CHAPTER XXX.LEAVING MILLBANK.
It was in vain that Frank protested against the pride which refused to receive anything from the Irving estate. Roger was firm as a rock.
“I may be foolish,” he said to Lawyer Schofield, who was often at Millbank, and who once tried to persuade him into some settlement with Frank. “I may be foolish, but I cannot take a penny more than the terms of the will give to me. I have lived for years on what did not belong to me. Let that suffice, and do not try to tempt me into doing what I should hate myself for. I have been accustomed to habits of luxury, which I shall find it difficult to overcome; just as I shall at first find it hard to settle down into a steady business, and seek for patronage with which to earn my bread. But I am comparatively young yet. I can study and catch up in my profession. I passed a good examination years ago. I have tried by reading not to fall far behind the present age. I shall do very well, I’m sure.” Then he spoke of Schodick, where he had decided to go. “Some men would choose the West as a larger field in which to grow, and at first I looked that way myself; but Schodick has great attractions for me. It was my mother’s home. I shall live in the very house where she was born. You know my father gave me the farm, and though it is rocky and hilly and sterile,—much of it,—I would rather go there than out upon the prairies. I shall be very near the town, which is growing rapidly, and there is a chance of my getting in with a firm whose senior member has recently died. If I do, it will be the making of me, and you may yet hear of Roger Irving from Schodick as a great man.”
Roger had worked himself up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm, and seemed much like his olden self as he talked of his plans to Lawyer Schofield, who had never admired or respected himso much as he did when he saw him putting the best face upon matters and bearing his reverses so patiently. Everybody knew now that he was going to Schodick, in New Hampshire, and that Hester and Aleck were going with him. Both seemed to have renewed their youth to a most marvellous degree, and Hester’s form was never more erect, or her step more elastic, than during those early summer days, when, between the times of her ministering to Magdalen, of whom she still had the care, she went over the house, selecting here and there articles which she declared werehers, and with which Mrs. Walter Scott did not meddle.
Full of her dread of the fever, that lady had scrupulously kept aloof from Magdalen, and when she began to fear lest the few for whose opinion she cared should censure her for neglect she affected symptoms of the disease and stayed in her own room, where she received the visits of the doctor, in white line wrappers elaborately trimmed, and a scarlet shawl thrown across her shoulders. Frank visited her several times a day, and once, when his heart was heaviest with the fear lest Magdalen would die, he went to her for sympathy, and laying his head on the pillow beside her, wept like a child. There was no pity in her voice, for she felt none for him, and her manner was cold and indifferent as she said she apprehended no danger,—and added that she hoped Frank would not commit himself too far or allow his feelings to run away with his judgment. He must remember that Magdalen had never promised to marry him, and that if one woman could read another she did not believe she ever would.
“She loves Roger,” she said, “and he loves her, and I have made up my mind to explain to him a few things, and thus prevent you from throwing yourself away on a girl whose parentage is so doubtful.”
Then Frank dried his tears, and so far forgot himself as to swear roundly that so sure as she went to Roger with such a tale, or in any way interfered between him and Magdalen, just so sure would hedeedevery penny of the Irving property toRoger, and if he refused to take it, he would deed it to Magdalen, and if she refused it too, he would make donations to every charitable institution in the land, until the whole was given away, and he was poorer than before the will was found. Mrs. Walter Scott was afraid of Frank in his present defiant mood, and promised whatever he required, but suggested that it might be well for him not to assume too much the character of Magdalen’s lover, until her own lips had given him the right to do so. Frank knew this was good advice, and, to a certain extent, he followed it; and when the crisis was past, he, too, absented himself from the sick-room, and spent his time with Roger in trying to understand the immense business which was now his to manage, and which he no more comprehended than a child.
“It is not well to trust too much to agents and overseers. Better attend to it yourself,” Roger said.
And then he spoke of one agent in particular whom he distrusted and had intended to discharge, and advised Frank to see to it at once, and have but little to do with him. And Frank promised to do so, remembering the while, with regret, that between this man and himself there existed the most friendly relations and perfect sympathy with regard tohorses,—Frank’s great weakness—which only want of money kept in abeyance.
Like his mother, Frank was disposed to let Hester Floyd take whatever she chose in the way of bedding and table-linen, and offered no objections when she laid claim to the spoons and silver tea-set which had been bought for Jessie, and were marked with her initials. Spoons and forks of a more modern style, with only “Irving” marked upon them, were next appropriated by the greedy old woman, who kept two men busy one entire day packing boxes for Schodick, N. H. She was going at once to the old farm-house, which the present tenant had, for a consideration, been induced to vacate, and her preparations went rapidly forward, until, at last, the day but one came, when, with her boxes and Aleck and Matty, her grandniece,who went as maid of all work, she was to start for the Schodick hills, while Roger went West for a few weeks, thus leaving the old lady time to get things “straightened out and tidied up” before he came. This had been Frank’s idea, conveyed to Roger in the form of a suggestion that a little travel would do him good, and his home in Schodick seem a great deal pleasanter if he found it settled than if he went to it when all was disorder and confusion. All the better, kindlier qualities of Frank’s nature were at work during those last days, and even Hester brought herself to address him civilly, and thank him cordially when, to her numerous bundles and boxes, he added a huge basket of the choicest wines in the cellar.
