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The facility with which human nature assimilates new conditions is among its most remarkable attributes. A week had scarcely elapsed since John Liddell's sudden indisposition and subsidence into an invalid condition, yet it seemed to Katherine that he had been breakfasting in bed for ages, and might continue to do so for another cycle without change. Her inexperience took no warning from the rapidly developing signs of decadence and failing force which Mr. Newton perceived; and, on the whole, she found her task of housekeeper and caretaker less ungrateful since weakness had subdued her uncle, and the friendly lawyer had been appointed paymaster.
The days sped with the swiftness monotony lends to time. Mrs. Liddell always visited her daughter once a week. Occasionally Katherine got leave of absence, and spent an hour or two at home, where she enjoyed a game of play with her little nephews. Otherwise home was less homelike than formerly. Ada was sulky and dissatisfied; she dared not intrude on Mr. Liddell in his present condition; and she was dreadfully annoyed at not being able to give Colonel Ormonde any encouraging news on this head. Her influence on the family circle, therefore, was not cheerful. Besides this, though Mrs. Liddell kept a brave front, and did not again allow herself the luxury of confidence in her daughter, there were unmistakable signs of care and trouble in her face, her voice. She was unfailing in her kind forbearance to the woman her son had loved, and whatever good existed in Mrs. Fred's rubbishy little heart responded to the genial, broad humanity of her mother-in-law. But Katherine perceived, or thought she perceived, that Mrs. Liddell was wearing herself down in the effort to make her inmates comfortable, and so to beat out her scanty store of sovereigns as to make them stretch to the margin of her necessities. It was a very shadowy and narrow pass through which her road of life led Katherine at this period, nor was there much prospect beyond. Moreover, as her mother had anticipated, the invisible cords which bound her to the moribund old miser were tightening their hold more and more, she often looked back and wondered at the sort of numbness which stole over her spirit during this time of trial.
September was now in its first week; the weather was wet and cold; and Katherine was thankful when Mr. Newton's weekly visit was due. It was particularly stormy that day, and he was a little later than usual.
When she had left solicitor and client together for some time, she descended, as was her custom, to make a cup of tea for the former, and give her uncle his beef tea or jelly.
Mr. Newton rose, shook hands with her, and then resumed his conversation with Mr. Liddell.
"I do not for a moment mean to say that he is a reckless bettor or a mere gambling horse-racer; and, after all, to enter a horse or two for the local races, or even Newmarket, is perfectly allowable in a man of his fortune—it will neither make him nor mar him."
"It will mar him," returned Mr. Liddell, in more energetic tones than Katherine had heard him utter since he was laid up. "A man who believes he is rich enough to throw away money is on the brink of ruin. He appears to me in a totally different light. I thought he was steady, thoughtful, alive to the responsibility of his position. Ah, who is to be trusted? Who?"
There seemed no reply to this, for Mr. Newton started a new and absorbing topic.
"Mr. Fergusson is keeping wonderfully well," he remarked. "His sister was calling on my wife yesterday, and says that since he took this new food—'Revalenta Arabica,' I think it is called—he is quite a new man."
"What food is that?" asked Mr. Liddell. While Newton explained, Katherine reflected with some wonder on the fact that there was a Mrs. Newton; it had never come to her knowledge before. She tried to imagine the precise lawyer in love. How did he propose? Surely on paper, in the most strictly legal terms! Could he ever have felt the divine joy and exultation which loving and being loved must create? Had he little children? and oh! did he, could he, ever dance them on his knee? He was a good man, she was sure, but goodness so starched and ironed was a little appalling.
These fancies lasted till the description of Revalenta Arabica was ended; then Mr. Liddell said, "Tell my niece where to get it." Never had he called her niece before; even Mr. Newton looked surprised. "I will send you the address," he said. "And here, Miss Liddell, is the check for next week."
"I have still some money from the last," said Katherine, blushing. "I had better give it to you, and then the check need not be interfered with." She hated to speak of money before her uncle.
"As you like. You are a good manager, Miss Liddell."
"Give it to me," cried the invalid from his easy-chair; "I will put it in my bureau. I have a few coins there, and they can go together."
"Very well; but had not my uncle better write an acknowledgment? We shall be puzzled about the money when we come to reckon up at the end of the month, if he does not."
Katherine had been taught by severe experience the necessity of saving herself harmless when handling Mr. Liddell's money.
"An acknowledgment," repeated the old man, with a slight, sobbing, inward laugh. "That is well thought. Yes, by all means write it out, Mr. Newton, and I will sign. Oh yes; I will sign!"
