"There is a letter from Mr Richmond, the lawyer, saying he will call
this evening to talk over some business matters. I suppose he will be
here by now."
"Couldn't he have waited till after to-morrow?" said Horace.
"He particularly asked to come to-night," said the mother. "At any
rate, I would like you both to be with me while he is here. We must not
have any secrets from one another now."
"I suppose it's about the will or the estate," said Reginald.
"I suppose so. I don't know," said Mrs Cruden. "Mr Richmond always
managed your father's business affairs, you know, so he will be able to
tell us how matters stand."
They reached the house, and found Mr Richmond had already arrived and
was awaiting them in the library.
Mr Richmond was a solemn, grave personage, whose profession was written
on his countenance. His lips were so closely set that it seemed as if
speaking must be a positive pain to him, his eyes had the knack of
looking past you, as though he was addressing not you but your shadow on
the wall, and he ended every sentence, no matter what its import, with a
mechanical smile, as though he were at that instant having his
photograph taken. Why Mr Cruden should have selected Mr Richmond as
his man of business was a matter only known to Mr Cruden himself, for
those who knew the lawyer best did not care for him, and, without being
able to deny that he was an honest man and a well-meaning man, were at
least glad that their affairs were in the hands of some one else.
He rose and solemnly greeted the widow and her two sons as they entered.
"I am sorry to intrude at such a time," said he, "but as your late
husband's adviser, I considered it right to call and make you acquainted
with his affairs."
Here Mr Richmond smiled, greatly to Reginald's indignation.
"Thank you," said Mrs Cruden; "sit down, please, Mr Richmond."
Mr Richmond obeyed, dubiously eyeing the two boys as he did so.
"These are your sons, I presume?" said he to Mrs Cruden.
"They are," said she.
Mr Richmond rose and solemnly shook hands with each of the lads,
informing each with a smile as he did so that he was pleased to make his
acquaintance.
"You wish the young gentlemen to remain, perhaps?" he inquired, as he
resumed his seat.
"To be sure," said Mrs Cruden, somewhat nettled at the question; "go
on, please, Mr Richmond."
"Certainly, madam," said the lawyer. "May I ask if you are acquainted
with the late Mr Cruden's state of affairs?"
"I wish to hear that from you," said the widow, "and with as little
delay as possible, Mr Richmond."
"Certainly, madam. Mr Cruden honoured me with his confidence on these
matters, and I believe, next to himself, I knew more about them than any
one else."
Here Mr Richmond paused and smiled.
"In fact," continued he, "I may almost say I knew more about them than
he did himself, for your excellent husband, Mrs Cruden, was not a good
man of business."
Reginald could not stand the smile which accompanied this observation,
and said, somewhat hotly,--
"Look here, Mr Richmond, if you will say what you've got to say without
laughing and speaking disrespectfully of my father, we shall be glad."
"Certainly, Master Cruden," said the lawyer, a trifle disconcerted by
this unexpected interruption. Then turning to the widow he continued,--
"The fact is, madam, the late Mr Cruden was, I fear, under the
impression that he was considerably better off than he was."
Mr Richmond paused as if for a reply, but as no one spoke he
continued,--
"I am sorry to say this appears to have been the case to a much larger
extent than even I imagined. Your late husband, Mrs Cruden, I believe
spent largely on his estate here, and unfortunately kept no accounts. I
have frequently entreated him to reckon over his expenditure, but he
always replied that it was considerably under his income, and that there
was no need, as long as that was the case, to trouble himself about it."
A nervous movement among his listeners was the only reply the lawyer
received to this last announcement, or to the smile which accompanied
it.
"Mr Cruden _may_ have been correct in his conjecture, madam, although I
fear the contrary."
"If my father said a thing," blurted out Reginald at this point, "I see
no reason for doubting his word."
"None in the least, my dear Master Cruden; but unfortunately your father
did not know either what his income was or what his expenditure was."
"Do _you_ know what they were?" said Reginald, not heeding the
deprecating touch of his mother's hand on his.
"As far as I understand the state of your father's affairs," said Mr
Richmond, undisturbed by the rude tone of his inquisitor, "his income
was entirely derived from interest in the stock of two American
railways, in which he placed implicit confidence, and in one or the
other of which he insisted on investing all capital which came to his
hand. The total income from these two sources would in my opinion just
about cover Mr Cruden's various expenses of all kinds."
