"THE LONG TASK IS DONE."
The facility with which human nature assimilates new conditions is among
its most remarkable attributes. A week had scarcely elapsed since John
Liddell's sudden indisposition and subsidence into an invalid condition,
yet it seemed to Katherine that he had been breakfasting in bed for
ages, and might continue to do so for another cycle without change. Her
inexperience took no warning from the rapidly developing signs of
decadence and failing force which Mr. Newton perceived; and, on the
whole, she found her task of housekeeper and caretaker less ungrateful
since weakness had subdued her uncle, and the friendly lawyer had been
appointed paymaster.
The days sped with the swiftness monotony lends to time. Mrs. Liddell
always visited her daughter once a week. Occasionally Katherine got
leave of absence, and spent an hour or two at home, where she enjoyed a
game of play with her little nephews. Otherwise home was less homelike
than formerly. Ada was sulky and dissatisfied; she dared not intrude on
Mr. Liddell in his present condition; and she was dreadfully annoyed at
not being able to give Colonel Ormonde any encouraging news on this
head. Her influence on the family circle, therefore, was not cheerful.
Besides this, though Mrs. Liddell kept a brave front, and did not again
allow herself the luxury of confidence in her daughter, there were
unmistakable signs of care and trouble in her face, her voice. She was
unfailing in her kind forbearance to the woman her son had loved, and
whatever good existed in Mrs. Fred's rubbishy little heart responded to
the genial, broad humanity of her mother-in-law. But Katherine
perceived, or thought she perceived, that Mrs. Liddell was wearing
herself down in the effort to make her inmates comfortable, and so to
beat out her scanty store of sovereigns as to make them stretch to the
margin of her necessities. It was a very shadowy and narrow pass through
which her road of life led Katherine at this period, nor was there much
prospect beyond. Moreover, as her mother had anticipated, the invisible
cords which bound her to the moribund old miser were tightening their
hold more and more, she often looked back and wondered at the sort of
numbness which stole over her spirit during this time of trial.
September was now in its first week; the weather was wet and cold; and
Katherine was thankful when Mr. Newton's weekly visit was due. It was
particularly stormy that day, and he was a little later than usual.
When she had left solicitor and client together for some time, she
descended, as was her custom, to make a cup of tea for the former, and
give her uncle his beef tea or jelly.
Mr. Newton rose, shook hands with her, and then resumed his conversation
with Mr. Liddell.
"I do not for a moment mean to say that he is a reckless bettor or a
mere gambling horse-racer; and, after all, to enter a horse or two for
the local races, or even Newmarket, is perfectly allowable in a man of
his fortune--it will neither make him nor mar him."
"It _will_ mar him," returned Mr. Liddell, in more energetic tones than
Katherine had heard him utter since he was laid up. "A man who believes
he is rich enough to throw away money is on the brink of ruin. He
appears to me in a totally different light. I thought he was steady,
thoughtful, alive to the responsibility of his position. Ah, who is to
be trusted? Who?"
There seemed no reply to this, for Mr. Newton started a new and
absorbing topic.
"Mr. Fergusson is keeping wonderfully well," he remarked. "His sister
was calling on my wife yesterday, and says that since he took this new
food--'Revalenta Arabica,' I think it is called--he is quite a new man."
"What food is that?" asked Mr. Liddell. While Newton explained,
Katherine reflected with some wonder on the fact that there was a Mrs.
Newton; it had never come to her knowledge before. She tried to imagine
the precise lawyer in love. How did he propose? Surely on paper, in the
most strictly legal terms! Could he ever have felt the divine joy and
exultation which loving and being loved must create? Had he little
children? and oh! did he, could he, ever dance them on his knee? He was
a good man, she was sure, but goodness so starched and ironed was a
little appalling.
These fancies lasted till the description of Revalenta Arabica was
ended; then Mr. Liddell said, "Tell my niece where to get it." Never had
he called her niece before; even Mr. Newton looked surprised. "I will
send you the address," he said. "And here, Miss Liddell, is the check
for next week."
