MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW.
Considine retired early to his chamber by the river-side. The moon was
up and emerging in lucent clearness from the bands of dimming haze
which joined the transparent heaven to the grosser earth. There was no
wind, only a stealing deliciousness on the sweet night air, lulled by
faint whispering among the aspen leaves hard by, and the lapping of
the waters round the boat-house. It was far too good a time to waste
in the unconsciousness of sleep: merely to exist and feel was tranquil
joy. He extinguished his lamp, threw off his coat, and lighting a
pipe, sat by the open window, and puffed and dreamed.
Swiftly the stream swept by beneath the casement, each swirling eddy
touched with a ring of moonlight, and wavy gleaming lines threading
the dusky current in its course, showing the volume and the swiftness
and the might--like time, like life, like fate. And yet it was not
gloomy. The flickering lustre brightened as the moon rose higher, and
Considine's eye rested meditatively upon the scene. The river, it
seemed to him, was not unlike the passing of his own existence, with
something cold and something solitary in it, issuing from one
obscurity, and hurrying onward to another--nothing but a passing, and
yet not all a cheerless one.
A gentle influence, it seemed to him, was shining just then on _his_
life also, one as pure and good as the beams upon the passing tide,
but like that, far off, and cool, and unapproachable. The swellings of
the current seemed to leap and glance up, longing and responsive, but
the Lady Moon smiled back still in the same cool gentle brightness,
coming never the nearer, however the waves might flicker and burn in
impotent desire and longing. Matilda, too, was very far away. The
sense of yearning to be near her had long been in his soul; it had
germinated and grown so gradually that he had not known its presence,
till at length in its spreading it grew into his thought, and he knew
that he desired.
Yet to disturb the pleasant present by a word seemed far too
hazardous--too like hurling a stone into the stream and breaking up
the radiance. Better, perhaps, be content to bear in silence the cool
reflection in his bosom, than, in leaping to catch the reality, lose
even the shadow. When the pulses sober down to the steady task of
living--when the turbulence, the cascades, and rainbows of the upper
reaches of life are past, and the even stream has entered on the level
country of middle age, love grows less confident and bold even in
those better natures which alone retain the capacity of loving.
Familiarity with disappointment makes man less willing to tempt his
fate, and he clings more eagerly to such good as the gods vouchsafe,
knowing its rarity and his own weakness to hold fast. "Better enjoy
the friendship," thought Considine, "than tamper with and disturb it
by futile endeavours to warm it into love;" and he drew a long breath;
and somehow the air seemed to have grown dim, though in truth it was
only a film of cloud stealing athwart the moon.
He rose and stretched himself, and yawned, and concluded that now it
was time to turn in, when a tap at the door of his chamber surprised
him.
"Who is there? Ha! Jordan? Glad to see you. And Herkimer! Let me light
the lamp. How fortunate I had not gone to bed. Oh, no apology! Should
have been sorry to miss you both. Smoking I see. So am I. Brandy and
water? Bless my soul, the ice has nearly all melted. Enough? Glad of
that--or here is soda if you prefer. Splendid night, is it not?" and
so on. His visitors' flow of talk seemed blocked in a strange way for
persons who had taken the trouble to visit him so late. He jerked out
his disjointed sentences in answer to nods and monosyllables, doing
his best to fulfil the rites of hospitality under difficulties.
Smoke, brightened by brandy and soda, however, had its perfect work at
last. It dispensed, for one thing, with talk for talking sake, till
its own soothing and clarifying influence had time to act; for is not
the cloud blown by a fellow-smoker companionable and sufficient
without a word? Then Jordan, clearing his voice with a preliminary
cough, began:
"You are surprised, Considine, to see us at this hour; but Herkimer
thought it our only chance of finding you alone. You popular bachelors
are so run after. Fact is, Herkimer says that it would be of advantage
to them to have young Gerald's fortune paid up at once, instead of
waiting for the short remainder of the twenty years to run out. After
talking it over, I am free to confess that much may be said in favour
of his view; and, indeed, he has quite brought me round, so I agreed
to come with him and assure you of my willingness to join you in
acceding. Young Gerald, you will remember, is of age now, and can
legally confirm his father's demand. They are partners in business,
and nearest of kin to each other, and can give us a full and complete
acquittance of our responsibilities, which, speaking for myself, I
shall be thankful to be rid of; for candidly I am not as young as I
have been, and I grow lazy, I suppose, as well as fat, and I find my
own concerns require all the attention I have to bestow. It has been a
long and an onerous trust, and I dare say that, like myself, you will
not be sorry to be rid of it."
"I need scarcely say," observed Ralph, "that Gerald sees the
importance to our affairs of winding up the trust at once, as strongly
as I do. He has no desire, though, that the trustees should be
deprived of their commission for management before the expiration of
the twenty years. On the contrary, he appreciates their services so
highly that it is his wish to make the allowance permanent, by
granting them a capital sum sufficient to represent at eight per cent
their emolument from the property."
