HAD HE SEEN A GHOST?
At this time Jasper Harman was a very perplexed man. Unlike his brother
John, he was untroubled by remorse. Though so outwardly good-tempered
and good-natured, his old heart was very hard; and though the arrows of
past sins and past injustices might fly around him, they could not visit
the inner shrine of that adamantine thing which he carried about instead
of a heart of flesh within him.
What the painful process must be which would restore to Jasper Harman
the warm living heart of a little child, one must shudder even to
contemplate. At present that process had not begun. But though he felt
no remorse whatever, and stigmatized his brother as an old fool, he had
considerable anxiety.
There was an ugly secret in the back parts of these two brothers' lives;
a secret which had seemed all these years safe and buried in the grave,
but over which now little lights were beginning to pour. How could
Jasper plaster up the crevices and restore the thing to its silent
grave? Upon this problem he pondered from morning to night.
He did not like that growing anxiety of his brother's; he could not tell
to what mad act it would lead him; he did not like a new look of fear
which, since her father's fainting fit, he had seen on Charlotte's
smooth brow; he did not like Mrs. Home coming and boldly declaring that
an injustice had been done; he felt that between them these foolish and
miserable people would pull a disgraceful old secret out of its grave,
unless he, Jasper Harman, could outwit them. What a blessing that that
other trustee was dead and buried, and that he, Jasper Harman, had
really stood over his grave. Yes, the secret which he and his brother
had guarded so faithfully for over twenty years might remain for ever
undiscovered if only common sense, the tiniest bit of common sense, was
exercised. Jasper paced his room as he thought of this. Yes, there could
be no fear, unless--here he stood still, and a cold dew of sudden terror
stole over him--suppose that young woman, that wronged young woman,
Charlotte Home, should take it into her head to go and read her father's
will. The will could not be put away. For the small sum of one shilling
she might go and master the contents, and then the whole fraud would be
laid bare. Was it likely that Mrs. Home would do this? Jasper had only
seen her for a moment, but during that brief glance he read
determination and fixity of purpose in her eyes and mouth. He must trust
that this thought would not occur to her; but what a miserable
uncertainty this was to live in! He did not know that the graver danger
lay still nearer home, and that his own niece Charlotte was already
putting the match to this mine full of gunpowder. No, clever as he
thought himself, he was looking for the danger at the front door, when
it was approaching him by the back.
After many days of most anxious thought he resolved to go and see the
Homes, for something must be done, and he could feel his way better if
he knew something of his opponents.
Getting Mr. Home's address in the Post Office Directory, for he would
not betray himself by questioning Charlotte, he started off one evening
to walk to Kentish Town. He arrived in the dusk, and by good fortune or
otherwise, as he liked best to term it, the curate was at home, and so
far disengaged as to be able to give him a little leisure time.
Jasper sent in his card, and the little maid, Anne, showed him into the
small parlor. There was a musty, unused smell in the dingy little room,
for Mrs. Home was still at Torquay, and the curate during her absence
mostly occupied his study. The maid, however, turned on the gas, and as
she did so a small girl of four slipped in behind her. She was a very
pretty child, with gray eyes and black eyelashes, and she stared in the
full, frank manner of infancy at old Jasper. She was not a shy child,
and felt so little fear of this good-natured, cherry-cheeked old man,
that when Anne withdrew she still remained in the room.
Jasper had a surface love for children; he would not take any trouble
about them, but they amused him, and he found pleasure in watching their
unsophisticated ways. His good-natured, smiling face appealed to a
certain part of Daisy Home, not a very high part certainly, but with the
charming frankness of babyhood, the part appealed to gave utterance to
its desire.
"Have 'ou brought me a present?" she demanded, running up to old Jasper
and laying her hand on his knee.
"No, my dear," he replied quickly. "I'm so sorry; I forgot it."
"Did 'ou?" said Daisy, puckering her pretty brows; "Then 'ou're not like
our pretty lady; she did not forget; she brought lots and lots and
lots."
"I am very sorry," replied Jasper; "I will think of it next time." And
then Mr. Home coming in, the two went into the little study.
"I am your wife's half-brother," said Jasper, introducing himself
without preface, for he had marked out his line of action before he
came.
"Indeed!" replied Mr. Home. He was not a man easily surprised, but this
announcement did bring a slight color into his face. "You are Mr.
Harman," he repeated. "I am sorry my wife is away. She is staying at
Torquay with our eldest boy, who has been ill. She has seen your
daughter."
"Not my daughter, sir, my niece--a fine girl, but Quixotic, a little
fanciful and apt to take up whims, but a fine girl for all that."
"I, too, have seen Miss Harman," answered Mr. Home. "I met her once in
Regent's Park, and, without knowing anything about us, she was good to
our children. You must pardon me, sir, if in expressing the same opinion
about her we come to it by different roads. It seems to me that the
fine traits in Miss Harman's character are _due_ to her Quixotic or
unworldly spirit."
