Within a week after the first letter came a second from Cagliari. It was
but half a dozen lines from Tom himself.
“They are sending me off to a place called Maddalena, dearest Lucy, for
change of air The priest has given me his house, and I am to be Robinson
Crusoe there, with an old hag for Friday,--how I wish for you! Sir Brook
can only come over to me occasionally. Look out for three rocks--they
call them islands--off the N. E. of Sardinia; one of them is mine.--Ever
your own,
“Tom L.”
Lucy hastened down with this letter in her hand to her grandfather's
room, but met Mr. Haire on the stairs, who whispered in her ear, “Don't
go in just yet, my dear; he is out of sorts this morning; Lady Lendrick
has been here, and a number of unpleasant letters have arrived, and it
is better not to disturb him further.”
“Will you take this note,” said she, “and give it to him at any fitting
moment? I want to know what I shall reply,--I mean, I 'd like to hear if
grandpapa has any kind message to send the poor fellow.”
“Leave it with me. I 'll take charge of it, and come up to tell you when
you can see the Judge.” Thus saying, he passed on, and entered the room
where the Chief Baron was sitting. The curtains were closely drawn, and
in one of the windows the shutters were closed,--so sensitive to light
was the old man in his periods of excitement. He lay back in a deep
chair, his eyes closed, his face slightly flushed, breathing heavily,
and the fingers of one hand twitching slightly at moments; the other was
held by Beattie, as he counted the pulse. “Dip that handkerchief in the
cold lotion, and lay it over his forehead,” whispered Beattie to Haire.
“Speak out, sir; that muttering jars on my nerves, and irritates me,”
said the Judge, in a slow firm tone.
“Come,” said Beattie, cheerfully, “you are better now; the weakness has
passed off.”
“There is no weakness in the case, sir,” said the old man, sitting bolt
upright in the chair, as he grasped and supported himself by the arms.
“It is the ignoble feature of your art to be materialist. You can see
nothing in humanity but a nervous cord and a circulation.”
“The doctor's ministry goes no further,” said Beattie, gently.
“Your art is then but left-handed, sir. Where 's Haire?”
“Here, at your side,” replied Haire.
“I must finish my story, Haire. Where was it that I left off? Yes; to
be sure,--I remember now. This boy of Sewell's--Reginald Victor
Sewell--was, with my permission, to take the name of Lendrick, and be
called Reginald Victor Sewell Lendrick.”
“And become the head of your house?”
“The head of my house, and my heir. She did not say so, but she could
not mean anything short of it.”
“What has your son done to deserve this?” asked Haire, bluntly.
“My son's rights, sir, extend but to the modest fortune I inherited from
my father. Whatever other property I possess has been acquired by my own
ability and labor, and is mine to dispose of.”
“I suppose there are other rights as well as those of the statute-book?”
“Listen to this, Beattie,” cried the old Judge, with a sparkle of the
eye,--“listen to this dialectician, who discourses to me on the import
of a word. It is not generous I must say, to come down with all the
vigor of his bright, unburdened faculties upon a poor, weak, and
suffering object like myself. You might have waited, Haire, till I had
at least the semblance of power to resist you.”
“What answer did you give her?” asked Haire, bluntly.
“I said,--what it is always safe to say,--'_Le roi s'avisera_.' Eh,
Beattie? this is the grand principle of your own craft. Medicine is very
little else than 'the wisdom of waiting.' I told her,” continued he, “I
would think of it,--that I would see the child. 'He is here,' said she,
rising and leaving the room, and in a few moments returned, leading a
little boy by the hand,--a very noble-looking child, I will say, with
a lofty head and a bold brow. He met me as might a prince, and gave
his hand as though it were an honor he bestowed. What a conscious
power there is in youth! Ay, sirs, that is the real source of all the
much-boasted vigor and high-heartedness. Beattie will tell us some story
of arterial action or nervous expansion; but the mystery lies deeper.
The conscious force of a future development imparts a vigor that all the
triumphs of after life pale before.”
“'_Fiat justitia, ruât coelum_,'” said Haire,--“I'd not provide for
people out of my own family.”
“It is a very neat though literal translation, sir, and, like all that
comes from you, pointed and forcible.”
“I'd rather be fair and honest than either,” said Haire, bluntly.
“I appeal to you, Beattie, and I ask if I have deserved this;” and the
old Judge spoke with an air of such apparent sincerity as actually to
impose upon the doctor. “The sarcasms of this man push my regard for him
to the last intrenchment.”
“Haire never meant it; he never intended to reflect upon you,” said
Beattie, in a low tone.
“He knows well enough that I did not,” said Haire, half sulky; for he
thought the Chief was pushing his raillery too far.
“I 'm satisfied,” said the Judge, with a sigh. “I suppose he can't help
it. There are fencers who never believe they have touched you till they
see the blood. Be it so; and now to go back. She went away and left the
child with me, promising to take him up after paying a visit she had to
make in the neighborhood. I was not sorry to have the little fellow's
company. He was most agreeable, and, unlike Haire, he never made me his
butt. Well, I have done; I will say no more on that head. I was actually
sorry when she came to fetch him, and I believe I said so. What does
that grunt mean, Haire?”
“I did not speak.”