“To be sure, he was only offering to Roger what was already his own,” she said; “but then it showed that what little milk of human kindness he had wasn’t sourer than swill, as his mother’s was.”
Roger had seen to the packing of but one article, and this he had done by himself and then carried it to the back stoop where the other baggage was waiting. Hester saw the long, narrow box and wondered what it was. Frank saw it too,guessedwhat it was, went to the garret to reconnoitre, and then knew that it was the cradle candle-box, in which Magdalen had been rocked. It had stood for years in a corner of the garret, surrounded with piles of rubbish and covered with dirt and cobwebs; but Roger had hunted it out and it was going with him to his new home, sole memento of the young girl he had loved so dearly, and who, all through the long bright summer days when he was so busy, lay quiet and still, knowing nothing, or at most comprehending nothing, of what was passing around her.
It was a strange state she was in, but the doctor said she was mending, that the danger was past, and a week or two of perfect quiet would restore her to a more natural condition. Had he said otherwise, Roger would not have gone, but now it was better for him to leave her while she was unconscious of the pain it cost him to do so; and on the night before his departure for the West he went to look at her for the last time.Only Celine was with her and she thoughtfully withdrew, leaving him alone with Magdalen, whose pale lips he kissed so passionately and on whose face he dropped tears of bitter anguish. Years after, when her eyes were shining upon him full of love and tenderness and trust, he told her of that parting scene; but she knew nothing of it then, and only moved a little uneasily and muttered something he could not understand. She had no farewell word for him, and so he kissed her lips and forehead once more and drew the covering smoothly about her, and buttoned the cuff of her night-dress, which he saw was unfastened, and moved the lamp a little more into the shadow, because he thought it hurt her eyes, and then went out and left her there alone.
They were astir early at Millbank the next morning, and a most tempting breakfast, prepared by Hester herself, awaited Roger in the dining-room. But he could not eat, and, after a few ineffectual attempts to swallow the rich, golden-colored coffee, he rose from the table and left the dining-room.
Knowing that he would, of course, come to say good-by to her, and dreading an interview with him when no one was present, Mrs. Walter Scott had made a “great effort” to dress herself, and come down to breakfast. But shepantedhard, and seemed too weak to talk, and kept her hand a good deal on her left side, where she said she experienced great pain since her illness, and sometimes feared her lungs were affected. With all her languor and weakness, she could not quite conceal her elation at the near prospect of being entirely alone in her glory, and it showed itself in her face and in her eyes, which, nevertheless, tried to look so sorry and pitiful when, at last, Roger turned to her to say good-by.
She had nothing to fear from him now. He had given up quietly. Success was hers, with riches and luxury. It could matter little what Roger thought of her. His opinion could not change her position at Millbank. Still, in her heart she respected him more than any man living, and would rather hethought well of her than ill. So, with that look in her eyes which they always wore when she wanted to be particularly interesting, she held his hand between her own and said,—
“I can’t let you go without hearing you say that you forgive me for any wrong you imagine me to have done, and that you will not cherish hard feelings toward me. Tell me this, can’t you,dear brother?”
He dropped her hand then, as if a viper had stung him, and a gleam of fire leaped to his eyes as he replied:
“Don’t call mebrother, now, Helen. That time is past. You have wronged me fearfully, and but for you I should never have met this hour of darkness. If God can forgive me for all my sins against Him, I surely ought to try and forgive you, too. But human flesh is weak, and I cannot say that I feel very kindly towards you, for I do not.”
He had never said so much to her before, and the proud woman winced a little, but tried to appear natural, and, for appearance sake, went with him to the door, and stood watching the carriage until it left the avenue and turned into the highway.
In perfect silence Roger passed through the grounds, so beautiful now in their summer glory, but as the carriage left the park behind, he leaned from the window for a last look at his old home. The sun was just rising and the dew-drops were glittering on the grass and flowers, while the thousands of roses with which the place was adorned filled the air with perfume. It seemed a second Paradise to the heart-broken man, whose thoughts went back to the dream he once had of just such a day as this when he was leaving Millbank. In the dream, however, there was this difference: Magdalen was with him; her hand lay in his, her eyes shone upon him, and turned the midnight into noonday. Now he was alone, so far as she was concerned. Magda was not there; she would never be with him again, unless she came the wife of Frank, who sat opposite, with an expression of genuine sympathy on his boyish face. Frank was sorry that morning, so sorry that he could not talk;but when, as they lost sight of Millbank, Roger groaned aloud and leaned his head against the side of the carriage, he went over to him, and sitting down beside him took his hand in his own and pressed it nervously.
