Mother and Son (25 page)

“Are you ready for dinner?” said Miss Burke. “It is nearly done.”

“To think that the times of our hearing that homely word might have been numbered!”

“And the times of my saying it,” said Miss Burke.

“And now we feel it will all go on for ever,” said Hester.

“I do not,” said Emma. “I feel it will only go on until I die. I resent the people who will survive me. That may be why I did not let myself realise about Miss Burke.”

“You should remember that you lived before they did, and that they might envy that.”

“They might and they ought, but they do not. They envy nothing. That is their real offence. Suppose we envied nothing about them! Or suppose they believed it!”

Plautus came up to Emma and made her a characteristic gift.

“Now that is your fault, Hester. He has got into the way of giving things to me. You will have to show yourself ready to accept again.”

“Ah, but, Plautus, you will not be a human being.”

“What are you saying, Hester? Has your experience of the world altered you like that?”

“Well, I cannot feel I am the same.”

“But you should not wreak the difference on a helpless, dumb creature.”

“Oh, Plautus, what does she call you?”

“I thought that would bring you to your senses. I began to feel we had a stranger in our midst.”

“He wants the door opened for him,” said Miss Burke.

“It seems such a funny little duty now,” said Hester.

“It has always seemed that to me.”

“Well, now I get a glimpse of your point of view.”

Plautus, who had had other glimpses of this, looked past Miss Burke to Hester.

“Ah, Plautus, you have not lost your trust in me. I will open it for you this once.”

“Hester, I hope you will be more yourself tomorrow,” said Emma.

“Father, there is something I must say to you. I have had an experience in the last days. My mother has seemed to be near to me, nearer even than her wont, so near that I have shrunk from the thought of putting anyone between us. I have debated within myself; I have attuned my spirit to hers; I have sought from her an answer in my doubt. And I seemed to hear her voice: ‘No, be faithful, my son. Be true to yourself and
to me. Keep to the path we trod. We shall tread it again together.' Can I leave it to walk with another? Father, do you say that I can?”

“You have undertaken to do so. You should have made the appeal before.”

“Father, I had no answer. My spirit was not fully attuned. I was distraught by earthly impulses. I was not the son she had known. Or I was the son she knew too well, and led to be his truer self.”

“What harm is there in marrying and living as other men?”

“I have had more than other men. I have given more. I do not see myself turning aside to walk in the ordinary way.”

“You have entered on it. You can hardly turn back now.”

“Father, that trouble is not mine. The misgiving found its place in another heart. It shows it was based on truth. Another has come to a knowledge of herself, and sees her path as solitary, as I see mine lying as it has always lain.”

“Oh, Miss Burke has changed her mind? And you are doing your best with it? Well, your best is good. I find I cannot do as well. I am in a similar place, and can do nothing but appear in it.”

There was a pause.

“A word in this letter suggested it, Father. So our life is to be as it has been. And I shall come to a sense of peace.”

“Again you do better than I. I offer no account of my feelings.”

“Father,” said Rosebery, bending his head and using a light, soft tone, “is not acceptance among them? Do you not acknowledge to yourself that it is there?”

“You mean I feel the ease of doing nothing, making no change, putting no demand on anyone?”

“No demand on my cousins; that is your thought. And it must bring us to another. They have heard our words. Shall we face what must be an ordeal, as they are of the age they are? The longer it is left, the more there is to do and to be undone.”

“Well, let them hear us undo as much as we can.”

“Has anything happened?” said Alice.

“In the sense that nothing is going to happen,” said Julius. “We are all to remain as we are.”

“Do you mean you are not going to be married?”

“Yes, that is what I mean.”

“Have you—did they—did you all feel alike?”

“We are to say that we all did.”

“Then we can be glad about it,” said Adrian at once. “It will be as it was when Aunt Miranda was alive, except that she will not be here.”

“Well, curb your rejoicing in the exact situation,” muttered Francis.

“But she will be glad about it too.”

“Yes, I think we may use the simple words,” said Rosebery.

“So we can all be happy together. No one will be apart.”

“Of course there is a veil between,” said Rosebery, as though there might be too easy an approach.

“It must be useful to know about the other side of it,” said Francis.

“Or would it be awkward?” said his sister. “It would complicate things. There would be those people to consider as well as ourselves.”

“And people of a powerful nature. Only those seem to count.”

“It seems it would be better to think about this side, while we are here,” said Adrian.

“We do give a thought to it sometimes,” said his brother.

“Do you feel it a moment for talking amongst yourselves?” said Rosebery.

“Why should it not be?” said Julius. “We have said what we had to say. There is nothing more for them to hear.”

“Is there not something, Father? That the change finds us with consent in our hearts?”

“Well, it is no good to withhold our consent.”

“Will you be satisfied to go on as we are now?” said Alice.

“Yes, I shall see that I am.”

“Then I don't see how we can help being happy about it.”

“Then in a way I shall share the happiness.”

“I hope we are not the reason of the change,” said Francis.

“You are the reason of other things.”

“Francis,” said Rosebery, “will you listen to another word?”

“Yes, a word becomes a thing of weight.”

“You remember when you learned you were to succeed to my inheritance?”

“That is hardly a word I should forget.”

“I have simply wondered if you had done so. There is nothing to suggest that you recall it.”

“I did not know I was to be different.”

“You were not. But have you not been so? Has not the loss of my mother put me in your mind at your mercy and your sister's?”

“It may have done so. But we have not acted on it.”

“Then I am mistaken, and glad to be.”

“And there is some reason in my being Uncle's heir.”

“Francis, is that a generous speech?”

“No, or I might not have made it.”

“Well, there has been little claim on your generosity,” said Rosebery, smiling.

