This disagreeable duty of guardianship Sir Thomas had performed with many scruples14 of conscience, and a determination to do his best;—and he had nearly done it well. But he was a man who could not do it altogether well, let his scruples of conscience be what they might. He had failed in obtaining a father's control over the young man; and even in regard to the property which had passed through his hands,—though he had been careful with it,—he had not been adroit15. Even at this moment things had not been settled which should have been settled; and Sir Thomas had felt, when Ralph had spoken of selling all that remained to him and of paying his debts, that there would be fresh trouble, and that he might be forced to own that he had been himself deficient16.
And then he told himself,—and did so as soon as Ralph had left him,—that he should have given some counsel to the young man when he came to ask for it. "You had better cut your throat!" In his troubled spirit he had said that, and now his spirit was troubled the more because he had so spoken. He sat for hours thinking of it all. Ralph Newton was the undoubted heir to a very large property. He was now embarrassed,—but all his present debts did not amount to much more than half one year's income of that property which would be his,—probably in about ten years. The Squire might live for twenty years, or might die to-morrow; but his life-interest in the estate, according to the usual calculations, was not worth more than ten years' purchase. Could he, Sir Thomas, have been right to tell a young man, whose prospects17 were so good, and whose debts, after all, were so light, that he ought to go and cut his throat, as the only way of avoiding a disreputable marriage which would otherwise be forced upon him by the burden of his circumstances? Would not a guardian10, with any true idea of his duty, would not a friend, whose friendship was in any degree real, have found a way out of such difficulties as these?
And then as to the marriage itself,—the proposed marriage with the breeches-maker's daughter,—the more Sir Thomas thought of it the more distasteful did it become to him. He knew that Ralph was unaware19 of all the evil that would follow such a marriage;—relatives whose every thought and action and word would be distasteful to him; children whose mother would not be a lady, and whose blood would be polluted by an admixture so base;—and, worse still, a life's companion who would be deficient in all those attributes which such a man as Ralph Newton should look for in a wife. Sir Thomas was a man to magnify rather than lessen20 these evils. And now he allowed his friend,—a man for whose behalf he had bound himself to use all the exercise of friendship,—to go from him with an idea that nothing but suicide could prevent this marriage, simply because there was an amount of debt, which, when compared with the man's prospects, should hardly have been regarded as a burden! As he thought of all this Sir Thomas was very unhappy.
Ralph had left him at about ten o'clock, and he then sat brooding over his misery21 for about an hour. It was his custom when he remained in his chambers22 to tell his clerk, Stemm, between nine and ten that nothing more would be wanted. Then Stemm would go, and Sir Thomas would sleep for a while in his chair. But the old clerk never stirred till thus dismissed. It was now eleven, and Sir Thomas knew very well that Stemm would be in his closet. He opened the door and called, and Stemm, aroused from his slumbers23, slowly crept into the room. "Joseph," said his master, "I want Mr. Ralph's papers."
"To-night, Sir Thomas?"
"Well;—yes, to-night. I ought to have told you when he went away, but I was thinking of things."
"So I was thinking of things," said Stemm, as he very slowly made his way into the other room, and, climbing up a set of steps which stood there, pulled down from an upper shelf a tin box,—and with it a world of dust. "If you'd have said before that they'd be wanted, Sir Thomas, there wouldn't be such a deal of dry muck," said Stemm, as he put down the box on a chair opposite Sir Thomas's knees.
"And now where is the key?" said Sir Thomas. Stemm shook his head very slowly. "You know, Stemm;—where is it?"
"How am I to know, Sir Thomas? I don't know, Sir Thomas. It's like enough in one of those drawers." Then Stemm pointed24 to a certain table, and after a while slowly followed his own finger. The drawer was unlocked, and under various loose papers there lay four or five loose keys. "Like enough it's one of these," said Stemm.
"Of course you knew where it was," said Sir Thomas.
"I didn't know nothing at all about it," said Stemm, bobbing his head at his master, and making at the same time a gesture with his lips, whereby he intended to signify that his master was making a fool of himself. Stemm was hardly more than five feet high, and was a wizened25 dry old man, with a very old yellow wig26. He delighted in scolding all the world, and his special delight was in scolding his master. But against all the world he would take his master's part, and had no care in the world except his master's comfort. When Sir Thomas passed an evening at Fulham, Stemm could do as he pleased with himself; but they were blank evenings with Stemm when Sir Thomas was away. While Sir Thomas was in the next room, he always felt that he was in company, but when Sir Thomas was away, all London, which was open to him, offered him no occupation. "That's the key," said Stemm, picking out one; "but it wasn't I as put it there; and you didn't tell me as it was there, and I didn't know it was there. I guessed,—just because you do chuck things in there, Sir Thomas."
