Who would not say that for an attorney to have such a man as Mr.
Scarborough, of Tretton, for his client, was not a feather in his cap?
But I have found him to be not only fraudulent, but too clever for me.
In opposition to myself he has carried me into his paths."
"He has never induced you to do anything that was wrong."
""Nil conscire sibi;" that ought to be enough for a simple man. But it is not enough for me. It cannot be enough for a man who intends to act as an attorney for others. Others must know it as well as I myself. You know it. But can I remain an attorney for you only? There are some of whom just the other thing is known; but then they look for work of the other kind. I have never put up a shop-board for sharp practice. After this the sharpest kind of practice will be all that I shall seem to be fit for. It isn"t the money. I can retire with enough for your wants and for mine. If I could retire amid the good words of men I should be happy. But, even if I retire, men will say that I have filled my pockets with plunder from Tretton."
"That will never be said."
"Were I to publish an account of the whole affair,--which I am bound in honor not to do,--explaining it all from beginning to end, people would only say that I was endeavoring to lay the whole weight of the guilt upon my confederate who was dead. Why did he pick me out for such usage,--me who have been so true to him?"
There was something almost weak, almost feminine in the tone of Mr.
Grey"s complaints. But to Dolly they were neither feminine nor weak. To her her father"s grief was true and well-founded; but for herself in her own heart there was some joy to be drawn from it. How would it have been with her if the sharp practice had been his, and the success? What would have been her state of mind had she known her father to have conceived these base tricks? Or what would have been her condition had her father been of such a kind as to have taught her that the doing of such tricks should be indifferent to her? To have been high above them all,--for him and for her,--was not that everything? And was she not sure that the truth would come to light at last? And if not here, would not the truth come to light elsewhere where light would be of more avail than here?
Such was the consolation with which Dolly consoled herself.
On the next two days Mr. Grey went to his chambers and returned, without any new word as to Mr. Scarborough and his affairs. One day he did bring back some tidings as to Juniper. "Juniper has got into some row about a horse," he said, "and is, I fear, in prison. All the same, he"ll get his five hundred pounds; and if he knew that fact it would help him."
"I can"t tell him, papa. I don"t know where he lives."
"Perhaps Carroll could do so."
"I never speak to Mr. Carroll. And I would not willingly mention Juniper"s name to my aunt or to either of the girls. It will be better to let Juniper go on in his row."
"With all my heart," said Mr. Grey. And then there was an end of that.
On the next morning, the fourth after his return from Tretton, Mr. Grey received a letter from Mountjoy Scarborough. "He was sure," he said, "that Mr. Grey would be sorry to hear that his father had been very weak since Mr. Grey had gone, and unable even to see him, Mountjoy, for more than two or three minutes at a time. He was afraid that all would soon be over; but he and everybody around the squire had been surprised to find how cheerful and high-spirited he was. It seems," wrote Mountjoy, "as though he had nothing to regret, either as regards this world or the next. He has no remorse, and certainly no fear. Nothing, I think, could make him angry, unless the word repentance were mentioned to him. To me and to his sister he is unwontedly affectionate; but Augustus"s name has not crossed his lips since you left the house." Then he went on to the matter as to which his letter had been written. "What am I to do when all is over with him? It is natural that I should come to you for advice. I will promise nothing about myself, but I trust that I may not return to the gambling-table. If I have this property to manage, I may be able to remain down here without going up to London. But shall I have the property to manage? and what steps am I to take with the view of getting it? Of course I shall have to encounter opposition, but I do not think that you will be one of those to oppose me. I presume that I shall be left here in possession, and that, they say, is nine points of the law. In the usual way I ought, I presume, simply to do nothing, but merely to take possession. The double story about the two marriages ought to count for nothing,--and I should be as though no such plots had ever been hatched. But they have been hatched, and other people know of them. The creditors, I presume, can do nothing. You have all the bonds in your possession. They may curse and swear, but will, I imagine, have no power. I doubt whether they have a morsel of ground on which to raise a lawsuit; for whether I or Augustus be the eldest son, their claims have been satisfied in full. But I presume that Augustus will not sit quiet. What ought I to do in regard to him? As matters stand at present he will not get a shilling. I fear my father is too ill to make another will. But at any rate he will make none in favor of Augustus. Pray tell me what I ought to do; and tell me whether you can send any one down to a.s.sist me when my father shall have gone."
"I will meddle no farther with anything in which the name of Scarborough is concerned." Such had been Mr. Grey"s first a.s.sertion when he received Mountjoy"s letter. He would write to him and tell him that, after what had pa.s.sed, there could be nothing of business transacted between him and his father"s estate. Nor was he in the position to give any advice on the subjects mooted. He would wash his hands of it altogether. But, as he went home, he thought over the matter and told himself that it would be impossible for him thus to repudiate the name. He would undertake no lawsuit either on behalf of Augustus or of Mountjoy. But he must answer Mountjoy"s letter, and tender him some advice.
During the long hours of the subsequent night he discussed the whole matter with his daughter, and the upshot of his discussion was this:--that he would withdraw his name from the business, and leave Mr.
Barry to manage it. Mr. Barry might then act for either party as he pleased.
CHAPTER LVI.
SCARBOROUGH"S REVENGE.
All these things were not done at Tretton altogether unknown to Augustus Scarborough. Tidings as to the will reached him, and then he first perceived the injury he had done himself in lending his a.s.sistance to the payment of the creditors. Had his brother been utterly bankrupt, so that the Jews might have seized any money that might have come to him, his father would have left no will in his favor. All that was now intelligible to Augustus. The idea that his father should strip the house of every stick of furniture, and the estate of every chattel upon it, had not occurred to him before the thing was done.
