I started, in ungovernable agitation, to my feet. The lawyer's question
reminded me, for the first time since I had left England, that something
HAD happened.
In the eighth chapter of Betteredge's Narrative, an allusion will be
found to the arrival of a foreigner and a stranger at my aunt's house,
who came to see me on business. The nature of his business was this.
I had been foolish enough (being, as usual, straitened for money at the
time) to accept a loan from the keeper of a small restaurant in Paris,
to whom I was well known as a customer. A time was settled between
us for paying the money back; and when the time came, I found it (as
thousands of other honest men have found it) impossible to keep my
engagement. I sent the man a bill. My name was unfortunately too well
known on such documents: he failed to negotiate it. His affairs had
fallen into disorder, in the interval since I had borrowed of him;
bankruptcy stared him in the face; and a relative of his, a French
lawyer, came to England to find me, and to insist upon the payment of my
debt. He was a man of violent temper; and he took the wrong way with
me. High words passed on both sides; and my aunt and Rachel were
unfortunately in the next room, and heard us. Lady Verinder came in,
and insisted on knowing what was the matter. The Frenchman produced his
credentials, and declared me to be responsible for the ruin of a poor
man, who had trusted in my honour. My aunt instantly paid him the
money, and sent him off. She knew me better of course than to take
the Frenchman's view of the transaction. But she was shocked at my
carelessness, and justly angry with me for placing myself in a position,
which, but for her interference, might have become a very disgraceful
one. Either her mother told her, or Rachel heard what passed--I can't
say which. She took her own romantic, high-flown view of the matter. I
was "heartless"; I was "dishonourable"; I had "no principle"; there
was "no knowing what I might do next"--in short, she said some of the
severest things to me which I had ever heard from a young lady's lips.
The breach between us lasted for the whole of the next day. The day
after, I succeeded in making my peace, and thought no more of it. Had
Rachel reverted to this unlucky accident, at the critical moment when my
place in her estimation was again, and far more seriously, assailed?
Mr. Bruff, when I had mentioned the circumstances to him, answered the
question at once in the affirmative.
"It would have its effect on her mind," he said gravely. "And I wish,
for your sake, the thing had not happened. However, we have discovered
that there WAS a predisposing influence against you--and there is one
uncertainty cleared out of our way, at any rate. I see nothing more that
we can do now. Our next step in this inquiry must be the step that takes
us to Rachel."