Early in the afternoon and the Waterloo Railway Station. A gentleman got out of a first-class carriage, and made his way to one of the waiting hansoms.
"Stop at the first hatter's you come to," he said to the driver.
Leaping out when his directions were obeyed, he entered the shop and asked for a mourning band to be put on his hat; a "deep one." You do not need to be told who it was, and what the black band was for. Vincent had died about eight o'clock in the morning, and the Natal1 traveller was Sir Roland Yorke.
Save for the fact that he had some money in his pockets, in actual reality, which afforded a kind of personal ease to the mind, he was anything but elated at the change of position. On the contrary, he felt very much subdued2. Roland could not be selfish, and the grief and shock brought him by the unexpected death of his cousin Vincent, outweighed3 every thought of self. He had already tasted some of the fruits of future power. Servants and others had referred to him that morning as the new baronet and their master; his pleasure had been consulted in current matters touching4 the house and estate, his orders been requested as to the funeral. Roland was head of all now, the sole master. Setting aside the sadness that filled his heart to the exclusion5 of all else, the very suddenness of the change would prevent him as yet realizing it in his own mind.
With the conspicuous6 band on his hat, stretching up rather above the top of the crown, Roland entered the cab again, and ordered it to the office. There he presented himself to Mr. Greatorex.
"Well?" said the lawyer, turning round from his desk "So you are back again! What did Sir Vincent want with you? Has he made you his bailiff?"
Roland sadly shook his head. And Mr. Greatorex saw that something was wrong.
"What's amiss?" he hastily inquired.
"If you please sir, I am Sir Roland now."
"You are what?" exclaimed Mr. Greatorex.
"It's only too true," groaned7 Roland. "Poor Vincent is dead. Mr. Greatorex, I'd work on all fours for a living to the end of my days if it could bring him to life again. I never thought to come in, I'm sure; and I wouldn't willingly. He died at eight o'clock this morning."
Mr. Greatorex leaned back in his chair and relieved his mind by a pastime he might have caught from Roland--that of staring. Not having heard of Sir Vincent's accident, this assertion of his death sounded only the more surprising. Was Roland telling the truth? He almost questioned it. Roland, perceiving the doubt, gave a summary of particulars, and Mr. Greatorex slowly realized the facts.
Sir Roland Yorke! The light-headed, simple-minded clerk, who had been living on a pound a week and working sufficiently8 hard to get it, suddenly transformed into a powerful baronet! It was like a romance in a child's fairy tale. Mr. Greatorex rose and held out his hand.
"I must congratulate you on your succession, Sir Roland, sad though the events are that have led to it."
"Now don't! please don't!" interrupted Roland. "I hope nobody will do that, sir: it sounds like a wrong on poor Dick. Oh, I'd bring him to life again if I were able."
"I trust you will make us your men of business, Sir Roland," resumed Mr. Greatorex, still standing9. "We have been solicitors10 to the head of the Yorke family in succession for many years now."
"I'm sure if you'll be at the trouble of acting11 for me, I should like nothing better, sir: bad manners to me if I could have any different thought! And I've put your name and Mr. Bede's down in the list for the funeral, if you'll please attend it. There'll be but a few of us in all. Gerald (though I shouldn't think he will show his face at it), William Yorke, Arthur Channing, two or three of Dick's friends, and you and Mr. Bede. Poor Dick said to me when he was dying not to have the same kind of show he had for his father's funeral, he saw the folly12 of it now, but the quietest I could order. I think he has gone to heaven, Mr. Greatorex."
But that the subject was a solemn one, Mr. Greatorex had certainly laughed at the quaint13 simplicity14 of the concluding sentence. One reminiscence in connection with the past funeral rose forcibly in his mind--of the slighting neglect shown to the young man now before him. He, the real heir-presumptive, only that nobody had the wit to think of it, was not deemed good enough to follow his uncle to the grave. But stood in his place now.
Bede would not be able to attend the ceremony, Mr. Greatorex said aloud: he was already in France, having crossed over with his wife by the last mail train.
"What is the matter with him?" asked Roland. "He looked as ill as he could look yesterday."
"I don't know what the matter is," said Mr. Greatorex. "He has an inward complaint, and I fear it must be making great strides. His name will be taken out of the firm tomorrow, and give place to Frank's. It was Bede's own request: it is as if he fears he may never be capable of business again."
"I'm sure I hope he will," cried Roland in his sympathy. "About me, Mr. Greatorex? Of course I'd not like to leave you at a pinch; I'll come to the office tomorrow morning and do my work as usual for a day or two, until you've found somebody to replace me. I should like to take this afternoon for myself."