"I have still some money from the last," said Katherine, blushing. "I
had better give it to you, and then the check need not be interfered
with." She hated to speak of money before her uncle.
"As you like. You are a good manager, Miss Liddell."
"Give it to me," cried the invalid from his easy-chair; "I will put it
in my bureau. I have a few coins there, and they can go together."
"Very well; but had not my uncle better write an acknowledgment? We
shall be puzzled about the money when we come to reckon up at the end of
the month, if he does not."
Katherine had been taught by severe experience the necessity of saving
herself harmless when handling Mr. Liddell's money.
"An acknowledgment," repeated the old man, with a slight, sobbing,
inward laugh. "That is well thought. Yes, by all means write it out, Mr.
Newton, and I will sign. Oh yes; I will sign!"
Newton turned to the writing-table and traced a few lines, bringing it
on the blotting-pad for his client's signature.
"I can sign steadily enough still," said Mr. Liddell, slowly, "and my
name is good for a few thousands. Hey?"
"That it certainly is, Mr. Liddell."
"Do you think old Fergusson could sign as steadily as that?" asked Mr.
Liddell, with a slight, exulting smile.
"I should say not. What writing of his I have seen was a terrible
scrawl."
"Hum! he wasn't a gentleman, you know. He drank too; not to be
intoxicated, but too much--too much! For he will find the temperance man
too many for him. _I'll_ win the race, the waiting race;" and he laughed
again in a distressing, hysterical fashion, that quite exhausted him.
Katherine flew to fetch cold water, while the old man leaning back
panting and breathless, and Mr. Newton, much alarmed, fanned him with a
folded newspaper.
He gradually recovered, but complained much of the beating of his heart.
Mr. Newton wished to send for the doctor, but Mr. Liddell would not hear
of it. Then he urged his allowing the servant at least to sleep on the
sofa in the front parlor, leaving the door into Mr. Liddell's room open.
To this the object of his solicitude was also opposed, so Mr. Newton
bade him farewell. Katherine, however, waylaid him in the hall, and they
held a short conference.
"He really ought not to be left alone at night."
"No, he must not," said Katherine. "I will make our servant spend the
night in the parlor. She can easily open the door after the lights are
out, without his being vexed by knowing she is there. I could not sleep
if I thought he was alone. I will come very early in the morning to
relieve her."
"Do, my dear young lady. I will call on the doctor and beg him to come
round early."
"Do you think my uncle so ill, then?"
"He is greatly changed, and his weakness makes me uneasy. I trust in God
he may be spared a little longer."
Katherine looked and felt surprised at the fervor of his tone. Little
did she dream the real source of the friendly lawyer's anxiety to
prolong a very profitless existence.
After a few more remarks and a promise to come at any time if he were
needed, Mr. Newton departed; and Katherine got through the dreary
evening as best she could.
How she longed to summon her mother! but she feared to irritate her
uncle, who was evidently unequal to bear the slightest agitation.
Next day was unusually cold, and though Mr. Liddell had passed a
tranquil night, he seemed averse to leave his bed. He lay there very
quietly, and listened to the papers being read, and it was late in the
afternoon before he would get up and dress. From this time forward he
rarely rose till dusk, and it grew more and more an effort to him. He
was always pleased to see Mr. Newton, and to converse a little with him.
He even spoke with tolerable civility to Mrs. Liddell when she came to
see her daughter.
As the weather grew colder--and autumn that year was very wintry--he
objected more and more to leave his bed, and at last came to sitting up
only for a couple of hours in the chair by his bedroom fire. It was
during one of these intervals that Katherine, who had been racking her
brains for something to talk of that would interest him, bethought her
of a transaction in old newspapers which Mrs. Knapp had brought to a
satisfactory conclusion. She therefore took out "certain moneys" from
her purse.