Newton turned to the writing-table and traced a few lines, bringing it on the blotting-pad for his client's signature.
"I can sign steadily enough still," said Mr. Liddell, slowly, "and my name is good for a few thousands. Hey?"
"That it certainly is, Mr. Liddell."
"Do you think old Fergusson could sign as steadily as that?" asked Mr. Liddell, with a slight, exulting smile.
"I should say not. What writing of his I have seen was a terrible scrawl."
"Hum! he wasn't a gentleman, you know. He drank too; not to be intoxicated, but too much—too much! For he will find the temperance man too many for him. I'll win the race, the waiting race;" and he laughed again in a distressing, hysterical fashion, that quite exhausted him.
Katherine flew to fetch cold water, while the old man leaning back panting and breathless, and Mr. Newton, much alarmed, fanned him with a folded newspaper.
He gradually recovered, but complained much of the beating of his heart. Mr. Newton wished to send for the doctor, but Mr. Liddell would not hear of it. Then he urged his allowing the servant at least to sleep on the sofa in the front parlor, leaving the door into Mr. Liddell's room open. To this the object of his solicitude was also opposed, so Mr. Newton bade him farewell. Katherine, however, waylaid him in the hall, and they held a short conference.
"He really ought not to be left alone at night."
"No, he must not," said Katherine. "I will make our servant spend the night in the parlor. She can easily open the door after the lights are out, without his being vexed by knowing she is there. I could not sleep if I thought he was alone. I will come very early in the morning to relieve her."
"Do, my dear young lady. I will call on the doctor and beg him to come round early."
"Do you think my uncle so ill, then?"
"He is greatly changed, and his weakness makes me uneasy. I trust in God he may be spared a little longer."
Katherine looked and felt surprised at the fervor of his tone. Little did she dream the real source of the friendly lawyer's anxiety to prolong a very profitless existence.
After a few more remarks and a promise to come at any time if he were needed, Mr. Newton departed; and Katherine got through the dreary evening as best she could.
How she longed to summon her mother! but she feared to irritate her uncle, who was evidently unequal to bear the slightest agitation.
Next day was unusually cold, and though Mr. Liddell had passed a tranquil night, he seemed averse to leave his bed. He lay there very quietly, and listened to the papers being read, and it was late in the afternoon before he would get up and dress. From this time forward he rarely rose till dusk, and it grew more and more an effort to him. He was always pleased to see Mr. Newton, and to converse a little with him. He even spoke with tolerable civility to Mrs. Liddell when she came to see her daughter.
As the weather grew colder—and autumn that year was very wintry—he objected more and more to leave his bed, and at last came to sitting up only for a couple of hours in the chair by his bedroom fire. It was during one of these intervals that Katherine, who had been racking her brains for something to talk of that would interest him, bethought her of a transaction in old newspapers which Mrs. Knapp had brought to a satisfactory conclusion. She therefore took out "certain moneys" from her purse.
"We have sold the newspapers at last, uncle," she said. "I kept back some for our own use, so all I could get was a shilling and three half-pence." She placed the coins on a little table which stood by his arm-chair, adding, "I suppose you know the Scotch saying, 'Many mickles make a muckle'; even a few pence are better than a pile of useless papers."
"I know," said Liddell, with feeble eagerness, clutching the money and transferring it to his little old purse. "It is a good saving—a wise saying. I did not think you knew it; but—but why did you keep back any?"
"Because one always needs waste paper in a house, to light fires and cover things from dust. I shall collect more next time," she added, seeing the old man was pleased with the idea.
He made no reply, but sat gazing at the red coals, his lips moving slightly, and the purse still in his hand. Again he opened it, and took out the coins she had given him, holding them to the fire-light in the hollow of his thin hand.
"Do you know the value of money?" he said at length, looking piercingly at her. "Do you know the wonderful life it has—a life of its own?"
"If the want of can teach its value I ought to know," she returned.
"You are wrong! Poverty never teaches its worth. You never hold it and study it when, the moment you touch it, you have to exchange it for commodities. No! it is when you can spare some for a precious seed, and watch its growth, and see—see its power of self-multiplication if it is let alone—just let alone," he repeated, with a touch of pathos in his voice. "Now these few pence, thirteen and a half in all—a boy with an accumulative nature and youth, early youth, on his side, might build a fortune on these. Yes, he might, if he had not a grovelling love of food and comfort."
"Do you think he really could?" asked Kate, interested in spite of herself in the theories of the old miser.
"Would you care to know?" said her uncle, fixing his keen dark eyes upon her.
