Part 4 (1/2)
Julian gave a shout that might have scared the parting spirit!
Really, the general was shocked, and Mrs. Tracy too; and the servants murmured ”shame--shame!” poor Charles hid his face; Emily looked up indignantly; but Julian asked, with an oath, ”Where's the good of being hypocrites?” and then added, ”now, mother, let us find the will.”
Then the nurse went to close the dim glazed eyes; and the other sorrowing domestics slunk away; and Charles led Emily out of the chamber of death, saddened and shocked at such indecent haste.
Meanwhile, the hopeful trio rummaged every drawer--tumbled out the mingled contents of boxes, desk, and escritoire--still, no will--no will: and at last the nurse, who more than once had muttered, ”Shame on you all,” beneath her breath, said,
”If you want the will, it's under her pillow: but don't disturb her yet, poor thing!”
Julian's rude hand had already thrust aside the lifeless, yielding head, and clutched the will: the father and mother--though humbled and wonder-stricken at his daring--gathered round him; and he read aloud, boldly and steadily to the end, though with scowling brow, and many curses interjectional:
”IN the name of G.o.d, Amen. I, Constance Green, make this my last will and testament. Forasmuch as my niece, Jane Tracy, has watched and waited for my death these two-and-twenty years, I leave her all the shoes, slippers, and goloshes, whereof I may happen to die possessed: item, I leave Julian, her son, my '_Whole Duty of Man_,' convinced that he is deficient in it all: item, I confirm all the gifts which I intend to make upon my death-bed: item, forasmuch as General Tracy, my niece's husband, on his return from abroad, greeted me with much affection, I bequeath and give to him five thousand pounds' worth of Exchequer bills, now in my banker's hands; and appoint him my sole executor. As to my landed property, it will all go, in course of law, to my heir, Samuel Hayley, and may he and his long enjoy it. And as to the remainder of my personal effects, including nine thousand pounds bank stock, my Dutch fives, and other matters, whereof I may die possessed (seeing that my relatives are rich enough without my help), I give and bequeath the same, subject as hereinbefore stated, to the trustees, for the time being, of the Westminster Lying-in Hospital, in trust, for the purposes of that charitable inst.i.tution. In witness whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and seal this 13th day of May, 1840.
”CONSTANCE GREEN.”
”Duly signed, sealed, and delivered! d----nation!” was Julian's brief epilogue--”General, let's burn it.”
”You can if you please, Mr. Julian,” interposed the nurse, who had secretly enjoyed all this, ”and if you like to take the consequences; but, as each of the three witnesses has the will sealed up in copy, and the poor deceased there took pains to sign them all, perhaps--”
This settled the affair: and the discomfited expectants made a precipitate retreat. As the general, however, got vastly more than he expected, for his individual merits; and seeing that he loved Emily as much as he hated both Julian and his wife, he really felt well-pleased upon the whole, and took on him the duties of executor with cheerfulness. So they buried Aunt Green as soon as might be.
CHAPTER XI.
PREPARATIONS AND DEPARTURE.
CHARLES'S pocket-book was full of clean bank notes, fifteen hundred pounds' worth: it contained also a diamond ring, and a lock of silvery hair; the latter a proof of affectionate sentiment in the kind old soul, that touched him at the heart.
”And now, my Emmy, the way is clear to us; Providence has sent me this, that I may right you, dearest: and it will be wise in us to say nothing of our plans. Avoid inquiries--for I did not say conceal or falsify facts: but, while none but you, love, heed of my departure, and while I go for our sakes alone, we need not invite disappointment by open-mouthed publicity. To those who love me, Emmy, I am frank and free; but with those who love us not, there is a wisdom and a justice in concealment. They do not deserve confidence, who will not extend to us their sympathy. None but yourself must know whither I am bound; and, after some little search for curiosity's sake, when a week is past and gone, no soul will care for me of those at home. With you, I will manage to communicate by post, directing my letters to Mrs. Sainsbury, at Oxton: I will prepare her for it. She knows my love for you, and how they try to thwart us; but even she, however trustworthy, need not be told my destination yet awhile, until 'India' appears upon the post-mark. How glad will you be, dearest one, how happy in our secret--to read my heart's own thoughts, when I am far away--far away, clearing up mine Emmy's cares, and telling her how blessed I feel in ministering to her happiness!”
Such was the substance of their talk, while counting out the pocket-book.
Charles's remaining preparations were simple enough, now his purse was flush of money: he resolved upon taking from his home no luggage whatever: preferring to order down, from an outfitting house in London, a regular kit of cadet's necessaries, to wait for him at the Europe Hotel, Plymouth, on a certain day in the ensuing week. So that, burdened only with his Emmy's miniature, and his pocket-book of bank notes, he might depart quietly some evening, get to Plymouth in a preconcerted way, by chaise or coach, before the morrow morning; thence, a boat to meet the s.h.i.+p off-sh.o.r.e, and then--hey, for the Indies!
It was as well-devised a scheme as could possibly be planned; though its secresy, especially with a mother in the case, may be a moot point as to the abstract moral thereof: nevertheless, concretely, the only heart his so mysterious absence would have pained, was made aware of all: then, again, secresy had been the atmosphere of his daily life, the breath of his education; and he too sorely knew his mother would rejoice at the departure, and Julian, too--all the more certainly, as both brothers were now rivals professed for the hand of Emily Warren: as to the general, he might, or he might not, smoke an extra cheroot in the excitement of his wonder; and if he cared about it anyways more tragically than tobacco might betray, Emily knew how to comfort him.
With respect to other arrangements, Emmy furnished Charles with letters to certain useful people at Madras, and in particular to the ”somebody”
who looked after Mrs. Mackie: so, the mystery was easy of access, and he doubted not of overcoming, on the spot, every unseen difficulty. The plan of leaving all luggage behind, a capital idea, would enable him to go forth freely and unshackled, with an ordinary air, in hat and great-coat, as for an evening's walk; and was quite in keeping with the natural reserve of his whole character--a bad habit of secresy, which he probably inherited from his father, the lieutenant of old times. And yet, for all the wisdom, and mystery, and shrewd settling of the plan, its accomplishment was as nearly as possible most fatally defeated.
The important evening arrived; for the Indiaman--it was our old friend Sir William Elphinston--would be off Plymouth, next morning: the goods had been, for a day or two, safely deposited at the Europe, as per invoice, all paid: the lovers, in this last, this happiest, yet by far the saddest of their stolen interviews, had exchanged vows and kisses, and upon the beach, beneath those friendly cliffs, had commended one another to their Father in heaven. They had returned to the unsocial circle of home; all was fixed; the clock struck nine: and Charles, accidentally squeezing Emily's hand, rose to leave the tea-table.
”Where are you going, Mr. Charles?”
”I am going out, Julian.”
”Thank you, sir! I knew that, but whither? General, I say, here's Charles going to serenade somebody by moonlight.”
The brandy-sodden parent, scarcely conscious, said something about his infernal majesty; and, ”What then?--let him go, can't you?”