Miss Brancker had a small--a very small--private income, the whole of which of late years, since her brother's salary had more than sufficed for the needs of the little household, she had given away in charity, not by any means always in the form of money, but in a score of other ways in which help, judiciously2 administered, may be made still more precious to its recipients3. As Hermia grew up, she got into the way of accompanying her aunt on her weekly visits among those whom Miss Brancker held it to be a part of her duty to call upon at their own homes. During the last year and a half, however, in consequence of an affection of the knee-joint, which made much walking painful to Aunt Charlotte, Hermia had, in the majority of cases, been compelled to do the visiting alone.
Among others whom Hermia made a point of calling upon at least once a week was a' certain poor widow, Mrs. Varrel by name, who was slowly dying of an incurable4 malady5. She had lost her husband, a retired6 sergeant-major with a small service pension, several years before, and latterly her sole means of livelihood7 had been a few shillings a week allowed her by a daughter of her former mistress, for at one time Mrs. Varrel had been maid to a lady of quality; a fact she was careful to impress upon all who were brought into contact with her. There had been a time after her husband's death, a period extending over several years, when her only son was in a position to help her, and when, in point of fact, he did help her liberally in accordance with his means. Then something dreadful had come to pass, and Richard Varrel had been able to help his mother no more.
It was this same Richard Varrel who, as the reader may or may not remember, had been one of the first on the day of the trial to congratulate John Brancker on his acquittal. He it was who, when John and those who were with him had settled themselves in the fly in which they were to be driven home, had pushed his way through the little crowd of onlookers8 and laid a detaining hand on the vehicle. "Mr. Brancker, sir," he said, in a voice coarsened with drink, "if such a wretch9 as I maybe allowed to thank heaven for anything, then I thank it that you are once more a free man. From the first I swore that whoever else might be guilty of Mr. Hazeldine's death, you were innocent. As for him--curse him! he hounded me to my ruin, and he deserved his fate. For him no pity is needed."
Up to a certain point the fortunes of Richard Varrel and Ephraim Judd had moved upon almost parallel lines. The mother of each was a widow in poor circumstances; they had both been educated at the same school, where they had both been show scholars; the elder Mr. Avison had taken a fancy to both of them, and had found humble10 berths11 for them in the Bank, where, in the course of time, they had worked themselves up to positions of trust and responsibility. But there the likeness12 between the two had ended, for while Ephraim Judd was a painstaking13 plodder14, slow but sure, handsome Dick Varrel carried everything with a dash and a laughing quick-wittedness which made light of every obstacle that stood in the way of his upward career. There had been a time when he was one of the most popular young fellows in the town; but it was his social success and his fondness for company that proved his ruin. In a moment of weakness, when hard pressed by petty monetary15 difficulties, he did a certain thing which rendered him liable to a prosecution16 for felony. Detection followed. By this time the elder Mr. Avison had retired from business, and the younger one was abroad. To the latter the details of the case were reported by Mr. Hazeldine in due course, who went as far as he durst venture in his endeavors to induce the banker to take a lenient17 view of the affair. But Mr. Avison, while being a strictly18 just man, was also an inflexible19 one, and he sent positive orders, by return, that Varrel should be proceeded against. Mr. Hazeldine had no option but to carry out his employer's instructions, the consequence being that the handsome and popular Dick Varrel was tried and sentenced to a short term of penal20 servitude.
That term had expired about a year before he accosted21 John Brancker on the day of the latter's acquittal. How long Varrel had been in the town prior to that date, and how long he stayed there after it, John had no means of knowing. In any case, he saw him no more.
Mrs. Varrel rented a couple of rooms in one of the humblest parts of the town. Even on her bed of sickness, which she was quite aware that she should never leave till she had drawn22 her last breath, she held herself somewhat proudly aloof23 from the class of persons around her. "It is my misfortune to be compelled to live among them," she would sometimes remark to Hermia, "but I never allow them to consider that they are in any way my equals." Even with the hand of death upon her, she could not forget that for five years she had been confidential24 maid to Lady Warlingham. How near to breaking her heart her son's crime and its punishment had gone no one ever knew but herself. At the time she had in a measure set the world at defiance25, by her protestations that Dick had been convicted on false evidence; and the world, or that infinitesimal section of it to which she had appealed, compassionating26 her as a mother, had made believe (while in her sight and hearing) to indorse her view of the case. For some time past, however, no one had heard her mention her son's name. He seemed as one lost to her for ever.
