Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles. Henry Wood

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СКАЧАТЬ soon after her cousin Edgar came to his uncle's. And it was after the marriage of Julia that Edgar was discarded and turned adrift. Years, many years, had gone by since then; and here lay Richard Cooper, stricken for death and repenting of the harshness, which he had not repented of or sought to atone for all through those long years. Ah, my friends! whatsoever may lie upon our consciences, however we may have contrived to ignore it during our busy lives, be assured that it will find us out on our death-bed!

      Richard Cooper lay back on his pillow, his eyes wide open with their inward tribulation. "Who knows but there would be time yet?" he suddenly murmured. And the thought appeared to rouse his mind and flush his cheek, and he lifted his hand and grasped the bell-rope, ringing it so loudly as to bring two servants to the room.

      "Go up, one of you, to Lawyer Weston's," he uttered. "Bring him back with you. Tell him I want to alter my will, and that there may yet be time. Don't send—one of you go," he repeated in tones of agonising entreaty. "Bring him; bring him back with you!"

      As the echo of his voice died away there came a loud summons at the street door, as of a hasty arrival. "Sir," cried one of the maids, "they're come at last! I thought I heard a carriage drawing up in the snow."

      "Who's come?" he asked in some confusion of mind. "Weston?"

      "Not him, sir; Mr. and Mrs. Dare," replied the servant as she hurried out.

      A lady and gentleman were getting out of a coach at the door. A tall, very tall man, with handsome features, but an unpleasantly free expression. The lady was tall also, stout and fair, with an imperious look in her little turned-up nose. "Are we in time?" the latter asked of the servants.

      "It's nearly as much as can be said, ma'am," was the answer. "But he has roused up in the last hour, and is growing excited. The doctors thought it might be so: that he'd not continue in the lethargy to the last."

      They went on at once to the sick chamber. Every sense of the dying man appeared to be on the alert. His hands were holding back the curtain, his eyes were strained on the door. "Why have you been so long?" he cried in a voice of strength they were surprised to hear.

      "Dear uncle," said Mrs. Dare, bending over the bed and clasping the feeble hands, "we started the very moment the letter came. But we could not get along—the roads are dreadfully heavy."

      "Sir," whispered a servant in the invalid's ear, "are we to go now for Lawyer Weston?"

      "No, there's no need," was the prompt answer. "Anthony Dare, you are a lawyer," continued Mr. Cooper; "you'll do what I want done as well as another. Will you do it?"

      "Anything you please, sir," was Mr. Dare's reply.

      "Sit down, then; Julia, sit down. You may be hungry and thirsty after your journey; but you must wait. Life's not ebbing out of you, as it is out of me. We'll get this matter over, that my mind may be so far at rest; and then you can eat and drink of the best that my house affords. I am in mortal pain, Anthony Dare."

      Mrs. Dare was silently removing some of her outer wrappings, and whispering with the servant at the extremity of the roomy chamber; but Mr. Dare, who had taken off his great-coat and hat in the hall, continued to stand by the sick bed.

      "I am sorry to hear it, sir," he said, in reply to Mr. Cooper's concluding sentence. "Can the medical men afford you no relief?"

      "It is pain of mind, Anthony Dare, not pain of body. That pain has passed from me. I would have sent for you and Julia before, but I did not think until yesterday that the end was so near. Never let a man be guilty of injustice!" broke forth Mr. Cooper, vehemently. "Or let him know that it will come home to him to trouble his dying bed."

      "What can I do for you, sir?" questioned Mr. Dare.

      "If you will open that bureau, you'll find pen, ink, and paper. Julia, come here: and see that we are alone."

      The servant left the room, and Mrs. Dare came forward, divested of her cloaks. She wore a handsome dark-blue satin dress (much the fashion at that time) with a good deal of rich white lace about it, a heavy gold chain, and some very showy amethysts set in gold. The jewellery was real, however, not sham; but altogether her attire looked somewhat out of place for a death-chamber.

      The afternoon was drawing to a close. What with that and the dense atmosphere outside, the chamber had grown dim. Mr. Dare disposed the writing materials on a small round table at the invalid's elbow, and then looked towards the distant window.

      "I fear I cannot see, sir, without a light."

      "Call for it, Julia," said the invalid.

      A lamp was brought in and placed on the table, so that its rays should not affect those eyes so soon to close to all earthly light. And Mr. Dare waited, pen in hand.

      "I have been hard and wilful," began Mr. Cooper, putting up his trembling hands. "I have been obdurate, and selfish, and unjust; and now it is keeping peace from me–"

      "But in what way, dear uncle?" softly put in Mrs. Dare; and it may as well be remarked that whenever Mrs. Dare attempted to speak softly and kindly it seemed to bear an unnatural sound to others' ears.

      "In what way?—why, with regard to Edgar Halliburton," said Mr. Cooper, the dew breaking out upon his brow. "In seeking to follow the calling marked out for him by his father, he only did his duty; and I should have seen it in that light but for my own obstinate pride and self-will. I did wrong to discard him: I have done wrong ever since in keeping him from me, in refusing to be reconciled. Are you listening, Anthony Dare?"

      "Certainly, sir. I hear."

      "Julia, I say that there was no reason for my turning him away. There has been no reason for my keeping him away. I have refused to be reconciled: I have sent back his letters unopened; I have held him at contemptuous defiance. When I heard that he had married, I cast harsh words to him because he had not asked my consent, though I was aware all the time, that I had given him no opportunity to ask it—I had harshly refused all overtures, all intercourse. I cast harsh words to his wife, knowing her not. But I see my error now. Do you see it, Julia? Do you see it, Anthony Dare?"

      "Would you like to have him sent for, sir?" suggested Mr. Dare.

      "It is too late. He could not be here in time. I don't know, either, where he lives in London, or what his address may be. Do you?"—looking at his niece.

      "Oh dear, no," she replied, with a slightly contemptuous gesture of the shoulders. As much as to imply that to know the address of her cousin Edgar was quite beneath her.

      "No, he could not get here," repeated the dying man, whilst Mrs. Dare wiped the dews that had gathered on his pallid and wrinkled brow. "Julia! Anthony! Anthony Dare!"

      "Sir, what is it?"

      "I wish you both to listen to me. I cannot die with this injustice unrepaired. I have made my will in Julia's favour. It is all left to her, except a few trifles to my servants. When the property comes to be realised, there will be at least sixteen thousand pounds, and but for that late mad speculation I entered into there would have been nearly forty thousand."

      He paused. But neither Mr. nor Mrs. Dare answered.

      "You are a lawyer, Anthony, and could draw up a fresh will. But there's no time, I say. What is darkening the room?" he abruptly broke off to ask.

      Mr. Dare looked hastily up. Nothing was darkening the room, except the gradually increasing gloom of evening.

      "My СКАЧАТЬ