"What does it matter, Joseph?" said Sir Thomas.
"It does matter when you say I knowed. I didn't know,—nor I couldn't know. There's the key anyhow."
"You can go now, Joseph," said Sir Thomas.
"Good night, Sir Thomas," said Stemm, retiring slowly, "but I didn't know, Sir Thomas,—nor I couldn't know." Then Sir Thomas unlocked the box, and gradually surrounded himself with the papers which he took from it. It was past one o'clock before he again began to think what he had better do to put Ralph Newton on his legs, and to save him from marrying the breeches-maker's daughter. He sat meditating27 on that and other things as they came into his mind for over an hour, and then he wrote the following letter to old Mr. Newton. Very many years had passed since he had seen Mr. Newton,—so many that the two men would not have known each other had they met; but there had been an occasional correspondence between them, and they were presumed to be on amicable28 terms with each other.
Southampton Buildings, 14th July, 186—.
Dear Sir,—
I wish to consult you about the affairs of your heir and my late ward, Ralph Newton. Of course I am aware of the unfortunate misunderstanding which has hitherto separated you from him, as to which I believe you will be willing to allow that he, at least, has not been in fault. Though his life has by no means been what his friends could have wished it, he is a fine young fellow; and perhaps his errors have arisen as much from his unfortunate position as from any natural tendency to evil on his own part. He has been brought up to great expectations, with the immediate29 possession of a small fortune. These together have taught him to think that a profession was unnecessary for him, and he has been debarred from those occupations which generally fall in the way of the heir to a large landed property by the unfortunate fact of his entire separation from the estate which will one day be his. Had he been your son instead of your nephew, I think that his life would have been prosperous and useful.
As it is, he has got into debt, and I fear that the remains30 of his own property will not more than suffice to free him from his liabilities. Of course he could raise money on his interest in the Newton estate. Hitherto he has not done so; and I am most anxious to save him from a course so ruinous;—as you will be also, I am sure. He has come to me for advice, and I grieve to say, has formed a project of placing himself right again as regards money by offering marriage to the daughter of a retail31 tradesman. I have reason to believe that hitherto he has not committed himself; but I think that the young woman's father would accept the offer, if made. The money, I do not doubt, would be forthcoming; but the result could not be fortunate. He would then have allied32 himself with people who are not fit to be his associates, and he would have tied himself to a wife who, whatever may be her merits as a woman, cannot be fit to be the mistress of Newton Priory. But I have not known what advice to give him. I have pointed out to him the miseries33 of such a match; and I have also told him how surely his prospects for the future would be ruined, were he to attempt to live on money borrowed on the uncertain security of his future inheritance. I have said so much as plainly as I know how to say it;—but I have been unable to point out a third course. I have not ventured to recommend him to make any application to you.
It seems, however, to me, that I should be remiss in my duty both to him and to you were I not to make you acquainted with his circumstances,—so that you may interfere34, should you please to do so, either on his behalf or on behalf of the property. Whatever offence there may have been, I think there can have been none personally from him to yourself. I beg you to believe that I am far from being desirous to dictate35 to you, or to point out to you this or that as your duty; but I venture to think that you will be obliged to me for giving you information which may lead to the protection of interests which cannot but be dear to you. In conclusion, I will only again say that Ralph himself is clever, well-conditioned, and, as I most truly believe, a thorough gentleman. Were the intercourse between you that of a father and son, I think you would feel proud of the relationship.
I remain, dear sir,
Very faithfully yours,
Thomas Underwood.
Gregory Newton, Esq., Newton Priory.
This was written on Friday night, and was posted on the Saturday morning by the faithful hand of Joseph Stemm;—who, however, did not hesitate to declare to himself, as he read the address, that his master was a fool for his pains. Stemm had never been favourable36 to the cause of young Newton, and had considered from the first that Sir Thomas should have declined the trust that had been imposed upon him. What good was to be expected from such a guardianship? And as things had gone on, proving Stemm's prophecies as to young Newton's career to be true, that trusty clerk had not failed to remind his master of his own misgivings37. "I told you so," had been repeated by Stemm over and over again, in more phrases than one, until the repetition had made Sir Thomas very angry. Sir Thomas, when he gave the letter to Stemm for posting, said not a word of the contents; but Stemm knew something of old Mr. Gregory Newton and the Newton Priory estate. Stemm, moreover, could put two and two together. "He's a fool for his pains;—that's all," said Stemm, as he poked38 the letter into the box.
