BUSINESS.
When Mr. Worboise found that Thomas did not return that night, he
concluded at once that he had made up his mind to thwart him in his now
cherished plan, to refuse the daughter of Sir Jonathan Hubbard, and
marry the girl whom his father disliked. He determined at once, even
supposing he might be premature as regarded the property, to have the
satisfaction of causing the Boxalls sharp uneasiness at least. His son
would not have dared to go against his wishes but for the enticements
of "that minx," in the confidence that her uncle's property was about
to be hers. He would teach her, and him too, a lesson. Either her
uncle or some one or more of his family were not drowned, or they were
all drowned: in neither case was the property hers. If one of the
family was alive, the property remained where it was; if they were all
gone, the property was his. He thought himself into a rage over her
interference with his plans, judged himself an injured person, and
thereby freed of any trifling obligation that a fastidious conscience
might have fancied to exist to the prejudice of his claims upon the
property of his friend, supposed to be deceased. He was now ready to
push his rights to the uttermost--to exact the pound of flesh that
the law awarded him. He went the next morning but one after Thomas's
disappearance and propounded the will.
In due time this came to the knowledge of Mr. Sargent. He wrote to Mrs.
Boxall a stiff business letter acquainting her with the fact, and then
called upon Mr. Worboise to see whether some arrangement could not be
come to; for, having learned the nature of the will, he saw that almost
any decent division of the property, for which he could only appeal to
the justice of the man, would be better than a contest. Mr. Worboise
received him with a graciousness reaching almost to kindness, talked
lightly of the whole as a mere matter of business about which there
was no room for disputing, smiled aside at every attempt made by Mr.
Sargent to approach the subject from another quarter, and made him
understand, without saying a word to that effect, that he was prepared
to push matters to the extreme of extremity. He even allowed him to see
that he had reasons beyond the value of the money for setting about the
matter in the coolest, most legal fashion in the world. Mr. Sargent
went away baffled--to devise upon what ground he could oppose the grant
of probate.
While Mr. Sargent was having his interview, Mr. Stopper was awaiting
his departure in the clerk's room. It must be remembered that Mr.
Stopper was now between two stools; and while he came to plead the
cause of the widow and fatherless, he must be especially careful for
his own sake not to give offense. Him, too, Mr. Worboise received with
the greatest good humor; assured him that there was no mistake in the
matter, and he believed no flaw in the will; informed him that he had
drawn it up himself, and had, at his friend's request, entered his own
name as contingent reversioner. His friend might have done it in joke;
he did not know; but he had not any intention of foregoing his rights,
or turning out of Luck's way when she met him in the teeth. On the
contrary, he meant to have the money and to use it; for, at all events,
it could not have been in joke that his friend had omitted his mother
and his niece. He must have had some good reason for so doing; and
he was not one to treat a dead friend's feeling with disrespect--and
so on, all in pleasant words, and with smiling delivery, ended by a
hearty, easy "good-morning." For, ere he had finished, Mr. Stopper,
coming to the conclusion that nothing was to be done, rose to take his
leave. At the door he turned, and said:
"I hope nothing is amiss with your son, Mr. Worboise. I hope he is not
ill."
"Why do you ask?" returned Mr. Worboise, just a little staggered; for
he was not prepared to hear that Thomas was missing from Bagot Street
as well as from home. When he heard the fact, however, he merely nodded
his head, saying:
"Well, Mr. Stopper, he's too old for me to horsewhip him. I don't know
what the young rascal is after. I leave him in your hands. That kind of
thing won't do, of course. I don't know that it wouldn't be the best
thing to discharge him. It's of no consequence to me, you know, and it
would be a lesson to him, the young scapegrace! That's really going too
far, though you and I can make allowances, eh, Stopper?"
Mr. Stopper was wise enough not to incur the odium of a Job's
messenger, by telling what even Mr. Worboise would have considered bad
news; for he had a reverence for locks and money, and regarded any
actionable tampering with either as disgraceful. "Besides," thought
Stopper, "if it was only to spite the young jackanapes, I could almost
marry that girl without a farthing. But I shouldn't have a chance if I
were to leak about Tom."
Mr. Worboise was uneasy, though. He told his wife the sum of what had
passed between Tom and himself, but I fear enjoyed her discomfiture at
the relation; for he said spitefully, as he left her room:
"Shall I call on Mr. Simon as I go to town, and send him up, Mrs.
Worboise?"
His wife buried her face in her pillow, and made no reply. Perhaps the
husband's heart smote him; but I doubt it, though he did call on Mr.
Simon and send him to her.
All the result of Mr. Simon's inquiries was the discovery that Thomas
had vanished from the counting-house, too. Thereupon a more real grief
than she had ever known seized the mother's heart; her conscience
reproached her as often as Mr. Simon hinted that it was a judgment upon
her for having been worldly in her views concerning her son's marriage;
and she sent for Amy home, and allowed things to take their way.
All the comfort Mr. Worboise took was to say to himself over and over,
"The young rascal's old enough to take care of himself. He knows what
he's about, too. He thinks to force me to a surrender by starving me of
his precious self. We'll see. I've no doubt he's harbored in that old
woman's house. Stay a bit, and if I don't fire him out--by Jove! She'll
find I'm not one to take liberties with, the old hag!"
The best that Mr. Sargent could do at present was to resist probate on
the ground of the uncertainty of the testator's death, delaying thus
the execution of the will. He had little hope, however, of any ultimate
success--except such as he might achieve by shaming Mr. Worboise into
an arrangement.
Mrs. Boxall sent for him, and with many acknowledgments begged him
to do his best for them, saying that, if he were successful, she
would gladly pay him whatever he demanded. He repudiated all idea of
payment, however, and indeed considered himself only too fortunate to
be permitted to call as often as he pleased, for then he generally saw
Lucy. But he never made the smallest attempt to renew even the slight
intimacy which had formerly existed between them.