Part 10 (2/2)
”Harry wants five hundred pounds, Sophia.”
”I am astonished he does not want five thousand pounds. Father, I would not send him a sovereign of it. Julius told me about his carryings-on.”
She could hardly have said any words so favorable to Harry's cause. The squire was on the defensive for his own side in a moment.
”What has Julius to do with it?” he cried. ”Sandal-Side is not his property, and please G.o.d it never will be. Harry is one kind of a sinner, Julius is another kind of a sinner. G.o.d Almighty only knows which kind of sinner is the meaner and worse. The long and the short of it, is this: Harry must have five hundred pounds. Charlotte is willing to give the balance of her interest account, about three hundred pounds, towards it. Will you make up what is lacking, out of your interest money? Eh? What?”
”I do not know why I should be asked to do this, I am sure.”
”Only because I have no ready money at present. And because, however bad Harry is, he is your brother. And because he is heir of Sandal, and the honor of the name is worth saving. And because your mother will break her heart if shame comes to Harry. And there are some other reasons too; but if mother, brother, and honor don't seem worth while to you, why, then, Sophia, there is no use wasting words. Eh? What?”
”Let father have what is needed, Sophia. I will pay you back.”
”Very well, Charlotte; but I think it is most unjust, most iniquitous, as Julius says”--
”Now, then, don't quote Julius to me. What right had he to be discussing my family matters, or Sandal matters either, I wonder? Eh? What?”
”He is in the family.”
”Is he? Very well, then, I am still the head of the family. If he has any advice to offer, he can come to me with it. Eh? What?”
”Father, I am as sick as can be to-night.”
”Go thy ways then. Mother and I are both poorly too. Good-night, girls, both.” And he turned away with an air of hopeless depression, that was far more pitiful than the loudest complaining.
The sisters went away together, silent, and feeling quite ”out” with each other. But Sophia really had a nervous attack, and was s.h.i.+very and sick with it. By the lighted candle in her hand, Charlotte saw that her very lips were white, and that heavy tears were silently rolling down her wan cheeks. They washed all of Charlotte's anger away; she forgot her resolution not to enter her sister's room again, and at its door she said, ”Let me stay with you till you can sleep, Sophia; or I will go, and ask Ann to make you a cup of strong coffee. You are suffering very much.”
”Yes, I am suffering; and father knows how I do suffer with these headaches, and that any annoyance brings them on; and yet, if Harry cries out at Edinburgh, every one in Seat-Sandal must be put out of their own way to help him. And I do think it is a shame that our little fortunes are to be crumbled as a kind of spice into his big fortune. If Harry does not know the value of money I do.”
”I will pay you back every pound. I really do not care a bit about money. I have all the dress I want. You buy books and music, I do not.
I have no use for my money except to make happiness with it; and, after all, that is the best interest I can possibly get.”
”Very well. Then, you can pay Harry's debts if it gives you pleasure. I suppose I am a little peculiar on this subject. Last Sunday, when the rector was preaching about the prodigal son, I could not help thinking that the sympathy for the bad young man was too much. I know, if I had been the elder brother, I should have felt precisely as he did. I don't think he ought to be blamed. And it would certainly have been more just and proper for the father to have given the feast and the gifts to the son who never at any time transgressed his commandments. You see, Charlotte, that parable is going on all over the world ever since; going on right here in Seat-Sandal; and I am on the elder brother's side.
Harry has given me a headache to-night; and I dare say he is enjoying himself precisely as the Jerusalem prodigal did before the swine husks, when it was the riotous living.”
”Have a cup of coffee, Sophy. I'll go down for it. You are just as trembly and excited as you can be.”
”Very well; thank you, Charlotte. You always have such a bright, kind face. I am afraid I do not deserve such a good sister.”
”Yes, you do deserve all I can help or pleasure you in.” And then, when the coffee had been taken, and Sophia lay restless and wide-eyed upon her bed, Charlotte proposed to read to her from any book she desired; an offer involving no small degree of self-denial, for Sophia's books were very rarely interesting, or even intelligible, to her sister. But she lifted the nearest two, Barret's ”Maga,” and ”The Veiled Prophet,” and rather dismally asked which it was to be?
”Neither of them, Charlotte. The 'Maga' makes me think, and I know you detest poetry. I got a letter to-night from Agnes Bulteel, and it appears to be about Professor Sedgwick. I was so annoyed at Harry I could not feel any interest in it then; but, if you don't object, I should like to hear you read it now.”
”Object? No, indeed. I think a great deal of the old professor. What gay times father and I have had on the Screes with him, and his hammer and leather bags! And, as Agnes writes a large, round hand, and does not fresco her letters, I can read about the professor easily.”
RESPECTED MISS SANDAL,--I have such a thing to tell you about Professor Sedgwick and our Joe; hoping that the squire or Miss Charlotte may see him, and let him know that Joe meant no harm at all. One hot forenoon lately, when we were through at home, an old gentlemanly make of a fellow came into our fold, and said, quite natural, that he wanted somebody to go with him on to the fells. We all stopped, and took a good look at him before anybody spoke; but at last father said, middling sharp-like,--he always speaks that way, does father, when we're busy,--
”We've something else to do here than go raking over the fells on a fine day like this with n.o.body knows who.”
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