"I suppose," he said, "that you cannot have heard often from Montreal since you have been in the East."
"No. If my letters are anywhere, it is at the Family Office. I desired them to be forwarded thither from head-quarters, not expecting to be detained here. But," cried Fred with animation, "what think you of the General actually writing to Mr. Kinnaird from Balaklava?"
"It would have been too bad if he had not."
"I believe he did so solely to make me sleep, but it is the first time he has deigned to treat the affair as anything but a delusion, and he can"t retract now. Since that, poor Gilbert has made a sc.r.a.p or two of mine presentable, and there"s all that I have been able to accomplish; but I hope it may have set her mind at rest."
"Shall I be secretary?"
"Thank you, I think not. She would only worry herself about what is before me; and if the doctors let me off easy, I had rather report of myself in person."
His eyes danced, and Maurice thought his unselfishness deserved a reward.
"My poor Gilbert"s last secret," said Mr. Kendal, as he laid before his wife the brief doc.u.ment by which his son had designated him as his sole heir and executor. "A gift to you, and a trust to me."
Albinia looked up for explanation.
"While he intrusts his sisters to my justice, he tacitly commends to me the works which you wished to see accomplished."
"The almshouses! The improvements! Do you mean to undertake them?"
"It shall be my most sacred duty."
"Oh! that we could have planned it with him!"
"Perhaps I value this the more from the certainty that it is spontaneous," said Mr. Kendal. "It showed great consideration and forethought, that he said nothing of his intention to me. Had he mentioned it, I should have thought it right to suggest his leaving his sisters their share; and yet, as we are situated with young Dusautoy, it would have been awkward to have interfered. He did well and wisely to be silent."
"You don"t expect Algernon to be discontented. Impossible, at such a time, and so well off as he is!"
"I wish it may be impossible."
"What do you mean, to do?"
"As far as I can see at present, I shall do this. I fear neither the mode of acquisition nor the management of that property was such as to bring a blessing, and I believe my poor boy has made it over to me in order to free his sisters from the necessity of winking at oppression and iniquity. Had it gone to them, matters must have been let alone till Sophia came of age, and even then, all improvements must have depended on Algernon"s consent. The land and houses we will keep, and sufficient ready money for the building and repairs; and to this, Sophia, at least, will gladly agree. The rest--something under twenty thousand, if I remember correctly--is the girls" right. I will settle Lucy"s share on her so as to be out of her husband"s power, and Sophia shall have hers when she comes of age."
"I am sure that will take from Algernon all power of grumbling, though I cannot believe that even he could complain."
"You approve, then?"
"How can you ask? It is the first thing that has seemed like happiness, if it did not make one long for him to talk it over!" The wound was still very recent, and her spirits very tender, and the more she felt the blessing of the a.s.sociation with Gilbert in the work of love, the more she wept, though not altogether in sorrow.
Mortified at having come so much overworked and weakened, as to occasion only trouble and anxiety, she yielded resignedly when forbidden to wear out strength and spirits by a visit to the burial-ground before her embarkation. She must content herself with Maurice"s description of the locality, and carry away in her eye only the general picture of the sapphire ocean and white rock fortress of the holy warriors vowed to tenderness and heroism, as the last resting-place of her cherished Gilbert, when "out of weakness he had been made strong" in penitence and love.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Had Sophia"s wishes been consulted, she would have preferred nursing her sorrows at home; but no choice had been left, and at the vicarage the fatherly kindness of Mr. Dusautoy, and the considerate let-alone system of his wife, kept her at ease and not far from cheerful, albeit neither the simplicity of the one nor the keenness of the other was calculated to draw her into unreserve: comfort was in the children.
The children clung to her as if she made their home, little Albinia preferring her even to Uncle John, as he had insisted on being called ever since Lucy had become his niece, and Maurice invoking caresses, the bestowal of which was his mother"s rare privilege. The boy was dull and listless, and though riot and mirth could be only too easily excited, his wildest shouts and most frantic gesticulations were like efforts to throw off a load at his heart. Time hung heavy on his hands, and he would lie rolling and kicking drearily on the floor, watching with some envy his little sister as she spelt her way prosperously through "Little Charles," or daintily and distinctly repeated her hymns. "Nothing to do" was the burthen of his song, and with masculine perverseness he disdained every occupation suggested to him. Sophy might boast of his obedience and quiescence, but Mrs. Dusautoy pitied all parties, and wondered when he would be disposed of at school.
Permission to open letters had been left with Sophy, who with silent resignation followed the details of poor Gilbert"s rapid decay. At last came the parcel by the private hand, containing a small packet for each of the family. Sophy received a silver Maltese Cross, and little Albinia a perfumy rose-leaf bracelet. There was a Russian grape-shot for Maurice, and with it a letter.
