'Yes. And really, you know, it may be better at such times to read chit-chat than to be altogether vacant, or to talk unprofitably. I am not sure; I bow to your opinion unreservedly.'
'So long as they only read the paper at such times,' said Dora, still hesitating. 'One knows by experience that one really can't fix one's attention in travelling; even an article in a newspaper is often too long.'
'Exactly! And if you find it so, what must be the case with the mass of untaught people, the quarter-educated? It might encourage in some of them a taste for reading--don't you think?'
'It might,' assented Dora, musingly. 'And in that case you would be doing good!'
'Distinct good!'
They smiled joyfully at each other. Then Whelpdale turned to Jasper:
'You are convinced that there is something in this?'
'Seriously, I think there is. It would all depend on the skill of the fellows who put the thing together every week. There ought always to be one strongly sensational item--we won't call it article. For instance, you might display on a placard: "What the Queen eats!" or "How Gladstone's collars are made!"--things of that kind.'
'To be sure, to be sure. And then, you know,' added Whelpdale, glancing anxiously at Dora, 'when people had been attracted by these devices, they would find a few things that were really profitable. We would give nicely written little accounts of exemplary careers, of heroic deeds, and so on. Of course nothing whatever that could be really demoralising--cela va sans dire.
Well, what I was going to say was this: would you come with me to the office of Chat, and have a talk with my friend Lake, the sub-editor? I know your time is very valuable, but then you're often running into the Will-o'-the-Wisp, and Chat is just upstairs, you know.'
'What use should I be?'
'Oh, all the use in the world. Lake would pay most respectful attention to your opinion, though he thinks so little of mine.
You are a man of note, I am nobody. I feel convinced that you could persuade the Chat people to adopt my idea, and they might be willing to give me a contingent share of contingent profits, if I had really shown them the way to a good thing.'
Jasper promised to think the matter over. Whilst their talk still ran on this subject, a packet that had come by post was brought into the room. Opening it, Milvain exclaimed:
'Ha! this is lucky. There's something here that may interest you, Whelpdale.'
'Proofs?'
'Yes. A paper I have written for The Wayside.' He looked at Dora, who smiled. 'How do you like the title?--"The Novels of Edwin Reardon!"'
'You don't say so!' cried the other. 'What a good-hearted fellow you are, Milvain! Now that's really a kind thing to have done. By Jove! I must shake hands with you; I must indeed! Poor Reardon!
Poor old fellow!'
His eyes gleamed with moisture. Dora, observing this, looked at him so gently and sweetly that it was perhaps well he did not meet her eyes; the experience would have been altogether too much for him.
'It has been written for three months,' said Jasper, 'but we have held it over for a practical reason. When I was engaged upon it, I went to see Mortimer, and asked him if there was any chance of a new edition of Reardon's books. He had no idea the poor fellow was dead, and the news seemed really to affect him. He promised to consider whether it would be worth while trying a new issue, and before long I heard from him that he would bring out the two best books with a decent cover and so on, provided I could get my article on Reardon into one of the monthlies. This was soon settled. The editor of The Wayside answered at once, when I wrote to him, that he should be very glad to print what I proposed, as he had a real respect for Reardon. Next month the books will be out--"Neutral Ground," and "Hubert Reed." Mortimer said he was sure these were the only ones that would pay for themselves. But we shall see. He may alter his opinion when my article has been read.'
'Read it to us now, Jasper, will you?' asked Dora.
The request was supported by Whelpdale, and Jasper needed no pressing. He seated himself so that the lamplight fell upon the pages, and read the article through. It was an excellent piece of writing (see The Wayside, June 1884), and in places touched with true emotion. Any intelligent reader would divine that the author had been personally acquainted with the man of whom he wrote, though the fact was nowhere stated. The praise was not exaggerated, yet all the best points of Reardon's work were admirably brought out. One who knew Jasper might reasonably have doubted, before reading this, whether he was capable of so worthily appreciating the nobler man.
'I never understood Reardon so well before,' declared Whelpdale, at the close. 'This is a good thing well done. It's something to be proud of, Miss Dora.'
'Yes, I feel that it is,' she replied.
'Mrs Reardon ought to be very grateful to you, Milvain. By-the-by, do you ever see her?'
'I have met her only once since his death--by chance.'
'Of course she will marry again. I wonder who'll be the fortunate man?'
'Fortunate, do you think?' asked Dora quietly, without looking at him.
'Oh, I spoke rather cynically, I'm afraid,' Whelpdale hastened to reply. 'I was thinking of her money. Indeed, I knew Mrs Reardon only very slightly.'
'I don't think you need regret it,' Dora remarked.
'Oh, well, come, come!' put in her brother. 'We know very well that there was little enough blame on her side.'
'There was great blame!' Dora exclaimed. 'She behaved shamefully!
I wouldn't speak to her; I wouldn't sit down in her company!'
'Bosh! What do you know about it? Wait till you are married to a man like Reardon, and reduced to utter penury.'
'Whoever my husband was, I would stand by him, if I starved to death.'
'If he ill-used you?'
'I am not talking of such cases. Mrs Reardon had never anything of the kind to fear. It was impossible for a man such as her husband to behave harshly. Her conduct was cowardly, faithless, unwomanly!'
