Miss Mackenzie Part 28

A few words of affection were spoken between the brother and sister, for at such moments brotherly affection returns, and the estrangements of life are all forgotten in the old memories. He seemed comforted to feel her hand upon the bed, and was glad to p.r.o.nounce her name, and spoke to her as though she had been the favourite of the family for years, instead of the one member of it who had been snubbed and disregarded. Poor man, who shall say that there was anything hypocritical or false in this? And yet, undoubtedly, it was the fact that Margaret was now the only wealthy one among them, which had made him send to her, and think of her, as he lay there in his sickness.

When these words of love had been spoken, he turned himself on his pillow, and lay silent for a long while,--for hours, till the morning sun had risen, and the daylight was again seen through the window curtain. It was not much after midsummer, and the daylight came to them early. From time to time she had looked at him, and each hour in the night she had crept round to him, and given him that which he needed. She did it all with a certain system, noiselessly, but with an absolute a.s.surance on her own part that she carried with her an authority sufficient to ensure obedience. On that ground, in that place, I think that even Miss Todd would have succ.u.mbed to her.

But when the morning sun had driven the appearance of night from the room, making the paraphernalia of sickness more ghastly than they had been under the light of the lamp, the brother turned himself back again, and began to talk of those things which were weighing on his mind.

"Margaret," he said, "it's very good of you to come, but as to myself, no one's coming can be of any use to me."

"It is all in the hands of G.o.d, Tom."

"No doubt, no doubt," said he, sadly, not daring to argue such a point with her, and yet feeling but little consolation from her a.s.surance. "So is the bullock in G.o.d's hands when the butcher is going to knock him on the head, but yet we know that the beast will die. Men live and die from natural causes, and not by G.o.d's interposition."

"But there is hope; that is what I mean. If G.o.d pleases--"

"Ah, well. But, Margaret, I fear that he will not please; and what am I to do about Sarah and the children?"

This was a question that could be answered by no general plat.i.tude,--by no weak words of hopeless consolation. Coming from him to her, it demanded either a very substantial answer, or else no answer at all. What was he to do about Sarah and the children?

Perhaps there came a thought across her mind that Sarah and the children had done very little for her,--had considered her very little, in those old, weary days, in Arundel Street. And those days were not, as yet, so very old. It was now not much more than twelve months since she had sat by the deathbed of her other brother,--since she had expressed to herself, and to Harry Handc.o.c.k, a humble wish that she might find herself to be above absolute want.

"I do not think you need fret about that, Tom," she said, after turning these things over in her mind for a minute or two.

"How, not fret about them? But I suppose you know nothing of the state of the business. Has Rubb spoken to you?"

"He did say some word as we came along in the cab."

"What did he say?"

"He said--"

"Well, tell me what he said. He said, that if I died--what then? You must not be afraid of speaking of it openly. Why, Margaret, they have all told me that it must be in a month or two. What did Rubb say?"

"He said that there would be very little coming out of the business--that is, for Sarah and the children--if anything were to happen to you."

"I don't suppose they'd get anything. How it has been managed I don't know. I have worked like a galley slave at it, but I haven't kept the books, and I don't know how things have gone so badly. They have gone badly,--very badly."

"Has it been Mr Rubb's fault?"

"I won't say that; and, indeed, if it has been any man's fault it has been the old man's. I don't want to say a word against the one that you know. Oh, Margaret!"

"Don't fret yourself now, Tom."

"If you had seven children, would not you fret yourself? And I hardly know how to speak to you about it. I know that we have already had ever so much of your money, over two thousand pounds; and I fear you will never see it again."

"Never mind, Tom; it is yours, with all my heart. Only, Tom, as it is so badly wanted, I would rather it was yours than Mr Rubb's. Could I not do something that would make that share of the building yours?"

He s.h.i.+fted himself uneasily in his bed, and made her understand that she had distressed him.

"But perhaps it will be better to say nothing more about that," said she.

"It will be better that you should understand it all. The property belongs nominally to us, but it is mortgaged to the full of its value. Rubb can explain it all, if he will. Your money went to buy it, but other creditors would not be satisfied without security. Ah, dear! it is so dreadful to have to speak of all this in this way."

