THE RESPONSIBILITY OF WEALTH
DEATH had surprised Ralph Tracy ere he had found time to settle his
property upon Juliet for her sole and entire use under conditions
which, should she marry, would prevent her husband from having any
control over it. Despite his wise foresight and prudent resolves,
Juliet came into absolute possession of all he had left, untrammelled
by any provisions.
It was no great fortune. Her uncle had never been a wealthy man. He
had always been generous to others, though extremely sparing in his
personal expenditure. It was only by strict self-denial that he was
able to serve others liberally, and lay up a provision for his old age.
His rigorous mode of life, simple and unluxurious as that of a hermit,
had cost little, and he had saved sufficient money to enable him to
return to England and resume the life of an ordinary gentleman, with a
purse full enough to supply the wants and gratify the fancies of the
charming, capricious girl whom he found and claimed as his niece in
London.
By his death, Juliet came into possession of moneys that would yield
her an income of rather less than five hundred pounds a year. It was
not a great inheritance, certainly; yet think what the command of so
much money must mean to a girl brought up as Juliet had been, one of
a household where every kind of domestic economy had to be rigidly
practised; accustomed till lately to wear simple frocks made for her
by her mother of material chosen for its good wearing qualities, and
expected to serve two seasons, and who till the coming of her uncle,
had never enjoyed a day's pleasure of which the cost had not been
carefully calculated beforehand.
"I hope it may prove for Juliet's good," said Salome, with a shake of
the head which signified that she held a belief to the contrary.
"I am afraid she is hardly one to make a wise use of so much money,"
said Hannah solemnly.
Mrs. Tracy had some doubts on this score too, but she was not seriously
uneasy about it. She had great faith in Juliet's goodness of heart.
Juliet's faults were on the surface; but the goodness her mother
believed to be a solid, firm stratum at the basis of her character. She
could not but be thankful that this darling child was so well provided
for.
"We must try to influence her without seeming to do so," she said
cheerfully. "Juliet is really not difficult to guide, if you use a
little tact and kindness. She not be driven, but she may be led."
"I am glad to hear you say so," replied Hannah, with bitter
significance, "for it seems to me that Juliet is sadly in need of
guidance with regard to her choice of associates."
And she proceeded to tell her mother how Mrs. Hayes had seen Juliet at
one of the metropolitan stations in the company of "that man Chalcombe
who sings at music halls," talking together as if they were on most
friendly terms.
Mrs. Tracy was inexpressibly shocked and distressed. Here indeed was
true cause for uneasiness. Juliet's acquisition of property would be
deplorable, if it led her into the toils of an unprincipled man.
"Does Mrs. Hayes know anything about the man?" she asked.
"She does not know him, of course," said Salome, with emphasis, "but
she knows him to be a fast, dissipated sort of character. She said no
one could look at him and fail to see that."
"Oh dear," Mrs. Tracy groaned, "what shall I do? Juliet is always so
ready to believe the best of people."
"Of some people," put in Salome.
"I must speak to her about it, yet I hardly know what to say. I cannot
tell how she will take it. She will not hear a word just now," said
Mrs. Tracy, forgetting that a minute before she had asserted that it
was easy to lead Juliet. "If only she had a father or a brother to
protect her!"
"You must be very firm with her," said Hannah; "you must tell her
decidedly that you will not have her meeting that young man, that it is
disgraceful, and not to be tolerated."
"And drive her into open opposition to us all," said Mrs. Tracy. "Oh,
my dear, that will not do at all. You forget that Juliet will soon be
twenty-one, and she has always threatened that she would take her own
way when she came of age. And now that she is quite independent—Oh,
that would not do at all!"
"It is certainly rather late for mother to begin to be firm with
Juliet," said Salome, with an unpleasant curl of the lips.
"The best thing would be to take her out of London for a time, so that
she should not see anything of those horrid Chalcombes," said Hannah.
"Certainly it would; but who is to take Juliet away if she does not
choose to go?" asked Mrs. Tracy, with despair in her tones. "She would
not give up her lessons with Signor Lombardi. And she has announced her
intention of attending all the popular concerts this season."
So the family conclave broke up with no result, save increased
irritation in the minds of the sisters and a heavy weight of anxiety on
the mother's heart.
Juliet was highly elated by the position in which she found herself
placed by her uncle's death. Her sorrow at his removal, and the
softened, regretful feelings which had moved her when she learned the
news, were quickly succeeded by self-gratulation and a new, almost
intoxicating sense of her own importance. It was delightful to feel
that she was now a woman of property, having at her command the means
for carrying out her own ideas, and ordering her life as she would. All
sorts of brilliant but vague notions of what she might now do presented
themselves to her mind. She hardly knew what she would like to do. One
thing only was clear to her mind. It was in her power to have her own
way, and have it she would.
With such a resolve stimulating her imagination, she was in no mood to
receive meekly a word of remonstrance or reproof, not even from the
mother whom she truly loved. She waxed indignant when her mother spoke
to her about Algernon Chalcombe.
