THE RICH UNCLE COMES
JULIET walked impetuously into the drawing-room, and gazed with frank
curiosity at the stranger who sat there talking earnestly with her
mother.
He was not at all the big, florid, prosperous-looking man she had
expected to see. He was of slight build, and so thin as to be almost
cadaverous. His head was bald, save for a fringe of iron-grey hair at
the back; he had sharp features, and keen though rather sunken eyes. He
spoke hoarsely; his clothes were good, but of a precise, old-fashioned
cut. He was seated with his back to the door, and Juliet, as she
approached, had time to notice these details ere her mother uttered her
name and the stranger rose.
"So this is Juliet?" he said, looking at her with evident admiration.
"I am happy to make your acquaintance, my dear;" and as he took the
hand she offered him, he bowed over it with old-fashioned courtesy.
"Juliet," said Mrs. Tracy, who was looking much pleased and excited,
"this is your uncle, your father's only brother, whom everyone thought
was dead."
"How delightful!" exclaimed Juliet, in clear, ringing tones. "I am very
glad that everyone was wrong. How delightful to have an uncle!"
"It is very pleasant to hear you say so," said her uncle, looking
intensely gratified; "and, for my part, I am ready to say, 'How
delightful to have such a niece!'"
His face had a very agreeable expression as he spoke. His eyes, if
keen, were kindly, and had a humorous twinkle. Juliet looked at him,
and felt that she should like him.
"It is but lately I have learned that I might claim so precious a
possession," continued Mr. Tracy. "Strange to say, I never heard of my
brother's marriage nor of his death till quite recently, chance brought
to my remote Australian dwelling a gentleman who had formerly been in
your father's regiment. He told me that he believed my brother's widow
and child were living somewhere in London. I pondered the news for some
little time ere I made up my mind to come home. I had grown weary of
a lonely life; the reasons which had led me to cut myself adrift from
all who had known me in the Old World no longer existed. Perhaps I was
wrong in acting as I did, but I thought myself justified at the time.
However, there is no need to dwell upon that now."
Mrs. Tracy manifested no indiscreet curiosity. She judged it best the
past should remain in obscurity. An attempt on her part to explore
its mysteries might result in bringing to light facts concerning her
husband, Captain Tracy, which it would be painful to learn.
Juliet, too, had no desire to learn more of her uncle's history than he
was disposed to tell. She was interested in him for various reasons,
but not at all in his past. It was not strange that he should display
considerable interest in her; that seemed to her only what was to be
expected. She received his flattering attention in the most unabashed
manner, wondering that he was so old-looking, and so unlike the
portraits of her father she had seen.
"You are not married, I think?" Mrs. Tracy said to him presently.
"I have been married, but my wife is dead," was his reply. "I had a
little daughter, too, but she died."
He spoke with an effort; evidently it was painful to him to speak of
himself. He was one who shunned rather than sought sympathy, but he
was very ready to ask questions concerning his sister-in-law and her
child. Juliet was soon chatting away to him, and giving him abundant
information concerning herself in her usual outspoken way.
"This is a happy ending to a very horrid afternoon," she remarked.
He inquired wherein the horridness of the afternoon consisted, and
Juliet proceeded to give him an amusing description of her interview
with Mrs. Campbell. He could not help laughing as she told the story.
Even Mrs. Tracy had difficulty in keeping a grave countenance—a fact
which robbed of all effectiveness the reproofs she felt bound to
deliver.
"I am afraid she would not make a model governess," said Mr. Tracy to
her mother, as he wiped away the tears that laughter had induced.
"I am afraid not," said Juliet, with a resigned air; "but a governess I
shall be, if Hannah and Salome have their way."
"And who are Hannah and Salome?" he asked.
Mrs. Tracy, with some embarrassment, explained the existence of her two
elder daughters.
He listened, and looked at Juliet with new interest. Was this pretty
young creature, then, in the position of a Cinderella, tyrannised over
by elder sisters, whose hearts were as ugly as their persons? Well,
he would see if he could not act a part similar to that of the fairy
godmother. A little later he rose to go, and was not to be persuaded to
remain longer in order to make the acquaintance of Hannah and Salome.
"Another day I shall hope to have that pleasure," he said. "Now I must
be getting back to my hotel. The truth is, I am somewhat of an invalid,
and have to diet myself very carefully, so that I am obliged to decline
all hospitable invitations."
"I am sorry to hear that," said Mrs. Tracy. "Are you thinking of
consulting any of our London physicians while you are in town?"
