WHAT TO THINK OF IT.
MRS. TREVOR was still at the cottage, joint-nurse with Mrs. Ogilvie
to the two invalids. It was the natural thing that she should be
there, helping to care for her own sister. But Mrs. Trevor soon
grew heartily weary of that lonely dwelling. To a genuine lover
of chimney-pots, absolute country is a bore.
She made no secret of the fact with her brother-in-law. Mrs. Trevor
could not forgive Harvey for the accident which had deprived her of
East Bourne delights, and had condemned her to this dismal solitude.
So far as practical nursing was concerned she did her duty, no doubt,
but Harvey had reached a stage which called rather for amusement than
for nursing, and here Mrs. Trevor failed. She was much too dull
herself to amuse any one else. Besides, the whole catastrophe was
Harvey's own fault. If he had not chosen to keep such horses, the
accident need never have happened. Mrs. Trevor took care to let Harvey
know what she thought.
"For my part, I think the sooner we get back to Westford the better,"
she declared one day. "I can't see why you should not go at once.
Mr. Pennant says you could bear the drive. There is only the question
of Julia, but she would be all right here with Mrs. Ogilvie, and she
could follow a few days later. It really is too bad to burden Captain
Woodthorpe longer than need be with such a posse of us. And there is
poor unfortunate Mittie in a state of utter dismal; left to Hermione's
mercies. I'm in constant terror of something happening to the child.
Her lessons, too; she is just running wild all this time." The amount
of teaching bestowed upon Mittie by Mrs. Trevor was minute in amount,
but the argument served a purpose at this moment.
"Besides," Mrs. Trevor went on, "if you can stand this place much
longer, I can only say that I can't. Westford is bad enough, but here
we are in a perfect Arabia Deserta. A wheelbarrow going by makes as
much stir in one's mind as the explosion of a powder magazine would
in London. Now, do agree with me, there's a sensible man. Of course,
if you go home, I must too, if only to look after you. Mrs. Ogilvie
and I have talked over the plan, and she is quite willing 'when the
right time comes.' It's my opinion that the right time has come."
"But I have not seen Julia yet," objected Harvey.
"Well, you can see her any time. There's no difficulty. Of course
you feel weak still, but it's no such tremendous exertion, if you
would make up your mind to it."
Harvey looked listlessly unwilling.
"Oh, I know. You men always think yourselves desperate if anything
is wrong with you. But, really now, you might. And I believe the
change to Westford would do you all the good in the world. Then the
next thing will be to go on to East Bourne."
"It will be getting too late."
"Too late? Nonsense! That's the mistake people make. East Bourne
is like Brighton, at its best in the autumn and early winter. Not that
I've the least objection to going to Brighton, if you choose. That has
been my wish all along, for the bigger the town, the better for me.
I've had enough of grass and trees lately to last me all my life;
and there are trees and grass in East Bourne, but one hasn't much
chance of them in Brighton. However, it doesn't matter—either will do.
Just imagine that girl settling to stay with the Daltons while we are
away!"
"Hermione? No!" Harvey said, starting.
"She did! I have heard nothing from herself, of course, but it came
round to me. I dare say the arrangement will hold good for the future.
And she knows them to be people whom you can't endure, not to speak
of her old grandfather's dislike to them. But that is Hermione Rivers
all over! She is equal to anything, if it is a question of having
her own will. I think she wants looking after just as much as Mittie.
Now, what do you think? Home the day after to-morrow?"
Harvey was not unwilling. He did not care for his present
surroundings, he had grown tired of the Captain, and he was heartily
weary of an invalid life, though lacking energy to get out of it
even as far as he might. Nothing pleased him that any body did, and no
suggestions were to his mind. Mr. Pennant privately decided that
"something was weighing upon" Mr. Dalrymple, and Mrs. Trevor,
not privately, declared him to be "fearfully cross."
She had her way, however. Going home in two days became a settled
plan, and on the morning of the last day, an hour or two before
starting, Harvey saw Julia.
