The first change that passed over the calm uniformity of the life at
North Villa, came in this manner:
One evening, on entering the drawing-room, I missed Mrs. Sherwin; and
found to my great disappointment that her husband was apparently
settled there for the evening. He looked a little flurried, and was
more restless than usual. His first words, as we met, informed me of
an event in which he appeared to take the deepest interest.
"News, my dear sir!" he said. "Mr. Mannion has come back--at least two
days before I expected him!"
At first, I felt inclined to ask who Mr. Mannion was, and what
consequence it could possibly be to me that he had come back. But
immediately afterwards, I remembered that this Mr. Mannion's name had
been mentioned during my first conversation with Mr. Sherwin; and then
I recalled to mind the description I had heard of him, as
"confidential clerk;" as forty years of age; and as an educated man,
who had made his information of some use to Margaret in keeping up the
knowledge she had acquired at school. I knew no more than this about
him, and I felt no curiosity to discover more from Mr. Sherwin.
Margaret and I sat down as usual with our books about us.
There had been something a little hurried and abrupt in her manner of
receiving me, when I came in. When we began to read, her attention
wandered incessantly; she looked round several times towards the door.
Mr. Sherwin walked about the room without intermission, except when he
once paused on his restless course, to tell me that Mr. Mannion was
coming that evening; and that he hoped I should have no objection to
be introduced to a person who was "quite like one of the family, and
well enough read to be sure to please a great reader like me." I asked
myself rather impatiently, who was this Mr. Mannion, that his arrival
at his employer's house should make a sensation? When I whispered
something of this to Margaret, she smiled rather uneasily, and said
nothing.
At last the bell was rung. Margaret started a little at the sound. Mr.
Sherwin sat down; composing himself into rather an elaborate
attitude--the door opened, and Mr. Mannion came in.
Mr. Sherwin received his clerk with the assumed superiority of the
master in his words; but his tones and manner flatly contradicted
them. Margaret rose hastily, and then as hastily sat down again, while
the visitor very respectfully took her hand, and made the usual
inquiries. After this, he was introduced to me; and then Margaret was
sent away to summon her mother down stairs. While she was out of the
room, there was nothing to distract my attention from Mr. Mannion. I
looked at him with a curiosity and interest, Which I could hardly
account for at first.
If extraordinary regularity of feature were alone sufficient to make a
handsome man, then this confidential clerk of Mr. Sherwin's was
assuredly one of the handsomest men I ever beheld. Viewed separately
from the head (which was rather large, both in front and behind) his
face exhibited, throughout, an almost perfect symmetry of proportion.
His bald forehead was smooth and massive as marble; his high brow and
thin eyelids had the firmness and immobility of marble, and seemed as
cold; his delicately-formed lips, when he was not speaking, closed
habitually, as changelessly still as if no breath of life ever passed
them. There was not a wrinkle or line anywhere on his face. But for
the baldness in front, and the greyness of the hair at the back and
sides of his head, it would have been impossible from his appearance
to have guessed his age, even within ten years of what it really was.
Such was his countenance in point of form; but in that which is the
outward assertion of our immortality--in expression--it was, as I now
beheld it, an utter void. Never had I before seen any human face which
baffled all inquiry like his. No mask could have been made
expressionless enough to resemble it; and yet it looked like a mask.
It told you nothing of his thoughts, when he spoke: nothing of his
disposition, when he was silent. His cold grey eyes gave you no help
in trying to study him. They never varied from the steady,
straightforward look, which was exactly the same for Margaret as it
was for me; for Mrs. Sherwin as for Mr. Sherwin--exactly the same
whether he spoke or whether he listened; whether he talked of
indifferent, or of important matters. Who was he? What was he? His
name and calling were poor replies to those questions. Was he
naturally cold and unimpressible at heart? or had some fierce passion,
some terrible sorrow, ravaged the life within him, and left it dead
for ever after? Impossible to conjecture! There was the impenetrable
face before you, wholly inexpressive--so inexpressive that it did not
even look vacant--a mystery for your eyes and your mind to dwell
on--hiding something; but whether vice or virtue you could not tell.
He was dressed as unobtrusively as possible, entirely in black; and
was rather above the middle height. His manner was the only part of
him that betrayed anything to the observation of others. Viewed in
connection with his station, his demeanour (unobtrusive though it was)
proclaimed itself as above his position in the world. He had all the
quietness and self-possession of a gentleman. He maintained his
respectful bearing, without the slightest appearance of cringing; and
displayed a decision, both in word and action, that could never be
mistaken for obstinacy or over-confidence. Before I had been in his
company five minutes, his manner assured me that he must have
descended to the position he now occupied.
On his introduction to me, he bowed without saying anything. When he
spoke to Mr. Sherwin, his voice was as void of expression as his face:
it was rather low in tone, but singularly distinct in utterance. He
spoke deliberately, but with no emphasis on particular words, and
without hesitation in choosing his terms.