"We have sold the newspapers at last, uncle," she said. "I kept back
some for our own use, so all I could get was a shilling and three
half-pence." She placed the coins on a little table which stood by his
arm-chair, adding, "I suppose you know the Scotch saying, 'Many mickles
make a muckle'; even a few pence are better than a pile of useless
papers."
"I know," said Liddell, with feeble eagerness, clutching the money and
transferring it to his little old purse. "It is a good saving--a wise
saying. I did not think you knew it; but--but why did you keep back
any?"
"Because one always needs waste paper in a house, to light fires and
cover things from dust. I shall collect more next time," she added,
seeing the old man was pleased with the idea.
He made no reply, but sat gazing at the red coals, his lips moving
slightly, and the purse still in his hand. Again he opened it, and took
out the coins she had given him, holding them to the fire-light in the
hollow of his thin hand.
"Do you know the value of money?" he said at length, looking piercingly
at her. "Do you know the wonderful life it has--a life of its own?"
"If the want of can teach its value I ought to know," she returned.
"You are wrong! Poverty never teaches its worth. You never hold it and
study it when, the moment you touch it, you have to exchange it for
commodities. No! it is when you can spare some for a precious seed, and
watch its growth, and see--see its power of self-multiplication if it is
let alone--just let alone," he repeated, with a touch of pathos in his
voice. "Now these few pence, thirteen and a half in all--a boy with an
accumulative nature and youth, early youth, on his side, might build a
fortune on these. Yes, he might, if he had not a grovelling love of food
and comfort."
"Do you think he really could?" asked Kate, interested in spite of
herself in the theories of the old miser.
"Would you care to know?" said her uncle, fixing his keen dark eyes upon
her.
"I should indeed." Her voice proved she was in earnest.
"Then I will tell you, step by step, but not to-night. I am too weary.
You are different from the others--your father and your brother. You
are--yes, you are--more like _me_."
"God forbid!" was Katherine's mental ejaculation.
Mr. Liddell slowly put the thirteenpence half penny back in his purse,
drew forth his bunch of keys, looked at them, and restored them to his
pocket; then, resting his head wearily against the chair, he said, "Give
me something to take and I will go to bed."
Katherine hastened to obey, and summoned the servant to assist him, as
usual.
The next morning was cold and wet, with showers of sleet, and Mr.
Liddell declared he had taken a chill, and refused to get up. He was
indisposed to eat, and did not show any interest in the newspaper. About
noon the doctor called. Mr. Liddell answered his questions civilly
enough, but did not respond to his attempts at conversation.
"Your uncle is in a very low condition," said the doctor, when he came
into the next room, where Katherine awaited him. "You must do your best
to make him take nourishment, and keep him as warm as possible. I
suppose Mr. Newton is always in town?"
"I think so; at least I never knew him to be absent since I came here. I
rather expect him to-day or to-morrow. Do you think my uncle seriously
ill?"
"He is not really ill, but he has an incurable complaint--old age. He
ought not to be so weak as he is; still, he may last some time, with
your good care."
Katherine took her needle-work and settled herself to keep watch by the
old man. The doctor's inquiry for Mr. Newton had startled her, but his
subsequent words allayed her fears. "He may last for some time,"
conveyed to her mind the notion of an indefinite lease of life.
Mr. Liddell seemed to be slumbering peacefully, when, after a long
silence, during which Katherine's thoughts had traversed many a league
of land and sea, he said suddenly, in stronger tones than usual, "Are
you there?" He scarcely ever called her by her name.
"I am," said Katherine, coming to the bedside.
"Here, take these keys"--he drew them from under his pillows; "this one
unlocks that bureau"--pointing to a large old-fashioned piece of
furniture, dark and polished, which stood on one side of the fireplace;
"open it, and in the top drawer left you will find a long, folded paper.
Bring it to me."
Katherine did as he directed, and could not help seeing the words, "Will
of John Wilmot Liddell," and a date some seven or eight years back,
inscribed upon it. She handed it to her uncle, arranging his pillows so
that he might sit up more comfortably, while she rather wondered at the
commonplace aspect of so potent an instrument. A will, she imagined, was
something huge, of parchment, with big seals attached.