"I should indeed." Her voice proved she was in earnest.
"Then I will tell you, step by step, but not to-night. I am too weary. You are different from the others—your father and your brother. You are—yes, you are—more like me ."
"God forbid!" was Katherine's mental ejaculation.
Mr. Liddell slowly put the thirteenpence half penny back in his purse, drew forth his bunch of keys, looked at them, and restored them to his pocket; then, resting his head wearily against the chair, he said, "Give me something to take and I will go to bed."
Katherine hastened to obey, and summoned the servant to assist him, as usual.
The next morning was cold and wet, with showers of sleet, and Mr. Liddell declared he had taken a chill, and refused to get up. He was indisposed to eat, and did not show any interest in the newspaper. About noon the doctor called. Mr. Liddell answered his questions civilly enough, but did not respond to his attempts at conversation.
"Your uncle is in a very low condition," said the doctor, when he came into the next room, where Katherine awaited him. "You must do your best to make him take nourishment, and keep him as warm as possible. I suppose Mr. Newton is always in town?"
"I think so; at least I never knew him to be absent since I came here. I rather expect him to-day or to-morrow. Do you think my uncle seriously ill?"
"He is not really ill, but he has an incurable complaint—old age. He ought not to be so weak as he is; still, he may last some time, with your good care."
Katherine took her needle-work and settled herself to keep watch by the old man. The doctor's inquiry for Mr. Newton had startled her, but his subsequent words allayed her fears. "He may last for some time," conveyed to her mind the notion of an indefinite lease of life.
Mr. Liddell seemed to be slumbering peacefully, when, after a long silence, during which Katherine's thoughts had traversed many a league of land and sea, he said suddenly, in stronger tones than usual, "Are you there?" He scarcely ever called her by her name.
"I am," said Katherine, coming to the bedside.
"Here, take these keys"—he drew them from under his pillows; "this one unlocks that bureau"—pointing to a large old-fashioned piece of furniture, dark and polished, which stood on one side of the fireplace; "open it, and in the top drawer left you will find a long, folded paper. Bring it to me."
Katherine did as he directed, and could not help seeing the words, "Will of John Wilmot Liddell," and a date some seven or eight years back, inscribed upon it. She handed it to her uncle, arranging his pillows so that he might sit up more comfortably, while she rather wondered at the commonplace aspect of so potent an instrument. A will, she imagined, was something huge, of parchment, with big seals attached.
John Liddell slowly put on his spectacles, and unfolding the paper, read for some time in silence.
"This will not do," he said at last, clearly and firmly. "I was mistaken in him. The care for and of money must be born in you; it cannot be taught. No, I can make a better disposition. Could you take care of money, girl?" he asked sternly.
"I should try," returned Katherine, quietly.
There was a pause. The old man lay thinking, his lean, brown hand lying on the open paper. "Write," he said at length, so suddenly and sharply that he startled his niece; get paper and write to Newton. Katherine brought the writing materials, and placed herself at the small table.
"Dear sir," he dictated—"Be so good as to come to me as soon as convenient. I wish to make a will more in accordance with my present knowledge than any executed by me formerly. I am, yours faithfully."
Katherine brought over pen and paper, and the old man affixed his signature clearly.
"Now fold it up and send it to post. No—take it yourself; then it will be safe, and so much the better for you."
Katherine called the good-natured Mrs. Knapp to take her place, and sallied forth. She was a good deal excited. Was she in a crisis of her fate? Would her grim old uncle leave her wherewithal to give the dear mother rest and peace for the remainder of her days? It would not take much; would he—oh, would he remember the poor little boys? She never dreamed of more than a substantial legacy; the bulk of his fortune he might leave to whom he liked. How dreadful it was that money should be such a grim necessity!
She felt oppressed, and made a small circuit returning, to enjoy as much fresh air as she could, and called at some of the shops where she was accustomed to deal, to save sending the servant later. She was growing a little nervous, and disliked being left alone in the house.
When she returned, her uncle was very much in the same attitude; but he had folded up his will and placed his hand under his head.
"You have been very long," he said, querulously.
Katherine said she had been at one or two shops.
"Read to me," he said, "I am tired thinking; but first lock the bureau and give me the keys; you left them hanging in the lock. I have never taken my eyes from them. Now I have them," he added, putting them under his pillow, "I can rest. Here, take this"—handing her the will: "put it in the drawer of my writing-table; we may want it to morrow; and I do not wish that bureau opened again; everything is there."
Having placed the will as he desired, Katherine began to read, and the rest of the day passed as usual.
