CHAPTER LVI.
Another Walk on the Fells.
George when he left the room in which he had insulted the lawyer,went immediately across to the parlour in which his aunt and sisterwere sitting. "Kate," said he, "put on your hat and come and walkwith me. That business is over." Kate's hat and shawl were in theroom, and they were out of the house together within a minute.
They walked down the carriage-road, through the desolate, untenantedgrounds, to the gate, before either of them spoke a word. Kate waswaiting for George to tell her of the will, but did not dare to askany question. George intended to tell her of the will, but was notdisposed to do so without some preparation. It was a thing not to bespoken of open-mouthed, as a piece of ordinary news. "Which way shallwe go?" said Kate, as soon as they had passed through the old ricketygate, which swung at the entrance of the place. "Up across the fell,"said George; "the day is fine, and I want to get away from my unclefor a time." She turned round, therefore, outside the hill of firs,and led the way back to the beacon wood through which she and Alicehad walked across to Haweswater upon a memorable occasion. Theyhad reached the top of the beacon hill, and were out upon the Fell,before George had begun his story. Kate was half beside herself withcuriosity, but still she was afraid to ask. "Well," said George,when they paused a moment as they stepped over a plank that crossedthe boundary ditch of the wood: "don't you want to know what thatdear old man has done for you?" Then he looked into her face verysteadfastly. "But perhaps you know already," he added. He had comeout determined not to quarrel with his sister. He had resolved,in that moment of thought which had been allowed to him, that hisbest hope for the present required that he should keep himself ongood terms with her, at any rate till he had settled what line ofconduct he would pursue. But he was, in truth, so sore with angerand disappointment,--he had become so nearly mad with that continued,unappeased wrath in which he now indulged against all the world, thathe could not refrain himself from bitter words. He was as one drivenby the Furies, and was no longer able to control them in theirdriving of him.
"I know nothing of it," said Kate. "Had I known I should have toldyou. Your question is unjust to me."
"I am beginning to doubt," said he, "whether a man can be safe intrusting any one. My grandfather has done his best to rob me of theproperty altogether."
"I told you that I feared he would do so."
"And he has made you his heir."
"Me?"
"Yes; you."
"He told me distinctly that he would not do that."
"But he has, I tell you."
"Then, George, I shall do that which I told him I should do in theevent of his making such a will; for he asked me the question. I toldhim I should restore the estate to you, and upon that he swore thathe would not leave it to me."
"And what a fool you were," said he, stopping her in the pathway."What an ass! Why did you tell him that? You knew that he would not,on that account, do justice to me."
"He asked me, George."
"Psha! now you have ruined me, and you might have saved me."
"But I will save you still, if he has left the estate to me. I do notdesire to take it from you. As God in heaven sees me, I have neverceased to endeavour to protect your interests here at Vavasor. I willsign anything necessary to make over my right in the property toyou." Then they walked on over the Fell for some minutes withoutspeaking. They were still on the same path,--that path which Kate andAlice had taken in the winter,--and now poor Kate could not but thinkof all that she had said that day on George's behalf;--how had shemingled truth and falsehood in her efforts to raise her brother'scharacter in her cousin's eyes! It had all been done in vain. Atthis very moment of her own trouble Kate thought of John Grey, andrepented of what she had done. Her hopes in that direction werealtogether blasted. She knew that her brother had ill-treated Alice,and that she must tell him so if Alice's name were mentioned betweenthem. She could no longer worship her brother, and hold herself athis command in all things. But, as regarded the property to which hewas naturally the heir, if any act of hers could give it to him, thatact would be done. "If the will is as you say, George, I will makeover my right to you."
"You can make over nothing," he answered. "The old robber has beentoo cunning for that; he has left it all in the hands of my uncleJohn. D---- him. D---- them both."
"George! George! he is dead now."
"Dead; of course he is dead. What of that? I wish he had been deadten years ago,--or twenty. Do you suppose I am to forgive him becausehe is dead? I'll heap his grave with curses, if that can be of availto punish him."
"You can only punish the living that way."
"And I will punish them;--but not by cursing them. My uncle Johnshall have such a life of it for the next year or two that he shallbitterly regret the hour in which he has stepped between me and myrights."
