Basil and Annette. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

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СКАЧАТЬ to rob him of forty thousand pounds.

      Had this mental condition lasted long he must have gone mad. The reason for this would have been that he had nothing to grapple with, nothing to fight, nothing but a shadow, which he had magnified into a mortal enemy who had done him a wrong which could only be atoned for by death. It was fortunate for him, although he deserved no good fortune, that Basil's residence at Morley's lasted but a week, and that he and his double did not meet again in the Old World; for although Basil passed much of his time in his father's house in London he lived at a long distance from Chaytor's usual haunts, and the young men's lives did not cross. Gradually Chaytor's reason reasserted itself, and he became sane. Grimly, desperately sane, with still the leading idea haunting him, it is true, but no longer attended by monstrous conceptions of what might occur in a day, in an hour, in a moment, and he on the spot ready to take advantage of it.

      Shortly after Basil's departure he asked his mother if she ever had twins.

      "What on earth do you mean, my dear?" she asked, laughing at him.

      "It is plain enough," he answered incautiously. "I dream sometimes of a brother the exact counterpart of myself."

      "You work too hard," said his mother, pityingly. "You must take a holiday, my darling."

      "Who's to pay for it?" he asked gloomily.

      "I am," she said fondly. "I have saved fifty pounds for you."

      "Give it to me," he said eagerly, and with the money he went to Paris for a fortnight and squandered it on himself and his pleasures.

      The foolish mother was continually doing this kind of thing, saving up money, wheedling her husband out of it upon false pretexts, stinting herself and making sacrifices for the worthless, ungrateful idol of her loving heart. So time passed, and Chaytor was still in the office of Rivington, Sons, and Rivington, picking up no sound knowledge of the law, but extracting from it for future use all the sharp and cunning subtleties of which some vile men make bad use. To the firm came a letter from Mr. Bartholomew Whittingham, with the tenor of which Chaytor made himself familiar. He was a spy in the office, and never scrupled at opening letters and reading them on the sly to master their contents. In the letter which Basil's uncle wrote occurred these words:

      "Send me in a registered packet, by first post, my will, the will I made in favour of my nephew, Mr. Basil Whittingham. He has acted like a fool, and I am going to destroy it and disinherit him. At some future time I will give you instructions to draw up another, making different dispositions of my property. I am not a young man, but I shall live a good many years yet, and there is plenty of time before me. Meanwhile bear witness by this letter that I have disinherited my nephew Basil Whittingham."

      Of course they followed his instructions, and the will was forwarded to him.

      "He has stolen forty thousand pounds from me," thought Chaytor.

      Within a week thereafter he overheard a conversation between two of the principals. He was never above listening at doors and creeping up back staircases. The lawyers were speaking of Bartholomew Whittingham and the will.

      "Will he destroy it?" asked one.

      "I think not," replied the other. "It is my opinion he will keep it by him, half intending to destroy it, half to preserve it, and that it will be found intact and unaltered when he dies."

      "I do not agree with you. He will destroy it one day in a rage, and make another the next."

      "In favour of whom?"

      "Of his nephew. He has in his heart an absorbing love for the young gentleman, and he is a good fellow at bottom. Mr. Basil Whittingham will come into the whole of the property."

      The conversation was continued on these lines, and the partners ultimately agreed that after all Basil would be the heir. "There is a chance yet," thought Chaytor, for although the dangerous period of ecstasy was passed there still lingered in his mind a hope of fortunate possibilities.

      He continued his evil courses, gambled, drank, and led a free life, getting deeper and deeper into debt. His mother assisted him out of many a scrape, and never for one single moment wavered in her faith in him, in her love for him. It was a sweet trait in her character, but love without wisdom is frequently productive of more harm than good. Chaytor's position grew so desperate that detection and its attendant disgraceful penalty became imminent. He had made himself a proficient and skilful imitator of handwriting, and more than once had he forged his father's name to cheques and bills. The father was aware of this, but out of tenderness for his wife had done nothing more than upbraid his son for the infamy. Many a stormy scene had passed between them, which both carefully concealed from the knowledge of the fond woman whose heart would have been broken had she known the truth. On every one of these occasions Chaytor had humbled himself and promised atonement, with tears and sighs and mock repentance which saddened but did not convince the father.

      "For your mother's sake," invariably he said.

      "Yes, yes," murmured the hypocrite, "for my dear mother's sake-my mother, so good, so loving, so tender-hearted!"

      "Let this be the last time," said the father sternly.

      "It shall be, it shall be!" murmured the son.

      It was a formula. The father may sometimes have deceived himself into belief; the son, never. Even while he was humbling himself he would be casting about for the next throw.

      This continued for some considerable time, but at length came the crash. Chaytor and his parents were seated at breakfast at nine o'clock. The father had the morning letters in his pocket; he had read them and put them by. He cast but one glance at his son, and Chaytor turned pale and winced. He saw that the storm was about to burst. As usual, nothing was said before Mrs. Chaytor. The meal was over, she kissed her son, and left the room to attend to her domestic affairs.

      "I must be off," said Chaytor. "Mustn't be late this morning. A lot to attend to at the office."

      "You need not hurry," said the father. "I have something to say to you."

      "Won't it keep till the evening?"

      "No. It must be said here and now." He stepped to the door and locked it. "We will spare her as long as possible; she will know soon enough."

      "Oh, all right," said Chaytor sullenly. "Fire away."

      The father took out his letters, and, selecting one, handed it to his son who read it, shivered, and returned it.

      "What have you to say to it?" asked the father.

      "Nothing. It is only for three hundred pounds."

      "A bill, due to-day, which I did not sign."

      "It was done for all our sakes, to save the honour of the family name. I was in a hole and there was no other way of getting out of it."

      "The bill must be taken up before twelve o'clock."

      "Will it be?"

      "It will, for your mother's sake."

      "Then there is nothing more to be said. I am very sorry, but it could not be helped. I promise that it shall never occur again. I'll take my oath of it if you like."

      "I take neither your word nor your oath. You are a scoundrel."

      "Here, draw it mild. I am your son."

      "Unhappily. СКАЧАТЬ