For a moment Jasper Harman felt puzzled, then he chuckled inwardly. "The
man who says that, is unworldly himself, therefore unpractical. So much
the better for my purpose." Aloud he said, "Doubtless you put the case
best, sir; but I will not take up your valuable time discussing my
niece's virtues. I have come to talk to you on a little matter of
business. Your wife has told you her story?"
"My wife has certainly concealed nothing from me," replied Mr. Home.
"She has mentioned her father's very curious will?"
"His very unjust will," corrected Mr. Home.
"Yes, sir, I agree with you, it was unjust. It is to talk to you about
that will I have come to you to-night."
"Sit nearer to the fire," replied Mr. Home, poking up the handful in the
grate into as cheerful a blaze as circumstances would permit.
"It was, as you say, an unjust will," proceeded old Jasper, peering hard
with his short-sighted eyes at the curate, and trying to read some
emotion beneath his very grave exterior. Being unable to fathom the
depths of a character which was absolutely above the love of money, he
felt perplexed, he scarcely liked this great self-possession. Did this
Home know too much? "It was an unjust will," he repeated, "and took my
brother and myself considerably by surprise. Our father seemed fond of
his young wife, and we fully expected that he would leave her and her
child well provided for. However, my dear sir, the facts could not be
disputed. Her name was not mentioned at all. The entire property was
left principally to my elder brother John. He and I were partners in
business. Our father's money was convenient, and enabled us to grow
rich. At the time our father died we were very struggling. Perhaps the
fact that the money was so necessary to us just then made us think less
of the widow than we should otherwise have done. We did not, however,
forget her. We made provision for her during her life. But for us she
must have starved or earned her own living."
"The allowance you made was not very ample," replied Mr. Home, "and such
as it was it ceased at her death."
"Yes, sir; and there I own we--my brother and I--were guilty of an act
of injustice. I can only exonerate us on the plea of want of thought.
Our father's widow was a young woman--younger than either of us. The
child was but a baby. The widow's death seemed a very far off
contingency. We placed the money we had agreed to allow her the interest
on, in the hands of our solicitor. We absolutely forgot the matter. I
went to Australia, my brother grew old at home. When, five or six years
ago, we heard that Mrs. Harman was dead, and that our three thousand
pounds could return to us, we had absolutely forgotten the child. In
this I own we showed sad neglect. Your wife's visit to my niece, through
a mere accident, has recalled her to our memory, and I come here
to-night to say that we are willing, willing and anxious, to repay that
neglect, and to settle on your wife the sum of three thousand pounds;
that sum to be hers unconditionally, to do what she pleases with."
When Jasper ceased to speak, Mr. Home was quite silent for a moment,
then he said, "My wife is away at present. I would rather not trouble
her with money matters during her short holiday. When she returns I will
tell her what you say and communicate to you the result."
There was neither exultation nor annoyance in the quiet manner in which
these few words were spoken. Uncle Jasper found it impossible to
understand this man. He spoke as indifferently as if three thousand
pounds were nothing to him and yet, to judge from appearances, his whole
yearly income seemed hardly to represent the interest on so much
capital. Did this quiet manner but hide deep designs? Jasper Harman
fidgeted in his chair as this thought occurred to him.
"There is just one thing more to add," he said. "I will leave you my
club address. Kindly communicate with me there. I should like, while
carrying out my elder brother's wish, to act entirely on it without
troubling him in any way. He is, I am sorry to say, very ill, so ill
that the least, the very least, agitation is dangerous to him. He feels
with me the unintentional injustice done to your wife, but he cannot
bear the subject alluded to.
"Would it not rather be an ease to his mind to feel that what he looks
on and perhaps dwells on as a sin has been expiated, as far as his own
earthly act can expiate it?" inquired the clergyman gently.
"He shall know it, but from my lips. I should like him best to hear it
from me," said Jasper Harman.
A few moments after, he went away, Mr. Home accompanying him to the hall
door. The strong light of the gas lamp fell on his ruddy face and sandy
hair. He bade his host good-bye, and hurried down the street, never
observing that a man, much larger and much rougher than himself, was
bearing down upon him. It was raining, and the large man had an umbrella
up. The two came full tilt against each other. Jasper felt his breath
taken away, and could only gasp out a word of remonstrance and apology.
But the other, in a full, round, cheery voice, replied, "I'm home from
the Colonies, stranger--you need not mention a tiff like that to _me_.
Bless you! I guess you got the worst of it."
He passed on with a laugh, never noticing that he had left Jasper
standing in the middle of the road, gasping indeed now, but from a
different cause. He put his hand to his heart. He felt his breath come
too fast for comfort. What had come to him? Had he seen a ghost?