But Mr. Greatorex with a smile, thought they should not need to trouble Sir Roland: which was no doubt an agreeable intimation: and Roland really had a good deal to do in connection with his new position.
"If I'm not forgetting!" he exclaimed, just as he was taking his departure. "There's the money you lent me, sir, and I thank you for the loan of it."
In taking the sovereign from his pocket, he pulled out several. Mr. Greatorex jokingly remarked that he had apparently15 no longer need to borrow.
"It is from poor Dick's desk," sadly observed Roland. "He told me there was enough money in it to repay the pound to you and get my clothes out of pawn16, and that it would be all my own when he died. Well, what do you think I found there when I opened it today?--Nearly a hundred pounds in gold and bank notes!"
"But you have not got all that about you, I hope?"
"Yes I have, sir; it was safer to bring it up than to leave it. I shall pay it into the banker's. I've got to show myself there, I suppose, and leave my signature in their books; it won't be so neat a one as poor Dick's."
Roland departed. Looking in for a moment at the office as he went out, and announcing himself as Sir Roland Yorke, upon which Mr. Hurst burst out laughing in his face. He dashed in on Mrs. Jones with his news, ate nearly the whole of a shilling Madeira cake that happened to be on the table, while he talked, and made a voluntary promise to that tart17 and disbelieving matron to refurnish her house from top to bottom.
Then the cab was ordered to the banker's, where his business was satisfactorily adjusted. Gerald's chambers19 were not far off, and Roland took them next. The servant met him with the bold assertion that his master was out.
"Don't bother yourself to deny him, my good man; I saw his face at the window," said Roland, with frankness. "You may safely show me in: I am not a creditor20."
"Well, sir, we are obliged to be excessively cautious, just now, and that's the truth," apologized the man in a tone of confidence. "Mr. Yorke, I think?"
"Sir Roland Yorke," corrected Roland.
"Sir?" returned the man, looking at him as if he thought he saw a lunatic.
"Sir Roland Yorke," was the emphatic21 repetition. "Have the goodness to announce me."
And the servant opened the room door and did it.
As Roland saw Gerald's quick look of surprise, he would, under other circumstances, have shaken in his shoes at the fun. But sadness wholly reigned22 over him today. And--if truth must be told--a terrible aversion to Gerald for his work and its fruits held possession of the new heir.
"Oh, it's you," cried Gerald, roughly. "What on earth possessed23 the fellow?"
"The fellow did right, Gerald. I gave him my name, and he announced it."
"Don't come here with your fool's blabber. He said 'Sir Roland Yorke.'"
"And it is what I am."
Gerald's face grew dark with passion. He had an especial dislike to be played with.
"Vincent's dead, Gerald."
"It is a lie."
"Vincent died this morning at eight o'clock," repeated Roland. "I was with him: he telegraphed for me yesterday. Look at this mourning band"--showing his hat--"I've just been to get it put on. Do you think I'd have the face to invent a jest on this subject? Vincent Yorke is dead, poor fellow, and I have come into things as Sir Roland. Not that I can fully24 believe it myself yet." The tone of the voice, the deep black band, and a kind of subtle instinct within himself brought conviction of the truth home to Gerald Yorke. Had it been to save his fame, he could not have helped the loud brazen25 tone from going out of his voice, or the dread26 that took possession of his whole aspect.
"What--has--he--died--of?"
"The gunshot wound."
A pause. Gerald broke it.
"It was going on well. I heard so only two days ago."
"But it took a sudden turn for the worse; and he is dead."
Gerald's face assumed a tinge27 as of bluish chalk. Was he to have two lives on his soul? Hamish Channing's had surely been enough for him without Vincent Yorke's. Pushing back his damp hair, he met Roland's steady look, and so made believe to feel nothing, went to the fire, and stirred it gently.
"Why did the doctors let it take this turn?" he asked, flinging down the poker28. "It was as simple a wound as ever was given."
"I suppose they'd have helped it if they could."
Another pause.
"Well--of course--as you have succeeded, I must congratulate you," said Gerald stiffly and lamely29. Absently, too, for he was buried in thought, reflecting on what an idiotic30 policy his, to Roland, had been: but this contingency31 had never occurred to him more than it had to Roland.
"Vincent had a good lot of property that was not entailed," resumed Gerald. "Do you know who he has willed it to? Did he make a will?"
"He made a will yesterday, before telegraphing for me," Gerald lifted his face with a transient hope.
"I wonder if he has remembered me?"
"I think not. Except some legacies32 to the servants, and a keepsake for Miss Trehern--his watch and diamond ring, I fancy--he said nobody's name was mentioned in the will but mine. It has not been opened: I thought I'd leave it till after the funeral. I am the executor."