When Mrs. Sherwin came down, I watched her conduct towards him. She
could not repress a slight nervous shrinking, when he approached and
placed a chair for her. In answering his inquiries after her health,
she never once looked at him; but fixed her eyes all the time on
Margaret and me, with a sad, anxious expression, wholly indescribable,
which often recurred to my memory after that day. She always looked
more or less frightened, poor thing, in her husband's presence; but
she seemed positively awe-struck before Mr. Mannion.
In truth, my first observation of this so-called clerk, at North
Villa, was enough to convince me that he was master there--master in
his own quiet, unobtrusive way. That man's character, of whatever
elements it might be composed, was a character that ruled. I could not
see this in his face, or detect it in his words; but I could discover
it in the looks and manners of his employer and his employer's family,
as he now sat at the same table with them. Margaret's eyes avoided his
countenance much less frequently than the eyes of her parents; but
then he rarely looked at her in return--rarely looked at her at all,
except when common courtesy obliged him to do so.
If any one had told me beforehand, that I should suspend my ordinary
evening's occupation with my young wife, for the sake of observing the
very man who had interrupted it, and that man only Mr. Sherwin's
clerk, I should have laughed at the idea. Yet so it was. Our books lay
neglected on the table--neglected by me, perhaps by Margaret too, for
Mr. Mannion.
His conversation, on this occasion at least, baffled all curiosity as
completely as his face. I tried to lead him to talk. He just answered
me, and that was all; speaking with great respect of manner and
phrase, very intelligibly, but very briefly. Mr. Sherwin--after
referring to the business expedition on which he had been absent, for
the purchase of silks at Lyons--asked him some questions about France
and the French, which evidently proceeded from the most ludicrous
ignorance both of the country and the people. Mr. Mannion just set him
right; and did no more. There was not the smallest inflection of
sarcasm in his voice, not the slightest look of sarcasm in his eye,
while he spoke. When we talked among ourselves, he did not join in the
conversation; but sat quietly waiting until he might be pointedly and
personally addressed again. At these times a suspicion crossed my mind
that he might really be studying my character, as I was vainly trying
to study his; and I often turned suddenly round on him, to see whether
he was looking at me. This was never the case. His hard, chill grey
eyes were not on me, and not on Margaret: they rested most frequently
on Mrs. Sherwin, who always shrank before them.
After staying little more than half an hour, he rose to go away. While
Mr. Sherwin was vainly pressing him to remain longer, I walked to the
round table at the other end of the room, on which the book was placed
that Margaret and I had intended to read during the evening. I was
standing by the table when he came to take leave of me. He just
glanced at the volume under my hand, and said in tones too low to be
heard at the other end of the room:
"I hope my arrival has not interrupted any occupation to-night, Sir.
Mr. Sherwin, aware of the interest I must feel in whatever concerns
the family of an employer whom I have served for years, has informed
me in confidence--a confidence which I know how to respect and
preserve--of your marriage with his daughter, and of the peculiar
circumstances under which the marriage has been contracted. I may at
least venture to congratulate the young lady on a change of life which
must procure her happiness, having begun already by procuring the
increase of her mental resources and pleasures." He bowed, and pointed
to the book on the table.
"I believe, Mr. Mannion," I said, "that you have been of great
assistance in laying a foundation for the studies to which I presume
you refer."
"I endeavoured to make myself useful in that way, Sir, as in all
others, when my employer desired it." He bowed again, as he said this;
and then went out, followed by Mr. Sherwin, who held a short colloquy
with him in the hall.
What had he said to me? Only a few civil words, spoken in a very
respectful manner. There had been nothing in his tones, nothing in his
looks, to give any peculiar significance to what he uttered. Still,
the moment his back was turned, I found myself speculating whether his
words contained any hidden meaning; trying to recall something in his
voice or manner which might guide me in discovering the real sense he
attached to what he said. It seemed as if the most powerful whet to my
curiosity, were supplied by my own experience of the impossibility of
penetrating beneath the unassailable surface which this man presented
to me.
I questioned Margaret about him. She could not tell me more than I
knew already. He had always been very kind and useful; he was a clever
man, and could talk a great deal sometimes, when he chose; and he had
taught her more of foreign languages and foreign literature in a
month, than she had learned at school in a year. While she was telling
me this, I hardly noticed that she spoke in a very hurried manner, and
busied herself in arranging the books and work that lay on the table.
My attention was more closely directed to Mrs. Sherwin. To my
surprise, I saw her eagerly lean forward while Margaret was speaking,
and fix her eyes on her daughter with a look of penetrating scrutiny,
of which I could never have supposed a person usually so feeble and
unenergetic to be capable. I thought of transferring to her my
questionings on the subject of Mr. Mannion; but at that moment her
husband entered the room, and I addressed myself for further
enlightenment to him.
"Aha!"--cried Mr. Sherwin, rubbing his hands triumphantly--"I knew
Mannion would please you. I told you so, my dear Sir, if you remember,
before he came. Curious looking person--isn't he?"