"Then don't speak of it, Tom."

"But what am I to do?"

"Are there no proceeds from the business?"

"Yes, for those who work in it; and I think there will be something coming out of it for Sarah,--something, but it will be very small.

And if so, she must depend for it solely on Mr Rubb."

"On the young one?"

"Yes; on the one that you know."

There was a great deal more said, and of course everyone will know how such a conversation was ended, and will understand with what ample a.s.surance as to her own intentions Margaret promised that the seven children should not want. As she did so, she made certain rapid calculations in her head. She must give up Mr Maguire. There was no doubt about that. She must give up all idea of marrying any one, and, as she thought of this, she told herself that she was perhaps well rid of a trouble. She had already given away to the firm of Rubb and Mackenzie above a hundred a-year out of her income. If she divided the remainder with Mrs Tom, keeping about three hundred and fifty pounds a-year for herself and Susanna, she would, she thought, keep her promise well, and yet retain enough for her own comfort and Susanna's education. It would be bad for the prospects of young John Ball, the third of the name, whom she had taught herself to regard as her heir; but young John Ball would know nothing of the good things he had lost. As to living with her sister-in-law Sarah, and sharing her house and income with the whole family, that she declared to herself nothing should induce her to do. She would give up half of all that she had, and that half would be quite enough to save her brother's children from want. In making the promise to her brother she said nothing about proportions, and nothing as to her own future life. "What I have," she said, "I will share with them and you may rest a.s.sured that they shall not want." Of course he thanked her as dying men do thank those who take upon themselves such charges; but she perceived as he did so, or thought that she perceived, that he still had something more upon his mind.

Mrs Tom came and relieved her in the morning, and Miss Mackenzie was obliged to put off for a time that panoply of sick-room armour which made her so indomitable in her brother's bedroom. Downstairs she met Mr Rubb, who talked to her much about her brother's affairs, and much about the oilcloth business, speaking as though he were desirous that the most absolute confidence should exist between him and her.

But she said no word of her promise to her brother, except that she declared that the money lent was now to be regarded as a present made by her to him personally.

"I am afraid that that will avail nothing," said Mr Rubb, junior, "for the amount now stands as a debt due by the firm to you, and the firm, which would pay you the money if it could, cannot pay it to your brother's estate any more than it can to yours."

"But the interest," said Miss Mackenzie.

"Oh, yes! the interest can be paid," said Mr Rubb, junior, but the tone of his voice did not give much promise that this interest would be forthcoming with punctuality.

She watched again that night; and on the next day, in the afternoon, she was told that a gentleman wished to see her in the drawing-room.

Her thoughts at once pointed to Mr Maguire, and she went downstairs prepared to be very angry with that gentleman. But on entering the room she found her cousin, John Ball. She was, in truth, glad to see him; for, after all, she thought that she liked him the best of all the men or women that she knew. He was always in trouble, but then she fancied that with him she at any rate knew the worst. There was nothing concealed with him,--nothing to be afraid of. She hoped that they might continue to know each other intimately as cousins. Under existing circ.u.mstances they could not, of course, be anything more to each other than that.

"This is very kind of you, John," she said, taking his hand. "How did you know I was here?"

"Mr Slow told me. I was with Mr Slow about business of yours. I'm afraid from what I hear that you find your brother very ill."

"Very ill, indeed, John,--ill to death."

She then asked after her uncle and aunt, and the children, at the Cedars.

They were much as usual, he said; and he added that his mother would be very glad to see her at the Cedars; only he supposed there was no hope of that.

"Not just at present, John. You see I am wholly occupied here."

"And will he really die, do you think?"

"The doctors say so."

"And his wife and children--will they be provided for?"

Margaret simply shook her head, and John Ball, as he watched her, felt a.s.sured that his uncle Jonathan's money would never come in his way, or in the way of his children. But he was a man used to disappointment, and he bore this with mild sufferance.

Then he explained to her the business about which he had specially come to her. She had entrusted him with certain arrangements as to a portion of her property, and he came to tell her that a certain railway company wanted some houses which belonged to her, and that by Act of Parliament she was obliged to sell them.