There was a crowd of people at the station; the whole village, Frank thought, when he saw the moving multitude which pressed around Roger to say good-by and assure him of their willingness to serve him. There were mills in Schodick, they had heard, and shoe shops, too; and a few were already talking of following their late master thither.
“It would be worth something to see him round even if they did not work for him,” they said.
And Roger heard all and saw all, and said good-by to all, and took in his arms the little baby boy named for him ten months before, and said playfully to the mother, “He shall have the firstcowI raise on my farm.”
And then the train came round the river bend and the crowd fell back, and Frank went with Roger into the car and waited there until the train began to move, when with a bound he sprang upon the platform, and those nearest to him saw that he was very white and that there were traces of tears in his eyes. No one spoke to him, though all made way for him to pass to his carriage, which drove rapidly back to Millbank, which was now his beyond a doubt.
Hester Floyd went later in the day, and to the last stood out against Mrs. Walter Scott, whom she did not deign to notice by so much as a farewell nod. Over Magdalen she bent lovingly, trying to make her comprehend that she was going away, but Magdalen only stared at her a moment with her wide open eyes, and then closed them wearily, and knew nothing of Hester’s tears or the great wet kiss which was laid upon her forehead.
“She’s to be the lady of Millbank, I s’pose, but I don’t begrutch her her happiness with that old sarpent for a mother-in-law and that white-livered critter for a husband,” Hester thought as she stole softly from the room and went down to where the drayman was loading her numerous boxes and bundles. Frankoffered her the use of the carriage to carry herself and Aleck to the station; but she declined the offer, and took a fierce kind of pride in seeing the village hack drive up to the side door. “She as’t no odds of nobody,” she said, and tying on her six years’ old straw bonnet, and pinning her brown shawl with a darning-needle, she saw deposited in the hack her old-fashioned work-basket and her satchel and bird cage and umbrella, and her bandbox tied up in a calico bag, and her palm-leaf fan, and Aleck, and Matty, who carried two beautiful Malta kittens in a basket as her own special property. Then, with a quick, sudden movement, and an indifference she was far from feeling, she shook the hands of all her fellow-servants over whom she had reigned so long, and hoping they would never find a “wus” mistress than she had been, sprang into the hack with an alacrity which belied her seventy summers, and was driven to the depot.
From her window Mrs. Walter Scott watched the fast receding vehicle, and felt herself breathe freer with every revolution of the wheels. When Roger went, a great weight had been lifted from her spirits, but so long as old Hester Floyd remained she could not feel altogether free; and now that the good dame was really out of the house she sat perfectly still until she heard the whistle of the engine, and saw the white smoke of the train which carried the enemy away. Then she rose up from her sitting posture, and her long graceful neck took a prouder arch, and her step was more firm, her manner more queenly, as she went directly to the kitchen, and summoning the servants to her presence told them they were at liberty to leave her employ within a month, as she should by that time have provided her self with other help. Very civilly they listened to her, and when she was through informed her that she need not wait a month before importing her new coterie of servants, as each one of them was already supplied with a situation, and was intending to leave her that night, with the exception of Celine, who had promised Mrs. Floyd to stay till Miss Lennox’s mind was restored.
With a haughty, “Very well, do as you like,” Mrs. Walter Scott swept out of the kitchen and made the circuit of the handsome rooms which were now her own. Frank, too, had watched the hack as it drove away, and listened for the signal by which he should know that Hester Floyd was gone, for not till then couldhefeel perfectly secure in his possessions. But as the loud, shrill blast came up over the hills and then died away amid the windings of the river, there stole over him a pleasurable sense of proprietorship, and he thought involuntarily of the familiar lines, “I am monarch of all I survey, my right there is none to dispute.” Frank liked to feel comfortable in his mind, and as he reviewed the steps by which he had reached his present position, he found many arguments in his own favor which tended to silence any misgivings he might otherwise have experienced. He was not to blame for his grandfather’s will, nor to blame for hiding it. Everybody knew that. Roger said he was not, and Roger’s opinion was worth everything to him. He had been willing to burn the will, and when he could not do that, he offered repeatedly to divide with Roger, and was willing to divide now and always would be. Surely he could do no more than he had done. He was a pretty good fellow after all, and he began to whistle “Annie Laurie” and think of the agent whom Roger had warned him against, and wished it had been anybody butHolt, who was such a good judge of horses, and had such a fine high blood for sale, which he offered cheap, because he needed a little ready money. As the war steed scents the battle from afar, and pricks up his ears at the smell of blood, so Frank felt his love of horse flesh growing strong within him. There could be no harm in riding over toseeHolt’s horse. He would have to go there any way if he dismissed the man, as Roger had advised, and he would go at once and have a bad job off his mind. Accordingly, when lunch time came Mrs. Walter Scott lunched alone, and when the dinner hour came she dined alone, and when the stable doors were closed that night they shut into his new home Firefly, “theswiftest horse in the county,” which Frank had bought for eleven hundred dollars.
Holt, the agent, was not dismissed!