"By no means," was the reply, given with more energy than he had as
yet displayed. "I have no opinion of modern physicians. If by the time
he is forty, a man has not learned to understand his own constitution
better than anyone else, it is a pity. Health is mainly a matter of
diet; the flesh-consuming propensities of humanity are a fertile source
of disease."
"Then you are a vegetarian?" said Mrs. Tracy.
"Well, yes—I suppose I am," he said, and then, with his usual aversion
to discussing himself, abruptly changed the subject.
"Take care of that pretty child of yours," he said, lowering his voice;
"and don't let there be any more talk of making her a governess: she
is far too young for that. I will see that she has what she wants. I
am not a rich man, but I can so provide for her that there shall be no
need for her to earn money."
"You are very kind, I am sure. It is too good of you!" exclaimed Mrs.
Tracy, with a flush of surprise and pleasure.
But to be thanked was apparently even more alarming to Ralph Tracy than
personal talk, and Mrs. Tracy's thanks caused him to hurry from the
house with all speed.
Mrs. Tracy half hoped that Juliet had not heard her uncle's parting
words, but her quick ears had caught their purport, in spite of his
lowered tones.
As his cab drove away she rushed into the dining-room and pirouetted
wildly round the table in her delight.
Hannah looked up from her book with a clouded brow.
"Hurrah! Hurrah!" shouted Juliet. "My rich uncle has come, and there is
to be no more talk of my being a governess. He said so himself; I heard
him. Mrs. Campbell may get me now if she can!"
"You forget," said Hannah, "that Mrs. Campbell very distinctly declined
to engage your services."
"Thereby showing herself a sensible woman," said Juliet. "Oh, I am so
glad! I feel just crazy with delight!"
"And you act as if you were crazy," said Salome, as she stitched
vehemently at a garment she was finishing for the Dorcas Society.
"Well," said Juliet, with a sigh of intense satisfaction, "there is
some chance of my getting a little of my own way now."
"As if you had not taken your own way all your life long!" said Salome.
"Who would have thought of such a thing?" said Mrs. Tracy, as she
entered the room, her face radiant with happy excitement. "My husband's
brother! And I hardly knew that he had a brother! Indeed, when first
he mentioned him to me, he told me he felt sure that he was dead. It
is most strange!" And sitting down, she described very vividly the
interview with Mr. Ralph Tracy, and repeated all he had said.
It did not strike her that her elder daughters listened with little
interest. She was too thrilled and elated herself by what had happened
to mark how it affected these others; but Hannah and Salome were
painfully conscious of being out of it all.
The event of the afternoon was nothing to them; it was not their uncle
who had presented himself in this remarkable manner, and Hannah felt
bitterly that Juliet, who deserved to be severely reprimanded for her
conduct at Mrs. Campbell's, would now escape without even a reproof.
She had no right to the wild delight she was exhibiting. Hannah's
common-sense withheld her from introducing the subject of Juliet's
misdoings at this moment. She knew that her mother was in no mood for
discussing them, and it would be wisest to pass them over in silence.
But none the less, Hannah resented the light-heartedness Juliet was
displaying. Would it always be thus? Would the girl never be made to
feel the consequences of her flagrant wilfulness? It seemed so. It
appeared as if life were to be made exceptionally smooth and easy
for Juliet's feet. There was to be no further thought of her being
a governess or earning her own living in any way. And Hannah, who
had worked very hard all her life, first as a schoolgirl, ambitious
of distinction, and later as a painstaking, conscientious teacher,
unconsciously felt aggrieved at the contrast which the lot of her young
sister seemed to present to her own.
"Juliet will get her own way in everything now, you will see," she
remarked to Salome that night, as they were going to bed.
"She has had it pretty much already, I think," said Salome. "Do you
mean that she will gain her desire of becoming a public singer?"
"I was not thinking of that especially," said Hannah, startled by the
suggestion. "I devoutly hope that may not be the result; but nothing
would surprise me. It is possible, however, that her uncle might object
to such a career for his niece."
"I wonder if he is very rich," said Salome.
"He said he was not a rich man," replied Hannah; "but since he
volunteered to provide for Juliet, I presume that his means are not
straitened."
"Well, I hope this may prove for Juliet's good," said Salome, with a
dubious air, "but I cannot help thinking it would be better for her to
have to work."
"Indeed it would. She is far too idle and frivolous as it is. I don't
know what she will become when she has nothing to do but to please
herself."
"I would not change places with her," said Salome. "Idleness is a great
temptation. I am more than content with my life of hard work."
"And so am I," said Hannah.
But, in spite of their wise words, perhaps neither of the sisters was
absolutely free from envy, as they contemplated the good fortune that
had befallen that spoilt child Juliet.