“There has been some on yours,” said Julius, “and you have not been equal to it.”

“Father, I should never mention in my cousins' hearing that that was not the word for them.”

“That is a thing you can never say again.”

“I shall not wish to. It was forced from me.”

“Mr. Pettigrew!” said Bates.

“Good-morning, Mr. Hume; and may I add a general good-morning? I have a message from Mrs. Pettigrew, that she sends her sincere congratulations to you and Mr. Rosebery, and her best wishes for your future.”

“Her message seems no less kind that it is not needed. We are making no change in our lives. Our venture was a late and brief one.”

“Indeed, Mr. Hume, I had no idea, or I should not
have delivered the message. It hardly needs to be said. I assume the decision is sudden?”

“Yes, sudden and final. You will thank your wife and tell her.”

“I will do so indeed, and she will second my hope that the change will be for the best.”

“Our family will tire Mrs. Pettigrew out,” murmured Alice. “And we know her health is weak.”

“Would you have minded, if Mrs. Pettigrew had not married you?” said Adrian to the tutor.

“I should hardly have made my offer to her, if I had wished for that outcome,” said Mr. Pettigrew, smiling at Julius. “Now I will expect you to follow me upstairs.”

He went into the hall and encountered Bates, and came to a sudden pause.

“Good-morning,” he said, in a pleasant tone, that seemed to lead up to something further.

“Good-morning, sir.”

“So there is to be a change in the household, or rather the apprehended change is not to take place.”

“No, sir. Our change is in the past.”

“And I daresay it seems a sufficient share to you.”

“I referred to the loss of the mistress, sir.”

“You may be glad that her place is not to be filled.”

“It would not be so to me, sir. There would be the void.”

“I suppose you have only just heard this last piece of news.”

“Just now, sir, from the master's own lips,” said Bates, with truth.

“A great deal goes on beneath the surface in a family.”

“Is that the case, sir?”

“There must be many things of which you do not speak.”

“Well, those are as you say, sir.”

“You must hear a good deal as an established member of the household.”

“I have my position, sir. The family news is not withheld.”

“This last piece will soon be abroad. But many things must be entrusted to your ears.”

“I do not deny it, sir. I said I had my place.”

“And everything is better for the daylight. It tends to grow in the dark.”

“I understood it was light that contributed to growth, sir,” said Bates.

Mr. Pettigrew went upstairs and awaited his pupils.

“Well, perhaps I may congratulate you all. You are to remain in the foreground of your uncle's life, if I may so express it. I hope things have developed as he wished.”

“We did not ask,” said Adrian. “We forgot you would want to know.”

“I am glad indeed that you did not do so. It suggests you are outgrowing your childishness.”

“So you do not want to be told.”

“Told what, Adrian?” said Mr. Pettigrew, easily.

“How things happened with all of them.”

“Well, it is outside my sphere.”

“But it is not outside your sphere of interest.”

“Well, gratify me in any way you can,” said Mr. Pettigrew, sharpening a pencil.

“I don't think Uncle would like it.”

“Then of course you must not think of it. Though your suggestions would be guesswork, and would not bear on the truth.”

“I think we really know,” said Alice.

“You mean you are satisfied with your guess. We are lenient towards our own creations.”

“I am not satisfied with it.”

“Well, it is probably erroneous,” said the tutor, opening a book. “And as we are not to judge of it, we will leave the subject.”

“Do you think Pettigrew will die of curiosity?” whispered Adrian.

“Well, save me from that fate,” said Mr. Pettigrew, smiling and turning the leaves.

“I don't think Rosebery was troubled, even if he was surprised.”

“It is unlikely that Miss Burke took the initiative in the matter. There are many reasons against it.”

“And perhaps one reason for it,” said Alice.

“Would Rosebery have taken it?” said Adrian. “I thought the man was not allowed to. But I expect you take more interest in Uncle and Miss Greatheart.”

“It might be more within the range of my experience,” said Mr. Pettigrew, glancing at a back page.

“Would you like me to tell you about it?”

“I think it is unlikely that you are able to,” said Mr. Pettigrew, looking up with an open smile.

“Well, I know what I think.”

“That would not throw any light on the matter,” said Mr. Pettigrew with some sharpness.

“Pettigrew is his own worst enemy,” murmured Francis. “He will not accept the truth, even when it is so satisfying.”

“It is hard on Mrs. Pettigrew,” said Alice.

“Who is taking Mrs. Pettigrew's name in vain?” said Mr. Pettigrew lightly, not raising his eyes.

“We thought she would like to know what happened,” said Adrian.

“The people concerned are only known to her through my chance allusions. It is hardly to an extent to arouse her curiosity.”

“So she is less curious than you are?”

“I was not aware that the quality was prominent in me. The necessity of limiting my interests to yours, when I am with you, may give you the impression.”

“I suppose your interests are always those of your pupils, as you don't see anyone else.”

“I have my own friends, as is natural. But it is true that their affairs are not of the same unexpected kind,” said Mr. Pettigrew, goaded to this point.

“Would you have liked to marry Miss Burke yourself?”

“Really, Adrian, the question is beneath attention.”

“You seemed to take an interest in her.”

“When she was to become in effect a member of your family, I was disposed to do so. But that possibility has passed.”

“Would you rather marry Miss Greatheart?”

“If I am to answer such a question, it is true that there might be more affinity between us.”

“Do you mean that you would not marry a housekeeper?”

“Well, it is not perhaps a likely contingency.”

“What was Mrs. Pettigrew before you married her?”

“She had not had occasion to seek employment. As you know, it will not be the case with your sister.”

“I did not know it was the same.”

“You think the tutor's family is on a pinnacle apart?” said Mr. Pettigrew, smiling and jotting something down.