With childish secrecy, he refused to let any one look at so much as the envelope, and ran away with it, shouting "It"s mine." Sophy was grieved that it should be treated like a toy, and fearing that, while playing at importance, he would lose or destroy it, without coming to a knowledge of the contents, she durst not betray her solicitude, lest she should give a stimulus to his wilfulness and precipitate its fate. However, when he had galloped about enough, he called imperatively, "Sophy;" and she found him lying on his back on the gra.s.s, the black cat an unwilling prisoner on his chest.
"You may read it to s.m.u.t and me," he said.
It bore date the day after his father"s arrival, but it had evidently been continued at many different times; and as the handwriting became more feeble, the style grew more earnest, so that, but for her hoa.r.s.e, indifferent voice, Sophy could hardly have accomplished the reading.
"My dear Maurice,
"Many, many thanks to you and dear little Awkey for your present. I have set it up like a picture, and much do I like to look at it, and guess who chose the colours and who are the hunters. I am sure the fat man in the red coat is the admiral. It makes the place seem like home to see what tells so plainly of you and baby.
"Kiss my little Awk for me, and thank her for wanting to send me Miss Jenny, dear little maid; I like to think of it. You will not let her quite forget me. You must show her my name if it is put up in church, like Edmund"s and all the little ones"; and you will sometimes tell her about dear old Ned on a Sunday evening when you are both very good.
"I think you know that you and she will never again run out into the hall to pull Gibbie almost down between you. Perhaps by the time you read this, you will be the only son, with all the comfort and hope of the house resting upon you. My poor Maurice, I know what it is to be told so, and only to feel that one has no brother; but at least it cannot be to you as it was with me, when it was as if half myself were gone, and all my stronger, better, braver self.
"My father has been reading to me the Rich Man and Lazarus. Maurice, when you read of him and the five brethren, think of me, and how I pray that I may not have left seeds of temptation for you. In the time of my loneliness, Tritton was good-natured, but I ought to have avoided him; and that to which he introduced me has been the bane of my life. Nothing gives me such anguish as to think I have made you acquainted with that set. Keep out of their way! Never go near those pigeon-shootings and donkey-races; they seem good fun, but it is disobedience to go, and the things that happen there are like the stings of venomous creatures; the poison was left to fester even when your mother seemed to have cured me.
Neither now nor when you are older resort to such things or such people.
Next time you meet Tritton and Shaw tell them I desired to be remembered to them; after that have nothing to do with them; touch your hat and pa.s.s on. They meant it in good nature, and thought no harm, but they were my worst enemies; they led me astray, and taught me deception as a matter of course. Oh! Maurice, never think it manly to have the smallest reserve with your parents. I would give worlds to have sooner known that truth would have been freedom and rest. Thank Heaven, your faults are not my faults. If you go wrong, it will be with a high hand, but you would wring hearts that can ill bear further grief and disappointment.
Oh! that I were more worthy to pray that you may use your strength and spirit the right way; then you will be gladness to our father and mother, and when you lie down to die, you will be happier than I am.
"I want to tell you more, but it hurts me to write long. If I could only see you--not only in my dreams. I wake, and my heart sickens with longing for a sight of my brave boy"s merry face, till I almost feel as if it would make me well; but it is a blessing past hope to have my father with me, and know him as I have never done before. Give little Albinia these beads, with my love, and be a better brother to her than I was to poor Lucy.
"Good-by, Maurice. No one can tell what you have been to me since your mother put you into my arms, and I felt I had a brother again. G.o.d bless you and cancel all evil you may have caught from me. Papa will give you my sword. Perhaps you will wear it one day, and under my colonel. I have never been so happy as in the time it was mine. When you look at it, always say this to yourself: "Fear G.o.d, and fear nothing else." O that I had done so!
"Let your dear, dear mother be happy in you: it will be the only way to make her forgive me in her heart. Good-by, my own dear, brave boy.
"Your most affectionate brother, "G. KENDAL."
"I say, s.m.u.t," quoth Maurice, "I think you and our Tabby would make two famous horses for Awkey"s little cart. I shall take you home and harness you."
Sophy sat breathless at his indifference. "You mustn"t," she said in hasty anger; "s.m.u.t is not yours."
"Well, Jack said that our Tabby had two kittens up in the loft; I think they"ll make better ponies. I shall go and try them!"
"Don"t plague the kittens."
"I"ll not plague them; I"ll only make ponies of them. Give me the letter."
"No, not to play with the cats. I thought you would have cared about such a letter!"
"You have no right to keep it! It is mine; give it me!" cried Maurice, pa.s.sionately.