Part 40 (2/2)
But he did not guess what it was in his narrative which had most pierced his mother. It was something that made the threat about the estate only a secondary alarm. Now, for the first time, she heard of the intended proceedings against Jermyn. Harold had not chosen to speak of them before; but having at last called his mother into consultation, there was nothing in his mind to hinder him from speaking without reserve of his determination to visit on the attorney his shameful maladministration of the family affairs.
Harold went through the whole narrative--of what he called Jermyn's scheme to catch him in a vise, and his power of triumphantly frustrating that scheme--in his usual rapid way, speaking with a final decisiveness of tone; and his mother felt that if she urged any counter-consideration at all, she could only do so when he had no more to say.
”Now, what I want you to do, mother, if you can see this matter as I see it,” Harold said in conclusion, ”is to go with me to call on this girl in Malthouse Yard. I will open the affair to her; it appears she is not likely to have been informed yet; and you will invite her to visit you here at once, that all scandal, all hatching of law-mischief, may be avoided, and the thing may be brought to an amicable conclusion.”
”It seems almost incredible--extraordinary--a girl in her position,”
said Mrs. Transome, with difficulty. It would have seemed the bitterest, humiliating penance if another sort of suffering had left any room in her heart.
”I a.s.sure you she is a lady; I saw her when I was canva.s.sing, and was amazed at the time. You will be quite struck with her. It is no indignity for you to invite her.”
”Oh,” said Mrs. Transome, with low-toned bitterness, ”I must put up with all things as they are determined for me. When shall we go?”
”Well,” said Harold, looking at his watch, ”it is hardly two yet. We could really go to-day, when you have lunched. It is better to lose no time. I'll order the carriage.”
”Stay,” said Mrs. Transome, with a desperate effort. ”There is plenty of time. I shall not lunch. I have a word to say.”
Harold withdrew his hand from the bell, and leaned against the mantelpiece to listen.
”You see I comply with your wish at once, Harold?”
”Yes, mother, I'm much obliged to you for making no difficulties.”
”You ought to listen to me in return.”
”Pray go on,” said Harold, expecting to be annoyed.
”What is the good of having these Chancery proceedings against Jermyn?”
”Good? This good: that fellow has burdened the estate with annuities and mortgages to the extent of three thousand a year; and the bulk of them, I am certain, he holds himself under the name of another man. And the advances this yearly interest represents, have not been much more than twenty thousand. Of course, he has hoodwinked you, and my father never gave attention to these things. He has been up to all sorts of devil's work with the deeds; he didn't count on my coming back from Smyrna to fill poor Durfey's place. He shall feel the difference. And the good will be, that I shall save almost all the annuities for the rest of my father's life, which may be ten years or more, and I shall get back some of the money, and I shall punish a scoundrel. That is the good.”
”He will be ruined.”
”That's what I intend,” said Harold, sharply.
”He exerted himself a great deal for us in the old suits: everyone said he had wonderful zeal and ability,” said Mrs. Transome, getting courage and warmth, as she went on. Her temper was rising.
”What he did, he did for his own sake, you may depend on that,” said Harold, with a scornful laugh.
”There were very painful things in that last suit. You seem anxious about this young woman, to avoid all further scandal and contests in the family. Why don't you wish to do it in this case? Jermyn might be willing to arrange things amicably--to make rest.i.tution as far as he can--if he has done anything wrong.”
”I will arrange nothing amicably with him,” said Harold, decisively. ”If he has ever done anything scandalous as our agent, let him bear the infamy. And the right way to throw the infamy on him is to show the world that he has robbed us, and that I mean to punish him. Why do you wish to s.h.i.+eld such a fellow, mother? It has been chiefly through him that you have had to lead such a thrifty, miserable life--you who used to make as brilliant a figure as a woman need wish.”
Mrs. Transome's rising temper was turned into a horrible sensation, as painful as a sudden concussion from something hard and immovable when we have struck out with our fist, intending to hit something warm, soft, and breathing like ourselves. Poor Mrs. Transome's strokes were sent jarring back on her by a hard unalterable past. She did not speak in answer to Harold, but rose from the chair as if she gave up the debate.
”Women are frightened at everything I know,” said Harold, kindly, feeling that he had been a little harsh after his mother's compliance.
”And you have been used for so many years to think Jermyn a law of nature. Come, mother,” he went on, looking at her gently, and resting his hands on her shoulders, ”look cheerful. We shall get through all these difficulties. And this girl--I dare say she will be quite an interesting visitor for you. You have not had any young girl about you for a long while. Who knows? she may fall deeply in love with me, and I may be obliged to marry her.”
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