"So curious, that I may safely say I never saw a face in the slightest
degree resembling his in my life. Your clerk, Mr. Sherwin, is a
complete walking mystery that I want to solve. Margaret cannot give me
much help, I am afraid. When you came in, I was about to apply to Mrs.
Sherwin for a little assistance."
"Don't do any such thing! You'll be quite in the wrong box there. Mrs.
S. is as sulky as a bear, whenever Mannion and she are in company
together. Considering her behaviour to him, I wonder he can be so
civil to her as he is."
"What can you tell me about him yourself, Mr. Sherwin?"
"I can tell you there's not a house of business in London has such a
managing man as he is: he's my factotum--my right hand, in short; and
my left too, for the matter of that. He understands my ways of doing
business; and, in fact, carries things out in first-rate style. Why,
he'd be worth his weight in gold, only for the knack he has of keeping
the young men in the shop in order. Poor devils! they don't know how
he does it; but there's a particular look of Mr. Mannion's that's as
bad as transportation and hanging to them, whenever they see it. I'll
pledge you my word of honour he's never had a day's illness, or made a
single mistake, since he's been with me. He's a quiet, steady-going,
regular dragon at his work--he is! And then, so obliging in other
things. I've only got to say to him: 'Here's Margaret at home for the
holidays;' or, 'Here's Margaret a little out of sorts, and going to be
nursed at home for the half-year--what's to be done about keeping up
her lessons? I can't pay for a governess (bad lot, governesses!) and
school too.'--I've only got to say that; and up gets Mannion from his
books and his fireside at home, in the evening--which begins to be
something, you know, to a man of his time of life--and turns tutor for
me, gratis; and a first-rate tutor, too! That's what I call having a
treasure! And yet, though he's been with us for years, Mrs. S. there
won't take to him!--I defy her or anybody else to say why, or
wherefore!"
"Do you know how he was employed before he came to you?"
"Ah! now you've hit it--that's where you're right in saying he's a
mystery. What he did before I knew him, is more than I can tell--a
good deal more. He came to me with a capital recommendation and
security, from a gentleman whom I knew to be of the highest
respectability. I had a vacancy in the back office, and tried him, and
found out what he was worth, in no time--I flatter myself I've a knack
at that with everybody. Well: before I got used to his curious-looking
face, and his quiet ways, I wanted badly enough to know something
about him, and who his connections were. First, I asked his friend who
had recommended him--the friend wasn't at liberty to answer for
anything but his perfect trustworthiness. Then I asked Mannion himself
point-blank about it, one day. He just told me that he had reasons for
keeping his family affairs to himself--nothing more--but you know the
way he has with him; and, damn it, he put the stopper on me, from that
time to this. I wasn't going to risk losing the best clerk that ever
man had, by worrying him about his secrets. They didn't interfere with
business, and didn't interfere with me; so I put my curiosity in my
pocket. I know nothing about him, but that he's my right-hand man, and
the honestest fellow that ever stood in shoes. He may be the Great
Mogul himself, in disguise, for anything I care! In short, you may be
able to find out all about him, my dear Sir; but I can't."
"There does not seem much chance for me, Mr. Sherwin, after what you
have said."
"Well: I'm not so sure of that--plenty of chances here, you know.
You'll see him often enough: he lives near, and drops in constantly of
evenings. We settle business matters that won't come into business
hours, in my private snuggery up stairs. In fact, he's one of the
family; treat him as such, and get anything out of him you can--the
more the better, as far as regards that. Ah! Mrs. S., you may stare,
Ma'am; but I say again, he's one of the family; may be, he'll be my
partner some of these days--you'll have to get used to him then,
whether you like it or not."
"One more question: is he married or single?"
"Single, to be sure--a regular old bachelor, if ever there was one
yet."
During the whole time we had been speaking, Mrs. Sherwin had looked at
us with far more earnestness and attention than I had ever seen her
display before. Even her languid faculties seemed susceptible of
active curiosity on the subject of Mr. Mannion--the more so, perhaps,
from her very dislike of him. Margaret had moved her chair into the
background, while her father was talking; and was apparently little
interested in the topic under discussion. In the first interval of
silence, she complained of headache, and asked leave to retire to her
room.
After she left us, I took my departure: for Mr. Sherwin evidently had
nothing more to tell me about his clerk that was worth hearing. On my
way home, Mr. Mannion occupied no small share of my thoughts. The idea
of trying to penetrate the mystery connected with him was an idea that
pleased me; there was a promise of future excitement in it of no
ordinary kind. I determined to have a little private conversation with
Margaret about him; and to make her an ally in my new project. If
there really had been some romance connected with Mr. Mannion's early
life--if that strange and striking face of his was indeed a sealed
book which contained a secret story, what a triumph and a pleasure, if
Margaret and I should succeed in discovering it together!
When I woke the next morning, I could hardly believe that this
tradesman's clerk had so interested my curiosity that he had actually
shared my thoughts with my young wife, during the evening before. And
yet, when I next saw him, he produced exactly the same impression on
me again.