"I do not believe that he has done so."
"Not done so! What was he down here for at Christmas? Do you pretendto think that that make-believe will was concocted without hisknowledge?"
"I'm sure that he knew nothing of it. I don't think my grandfather'smind was made up a week before he died."
"You'll have to swear that, remember, in a court. I'm not going tolet the matter rest, I can tell you. You'll have to prove that. Howlong is it since he asked you what you would do with the estate if heleft it to you?"
Kate thought for a moment before she answered. "It was only two daysbefore he died, if I remember rightly."
"But you must remember rightly. You'll have to swear to it. And nowtell me this honestly; do you believe, in your heart, that he was ina condition fit for making a will?"
"I advised him not to make it."
"Why? why? What reason did you give?"
"I told him that I thought no man should alter family arrangementswhen he was so ill."
"Exactly. You told him that. And what did he say?"
"He was very angry, and made me send for Mr. Gogram."
"Now, Kate, think a little before you answer me again. If ever youare to do me a good turn, you must do it now. And remember this, Idon't at all want to take anything away from you. Whatever you thinkis fair you shall have."
He was a fool not to have known her better than that.
"I want nothing," she said, stopping, and stamping with her foot uponthe crushed heather. "George, you don't understand what it is to behonest."
He smiled,--with a slight provoking smile that passed very rapidlyfrom his face. The meaning of the smile was to be read, had Kate beencalm enough to read it. "I can't say that I do." That was the meaningof the smile. "Well, never mind about that," said he; "you advised mygrandfather not to make his will,--thinking, no doubt, that his mindwas not clear enough?"
She paused a moment again before she answered him. "His mind wasclear," she said; "but I thought that he should not trust hisjudgement while he was so weak."
"Look here, Kate; I do believe that you at any rate have no mindto assist in this robbery. That it is a robbery you can't have anydoubt. I said he had left the estate to you. That is not what he hasdone. He has left the estate to my uncle John."
"Why tell me, then, what was untrue?"
"Are you disappointed?"
"Of course I am; uncle John won't give it you. George, I don'tunderstand you; I don't, indeed."
"Never mind about that, but listen to me. The estate is left in thehands of John Vavasor; but he has left you five hundred a year out ofit till somebody is twenty-five years old who is not yet born, andprobably never will be born. The will itself shows the old fool tohave been mad."
"He was no more mad than you are, George."
"Listen to me, I tell you. I don't mean that he was a raging maniac.Now, you had advised him not to make any new will because you thoughthe was not in a fit condition?"
"Yes; I did."
"You can swear to that?"
"I hope I may not be called on to do so. I hope there may be noswearing about it. But if I am asked the quest
ion I must swear it."
"Exactly. Now listen till you understand what it is I mean. Thatwill, if it stands, gives all the power over the estate to JohnVavasor. It renders you quite powerless as regards any helpor assistance that you might be disposed to give to me. But,nevertheless, your interest under the will is greater than his,--orthan that of any one else,--for your son would inherit if I havenone. Do you understand?"
"Yes; I think so."
"And your testimony as to the invalidity of the will would beconclusive against all the world."
"I would say in a court what I have told you, if that will do anygood."
"It will not be enough. Look here, Kate; you must be steadfast here;everything depends on you. How often have you told me that you willstick to me throughout life? Now you will be tried."
Kate felt that her repugnance towards him,--towards all that he wasdoing and wished her to do,--was growing stronger within her at everyword he spoke. She was becoming gradually aware that he desired fromher something which she could not and would not do, and she was awarealso that in refusing him she would have to encounter him in all hiswrath. She set her teeth firmly together, and clenched her littlefist. If a fight was necessary, she would fight with him. As helooked at her closely with his sinister eyes, her love towards himwas almost turned to hatred.
"But that was what you meant when you advised him not to make thewill because you thought his intellect was impaired!"
"No; not so."
"Stop, Kate, stop. If you will think of it, It was so. What is themeaning of his judgement being weak?"
"I didn't say his judgement was weak."
"But that was what you meant when you advised him not to trust it!"
"Look here, George; I think I know now what you mean. If anybody asksme if his mind was gone, or his intellect deranged, I cannot say thatthere was anything of the kind."
"You will not?"