She could not, however, prevent herself from listening for Mr. Newton's knock. She felt sure he would hasten to his client as soon as he had read his note. He would be but too glad to draw up another and a juster will.
Without a word, without the slightest profession of friendship, Newton had managed to impress Katherine with the idea that he was anxious to induce Mr. Liddell to do what was right to his brother's widow and daughter.
But night closed in, and no Mr. Newton came. Mr. Liddell was unusually wakeful and restless, and seemed on the watch himself, his last words that night being, "I am sure Newton will be here in good time to-morrow."
Instead, the morrow brought a dapper and extremely modern young man, the head of the firm in right of succession, his late father having founded the house of Stephens & Newton.
Mr. Liddell had just been made comfortable in his great invalid's chair by the fire, having risen earlier than usual in expectation of Mr. Newton's visit. When this gentleman presented himself, Katherine observed that her uncle was in a state of tremulous impatience, and the moment she saw the stranger she felt that some unlucky accident had prevented Newton from obeying his client's behest.
"Who—what?" gasped Mr. Liddell, when a card was handed to him. "Read it," to Katherine.
"Mr. Stephens, of Stephens & Newton, Red Lion Square," she returned.
"I will not see him, I do not want him," cried her uncle, angrily. "Where is Newton? Go ask him?"
With an oppressive sense of embarrassment, Katherine went out into the hall, and confronted a short, slight young man with exceedingly tight trousers, a colored cambric tie, and a general air of being on the turf. He held a white hat in one hand, and on the other, which was ungloved, he wore a large seal ring. Katherine did not know how to say that her uncle would not see him, but the stranger took the initiative.
"Aw—I have done myself the honor of coming in person to take Mr. Liddell's instructions, as Mr. Newton was called out of town by very particular business yesterday morning. I rather hoped he might return last night, but a communication this morning informs us he will be detained till this afternoon, not reaching town till 9.30 P.M. I am prepared to execute any directions in my partner's stead."
He spoke with an air of condescension, as if he did Mr. Liddell a high honor, and made a step forward. Katherine did not know what to say. It was terrible to keep this consequential little man in the hall, and there was literally nowhere else to take him.
"I am so sorry, but my uncle is very unwell and nervous. I do not think he could see any one but Mr. Newton, who is an old friend, you know," she added, deprecatingly.
"I am his legal adviser too," returned the young man, with a slightly offended air. "I am the senior partner and head of the house, and the worse Mr. Liddell is, the greater the necessity for his giving instructions respecting his will."
"I will tell him Mr. Newton is away," said Katherine, courteously; "and—would you mind sitting down here? I am quite distressed not to have any better place to offer you, but I cannot help it."
"It is of no consequence," returned the young lawyer, struck by her sweet tones and simple good-breeding, yet looking round him at the worn oil-cloth and shabby stair-carpeting with manifest amazement.
"Mr. Newton is out of town, and does not return till late this evening," said Katherine, returning to the irate old man. "This gentleman says he is the head of the firm, and will do your bidding in Mr. Newton's stead."
"Tell him he shall do nothing of the kind," returned Mr. Liddell, in a weak, hoarse, impatient voice. "I saw him once, and I know him; he is an ignorant, addle-pated jackanapes. He shall not muddle my affairs; send him away; I can wait for Newton. I don't suppose I am going to die to-night."
And Katherine, blushing "celestial rosy red," hied back to the smart young man, who was reposing himself on the only seat the entrance boasted, and conjecturing that if this fine, fair, soft-spoken girl was to be the old miser's heir, she would be almost deserving of his own matrimonial intentions.
"My uncle begs me to apologize to you, Mr. Stephens, but he is so much accustomed to Mr. Newton, and in such a nervous state, that he would prefer waiting till that gentleman can come."
"Oh, very well; only I wish I had known before—I came up here at some inconvenience; and also wish Mr. Liddell could be persuaded that delays are dangerous."
"The delay is not for very long. I am sorry you had this fruitless trouble. Mr. Liddell is very weak."
"I am sure if anything could restore him, it would be the care of such a nurse as you must be," with a bow and a grin.
"Thank you; good-morning," said Katherine, with such an air of decided dismissal that the young senior partner at once departed.
Mr. Liddell fretted and fumed for an hour or two before he had exhausted himself sufficiently to sit still and listen to Katherine's reading; and after he had apparently sunk into a doze, he suddenly started up and exclaimed: "That idiot, young Stephens, will never think of sending to his house. Write—write to Newton's private residence."
"I think Mr. Stephens will, uncle. He seemed anxious to meet your wishes."