The interview came about suddenly so far as she was concerned.
Till that morning she had not been told of this new arrangement.
It was something of a shock to find that Harvey was willing to go
and to leave her behind, yet this she knew to be unreasonable, and she
controlled herself resolutely. "I shall be able to go too—soon!"
she said in a wistful tone; and when Harvey came in, walking more
invalidishly than was quite needful, she met him with the peaceful
smile which had of late characterised her.
He was aware of a difference which he could not have defined, which he
did not try to define. His one wish was to get through the interview
without the remotest allusion to Hermione, and the moment he came in
he saw "Hermione" written in Julia's eyes.
Mrs. Ogilvie was working in the room beside Julia's sofa, and he said
"Don't go!" most earnestly. But Mrs. Ogilvie rose at once. "Yes, you
must take this chair," she said. "I have promised ten minutes to Mrs.
Dalrymple—not more, I think."
Harvey could have dispensed with the ten minutes, but he had no
choice. "And you are better, Julia? Very thin, though," he said
kindly. "How naughty you were to take that long walk, when you ought
to have kept still! Another time I shall not trust your report
of yourself. It is provoking that you cannot come home yet, still I
hope it will be only a week or so. As Francesca says, we ought not all
to remain here longer than can be helped. Captain Woodthorpe will be
glad to have his house quiet."
He wanted to get through the ten minutes with nothing more than
chit-chat. Julia submitted for two or three minutes, answering
questions as to herself, and asking how he was. Then, putting both her
hands on one of his, and looking into his face with earnest eyes,
she broke into another question.
"Harvey—can you guess how much I have thought of something you said
to me just before it happened?"
"It—" the accident, of course. No need to ask. But this had come
even sooner than Harvey expected, and he wanted time. "It?" he said
inquiringly. "Oh—ah—yes, the smash, you mean. Poor Emperor! It is a
serious loss. I never had a better horse. And Prince will never be
worth anything again. I shall have to get rid of him."
"But, Harvey, about Hermione?"
"Well?" he said irritably.
"You know what you told me. I have been so longing to ask more.
Did you really mean what you said about Mr. Selwyn, and twenty
thousand pounds?"
She remembered the whole, then! He was much annoyed, for he had hoped
that her recollections might at least be indistinct.
"My dear, I really cannot be responsible for any nonsense I may have
talked at such a moment."
"Nonsense!" she repeated.
"Yes, certainly; one is apt to get off one's balance, and to say
foolish things—things which one would not say in a calmer mood.
It was exciting, of course. You felt that yourself?"
"But I am not jesting," she said gently, tears filling her eyes.
"It was real, you know, not mere nonsense or foolishness. You said
to me so plainly—don't you remember?—that if anything happened to you
I was to be sure and let Hermione have her rights. What are Hermione's
rights?"
"She has none. If I had not been upset and off my balance, I should
not have made use of so aboard an expression."
"You did not think it absurd then!" she said in a low voice.
"No. It was a moment of agitation. The expression is none the less
absurd. Hermione has no legal claim upon me whatever. Of course there
is the question whether, as a mere matter of kindness—as a matter
perhaps of what may have been my uncle's intention—whether it would be
well to settle upon her a small sum. I am quite prepared to do what
seems right. We will consider it together by-and-by. Not to-day,
however."
"Ought such things to be put off?" asked Julia. "Harvey, please answer
one question. Does Mr. Selwyn know what your uncle intended to do
for Hermione?"
"If he does, my uncle's wishes are not binding on me. My position
is altogether different from his."
"But—" and she looked at him with sorrowful eyes. "I am so
disappointed," she breathed.
"There is no need for any kind of disappointment. Hermione shall have
whatever is her due. Her due as a matter of kindness, I mean. That is
the word I ought to have used. She simply has no rights."
The distinction seemed to Julia to be void of difference.
"Will you not consult Mr. Selwyn?" she asked with eagerness, as the
idea came. "He is a very dependable man, is he not? I have heard you
say so."