"Certainly not. It would be untrue."
"Then you are determined to throw me over and claim the property foryourself." Again he turned towards and looked at her as though hewere resolved to frighten her. "And I am to count you also among myenemies? You had better take care, Kate."
They were now upon the fell side, more than three miles away from theHall; and Kate, as she looked round, saw that they were all alone.Not a cottage,--not a sign of humanity was within sight. Kate sawthat it was so, and was aware that the fact pressed itself upon heras being of importance. Then she thought again of her resolutionto fight with him, if any fight were necessary; to tell him, in somany words, that she would separate herself from him and defy him.She would not fear him, let his words and face be ever so terrible!Surely her own brother would do her no bodily harm. And even thoughhe should do so,--though he should take her roughly by the arm as hehad done to Alice,--though he should do worse than that, still shewould fight him. Her blood was the same as his, and he should knowthat her courage was, at any rate, as high.
And, indeed, when she looked at him, she had cause to fear. Heintended that she should fear. He intended that she should dread whathe might do to her at that moment. As to what he would do he had noresolve made. Neither had he resolved on anything when he had gone toAlice and had shaken her rudely as she sat beside him. He had beenguided by no fixed intent when he had attacked John Grey, or whenhe insulted the attorney; but a Fury was driving him, and he wasconscious of being so driven. He almost wished to be driven to someact of frenzy. Everything in the world had gone against him, and hedesired to expend his rage on some one.
"Kate," said he, stopping her, "we will have this out here, if youplease. So much, at any rate, shall be settled to-day. You have mademany promises to me, and I have believed them. You can now keep themall, by simply saying what you know to be the truth,--that that oldman was a drivelling idiot when he made this will. Are you preparedto do me that justice? Think before you answer me, for, by G----, ifI cannot have justice among you, I will have revenge." And he put hishand upon her breast up near to her throat.
"Take your hand down, George," said she. "I'm not such a fool thatyou can frighten me in that way."
"Answer me!" he said, and shook her, having some part of her raimentwithin his clutch.
"Oh, George, that I should live to be so ashamed of my brother!"
"Answer me," he said again; and again he shook her.
"I have answered you. I will say nothing of the kind that you wantme to say. My grandfather, up to the latest moment that I saw him,knew what he was about. He was not an idiot. He was, I believe, onlycarrying out a purpose fixed long before. You will not make me changewhat I say by looking at me like that, nor get it by shaking me.You don't know me, George, if you think you can frighten me like achild."
He heard her to the last word, still keeping his hand upon her, andholding her by the cloak she wore; but the violence of his grasp hadrelaxed itself, and he let her finish her words, as though his objecthad simply been to make her speak out to him what she had to say."Oh," said he, when she had done, "That's to be it; is it? That'syour idea of honesty. The very name of the money being your ownhas been too much for you. I wonder whether you and my uncle hadcontrived it all between you beforehand?"
"You will not dare to ask him, because he is a man," said Kate, hereyes brimming with tears, not through fear, but in very vexation atthe nature of the charge he had brought against her.
"Shall I not? You will see what I dare do. As for you, with all yourpromises--. Kate, you know that I keep my word. Say that you will doas I desire you, or I will be the death of you."
"Do you mean that you will murder me?" said she.
"Murder you! yes; why not? Treated as I have been among you, do yousuppose that I shall stick at anything? Why should I not murderyou--you and Alice, too, seeing how you have betrayed me?"
"Poor Alice!" As she spoke the words she looked straight into hiseyes, as though defying him, as far as she herself were concerned.
"Poor Alice, indeed! D---- hypocrite! There's a pair of you; cursed,whining, false, intriguing hypocrites. There; go down and tell youruncle and that old woman there that I threatened to murder you. Tellthe judge so, when you're brought into court to swear me out of myproperty. You false liar!" Then he pushed her from him with greatviolence, so that she fell heavily upon the stony ground.
He did not stop to help her up, or even to look at her as she lay,but walked away across the heath, neither taking the track on towardsHaweswater, nor returning by the path which had brought them thither.He went away northwards across the wild fell; and Kate, having risenup and seated herself on a small cairn of stones which stood there,watched him as he descended the slope of the hill till he was outof sight. He did not run, but he seemed to move rapidly, and henever once turned round to look at her. He went away, down the hillnorthwards, and presently the curving of the ground hid him from herview.