When Jordan began to speak Considine had set down his pipe and lay
back in his chair, his left foot across his right knee, stroking it
with his hand, while he fixed his eyes upon the speaker. When Ralph
began, an incipient frown hovered about his eyebrows, the blood rose
hotly to his forehead as the speaker proceeded, and he sat bolt
upright, with fingers clenched and lips compressed, ere the conclusion
was reached; when he answered in a voice of suppressed indignation:
"I am humiliated, Mr. Herkimer, that you should have felt at liberty
to speak as you have done. Your words might be taken to imply an
insinuation against Jordan's probity and my own, for which I am
certain that neither I nor he have given occasion. Take back what you
have said, or I, for one, must decline to say a word upon the subject
of your demand."
"My dear general!" cried Ralph in amazement, not untouched with scorn
for the "canting old prig" who could pretend that the mode of earning
a dollar made any difference in its value. "You have completely
misunderstood me, I do assure you. No idea could have been farther
from my mind, or indeed from the mind of any one who knows as I do
your delicate sense of honour. I really must protest against your
entertaining so erroneous an impression; and it seems hard that I
should be prevented from expressing my boy's sense, and my own, of
your assiduous attention to our interests."
"That will be time enough after you know what we have done," answered
Considine dryly. "At present you know nothing, nor can, till the
accounts of the estate have been made up, and submitted to your
examination. However, as you agree to take back the promise of a
consideration for violating the trust reposed in us, no more need be
said."
"Violating the trust!" remonstrated Jordan. "And who, pray, my dear
Considine, uses unguarded language now?"
"Not I. Remember the terms of the will, if you please, Mr. Jordan."
"Technically, my dear sir, and verbally, I will not dispute your
accuracy; but more than that is due to the intentions of a testator,
from friends, and among friends."
"You think you know Gerald's intentions better than he did himself,
then? For my part, I have thought the will a model of clearness."
"Think of the circumstances, general--the present circumstances--and
all that has occurred since the will was made."
"Nothing has occurred for which the will did not provide."
"Excuse me, general. Gerald has come of age, he has gone into
business, he sees a use to which he can turn his inheritance. What
right have _we_ to balk him, and keep him out of his own?"
"I deny that it is his own, or can be, till the time appointed has
arrived."
"Literally speaking, of course, your position cannot be gainsaid; but
consider the circumstances, as I say. When the will was made, there
was every chance that quite another person would inherit. That person
would have received the money before reaching majority. It seems
therefore unfair, and contrary to the testator's wish, that Gerald
should have to wait."
"I don't see it. What if that other should appear and claim the
inheritance?"
"Is it likely?"
"It is possible. Again, Gerald may die within the next
year-and-a-half. We should be personally liable then to the heirs."
"His father is one of them, his three aunts are the others--all our
friends of long standing. From what you know of them, you can have no
misgiving as to our old friend Ralph's doing what is right by those
ladies. Had the testator been alive he could not but have been glad to
confide them to the care of so good a fellow as his nephew Ralph."
"That is just where I must beg to differ. I knew old Gerald most
intimately, and I have the best ground for being sure that he would
not."
"There it is, Considine! You have always had a kind of grudge against
me. You know you have," said Ralph.
"Not at all, sir. Search your memory, and I defy you to produce one
token of ill-will. Did I not prove myself a useful friend at Natchez?"
"Never mind Natchez," growled Ralph sulkily.
"Did we not do business together for years after the war?--business by
which _you_ profited as much as I did? Have I ever made use of an
unfriendly or disrespectful word in your presence?"
"You have thought and looked them; and you know it."
"Men are not held responsible for thoughts and looks. They cannot help
them. But let us close all this at once. It is contrary to the letter
of the will to do as you propose, gentlemen, and I will not take the
responsibility. I believe, too, it will be for the young man's own
interest that he should come into possession later, when his hands may
be less trammelled by business engagements."
It was useless to say more. The schemers speedily took their leave,
Ralph growling and muttering under his breath about pig-headed
ramrods, while Jordan reflected pensively what an impracticable old
Spartan he would have to reckon with, if ever his peculiar method of
trusteeship should come up for discussion. "Not a business man," he
muttered to himself. "Emphatically not!"
"If he were to die now, would not the whole be in your hands?" asked
Ralph.
"Undoubtedly. Why?"
"It just struck me, when we were up there, and he was holding forth by
the open window--and the river outside so swift and deep."
Jordan started.
"By G-- I could have pushed him out, and there would have been an end.
But you're chicken-hearted, Jordan. You could not be counted on to
keep quiet."
"I would rather not be present at such a transaction, certainly," and
Jordan felt a creeping run up his spine. What a desperate fellow the
man must be! He must speak him fair and keep out of his clutches.
Considine was impracticable, he thought again, and Ralph was violent.
If the two came in collision, what loss would it be to him? Either of
them might some day become troublesome. The thought shot through his
mind, and the sickly faintness, bred of suggested murder, tingled into
a glee of terrified exultation, which made him tremble, and the very
teeth rattle in his jaw.
"It would be all right? Would it not?" asked Ralph.
"Ye--ye--yes. But really, my dear friend, is it necessary to take me
into your confidence? Considine bathes in the river every morning,
by-the-way--you may count on my eagerness to forward your views--in
any--contingency--but----"
"Quite so, Jordan. I'm to play cat, am I, to your monkey, for the
chestnuts? Very well. I won't compromise you. You weren't born to be
hanged--a deal more likely to die a sneak-thief's death in a
penitentiary hospital! Bathes every morning, does he, in the river?
Good-night. Sound sleep and pleasant dreams."