The House on the Beach | Page 9

there
was nothing to do but to say: "Excellent! Quite unobjectionable, dear
Martin, quite:" so she said, and emphatically; but the addition of the
word "only" was printed on her contracted brow, and every faculty of
Tinman's mind and nature being at strain just then, he asked her testily:
"What now? what's the fault now?" She assured him with languor that
there was not a fault. "It's not your way of talking," said he, and what
he said was true. His discernment was extraordinary; generally he
noticed nothing.
Not only were his perceptions quickened by the preparations for the
day of great splendour: day of a great furnace to be passed through
likewise! --he, was learning English at an astonishing rate into the
bargain. A pronouncing Dictionary lay open on his table. To this he
flew at a hint of a contrary method, and disputes, verifications and
triumphs on one side and the other ensued between brother and sister.
In his heart the agitated man believed his sister to be a misleading
guide. He dared not say it, he thought it, and previous to his African
travel through the Dictionary he had thought his sister infallible on

these points. He dared not say it, because he knew no one else before
whom he could practice, and as it was confidence that he chiefly
wanted--above all things, confidence and confidence comes of practice,
he preferred the going on with his practice to an absolute certainty as to
correctness.
At midday came another card from Mr. Van Diemen Smith bearing the
superscription: alias Phil R.
"Can it be possible," Tinman asked his sister, "that Philip Ribstone has
had the audacity to return to this country? I think," he added, "I am
right in treating whoever sends me this card as a counterfeit."
Martha's advice was, that he should take no notice of the card.
"I am seriously engaged," said Tinman. With a "Now then, dear," he
resumed his labours.
Messages had passed between Tinman and Phippun; and in the
afternoon Phippun appeared to broach the question of payment for the
chiwal-glass. He had seen Mr. Van Diemen Smith, had found him very
strange, rather impracticable. He was obliged to tell Tinman that he
must hold him responsible for the glass; nor could he send a second
until payment was made for the first. It really seemed as if Tinman
would be compelled, by the force of circumstances, to go and shake his
old friend by the hand. Otherwise one could clearly see the man might
be off: he might be off at any minute, leaving a legal contention behind
him. On the other hand, supposing he had come to Crikswich for
assistance in money? Friendship is a good thing, and so is hospitality,
which is an essentially English thing, and consequently one that it
behoves an Englishman to think it his duty to perform, but we do not
extend it to paupers. But should a pauper get so close to us as to lay
hold of us, vowing he was once our friend, how shake him loose?
Tinman foresaw that it might be a matter of five pounds thrown to the
dogs, perhaps ten, counting the glass. He put on his hat, full of
melancholy presentiments; and it was exactly half-past five o'clock of
the spring afternoon when he knocked at Crickledon's door.

Had he looked into Crickledon's shop as he went by, he would have
perceived Van Diemen Smith astride a piece of timber, smoking a pipe.
Van Diemen saw Tinman. His eyes cocked and watered. It is a
disgraceful fact to record of him without periphrasis. In truth, the
bearded fellow was almost a woman at heart, and had come from the
Antipodes throbbing to slap Martin Tinman on the back, squeeze his
hand, run over England with him, treat him, and talk of old times in the
presence of a trotting regiment of champagne. That affair of the
chiwal-glass had temporarily damped his enthusiasm. The absence of a
reply to his double transmission of cards had wounded him; and
something in the look of Tinman disgusted his rough taste. But the
well-known features recalled the days of youth. Tinman was his one
living link to the country he admired as the conqueror of the world, and
imaginatively delighted in as the seat of pleasures, and he could not
discard the feeling of some love for Tinman without losing his grasp of
the reason why, he had longed so fervently and travelled so breathlessly
to return hither. In the days of their youth, Van Diemen had been
Tinman's cordial spirit, at whom he sipped for cheerful visions of life,
and a good honest glow of emotion now and then. Whether it was odd
or not that the sipper should be oblivious, and