He had thought that his father was indifferent to all personal offence, and therefore he had been offensive. He found out his mistake, and therefore was angry with himself. But he still thought that he had been right in regard to the creditors. Had the creditors been left in the possession of their unpaid bonds, they would have offered terrible impediments to the taking possession of the property. He had been right then, he thought. The fact was that his father had lived too long.
However, the property would be left to him, Augustus, and he must make up his mind to buy the other things from Mountjoy. He at any rate would have to provide the funds out of which Mountjoy must live, and he would take care that he did not buy the chattels twice over. It was thus he consoled himself till rumors of something worse reached his ears.
How the rumors reached him it would be difficult to say. There were probably some among the servants who got an inkling of what the squire was doing when Mr. Grey again came down; or Miss Scarborough had some confidential friend; or Mr. Grey"s clerk may have been indiscreet. The tidings in some unformed state did reach Augustus and astounded him. His belief in his father"s story as to his brother"s illegitimacy had been unfixed and doubtful. Latterly it had verged toward more thorough belief as the creditors had taken their money,--less than a third of what would have been theirs had the power remained with them of recovering their full debt. The creditors had thus proved their belief, and they were a people not likely to believe such a statement without some foundation.
But at any rate he had conceived it to be impossible that his own father should go back from his first story, and again make himself out to be doubly a liar and doubly a knave.
But if it were so, what should he do? Was it not the case that in such event he would be altogether ruined,--a penniless adventurer with his profession absolutely gone from him? What little money he had got together had been expended on behalf of Mountjoy,--a sprat thrown out to catch a whale. Everything according to the present tidings had been left to Mountjoy. He had only half known his father, who had turned against him with virulence because of his unkindness. Who could have expected that a man in such a condition should have lived so long, and have been capable of a will so powerful? He had not dreamed of a hatred so inveterate as his father"s for him.
He received news also from Tretton that his father was not now expected by any one to live long.
"It may be a week, the doctors say, and it is hardly possible that he should remain alive for another month." Such was the news which reached him from his own emissary at Tretton. What had he better do in the emergency of the moment?
There was only one possibly effective step that he could take. He might, of course, remain tranquil, and accept what chance might give him, when his father should have died. But he might at once go down to Tretton and demand an interview with the dying man. He did not think that his father, even on his death-bed, would refuse to see him. His father"s pluck was indomitable, and he thought that he could depend on his own pluck. At any rate he resolved that he would immediately go to Tretton and take his chance. He reached the house about the middle of the day, and at once sent his name up to his father. Miss Scarborough was sitting by her brother"s bedside, and from time to time was reading to him a few words. "Augustus!" he said, as soon as the servant had left the room.
"What does Augustus want with me? The last time he saw me he bade me die out of hand if I wished to retrieve the injury I had done him."
"Do not think of that now, John," his sister said.
"As G.o.d is my judge, I will think of it to the last moment. Words such as those spoken, by a son to his father, demand a little thought. Were I to tell you that I did not think of them, would you not know that I was a hypocrite?"
"You need not speak of them, John."
"Not unless he came here to hara.s.s my last moments. I strove to do very much for him;--you know with what return. Mountjoy has been, at any rate, honest and straightforward; and, considering all things, not lacking in respect. I shall, at any rate, have some pleasure in letting Augustus know the state of my mind."
"What shall I say to him?" his sister asked.
"Tell him that he had better go back to London. I have tried them both, as few sons can be tried by their father, and I know them now. Tell him, with my compliments, that it will be better for him not to see me. There can be nothing pleasant said between us. I have no communication to make to him which could in the least interest him."
But before night came the squire had been talked over, and had agreed to see his son. "The interview will be easy enough for me," he had said, "but I cannot imagine what he will get from me. But let him come as he will."
Augustus spent much of the intervening time in discussing the matter with his aunt. But not a word on the subject was spoken by him to Mountjoy, whom he met at dinner, and with whom he spent the evening in company with Mr. Merton. The two hours after dinner were melancholy enough. The three adjourned to the smoking-room, and sat there almost without conversation. A few words were said about the hunting, but Mountjoy had not hunted this winter. There were a few also of greater interest about the shooting. The shooting was of course still the property of the old man, and in the early months had, without many words spoken, become, as it were, an appanage of the condition of life to which Augustus aspired; but of late Mountjoy had a.s.sumed the command.
"You found plenty of pheasants here, I suppose," Augustus remarked.
"Well, yes; not too many. I didn"t trouble myself much about it. When I saw a pheasant I shot it. I"ve been a little troubled in spirit, you know."
"Gambling again, I heard."
"That didn"t trouble me much. Merton can tell you that we"ve had a sick-house."
"Yes, indeed," said Merton. "It hasn"t seemed to be a time in which a man would think very much of his pheasants."
"I don"t know why," said Augustus, who was determined not to put up with the rebuke implied in the doctor"s words. After that there was nothing more said between them till they all went to their separate apartments.
"Don"t contradict him," his aunt said to him the next morning, "and if he reprimands you, acknowledge that you have been wrong."
"That"s hard, when I haven"t been wrong."
"But so much depends upon it; and he is so stern. Of course, I wish well for both of you. There is plenty enough,--plenty; if only you could agree together."
"But the injustice of his treatment. Is it true that he now declares Mountjoy to be the eldest son?"
"I believe so. I do not know, but I believe it."
"Think of what his conduct has been to me. And then you tell me that I am to own that I have been wrong! In what have I been wrong?"
"He is your father, and I suppose you have said hard words to him."
"Did I rebuke him because he had fraudulently kept me for so many years in the position of a younger son? Did I not forgive him that iniquity?"