"Don't be a fool—do as I bid you! Get the paper and pen. Are you ready?"
"I am."
"Dear sir, Let nothing prevent your coming to me to-morrow," he dictated; "I want to make my will. It is important that affairs be not left in confusion. Yours truly. Give me the pen," he went on, in the same breath. "I can sign as well as ever. Now go you yourself and put this in the post. I do not trust that woman—they all stop and gossip, and I want this to go by the next despatch."
Katherine, always thankful to be in the air, went readily enough. She was distressed to find how the nervous uneasiness of yesterday was growing on her. The perpetual companionship of the grim old skeleton, her uncle, was making her morbid, she thought; she must ask leave to go and spend a day at home to see how her mother was getting on, to refresh herself by a game of romps with the children. Why, she felt absolutely growing old!
When she re-entered the house she found, much to her satisfaction, that the doctor was with Mr. Liddell; and after laying aside her out-door dress, she went to the parlor.
"I have been advising Mr. Liddell to try the effect of a few glasses of champagne," said the former, who was looking rather grave, Katherine thought. "But as there is none in his cellar, he objects. Now you must help me to persuade him. I am going on to a patient in Regent's Park, and shall pass a very respectable wine-merchant's on my way; so I shall just take the law into my own hands and order a couple of bottles for you. Consider it medicine. It is wonderful how much more generally champagne is used than when you and I were young, my dear sir!" etc., etc., he went on, with professional cheerfulness. But Mr. Liddell did not heed him much.
"He is very weak. The action of the heart is extremely feeble," said the doctor, when Katherine followed him to the door. "Try and make him take the champagne."
Another day dragged through; then Katherine, rather worn with the constant involuntary sense of watching which had strained her nerves all day, slept soundly and dreamlessly. She woke early next morning, and was soon dressed. Mrs. Knapp reported Mr. Liddell to be still slumbering.
"But law, miss, he have had a bad night—the worst yet, I think. He was dreaming and tossing from side to side, and then he would scream out words I couldn't understand. I made him take some wine between two and three, but I do not think he knew me a bit. I have had a dreadful night of it."
Katherine expressed her sympathy, and did what she could to lighten the good woman's labors.
Mr. Liddell, however, though he looked ghastly, seemed rather stronger than usual. He insisted on getting up, and came into the sitting-room about eleven.
It was a cold morning, with a thick, drizzling rain. Katherine made up the fire to a cheerful glow, and by her uncle's directions placed pen, ink and paper on the small table he always had beside him. Then he uttered the accustomed commanding "Read," and Katherine read.
Suddenly he interrupted her by exclaiming, "Give me the deaths first."
It had been a whim of his latterly to have this lugubrious list read to him every day.
Katherine had hardly commenced when she descried Mr. Newton's well-known figure advancing from the garden gate.
"Ah, here is Mr. Newton!" she exclaimed.
"Ha! that is well," cried her uncle, with shrill exultation. "Now—now all will go right."
The next moment the lawyer was shown in, and having greeted them, proceeded to apologize for his unavoidable absence. "Here I am, however, sir," he concluded, "at your service."
"Go—leave us," said Liddell, abruptly yet not unkindly, to Katherine; then, as she left the room, "Finish the deaths for me, will you, before we go to business. She had just read the first two. Read—make haste!"
Somewhat surprised, Mr. Newton took up the paper and continued: "On the 30th September, at Wimbledon, universally regretted, the Rev. James Johnson, formerly minister of "Little Bethel, Bermondsey." On October 1st, at her residence, Upper Clapton, Esther, relict of Captain Doubleday, late of the E. I. C. Service. On the 2nd instant, at Bournemouth, Peter Fergusson, of Upper Baker Street, in the seventy-fifth year of his age."
"Fergusson dead! and he is three years my junior! Now it is all mine—all!—all! I shall be able to settle it as I like. I haven't eaten and drunk in vain. I'm strong, quite strong. All the papers are there, in my bureau. I'll show them to you. Aha! I thought I'd outlive him! I was determined to outlive him!"
With an uncanny laugh he struggled to his feet, and attempted to walk to his bedroom, his stick in one hand and the keys he had taken from his pocket in the other. For a few steps he walked with a degree of strength that astonished Newton; then he gave a deep groan, staggered, and fell to the ground with a crash.
Newton rushed to raise him, which he did with some difficulty. The noise brought the servant to his assistance.
"Go! fetch Dr. Bilhane," said Mr. Newton, as soon as they had laid the helpless body on the bed. "Though I doubt if he can do anything. The old man is gone."