When she first seated herself her thoughts had been altogether ofhim. She had feared no personal injury, even when she had asked himwhether he would murder her. Her blood had been hot within her veins,and her heart had been full of defiance. Even yet she feared nothing,but continued to think of him and his misery, and his disgrace. Thathe was gone for ever, utterly and irretrievably ruined, thrown out,as it were, beyond the pale of men, was now certain to her. And thiswas the brother in whom she had believed; for whom she had not onlybeen willing to sacrifice herself, but for whose purposes she hadstriven to sacrifice her cousin! What would he do now? As he passedfrom out of her sight down the hill, it seemed to her as though hewere rushing straight into some hell from which there could be noescape.
Kate.]
She knew that her arm had been hurt in the fall, but for a while shewould not move it or feel it, being resolved to take no account ofwhat might have happened to herself. But when he had been gone someten minutes, she rose to her feet, and finding that the movementpained her greatly, and that her right arm was powerless, she put upher left hand and became aware that the bone of her arm was brokenbelow the el
bow. Her first thought was given to the telling him ofthis, or the not telling, when she should meet him below at thehouse. How should she mention the accident to him? Should she lie,and say that she had fallen as she came down the hill alone? Ofcourse he would not believe her, but still some such excuse as thatmight make the matter easier for them all. It did not occur to herthat she might not see him again at all that day; and that, as far ashe was concerned, there might be need for no lie.
She started off to walk down home, holding her right arm steadilyagainst her body with her left hand. Of course she must give someaccount of herself when she got to the house; but it was of theaccount to be given to him that she thought. As to the others shecared little for them. "Here I am; my arm is broken; and you hadbetter send for a doctor." That would be sufficient for them.
When she got into the wood the path was very dark. The heavens wereovercast with clouds, and a few drops began to fall. Then the rainfell faster and faster, and before she had gone a quarter of a miledown the beacon hill, the clouds had opened themselves, and theshower had become a storm of water. Suffering as she was she stood upfor a few moments under a large tree, taking the excuse of the rainfor some minutes of delay, that she might make up her mind as to whatshe would say. Then it occurred to her that she might possibly meethim again before she reached the house; and, as she thought of it,she began for the first time to fear him. Would he come out upon herfrom the trees and really kill her? Had he made his way round, whenhe got out of her sight, that he might fall upon her suddenly and doas he had threatened? As the idea came upon her, she made a littleattempt to run, but she found that running was impracticable from thepain the movement caused her. Then she walked on through the hardrain, steadily holding her arm against her side, but still lookingevery moment through the trees on the side from which George might beexpected to reach her. But no one came near her on her way homewards.Had she been calm enough to think of the nature of the ground, shemight have known that he could not have returned upon her so quickly.He must have come back up the steep hill-side which she had seen himdescend. No;--he had gone away altogether, across the fells towardsBampton, and was at this moment vainly buttoning his coat across hisbreast, in his unconscious attempt to keep out the wet. The Fury wasdriving him on, and he himself was not aware whither he was driven.
Dinner at the Hall had been ordered at five, the old hour; or ratherthat had been assumed to be the hour for dinner without any ordering.It was just five when Kate reached the front door. This she openedwith her left hand, and turning at once into the dining-room, foundher uncle and her aunt standing before the fire.
"Dinner is ready," said John Vavasor; "where is George?"
"You are wet, Kate," said aunt Greenow.
"Yes, I am very wet," said Kate. "I must go up-stairs. Perhaps you'llcome with me, aunt?"
"Come with you,--of course I will." Aunt Greenow had seen at oncethat something was amiss.
"Where's George?" said John Vavasor. "Has he come back with you, orare we to wait for him?"
Kate seated herself in her chair. "I don't quite know where he is,"she said. In the meantime her aunt had hastened up to her side justin time to catch her as she was falling from her chair. "My arm,"said Kate, very gently; "my arm!" Then she slipped down against heraunt, and had fainted.
"He has done her a mischief," said Mrs. Greenow, looking up at herbrother. "This is his doing."
John Vavasor stood confounded, wishing himself back in Queen AnneStreet.