Mrs. Varrel always seemed especially glad to see Hermia. "You never preach at me as nearly all my other lady visitors do, and that's what I like you for," she would say. "As for them, they can't leave me an ounce of tea without reminding me that I'm not long for this world--as if I didn't know it already--and exhorting27 me to seek forgiveness of my sins. By the way some of them talk I might be one of the vilest28 of sinners. Yet, I suppose, if I were to reply that, so far as I am aware, I have led just as good a life as they, and stand no more in need of forgiveness than they do, they would be highly indignant. I only wish some of them could be made to change places with me for a single week. It would teach them a lesson they wouldn't forget to their dying day."
Hermia was in the habit of taking wine and grapes and whatever else Aunt Charlotte thought might tempt29 the sick woman's appetite, or help to keep up her strength; for during the last few weeks her illness had made great strides, and day by day it became more evident that the end could not much longer be delayed. Sometimes Hermia read to her; sometimes she simply chatted with her, telling her such items of local gossip as she thought would interest her. Sometimes Mrs. Varrel, when she felt a little stronger, would talk to the girl about her early life and things that had happened years before; but never once, till the end was drawing very near, did she make any mention of her son.
At length, however, there came a day when, after lying for a little space with closed eyes, she said:
"Do you know, Miss Hermy, what the one wish is I have now left in this world?"
Hermia smiled and shook her head.
"I might guess a dozen times without guessing aright. But tell me what it is you wish, Mrs. Varrel."
"It is to see my son Richard for the last time--him, you know, that was said to have gone wrong years ago."
"Surely that is a wish which ought to be very easily gratified," said Hermia. "I am, of course, assuming that you know where he may be found."
"Where he himself is I cannot say, but when I saw him last he gave me a certain address in London where he said a letter would always find him."
"Then let me write to him in your name," said Hermia, eagerly. "He cannot be aware how ill you are, or he would have been to see you before now."
But it was not till the following day that the widow could be induced to let Hermia write, and not then till she had given her promise not to reveal to any one Richard Varrel's address.
It was just a week before the end came that Hermia wrote, but day passed after day without bringing a response of any kind. The dying woman listened with an eagerness painful to witness, for her son's footfall on the stairs, but listened in vain.
"Who knows but that he's in trouble again and can't come," she moaned wearily to herself more than once.
During those last few days Hermia was a great deal with her. The person in whose house Mrs. Varrel lodged30 happened also to be ill at the time, and could not wait upon her as she had been in the habit of doing. As the dying woman's weakness increased she began to wander in her mind, but in all her wanderings her son seemed somehow to be mixed up. As far as Hermia could make out, he appeared to be always in some dire31 trouble from which his mother was vainly trying to extricate32 him; but there was nothing coherent about her utterances--they were merely a jumble34 of disconnected sentences, the gaps between which her listener lacked the knowledge needful to enable her to fill up. But, indeed, Hermia took very little heed35 of anything that fell from the widow's lips at such times, but waited patiently till the light of reason came back to her poor bewildered brain, for such wanderings were only occasional; the greater part of the time she was as mentally clear as ever she had been.
One day, however--it was the third day before she died--while one of her wandering fits was on her, she gave utterance33 to a remark which startled Hermia not a little. "There's blood on the notes!" she exclaimed. "Why should you want me to have charge of them? Take them back! I won't touch them!" Then her voice died away in an inarticulate murmur36. After that it was impossible for Hermia to do otherwise than listen.
About an hour later, after a long silence, the dying woman cried out in a voice which sent a shiver through the girl, "No, no, I won't believe it! What! My boy--my Richard! Anyone but him--anyone but him!" Then later still, as before, "There's blood on the notes! I won't touch them!"
Hermia went home that night in a maze37 of perplexity and wonder. She felt as if she were standing38 on the verge39 of some dark mystery which might or might not be presently illumined for her by some unexpected. flash. She knew not what to think, what to do. What, indeed, could she do? She told herself nothing.
Next day Mrs. Varrel was perceptibly weaker, and although her mind wandered at times, her voice was so faint that it was only now and then it rose above a whisper. One connected sentence and no more, but one full of significance, reached the ears of the wondering girl. "Thirty--forty--fifty bright new sovereigns. Not one of them will I touch till you have told me where you got them from--not one!"
Did she fancy she was addressing her son? If not, whom?
