Part 40 (2/2)
”Well,” said Valentine, ”I am much more uncertain about the whole thing than you seem to be. I shall make it my duty to investigate the matter.
I must find out everything; perhaps it will be only too easy; according to what I find I shall act. One generation has no right so to dominate over another as to keep it always in childlike bondage to a command for which no reason is given. If, when I know, I consider that my dear father was right, I shall of my own free-will sell the land, and divest myself of the proceeds. If that he was wrong, I shall go and live fearlessly and freely in that house, and on that land which, in the course of providence, has come to me.”
”Reasonable and cool,” thought Brandon. ”Have I any right to say more?
He will do just what he says. No one was ever more free from superst.i.tion; and he is of age, as he reminds me.”
”Very well,” he then said aloud; ”you have a right to do as you please.
Still, I must remind you of your father's distinct a.s.sertion, that in this case he has set you an example. He would not have the land.”
”Does he mean,” said Valentine, confused between his surprise at the letter, his own recollections, and his secret wishes--”Does he, can he mean, that his old mother positively asked him to be her heir, and he refused?”
”I cannot tell; how is the will worded?”
”My great-grandfather left his estate to his only son, and if _he_ died childless, to his eldest grandson; both these were mere boys at the time, and if neither lived to marry, then the old man left his estate to his only daughter. That was my grandmother, you know, and she had it for many years.”
”And she had power to will it away, as is evident.”
”Yes, she might leave it to any one of her sons, or his representative; but she was not to divide it into shares. And in case of the branch she favoured dying out, the estate was to revert to his heir-at-law--the old man's heir-at-law, you know, his nearest of kin. That would have been my father, if he had lived a year or two longer, he was the second son. It is a most complicated and voluminous will.”
Brandon asked one more question. ”But its provisions come to an end with you, is it not so? It is not entailed, and you can do with it exactly as you please.”
Valentine's countenance fell a little when his brother said this; he perceived that he chanced to be more free than most heirs, he had more freedom than he cared for.
”Yes,” he replied, ”that is so.”
CHAPTER XXII.
SOPHISTRY.
”'As he has not trusted me, he will never know how I should scorn to be a thief,' quoth the school boy yesterday, when his master's orchard gate was locked; but, 'It's all his own fault,' quoth the same boy to-day while he was stealing his master's plums, 'why did he leave the gate ajar?'”
”Val,” said Brandon, ”I do hope you will give yourself time to consider this thing in all its bearings before you decide. I am afraid if you make a mistake, it will prove a momentous one.”
He spoke with a certain feeling of restraint, his advice had not been asked; and the two brothers began to perceive by this time that it was hard to keep up an air of easy familiarity when neither felt really at ease. Each was thinking of the lovely young wife down-stairs. One felt that he could hardly preach to the man whose folly had been his own opportunity, the other felt that nothing would be more sweet than to let her see that, after all, she had married a man not half so rich nor in so good a position as her first love, for so he chose to consider himself. How utter, how thorough an escape this would be also from the least fear of further dependence on Giles! And, as to his having made a fool of himself, and having been well laughed at for his pains, he was perfectly aware that as Melcombe of Melcombe, and with those personal advantages that he by no means undervalued, n.o.body would choose to remember that story against him, and he might marry almost wherever he pleased.
As he turned in his chair to think, he caught a glimpse of his old uncle's house, just a corner through some trees, of his own bedroom window there, the place where that parcel was.
He knew that, think as long as he would, Giles would not interrupt.
”Yes, that parcel! Well, I'm independent, anyhow,” he considered exultingly; and the further thought came into his mind, ”I am well enough off. What if I were to give this up and stay with John? I know he is surprised and pleased to find me so useful. I shall be more so; the work suits me, and brings out all I have in me; I like it. Then I always liked being with Emily, and I should soon be master in that house.
Bother the estate! I felt at first that I could not possibly fling it by, but really--really I believe that in a few years, when John goes into Parliament, he'll make me his partner. It's very perplexing; yes, I'll think it well over, as Giles says. I'll do as I please; and I've a great mind to let that doomed old den alone after all.”
Though he expressed his mind in these undignified words, it was not without manly earnestness that he turned back to his brother, and said seriously, ”Giles, I do a.s.sure you that I will decide nothing till I have given the whole thing my very best attention. In the meantime, of course, whatever you hear, you will say nothing. I shall certainly not go to Melcombe for a few days, I've got so attached to John, somehow, that I cannot think of leaving him in the lurch just now when he is out of spirits, and likes to have me with him.”
Thereupon the brothers parted, Valentine going downstairs, and Brandon sitting still in his room, a smile dawning on his face, and a laugh following.
”Leaving John in the lurch!” he repeated. ”What would my lord John think if he could hear that; but I have noticed for some time that they like one another. What a notion Val has suddenly formed of his own importance! There was really something like dignity in his leave-taking.
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