“No, sir; but you uttered what implied an ironical assent,--a _nisi
prius_ trick,--like the leer I have seen you bestow upon the jury-box.
How hard it is for the cunning man to divest himself of the subtlety of
his calling!”
“I want to hear how it all ended,” muttered Haire.
“You shall hear, sir, if you will vouchsafe me a little patience. When
men are in the full vigor of their faculties, they should be tolerant
to those footsore and weary travellers who, like myself, halt behind and
delay the march. But bear in mind, Haire, I was not always thus. There
was a time when I walked in the van. Ay, sir, and bore myself bravely
too. I was talking with that child when they announced Mr. Balfour, the
private secretary, a man most distasteful to me; but I told them to show
him in, curious, indeed, to hear what new form of compromise they were
about to propose to me. He had come with a secret and confidential
message from the Viceroy, and really seemed distressed at having to
speak before a child of six years old, so mysterious and reserved was
he. He made a very long story of it,--full an hour; but the substance
was this: The Crown had been advised to dispute my right of appointment
to the registrarship, and to make a case for a jury; but--mark the
'but'--in consideration for my high name and great services, and in
deference to what I might be supposed to feel from an open collision
with the Government, they were still willing for an accommodation, and
would consent to ratify any appointment I should make, other than that
of the gentleman I had already named,--Colonel Sewell.
“Self-control is not exactly the quality for which my friends give me
most credit. Haire, there, will tell you I am a man of ungovernable
temper, and who never even tried to curb his passion; but I would
hope there is some injustice in this award. I became a perfect dove
in gentleness, as I asked Balfour for the reasons which compelled his
Excellency to make my stepson's exclusion from office a condition. 'I am
not at liberty to state them,' was the cool reply. 'They are personal,
and, of course, delicate?' asked I, in a tone of submission, and he gave
a half assent in silence. I concurred,--that is, I yielded the point. I
went even further. I hinted, vaguely of course, at the courteous
reserve by which his Excellency was willing to spare me such pain as an
unpleasant disclosure--if there were such--might occasion me. I added,
that old men are not good subjects for shocks; and I will say, sirs,
that he looked at me as I spoke with a compassionate pity which won all
my gratitude! Ay, Beattie, and though my veins swelled at the temples,
and I felt a strange rushing sound in my ears, I had no fit, and in a
moment or two was as calm as I am this instant.
“'Let me be clear upon this point,' said I to him. 'I am to nominate to
the office any one except Sewell, and you will confirm such nomination?'
'Precisely,' replied he. 'Such act on my part in no way to prejudice
whatever claim I lay to the appointment in perpetuity, or jeopardize
any rights I now assert?' 'Certainly not,' said he. 'Write it,' said I,
pushing towards him a pen and paper; and so overjoyed was he with his
victorious negotiation that he wrote word for word as I dictated. When
I came to the name Sewell, I added, 'To whose nomination his Excellency
demurs, on grounds of character and conduct sufficient in his
Excellency's estimation to warrant such exclusion; but which, out of
deference to the Chief Baron's feelings, are not set forth in this
negotiation.' 'Is this necessary?' asked he, as he finished writing. 'It
is,' was my reply; 'put your name at foot, and the date;' and he did so.
“I now read over the whole aloud; he winced at the concluding lines, and
said, 'I had rather, with your permission, erase these last words; for
though I know the whole story, and believe it too, there 's no occasion
for entering upon it here.'
“As he spoke, I folded the paper and placed it in my pocket. 'Now, sir,'
said I, 'let _me_ hear the story you speak of.' 'I cannot. I told you
before I was not at liberty to repeat it.' I insisted, and he refused.
There was a positive altercation between us and he raised his voice in
anger, and demanded back from me the paper which he said I had tricked
him into writing. I will not say that he meant to use force, but he
sprang from his chair and came towards me with such an air of menace
that the boy, who was playing in the corner, rushed at him and struck
him with his drumstick, saying, 'You sha'n't beat grandpapa!' I believe
I rang the bell; yes, I rang the bell sharply. The child was crying when
they came. I was confused and flurried. Balfour was gone.”
“And the paper?” asked Haire.
“The paper is here, sir,” said he, touching his breastpocket. “The
country shall ring with it, or such submission shall I exact as will
bring that Viceroy and his minions to my feet in abject contrition. Were
you to ask me now, I know not what terms I would accept of.”
“I would rather you said no more at present,” said Beattie. “You need
rest and quietness.”
“I need reparation and satisfaction, sir; that is what I need.”
“Of course--of course; but you must be strong and well to enforce it,”
said Beattie.
“I told Lady Lendrick to leave the child with me. She said she would
bring him back to-morrow. I like the boy. What does my pulse say,
Beattie?”
“It says that all this talking and agitation are injurious to you,--that
you must be left alone.”
The old man sighed faintly, but did not speak.
“Haire and I will take a turn in the garden, and be within call if you
want us,” said Beattie.
“Wait a moment,--what was it I had to say? You are too abrupt, Beattie;
you snap the cords of thought by such rough handling, and we old men
lose our dexterous knack of catching the loose ends, as we once did.
There, there--leave me now; the skein is all tangled in hopeless
confusion.” He waved his hand in farewell, and they left him.