It was an hour or two later. Mrs. Varrel had been asleep. Suddenly she awoke, and sat up in bed without help, a thing she had not been able to do for several weeks. The clear light of sanity40 had come back to her eyes. Laying a hand on Hermia's wrist, she said in a quavering voice. "He won't come now. I feel it--I know it. Before it is too late--and very soon it will be--I have something to give into your charge, Miss Hermy--something which I want you to promise to send to my boy after I'm gone, with just a line to say how his mother longed to see him before she died, but that she loved him to the last in spite of all." Then, after glancing round, although there was no one but themselves in the room, she drew Hermia closer to her and whispered, "It's money--money, my dear Miss Hermy, that I want to give into your charge."
"Whatever I can do in the way of helping41 you to carry out your wishes, Mrs. Varrel, you may rely upon my doing," replied the girl, in her most earnest tones.
Thereupon, by the widow's direction, she searched for and found two small packets which had been hidden away between the mattress42 and the bed. One of them was a stout43 envelope sealed with red wax, containing some soft substance, the nature of which Hermia was at a loss to make out. The other was a small canvas bag full of money. Then, still by the dying woman's request, she procured44 paper, and string and made the two up into one parcel, which she addressed to Richard Varrel, at the same place to which the letter had been addressed.
"You will send it to him by post, dear Miss Hermy, after I'm gone, won't you, with just a line, as you promised?" gasped45 Mrs. Varrel.
"But seeing that your son has failed to respond to the note I wrote him," replied Hermia, "is it not possible that he may have gone away without informing you; and should that be the case what will become of the money?"
"I never thought of that," gasped Mrs. Varrel, with a sudden scared look. "And yet he must have the money--he must! Tell me--tell me, Miss Hermy, what is to be done?"
For a few moments Hermia did not answer--she could not. Her nerves had just undergone a shock which had left her as white and trembling as if she had seen a ghost. Drawing a deep breath, and speaking as steadily46 as she could force herself to do, she presently said:
"I will myself take the parcel to London, and if it be anyhow possible, I will find your son and deliver it into his hands and into those of no one else."
The dying woman thanked her and blessed her. It was evident that a great weight had been lifted off her mind.
Next day when Hermia went to see her she was unconscious, and a few hours later she breathed her last.
What was it that had so strangely affected47 Hermia; that had sent the blood surging round her heart, and had caused the room and its contents to rock before her eyes as though shaken by an earthquake?
On the envelope which she had made up into a parcel with the bag of gold her eye had been caught by these words, written in pencil, "Given into my charge by my son Richard on the 6th of October."
The 6th of October was the day on which Mr. Hazeldine had been found on the floor of his office, stabbed to the heart!
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1
pensioners
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| n.领取退休、养老金或抚恤金的人( pensioner的名词复数 ) | |
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2
judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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3
recipients
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| adj.接受的；受领的；容纳的；愿意接受的n.收件人；接受者；受领者；接受器 | |
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4
incurable
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| adj.不能医治的，不能矫正的，无救的；n.不治的病人，无救的人 | |
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5
malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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6
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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7
livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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8
onlookers
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| n.旁观者，观看者( onlooker的名词复数 ) | |
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9
wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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10
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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11
berths
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| n.（船、列车等的）卧铺( berth的名词复数 )；（船舶的）停泊位或锚位；差事；船台vt.v.停泊( berth的第三人称单数 )；占铺位 | |
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12
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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13
painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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14
plodder
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| n.沉重行走的人，辛勤工作的人 | |
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15
monetary
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| adj.货币的，钱的；通货的；金融的；财政的 | |
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16
prosecution
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| n.起诉，告发，检举，执行，经营 | |
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17
lenient
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| adj.宽大的，仁慈的 | |
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18
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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19
inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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20
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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21
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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22
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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23
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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24
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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25
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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26
compassionating
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| v.同情（compassionate的现在分词形式） | |
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27
exhorting
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的现在分词 ) | |
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28
vilest
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| adj.卑鄙的( vile的最高级 )；可耻的；极坏的；非常讨厌的 | |
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29
tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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30
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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31
dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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32
extricate
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| v.拯救，救出；解脱 | |
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33
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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34
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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35
heed
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| v.注意，留意；n.注意，留心 | |
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36
murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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37
maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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38
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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39
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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40
sanity
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| n.心智健全，神智正常，判断正确 | |
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41
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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42
mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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44
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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45
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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46
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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47
affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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