John Liddell slowly put on his spectacles, and unfolding the paper, read
for some time in silence.
"This will not do," he said at last, clearly and firmly. "I was mistaken
in him. The care for and of money must be born in you; it cannot be
taught. No, I can make a better disposition. Could _you_ take care of
money, girl?" he asked sternly.
"I should try," returned Katherine, quietly.
There was a pause. The old man lay thinking, his lean, brown hand lying
on the open paper. "Write," he said at length, so suddenly and sharply
that he startled his niece; get paper and write to Newton. Katherine
brought the writing materials, and placed herself at the small table.
"Dear sir," he dictated--"Be so good as to come to me as soon as
convenient. I wish to make a will more in accordance with my present
knowledge than any executed by me formerly. I am, yours faithfully."
Katherine brought over pen and paper, and the old man affixed his
signature clearly.
"Now fold it up and send it to post. No--take it yourself; then it will
be safe, and so much the better for you."
Katherine called the good-natured Mrs. Knapp to take her place, and
sallied forth. She was a good deal excited. Was she in a crisis of her
fate? Would her grim old uncle leave her wherewithal to give the dear
mother rest and peace for the remainder of her days? It would not take
much; would he--oh, would he remember the poor little boys? She never
dreamed of more than a substantial legacy; the bulk of his fortune he
might leave to whom he liked. How dreadful it was that money should be
such a grim necessity!
She felt oppressed, and made a small circuit returning, to enjoy as much
fresh air as she could, and called at some of the shops where she was
accustomed to deal, to save sending the servant later. She was growing a
little nervous, and disliked being left alone in the house.
When she returned, her uncle was very much in the same attitude; but he
had folded up his will and placed his hand under his head.
"You have been very long," he said, querulously.
Katherine said she had been at one or two shops.
"Read to me," he said, "I am tired thinking; but first lock the bureau
and give me the keys; you left them hanging in the lock. I have never
taken my eyes from them. Now I have them," he added, putting them under
his pillow, "I can rest. Here, take this"--handing her the will: "put it
in the drawer of my writing-table; we may want it to morrow; and I do
not wish that bureau opened again; everything is there."
Having placed the will as he desired, Katherine began to read, and the
rest of the day passed as usual.
She could not, however, prevent herself from listening for Mr. Newton's
knock. She felt sure he would hasten to his client as soon as he had
read his note. He would be but too glad to draw up another and a juster
will.
Without a word, without the slightest profession of friendship, Newton
had managed to impress Katherine with the idea that he was anxious to
induce Mr. Liddell to do what was right to his brother's widow and
daughter.
But night closed in, and no Mr. Newton came. Mr. Liddell was unusually
wakeful and restless, and seemed on the watch himself, his last words
that night being, "I am sure Newton will be here in good time
to-morrow."
Instead, the morrow brought a dapper and extremely modern young man, the
head of the firm in right of succession, his late father having founded
the house of Stephens & Newton.
Mr. Liddell had just been made comfortable in his great invalid's chair
by the fire, having risen earlier than usual in expectation of Mr.
Newton's visit. When this gentleman presented himself, Katherine
observed that her uncle was in a state of tremulous impatience, and the
moment she saw the stranger she felt that some unlucky accident had
prevented Newton from obeying his client's behest.
"Who--what?" gasped Mr. Liddell, when a card was handed to him. "Read
it," to Katherine.
"Mr. Stephens, of Stephens & Newton, Red Lion Square," she returned.
"I will not see him, I do not want him," cried her uncle, angrily.
"Where is Newton? Go ask him?"
With an oppressive sense of embarrassment, Katherine went out into the
hall, and confronted a short, slight young man with exceedingly tight
trousers, a colored cambric tie, and a general air of being on the turf.