There was something like a sigh of relief from the listeners as Mr
Richmond reached this point. But it died away as he proceeded.
"In his choice of an investment for his capital Mr Cruden consulted no
one, I believe, beyond himself. For some time it seemed a fortunate
investment, and the shares rose in value, but latterly they took a turn
for the worse, and early this year I am sorry to say one of the railways
suspended payment altogether, and Mr Cruden lost a considerable portion
of his fortune thereby."
"I heard my husband say some months ago that he had made some slight
loss in the City," said Mrs Cruden, "but I imagined from the light
manner in which he treated it that it was quite trifling, and would be
quickly repaired."
"He did hope that would be the case. Although all his friends urged him
to sell out at once, he insisted on holding on, in the hope of the
railway recovering itself."
"And has it recovered?" asked Mrs Cruden, with a tremble in her voice.
"I regret to say it has not, Mrs Cruden. On the contrary, it was
declared bankrupt a few days ago, and what is still more deplorable, it
has involved in its own ruin the other railway in which the remainder of
your husband's property was invested, so that all the shares which stand
in his name in both concerns are now worth no more than the paper they
are printed on."
Mr Richmond came to the point at last with startling abruptness, so
much so that for a moment or two his listeners sat almost petrified by
the bad news, and unable to say a word. The lawyer finished what he had
to say without waiting.
"Your husband heard this lamentable news, Mrs Cruden, on the occasion
of his last visit to the City. The only call he made that day was at
his banker's, where he was told all, and there is no reason to doubt
that the shock produced the stroke from which he died."
"Mr Richmond," said Mrs Cruden, after a while, like one in a dream,
"can this be true? What _does_ it all mean?"
"Alas! madam," said the lawyer, "it would be no kindness on my part to
deny the truth of what I have told you. It means that unless you or
your late husband are possessed of some means of income of which I know
nothing, your circumstances are reduced to a very low point."
"But there must be some mistake," said Horace. "_Both_ railways can't
have gone wrong; we shall surely save something?"
"I wish I could hold out any hope. I have all the documents at my
office, and shall be only too glad, Mrs Cruden, to accompany you to the
bank for your own satisfaction."
Mrs Cruden shuddered and struggled bravely to keep down the rising
tears. A long pause ensued, every moment of which made the terrible
truth clearer to all three of the hearers, and closed every loophole of
hope.
"What can be done?" said Horace at last.
"Happily there is Garden Vale," said Reginald, and there was a choking
in the throat of the heir as he spoke; "we shall have to sell it."
"The contents of it, you will, Master Cruden," said the lawyer; "the
estate itself is held on lease."
"Well, the contents of it," said Reginald, bitterly; "you are not going
to make out they don't belong to us?"
"Certainly not," said Mr Richmond, on whom the taunt was quite lost;
"unless, as I trust is not the case, your father died in debt."
"Do you mean to say," said Horace, slowly, like one waking from a dream,
"do you mean to say we are ruined, Mr Richmond?"
"I fear it is so," said the lawyer, "unless Mr Cruden was possessed of
some means of income with which I was not acquainted. I regret very
much, Mrs Cruden, having to be the bearer of such bad news, and I can
only say the respect I had for your late husband will make any
assistance I can offer you, by way of advice or otherwise, a pleasure."
And Mr Richmond bowed himself out of the room with a smile.
It was a relief to be left alone, and Mrs Cruden, despite her weakness
and misery, struggled hard for the sake of her boys to put a brave face
on their trouble.
"Reg, dear," said she to her eldest son, who had fairly broken down, and
with his head on his hand was giving vent to his misery, "try to bear
it. After all, we are left to one another, and--"
The poor mother could not finish her sentence, but bent down and kissed
the wet cheek of the boy.
"Of course it means," said Horace, after a pause, "we shall have to give
up Garden Vale, and leave Wilderham too. And Reg was sure of a
scholarship next term. I say, mother, what _are_ we to do?"
"We are all strong enough to do something, dear boy," said Mrs Cruden.
"I'll take care _you_ don't have to do anything, mother," said Reginald,
looking up. "I'll work my fingers to the bones before you have to come
down to that." He spoke with clenched teeth, half savagely.
"Even if we can sell all the furniture," continued Horace, taking a
practical view of the situation, "it wouldn't give us much to live on."
"Shut up, Horace!" said Reginald. "What's the use of making the worst
of everything? Hasn't mother had quite enough to bear already?"