"It is a pity Mrs. Hayes has nothing better to discuss than my doings!"
she exclaimed hotly. "I declare she is a veritable scandalmonger. But
I will not have her dictating as to who are to be my acquaintances. I
hope I know how to take care of myself."
Mrs. Tracy privately thought that this spoilt child knew very little
how to take care of herself, but she dared not say so.
"Mrs. Hayes meant it kindly," she said. "She thought that you could not
know the kind of man that he is. She fears that his character—"
"Fears!" broke in Juliet scornfully. "Say rather that she wishes to
make him out as black as possible. If you want a fine example of
Christian charity, go to Mrs. Hayes. But I shall not allow her to
prejudice me against people who, I have no doubt, are far better than
she is."
"Oh, Juliet! She does not wish to prejudice you, only to warn you for
your good. Oh, my dear, you are so young and impulsive; you never
foresee the consequences of your actions. But a young girl cannot be
too prudent; she may so easily get herself talked about. You would not
like, Juliet, to have people looking askance at you."
A deep blush slowly rose in the girl's face, and mounted even to the
roots of her hair. She stood for some moments silent with downcast
eyes. Then suddenly lifting her head very high, she said proudly—
"Really, mother, I don't know what I have done, that you should speak
to me in such a manner. One would think it was a crime to greet an
acquaintance on a London platform."
"Oh, I am sure that you always mean to do what is right," said Mrs.
Tracy hurriedly; "only you are rather thoughtless sometimes, you know,
dear, that is all. Don't be angry with me."
So the talk on this subject ended with Mrs. Tracy's proffering
apologies, and it was the culprit who seemed to extend forgiveness.
But in truth, Juliet felt ashamed of herself, as she responded to her
mother's loving, pleading look by bonding to kiss her.
As the flush faded from the girl's face it left her unusually pale, and
when she spoke again it was to say with a weary sigh—
"Oh, mother, I wish that now I have an income of my own, you and I
could go away somewhere and live by ourselves. If only we could have a
little home of our own, how nice it would be!"
"And leave poor Hannah and Salome behind?" exclaimed her mother. "Oh,
I could never consent to that! Think how Hannah has toiled and denied
herself to keep this house together. It would be very unkind to desert
her as soon as we found ourselves able to do without her help."
"I suppose it would," said Juliet thoughtfully. "Well, I do not wish to
act meanly by Hannah and Salome; but I do long sometimes to get away
from them, they irritate me so."
"It will not do to make any changes yet," said Mrs. Tracy, who was
naturally averse to change, and always shrank from making a decision
on any important matter. "Although you have inherited this money, you
will not get it into your possession for some time to come. I did not
understand all that Mr. Gray Was saying about letters of administration
and the like, but I know that legal processes are always very tedious.
Lawyers can never be hurried."
"How tiresome of them!" said Juliet, with a pout.
"But I have no doubt Mr. Gray would advance you a sum of money if
you wanted it," said Mrs. Tracy, on a sudden thought. "I have been
wondering whether you would like to go abroad for a while. You have
never been on the Continent."
"Not now," said Juliet decisively; "not till I have finished my
lessons with Signor Lombardi. After that, I might go and study at the
Conservatoire in Paris. Or in Milan, perhaps; I know he thinks very
highly of the instruction there. I can have the best possible training
now."
"Oh, my dear, you will not think of becoming a public singer," said her
mother imploringly, "when your uncle had such an objection to the idea,
when he hated the thought of the people you would mix with, and all the
glare and excitement and publicity?"
"I have not said that I intend to become a public singer," replied
Juliet coldly. "There is no reason Why I should not have the training
of one."
"Oh, my dear, why should you? Surely it would bring you into contact
with a very undesirable kind of people. I can't bear to think of it for
you, Juliet."
Mrs. Tracy knew almost nothing of the lives of public musicians and
the like, but she had a vague notion that they were generally persons
of doubtful morals and irregular Bohemian habits. It was appalling to
think of her darling Juliet being thrown into such society.
But Juliet laughed merrily at her mother's words.
"Undesirable kind of people indeed! Were Beethoven and Mendelssohn, or
are Patti and Neilson, undesirable persons? You know nothing at all
about it, you absurd little mother!"
But Juliet hardly knew more. Though she still dreamed of herself as a
future prima donna, she was becoming very careless and irregular in
her music practice. On one day she would practise her scales till the
nerves of everyone in the house were distracted, and on the next she
would not sing at all. It was now the Christmas vacation, so that these
lapses did not immediately bring on her the wrath of Signor Lombardi.
With the suspension of her weekly lessons, her opportunities of seeing
Algernon Chalcombe had ceased. Juliet did not regret this. She did not
want to see him again. Her cheeks would burn with shame whenever she
recalled Mrs. Hayes' remarks.