"Quite dependable, on any point of law. But this is no legal question,
my dear. I am legally free. All I have to do is to act a brother's
part to Hermione—which does not mean that I am to impoverish
the estate."
"Would twenty thousand pounds impoverish the estate?"
"Given away in the lump? Yes, certainly."
"And yet, yet you said that. You meant it at the moment, did you not?"
she inquired gravely. "There is one thing you have not answered, and I
want so much to know. Will you not, please, tell me—does Mr. Selwyn
know exactly what Mr. Dalrymple intended to do for Hermione? Did Mr.
Dalrymple intend to leave Hermione twenty thousand pounds?"
Harvey was on the verge of being very angry. He could have been so.
Julia's persistency was most amazing. If she had not looked so thin
and changed, and if this had not been his first glimpse of her,
he would have got up and walked out of the room. Somehow he could not
resolve on this step, neither did he dare to agitate her by any marked
show of displeasure.
"My dear, do you know that you are meddling in business matters?
Women know nothing about business."
"Perhaps not. Still, you will tell me," she pleaded. "Did Mr.
Dalrymple intend that?"
"He wrote a note to Mr. Selwyn just before his death, stating some
such intention. It was merely a passing fancy. The truth is, he had
been a good deal agitated,—altogether upset."
"What about?"
"About my marriage, if you will have it. He was in a weakened state
already, and I have not the slightest doubt that the agitation
affected his brain." Harvey did not add that, whatever might be
thought about that particular note, and the particular sum mentioned
therein, no possible doubt existed as to Mr. Dalrymple's fixed
intention to provide amply for his granddaughter.
"Why should he have minded your marrying so much?"
"He had had a dream for years that I should marry Hermione.
Most absurd and impossible, but that was partly my reason for staying
so long abroad. I foresaw a collision, and I wished to avoid it.
Mind, all this is in confidence. Hermione knows nothing of her
grandfather's fancy, and she must not know. When he found that I was
actually married, and that his favourite idea could never come
to pass, he was—well, certainly much vexed and very much over-excited.
The news had the effect upon him of a shock. If I could have foretold
this, I should have broken it more cautiously. He wrote to Mr. Selwyn,
under the moment's impulse, speaking of a twenty thousand pound
settlement upon Hermione. Highly ridiculous, as he would have known
himself in cooler moments if he had lived."
"I thought everything was entailed."
"The landed property, not the money property. He had, I suppose,
as much as that at his disposal. You see you do not understand these
things, Julia. It is much better not to try. The last thing the poor
old gentleman would really have wished would have been to wreck
the property. You may depend upon me to do what is right
for Hermione."
"To do justly!" she said in a low tone.
"Yes, certainly—I hope so."
Then Mrs. Ogilvie came in, and no more could be said. Julia did not
look satisfied, however. Tears were again in her eyes when Harvey
bade her good-bye.
But if she was not satisfied, neither was he. He felt that his
arguments had not been conclusive, and he knew that Julia was not
convinced. Worse than this, he was not convinced himself. Say what
he would, he could not lay the matter to sleep. Hermione's claim—
Hermione's due—call it what he might, rose perpetually before him,
overshadowing his peace. The talk with Julia had only weakened his own
side of the question. He could not forget how things had looked
to him, seen in the scathing blaze of desperate peril.
Legally, of course, it was a very simple matter. Legally he was not
bound. Nobody could call him bound. All Mr. Dalrymple's property had
descended to him. All the property was his. Hermione could not legally
claim from him a single penny as her due.
But there was another side of the question. How might it be in the
sight of God?
Harvey reached his own room tired out with the short discussion,
and not at all disposed for the further exertion of a drive. Francesca
half-scolded, half-coaxed him into a different mood, but the drive had
to be deferred till nearly dark, and she could not cheer him up.
He sat long in moody silence, going over the things Julia had said,
and the things he had said in answer, till his head ached with the
strain.