"You!--you don't want his ready money as well as his inheritance, spoke33 Gerald, in a foam34.
"I'm sure I didn't want any of it, I only thought to be his bailiff; but I can't help it if it has come to me," was Roland's quiet answer, as he turned to depart. "Good afternoon, Gerald. I thought it right to call and tell you of his death: you may like to draw your blinds down."
"Thanks," said Gerald, sarcastically35.
"You will receive an invitation to the funeral, Gerald. But I'd like to intimate that if you do not care to attend, I shall not look upon it in the light of a slight," added candid36 Roland, who really spoke in simple good nature. "We shall be enough without you if you'd rather stay away."
Before Gerald's awful rage at the speech was over, for he looked upon it as bestowed37 in a patronizing light from the new baronet, Roland was vaulting38 into the waiting cab. Gerald had the pleasure of peeping on from the window.
"Sir Roland Yorke!--Sir Roland Yorke!" he spoke aloud in his horrible mortification39. "Sunny Mead40 for his home, and four thousand a year landed property, and heaps of ready money. Curse the beggar! Curse the shot that has brought him the luck of the inheritance! I'd sell my soul for it to have been mine. I should wear the honours better than he. I wish to Heaven he could die tonight!"
And Mr. Gerald Yorke, looking after the receding41 cab with a dark and sullen42 countenance43, could indeed have sold his soul; if by so doing he might have annihilated44 his brother and stepped into his place. He was in that precise frame of mind for which some few men in the world's actual history, and a vast many in fiction, have stained their hands with crime for the greed of gain.
* * * * * *
Tread lightly, speak softly; for death is already hovering45 in the chamber18. As Roland enters on tiptoe he takes in the scene at a glance. Hamish lying, with closed eyes, and the live ball, Miss Nelly, tucked outside beside him her golden curls mingling46 with his damp hair. A sea of old Helstonleigh faces seems to be gathered round; save that Roland silently clasps Arthur's hand, he takes notice of none. Edging himself between Annabel and Tom Channing, as they stand side by side, he bends his face of concern downwards47. The slight stir arouses Hamish, he opens his eyes, and holds up his feeble hand with a remnant of the old smile.
"Back again! Head bailiff?"
Roland bit his lip. His chest was heaving with emotion, his face working. Hamish, who retained his keenest perceptive48 faculties49 to the last, spoke again in his faint voice.
"Is it good news?"
"It's good news. Good news, Hamish, and at the same time awfully50 bad. Vincent's dead, and I'm--I'm in his shoes."
Hamish did not seem to understand. Neither did the others.
"It's me to come after him, poor fellow, you see. I am Sir Roland now."
As the words fell upon the previously51 silent room, you might have heard a pin drop. Cheeks flushed, eyes looked out their questioning surprise at the speaker. Upon Hamish alone the communication seemed to make no impression: earthly interests were to him now as nothing.
"You will give me Annabel with a will, Hamish, now that I have come into the family inheritance?"
"I had already given her to you, so far as my best will was good to do it. Roland----"
The voice seemed to be fading away altogether, but in the eyes there was an eager gaze. Roland bent52 his head lower to catch the sounds about to issue from the lips.
"There's a different and a better inheritance, Roland; one of love, and light, and everlasting53 peace. You will both of you strive for that."
"Yes, that we will. And gain it too. Oh, Hamish, if you could but stop with us a bit longer!" burst forth54 Roland, letting his suppressed emotion come out with a choking sob55. "It's nothing all round but dying. First Vincent, and now you! I never knew such a miserable56 world as this. I'd have laid down my own life to keep either of you in it."
There stole a smile of ineffable57 peace over the dying face. It seemed to have caught a ray of the heavenly light in which it would so soon be shining.
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1
natal
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| adj.出生的，先天的 | |
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subdued
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| adj. 屈服的，柔和的，减弱的 动词subdue的过去式和过去分词 | |
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outweighed
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| v.在重量上超过( outweigh的过去式和过去分词 )；在重要性或价值方面超过 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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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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solicitors
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| 初级律师( solicitor的名词复数 ) | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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creditor
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| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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27
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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28
poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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legacies
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| n.遗产( legacy的名词复数 )；遗留之物；遗留问题；后遗症 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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sarcastically
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| adv.挖苦地，讽刺地 | |
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36
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
vaulting
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| n.（天花板或屋顶的）拱形结构 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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41
receding
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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45
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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46
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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47
downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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48
perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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faculties
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| n.能力( faculty的名词复数 )；全体教职员；技巧；院 | |
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50
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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51
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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52
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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53
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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54
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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55
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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56
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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ineffable
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| adj.无法表达的，不可言喻的 | |
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