During the whole of the next day the matter troubled Sir Thomas. What if Ralph should go at once to the breeches-maker's daughter,—the thought of whom made Sir Thomas very sick,—and commit himself before an answer should be received from Mr. Newton? It was only on Sunday that an idea struck him that he might still do something further to avoid the evil;—and with this object he despatched a note to Ralph, imploring39 him to wait for a few days before he would take any steps towards the desperate remedy of matrimony. Then he begged Ralph to call upon him again on the Wednesday morning. This note Ralph did not get till he went home on the Sunday evening;—at which time, as the reader knows, he had not as yet committed himself to the desperate remedy.
On the following Tuesday Sir Thomas received the following letter from Mr. Newton:—
Newton Priory, 17th July, 186—.
Dear Sir,—
I have received your letter respecting Mr. Ralph Newton's affairs, in regard to which, as far as they concern himself, I am free to say that I do not feel much interest. But you are quite right in your suggestion that my solicitude40 in respect of the family property is very great. I need not trouble you by pointing out the nature of my solicitude, but may as well at once make an offer to you, which you, as Mr. Ralph Newton's friend, and as an experienced lawyer, can consider,—and communicate to him, if you think right to do so.
It seems that he will be driven to raise money on his interest in this property. I have always felt that he would do so, and that from the habits of his life the property would be squandered41 before it came into his possession. Why should he not sell his reversion, and why should I not buy it? I write in ignorance, but I presume such an arrangement would be legal and honourable42 on my part. The sum to be given would be named without difficulty by an actuary. I am now fifty-five, and, I believe, in good health. You yourself will probably know within a few thousand pounds what would be the value of the reversion. A proper person would, however, be of course employed.
I have saved money, but by no means enough for such an outlay43 as this. I would, however, mortgage the property or sell one half of it, if by doing so I could redeem44 the other half from Mr. Ralph Newton.
You no doubt will understand exactly the nature of my offer, and will let me have an answer. I do not know that I can in any other way expedite Mr. Ralph Newton's course in life.
I am, dear sir,
Faithfully yours,
Gregory Newton, Senior.
When Sir Thomas read this he was almost in greater doubt and difficulty than before. The measure proposed by the elder Newton was no doubt legal and honourable, but it could hardly be so carried out as to be efficacious. Ralph could only sell his share of the inheritance;—or rather his chance of inheriting the estate. Were he to die without a son before his uncle, then his brother would be the heir. The arrangement, however, if practicable, would at once make all things comfortable for Ralph, and would give him, probably, a large unembarrassed revenue,—so large, that the owner of it need certainly have recourse to no discreditable marriage as the means of extricating45 himself from present calamity46. But then Sir Thomas had very strong ideas about a family property. Were Ralph's affairs, indeed, in such disorder47 as to make it necessary for him to abandon the great prospect18 of being Newton of Newton? If the breeches-maker's twenty thousand would suffice, surely the thing could be done on cheaper terms than those suggested by the old Squire,—and done without the intervention48 of Polly Neefit!
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1
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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remiss
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| adj.不小心的，马虎 | |
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3
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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4
ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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5
intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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6
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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7
legitimate
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| adj.合法的，合理的，合乎逻辑的；v.使合法 | |
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8
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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9
perpetuating
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| perpetuate的现在进行式 | |
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10
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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11
guardianship
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| n. 监护, 保护, 守护 | |
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12
conformity
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| n.一致，遵从，顺从 | |
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13
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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14
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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15
adroit
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| adj.熟练的，灵巧的 | |
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16
deficient
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| adj.不足的，不充份的，有缺陷的 | |
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17
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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18
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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19
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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20
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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21
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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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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23
slumbers
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| 睡眠，安眠( slumber的名词复数 ) | |
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24
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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25
wizened
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| adj.凋谢的；枯槁的 | |
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26
wig
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| n.假发 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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28
amicable
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| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
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29
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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30
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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31
retail
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| v./n.零售；adv.以零售价格 | |
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32
allied
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| adj.协约国的；同盟国的 | |
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33
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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34
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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35
dictate
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| v.口授；(使)听写；指令，指示，命令 | |
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36
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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37
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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38
poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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39
imploring
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| 恳求的，哀求的 | |
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40
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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41
squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
honourable
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| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
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43
outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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44
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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45
extricating
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的现在分词 ) | |
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46
calamity
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| n.灾害，祸患，不幸事件 | |
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47
disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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48
intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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