He held a white hat in one hand, and on the other, which was ungloved,
he wore a large seal ring. Katherine did not know how to say that her
uncle would not see him, but the stranger took the initiative.
"Aw--I have done myself the honor of coming in person to take Mr.
Liddell's instructions, as Mr. Newton was called out of town by very
particular business yesterday morning. I rather hoped he might return
last night, but a communication this morning informs us he will be
detained till this afternoon, not reaching town till 9.30 P.M. I am
prepared to execute any directions in my partner's stead."
He spoke with an air of condescension, as if he did Mr. Liddell a high
honor, and made a step forward. Katherine did not know what to say. It
was terrible to keep this consequential little man in the hall, and
there was literally nowhere else to take him.
"I am so sorry, but my uncle is very unwell and nervous. I do not think
he could see any one but Mr. Newton, who is an old friend, you know,"
she added, deprecatingly.
"I am his legal adviser too," returned the young man, with a slightly
offended air. "I am the senior partner and head of the house, and the
worse Mr. Liddell is, the greater the necessity for his giving
instructions respecting his will."
"I will tell him Mr. Newton is away," said Katherine, courteously;
"and--would you mind sitting down here? I am quite distressed not to
have any better place to offer you, but I cannot help it."
"It is of no consequence," returned the young lawyer, struck by her
sweet tones and simple good-breeding, yet looking round him at the worn
oil-cloth and shabby stair-carpeting with manifest amazement.
"Mr. Newton is out of town, and does not return till late this evening,"
said Katherine, returning to the irate old man. "This gentleman says he
is the head of the firm, and will do your bidding in Mr. Newton's
stead."
"Tell him he shall do nothing of the kind," returned Mr. Liddell, in a
weak, hoarse, impatient voice. "I saw him once, and I know him; he is an
ignorant, addle-pated jackanapes. He shall not muddle my affairs; send
him away; I can wait for Newton. I don't suppose I am going to die
to-night."
And Katherine, blushing "celestial rosy red," hied back to the smart
young man, who was reposing himself on the only seat the entrance
boasted, and conjecturing that if this fine, fair, soft-spoken girl was
to be the old miser's heir, she would be almost deserving of his own
matrimonial intentions.
"My uncle begs me to apologize to you, Mr. Stephens, but he is so much
accustomed to Mr. Newton, and in such a nervous state, that he would
prefer waiting till that gentleman can come."
"Oh, very well; only I wish I had known before--I came up here at some
inconvenience; and also wish Mr. Liddell could be persuaded that delays
are dangerous."
"The delay is not for very long. I am sorry you had this fruitless
trouble. Mr. Liddell is very weak."
"I am sure if anything could restore him, it would be the care of such a
nurse as you must be," with a bow and a grin.
"Thank you; good-morning," said Katherine, with such an air of decided
dismissal that the young senior partner at once departed.
Mr. Liddell fretted and fumed for an hour or two before he had exhausted
himself sufficiently to sit still and listen to Katherine's reading; and
after he had apparently sunk into a doze, he suddenly started up and
exclaimed: "That idiot, young Stephens, will never think of sending to
his house. Write--write to Newton's private residence."
"I think Mr. Stephens will, uncle. He seemed anxious to meet your
wishes."
"Don't be a fool--do as I bid you! Get the paper and pen. Are you
ready?"
"I am."
"Dear sir, Let nothing prevent your coming to me to-morrow," he
dictated; "I want to make my will. It is important that affairs be not
left in confusion. Yours truly. Give me the pen," he went on, in the
same breath. "I can sign as well as ever. Now go you yourself and put
this in the post. I do not trust that woman--they all stop and gossip,
and I want this to go by the next despatch."
Katherine, always thankful to be in the air, went readily enough. She
was distressed to find how the nervous uneasiness of yesterday was
growing on her. The perpetual companionship of the grim old skeleton,
her uncle, was making her morbid, she thought; she must ask leave to go
and spend a day at home to see how her mother was getting on, to refresh
herself by a game of romps with the children. Why, she felt absolutely
growing old!
