HONOURS WANING
'And who is the man?' So asked a lady in deep mourning of another still
more becraped, as they sat together in the darkened room of a Northmoor
house on the day before the funeral.
The speaker had her bonnet by her side, and showed a kindly, clever,
middle-aged face. She was Mrs. Bury, a widow, niece of the late Lord;
the other was his daughter, Bertha Morton, a few years younger. She was
not tearful, but had dark rings round her eyes, and looked haggard and
worn.
'The man? I never heard of him till this terrible loss of poor little
Mikey.'
'Then did he put in a claim?'
'Oh no, but Hailes knew about him, and so, indeed, did my father. It
seems that three generations ago there was a son who followed the
instincts of our race further than usual, and married a jockey's
daughter, or something of that sort. He was set up in a horse-breeding
farm and cut the connection; but it seems that there was always a sort of
communication of family events, so that Hailes knew exactly where to look
for an heir.'
'Not a jockey!'
'Oh no, nothing so diverting. That would be fun!' Bertha said, with a
laugh that had no merriment in it. 'He is a clerk--an attorney's clerk!
What do you think of that, Lettice?'
'Better than the jockey.'
'Oh, very respectable, they say'--with a sound of disgust.
'Is he young?'
'No; caught early, something might be done with him, but there's not that
hope. He is not much less than forty. Fancy a creature that has
pettifogged, as an underling too, all his life.'
'Married?'
'Thank goodness, no, and all the mammas in London and in the country will
be running after him. Not that he will be any great catch, for of course
he has nothing--and the poor place will be brought to a low ebb.'
'And what do you mean to do, Birdie?'
'Get out of sight of it all as fast as possible! Forget that horses ever
existed except as means of locomotion,' and Bertha got up and walked
towards the window as if restless with pain, then came back.
'I shall get rid of all I can--and come to live as near as I can to
Whitechapel, and slum! I'm free now.' Then looking at her cousin's
sorrowful, wistful face, 'Work, work, work, that's all that's good for
me. Soberly, Lettice, this is my plan,' she added, sitting down again.
'I know how it all is left. This new man is to have enough to go on
upon, so as not to be too beggarly and bring the title into contempt. He
is only coming for to-morrow, having to wind up his business; but I shall
stay on till he comes back, and settle what to do with the things here.
Adela and I have our choice of them, and don't want to leave the place
too bare. Then I shall sell the London house, and all the rest of the
encumbrances, and set up for myself.'
'Not with Adela?'
'Oh no; Adela means to stick by the old place, and I couldn't do that for
a constancy--oh no,' with a shudder.
'Does she?' in some wonder.
'Her own people don't want her. The Arlingtons are with her now, but I
fancy she would rather be sitting with us--or alone best of all, poor
dear. You see, she is a mixture of the angel that is too much for some
people. How she got it I don't know, not among us, I should think,
though she came to us straight out of the schoolroom, or I fancy she
would never have come at all. But oh, Lettice, if you could have seen
her how patient she has been throughout with my father, reading him all
about every race, just because she thought it was less gall and wormwood
to her than to me, and going out to the stables to satisfy him about his
dear Night Hawk, and all the rest of it. When she was away for that
fortnight over poor little Michael, I found to the full what she had
been, and then after that, back she comes again, as white as a sheet, but
all she ever was to my father, and more wonderful than all, setting
herself to reconcile him to the notion of this new heir of his--and I do
believe, if my father had not so suddenly grown worse, she would have
made us have him up to be introduced--all out of rectitude and duty, you
know, for Adela is the shyest of mortals, and recoils by nature from the
underbred far more than we do. In fact, I rather like it. It gives me a
sensation. I had ten times rather this man were a common sailor, or a
tinker, than just a stupid stick of a clerk!'
'Then Adela means to stay at the Dower House?'
'Yes, she has rooted herself there by all her love to her poor people,
and I fancy, too, that she does not want to bring Amice up among all the
Arlington children, who are not after her pattern, so she intends to bear
the brunt of it, and not leave Northmoor, unless the new-comers turn out
unbearable.'
'She goes away with her brother now.'
'Oh yes, she must, and Lord Arlington is fond of her in a way! Can't you
stay on with me, Lettice?'
'I wish I could, my dear Birdie, but I am anxious about Mary; I don't
think I must stay later than Sunday.'
'Yes; you are too devoted a mother for me to absorb. Never mind, you
will be in London, and I shall soon be within reach of you. You are a
comfortable person, Lettice.'