But the turn of Fortune's wheel which had made her an heiress had
opened so many new channels for her imagination to work in, that she
gave but few thoughts either to Algernon Chalcombe or to his sister. It
was delightful to plan how she would spend the income which seemed to
her so ample. She was not without a sense of duty in the matter. She
felt that it would be wrong to spend it all upon herself; nor had she
any wish do so. No, she would provide every possible comfort for her
mother, and, as far as they would let her, increase the happiness of
Hannah and Salome; she meant too to be charitable towards the poor, and
to give liberally to the collections in church. But, whilst cherishing
these intentions, she repelled so decidedly certain suggestions made by
Salome that it was little wonder her sisters did not give her credit
for such good impulses.
"I hope, Juliet, that now you have so much money you will give me a
subscription towards our soup kitchen," said Salome one day. "Our
blanket club too is sadly in want of funds. And our poor people are
suffering terribly this cold weather. The possession of money is a
serious responsibility when there is so much destitution about us."
"Is it?" said Juliet. "You must be thankful to be spared that
responsibility."
Salome's colour deepened at this impertinence.
"I know what I should do if I had money," she said; "I give to my poor
people all that I can. No one can say I spend much on myself. I buy no
clothes that are not absolutely necessary."
"Most certainly you do not. But you need not think that I am going
to spend all my money on myself. I mean to help the poor; but I like
to be my own almoner. I don't believe in those societies. I think
they are too hard on the poor, with their red-tapeism and over-strict
regulations," said Juliet, who was rather fond of giving opinions on
matters of which she knew nothing.
"Red-tapeism! Really, Juliet, what will you say next?" Salome exclaimed.
But Juliet had no wish to enter into a discussion. She now rose from
her cosy chair by the fire, and announced her intention of going out.
It was a bitterly cold day, as Juliet felt as she ran upstairs to get
ready. In a few minutes she came down comfortably wrapped in her thick,
fur-trimmed coat.
As she passed out of the house, she found a pitiable group on the
doorstep. A ragged, draggled, wretched-looking woman stood there
holding a miserable little baby in her arms. Another tiny child, wasted
and rickety, was clutching at her gown, partly supported on its feet by
a ragged, hatless girl about eight years old, who looked up at Juliet
with what she thought were the saddest eyes she had ever seen.
The woman, in a cringing, whining manner, explained that she had come
to ask Miss Grant for a coal ticket.
"Are you very poor?" asked Juliet, feeling as she uttered the question
how unnecessary it was.
"Poor, my dear lady! I assure you I've not broken my fast since
yesterday. Just look at my gown; look at my boots. They'll tell you
whether I'm poor. And as for the children, they're fairly starved, poor
dears!"
Juliet glanced at the children, and their blue, pinched faces seemed to
confirm the mother's words. The girl's heart was touched. She drew out
her purse and opened it. She hesitated but for a moment as she turned
over its contents, then held forth to the woman's astonished gaze a
glittering gold piece.
"Take this," she said hurriedly; "there, don't say anything, but just
take it. You must spend it wisely, you know," she added, as she saw the
delighted gleam in the woman's eyes. "Buy food for yourself and the
children—food and warm clothes."
"Yes, yes, to be sure, I'll spend it for the children, and God in
heaven bless you for it, my dear young lady! They shall know what it is
to have a good meal for once, poor dears!"
Juliet glanced again at the children. The eldest child looked startled,
but no happier. Her eyes were, if possible, more sorrowful than before.
Juliet thought that she could not understand what the money was to do
for them. However, she would soon know, and Juliet hurried on her way,
pursued by the woman's voluble thanks, and with the happy consciousness
of having done a charitable deed.
Juliet had some shopping to do. In the street where the best shops
of the suburb were, she encountered Flossie Chalcombe, who generally
preferred to walk where there were shops, the windows of which she
could scan.
"Oh, Juliet!" she exclaimed delightedly. "What an age it is since I saw
you! Why do you never come our way now? I began to think you wanted to
drop my acquaintance since you have become so rich."
"What nonsense, Flossie! Who told you, pray, that I had become rich?"
"Never you mind. It's true, is it not?"
"I am not rich exactly; but it is true that I have inherited my uncle's
property, and shall have a comfortable income of my own for the
future," said Juliet, not without a sense of increased dignity.
"Oh, you lucky girl! How I envy you! If you knew how I have to beg and
pray to get any money out of father. Things are horrid at home now,
Juliet. Algernon and father have quarrelled, and Algie has gone off in
a tiff. It was all about money, of course. Algie is so extravagant, and
father will not pay his bills."
"Then where is your brother now?" asked Juliet.
"I do not know. I have not seen him for weeks. I suppose he is
somewhere in London."
"But he was at home when you addressed that letter to me for him," said
Juliet.
"I address a letter to you for him!" said Flossie, opening her eyes
widely. "I never did such a thing. Do you mean to say that Algernon
writes to you?"
"He wrote once; but I have told him he must never do so again," said
Juliet, colouring deeply. "It was certainly your writing which I saw on
the envelope, Flossie."
"It was not, for I knew nothing about it. Algie must have imitated my
hand; he can copy any kind of writing. How artful of him!"
At this moment, Juliet caught sight of the tall, substantial form of
Mrs. Hayes approaching at a little distance. Wishing to avoid a meeting
with this lady, she now bade Flossie good-bye, and entered the shop by
which they had been standing.