Horace subsided, and the three sat there in silence until the daylight
faded and the footman brought in the lights and announced that coffee
was ready in the drawing-room.
There was something like a shock about this interruption. What had they
to do with men-servants and coffee in the drawing-room, they who an hour
or two ago had supposed themselves wealthy, but now knew that they were
little better than beggars?
"We shall not want coffee," said Mrs Cruden, answering for all three.
Then when the footman had withdrawn, she said,--
"Boys, I must go to bed. God bless you, and give us all brave hearts,
for we shall need them!"
The funeral took place next day. Happily it was of a simple character,
and only a few friends were invited, so that it was not thought
necessary to alter the arrangements in consequence of Mr Richmond's
announcement of the evening before. But even the slight expense
involved in this melancholy ceremony grated painfully on the minds of
the boys, who forgot even their dead father in the sense that they were
riding in carriages for which they could not pay, and offering their
guests refreshments which were not theirs to give. The little cemetery
was crowded with friends and acquaintances of the dead--country gentry
most of them, who sought to show their respect for their late neighbour
by falling into the long funeral procession and joining the throng at
the graveside.
It was a severe ordeal for the two boys to find themselves the centres
of observation, and to feel that more than half the interest exhibited
in them was on account of their supposed inheritance.
One bluff squire came up after the funeral and patted Reginald on the
back.
"Never mind, my boy," said he; "I was left without a father at your age.
You'll soon get over it, and your mother will have plenty of friends.
Glad to see you up at the Hall any day, and your brother too. You must
join our hunt next winter, and keep up the family name. God bless you!"
Reginald shrank from this greeting like a guilty being, and the two
desolate boys were glad to escape further encounters by retreating to
their carriage and ordering the coachman to drive home at once.
A few days disclosed all that was wanting to make their position quite
clear. Mr Cruden's will confirmed Mr Richmond's statement as to the
source of his income. All his money was invested in shares of the two
ruined railways, and all he had to leave besides these was the furniture
and contents of Garden Vale. Even this, when realised, would do little
more than cover the debts which the next week or two brought to light.
It was pitiful the way in which that unrelenting tide of bills flowed
in, swamping gradually the last hope of a competency, or even means of
bare existence, for the survivors.
Neither Mrs Cruden nor her sons had been able to endure a day's delay
at Garden Vale after the funeral, but had hurried for shelter to quiet
lodgings at the seaside, kept by an old servant, where in an agony of
suspense they awaited the final result of Mr Richmond's investigations.
It came at last, and, bad as it was, it was a comfort to know the worst.
The furniture, carriages, and other contents of Garden Vale had
sufficed to pay all debts of every description, with a balance of about
£350 remaining over and above, to represent the entire worldly
possessions of the Cruden family, which only a month ago had ranked with
the wealthiest in the county.
"So," said Mrs Cruden, with a shadow of her old smile, as she folded up
the lawyer's letter and put it back in her pocket, "we know the worst at
last, boys."
"Which is," said Reginald, bitterly, "we are worth among us the
magnificent sum of sixteen pounds per annum. Quite princely!"
"Reg, dear," said his mother, "let us be thankful that we have anything,
and still more that we may start life owing nothing to any one."
"Start life!" exclaimed Reginald; "I wish we could end it with--"
"Oh, hush, hush, my precious boy!" exclaimed the widow; "you will break
my heart if you talk like that! Think how many there are to whom this
little sum would seem a fortune. Why, it may keep a roof over our
heads, at any rate, or help you into situations."
"Or bury us!" groaned Reginald.
The mother looked at her eldest son, half in pity, half in reproach, and
then burst into tears.
Reginald sprang to her side in an instant.
"What a beast I am!" he exclaimed. "Oh, mother, do forgive me! I
really didn't think what I was saying."
"No, dear Reggie, I know you didn't," said Mrs Cruden, recovering
herself with a desperate effort. "You mustn't mind me, I--I scarcely--
know--I--"
It was no use trying. The poor mother broke down completely, and on
that evening it was impossible to talk more about the future.
Next morning, however, all three were in a calmer mood, and Horace said
at breakfast, "We can't do any good here, mother. Hadn't we better go
to London?"
"I think so; and Parker here knows of a small furnished lodging in Dull
Street, which she says is cheap. We might try there to begin with. Eh,
Reg?"
Reginald winced, and then replied, "Oh, certainly; the sooner we get
down to our right level the better."
That evening the three Crudens arrived in London.