business, with which John Yule had been connected for the last
twenty years, but from which he had not long ago withdrawn a
large portion of his invested capital. This house was known as
'Turberville & Co.,' a name which Marian now heard for the first
time.
'I knew nothing of his association with them,' said her father. 'They tell me that seven or eight thousand pounds will be realised from that source; it seems a pity that the investment was not left to you intact. Whether there will be any delay in withdrawing the money I can't say.'
The executors were two old friends of the deceased, one of them a
former partner in his paper-making concern.
On the evening of the second day, about an hour after dinner was
over, Mr Hinks called at the house; as usual, he went into the
study. Before long came a second visitor, Mr Quarmby, who joined
Yule and Hinks. The three had all sat together for some time, when Marian, who happened to be coming down stairs, saw her father at the study door.
'Ask your mother to let us have some supper at a quarter to ten,'
he said urbanely. 'And come in, won't you? We are only
gossiping.'
It had not often happened that Marian was invited to join parties
of this kind.
'Do you wish me to come?' she asked.
'Yes, I should like you to, if you have nothing particular to
do.'
Marian informed Mrs Yule that the visitors would have supper, and
then went to the study. Mr Quarmby was smoking a pipe; Mr Hinks, who on grounds of economy had long since given up tobacco, sat with his hands in his trouser pockets, and his long, thin legs tucked beneath the chair; both rose and greeted Marian with more than ordinary warmth.
'Will you allow me five or six more puffs?' asked Mr Quarmby, laying one hand on his ample stomach and elevating his pipe as if it were a glass of beaded liquor. 'I shall then have done.'
'As many more as you like,' Marian replied.
The easiest chair was placed for her, Mr Hinks hastening to
perform this courtesy, and her father apprised her of the topic
they were discussing.
'What's your view, Marian? Is there anything to be said for the
establishment of a literary academy in England?'
Mr Quarmby beamed benevolently upon her, and Mr Hinks, his
scraggy neck at full length, awaited her reply with a look of the
most respectful attention.
'I really think we have quite enough literary quarrelling as it
is,' the girl replied, casting down her eyes and smiling.
Mr Quarmby uttered a hollow chuckle, Mr Hinks laughed thinly and
exclaimed, 'Very good indeed! Very good!' Yule affected to
applaud with impartial smile.
'It wouldn't harmonise with the Anglo-Saxon spirit,' remarked Mr
Hinks, with an air of diffident profundity.
Yule held forth on the subject for a few minutes in laboured
phrases. Presently the conversation turned to periodicals, and
the three men were unanimous in an opinion that no existing
monthly or quarterly could be considered as representing the best
literary opinion.