When she re-entered the house she found, much to her satisfaction, that
the doctor was with Mr. Liddell; and after laying aside her out-door
dress, she went to the parlor.
"I have been advising Mr. Liddell to try the effect of a few glasses of
champagne," said the former, who was looking rather grave, Katherine
thought. "But as there is none in his cellar, he objects. Now you must
help me to persuade him. I am going on to a patient in Regent's Park,
and shall pass a very respectable wine-merchant's on my way; so I shall
just take the law into my own hands and order a couple of bottles for
you. Consider it medicine. It is wonderful how much more generally
champagne is used than when you and I were young, my dear sir!" etc.,
etc., he went on, with professional cheerfulness. But Mr. Liddell did
not heed him much.
"He is very weak. The action of the heart is extremely feeble," said the
doctor, when Katherine followed him to the door. "Try and make him take
the champagne."
Another day dragged through; then Katherine, rather worn with the
constant involuntary sense of watching which had strained her nerves all
day, slept soundly and dreamlessly. She woke early next morning, and was
soon dressed. Mrs. Knapp reported Mr. Liddell to be still slumbering.
"But law, miss, he have had a bad night--the worst yet, I think. He was
dreaming and tossing from side to side, and then he would scream out
words I couldn't understand. I made him take some wine between two and
three, but I do not think he knew me a bit. I have had a dreadful night
of it."
Katherine expressed her sympathy, and did what she could to lighten the
good woman's labors.
Mr. Liddell, however, though he looked ghastly, seemed rather stronger
than usual. He insisted on getting up, and came into the sitting-room
about eleven.
It was a cold morning, with a thick, drizzling rain. Katherine made up
the fire to a cheerful glow, and by her uncle's directions placed pen,
ink and paper on the small table he always had beside him. Then he
uttered the accustomed commanding "Read," and Katherine read.
Suddenly he interrupted her by exclaiming, "Give me the deaths first."
It had been a whim of his latterly to have this lugubrious list read to
him every day.
Katherine had hardly commenced when she descried Mr. Newton's well-known
figure advancing from the garden gate.
"Ah, here is Mr. Newton!" she exclaimed.
"Ha! that is well," cried her uncle, with shrill exultation. "Now--now
all will go right."
The next moment the lawyer was shown in, and having greeted them,
proceeded to apologize for his unavoidable absence. "Here I am, however,
sir," he concluded, "at your service."
"Go--leave us," said Liddell, abruptly yet not unkindly, to Katherine;
then, as she left the room, "Finish the deaths for me, will you, before
we go to business. She had just read the first two. Read--make haste!"
Somewhat surprised, Mr. Newton took up the paper and continued: "On the
30th September, at Wimbledon, universally regretted, the Rev. James
Johnson, formerly minister of "Little Bethel, Bermondsey." On October
1st, at her residence, Upper Clapton, Esther, relict of Captain
Doubleday, late of the E. I. C. Service. On the 2nd instant, at
Bournemouth, Peter Fergusson, of Upper Baker Street, in the
seventy-fifth year of his age."
"Fergusson dead! and he is three years my junior! Now it is all
mine--all!--all! I shall be able to settle it as I like. I haven't
eaten and drunk in vain. I'm strong, quite strong. All the papers are
there, in my bureau. I'll show them to you. Aha! I thought I'd outlive
him! I was determined to outlive him!"
With an uncanny laugh he struggled to his feet, and attempted to walk to
his bedroom, his stick in one hand and the keys he had taken from his
pocket in the other. For a few steps he walked with a degree of strength
that astonished Newton; then he gave a deep groan, staggered, and fell
to the ground with a crash.
Newton rushed to raise him, which he did with some difficulty. The noise
brought the servant to his assistance.
"Go! fetch Dr. Bilhane," said Mr. Newton, as soon as they had laid the
helpless body on the bed. "Though I doubt if he can do anything. The old
man is gone."