Miss Mackenzie Part 41

"No; it was not your fault. But if your brothers could pay me back all that they really owe me, all that the money would now be worth, it would come to nearly a hundred thousand pounds. After that, what is a man to say when he is asked to compromise? As far as I can see, there is not a shadow of doubt about it. Mr Slow does not pretend that there is a doubt. How they can fail to see the justice of it is what pa.s.ses my understanding!"

"Mr Slow will give up at once, I suppose, if I ask him?"

"I don't want you to ask him. I would rather that you didn't say a word to him about it. There is a debt too from that man Rubb which they advise me to abandon."

In answer to this, Margaret could say nothing, for she knew well that her trust in the interest of that money was the only hope she had of any maintenance for her sister-in-law.

After a few minutes' silence he again spoke to her. "He desires to know whether you want money for immediate use."

"Who wants to know?"

"Mr Slow."

"Oh no, John. I have money at the bankers', but I will not touch it."

"How much is there at the bankers?"

"There is more than three hundred pounds; but very little more; perhaps three hundred and ten."

"You may have that."

"John, I don't want anything that is not my own; not though I had to walk out to earn my bread in the streets to-morrow."

"That is your own, I tell you. The tenants have been ordered not to pay any further rents, till they receive notice. You can make them pay, nevertheless, if you wish it; at least, you might do so, till some legal steps were taken."

"Of course, I shall do nothing of the kind. It was Mr Slow's people who used to get the money. And am I not to go up to London to-morrow?"

"You can go if you choose, but you will learn nothing. I told Mr Slow that I would bid you wait till I heard from him again. It is time now for us to get ready for dinner."

Then, as he was going to leave the room, she took him by the coat and held him again,--held him as fast as she had done on the pavement in Lincoln's Inn Fields. There was a soft, womanly, trusting weakness in the manner of her motion as she did this, which touched him now as it had touched him then.

"John," she said, "if there is to be so much delay, I must not stay here."

"Why not, Margaret?"

"My aunt does not like my staying; I can see that; and I don't think it is fair to do so while she does not know all about it. It is something like cheating her out of the use of the house."

"Then I will tell her."

"What, all? Had I not better go first?"

"No; you cannot go. Where are you to go to? I will tell her everything to-night. I had almost made up my mind to do so already.

It will be better that they should both know it,--my father and my mother. My father probably will be required to say all that he knows about the matter."

"I shall be ready to go at once if she wishes it," said Margaret.

To this he made no answer, but went upstairs to his bedroom, and there, as he dressed, thought again, and again, and again of his cousin Margaret. What should he do for her, and in what way should he treat her? The very name of the Mackenzies he had hated of old, and their names were now more hateful to him than ever. He had correctly described his own feelings towards them when he said, either truly or untruly, that they had deprived him of that which would have made his whole life prosperous instead of the reverse. And it seemed as though he had really thought that they had been in fault in this,--that they had defrauded him. It did not, apparently, occur to him that the only persons he could blame were his uncle Jonathan and his own lawyers, who, at his uncle's death, had failed to discover on his behalf what really were his rights. Walter Mackenzie had been a poor creature who could do nothing. Tom Mackenzie had been a mean creature who had allowed himself to be cozened in a petty trade out of the money which he had wrongfully acquired. They were odious to him, and he hated their memories. He would fain have hated all that belonged to them, had he been able. But he was not able to hate this woman who clung to him, and trusted him, and felt no harsh feelings towards him, though he was going to take from her everything that had been hers. She trusted him for advice even though he was her adversary! Would he have trusted her or any other human being under such circ.u.mstances?

No, by heavens! But not the less on that account did he acknowledge to himself that this confidence in her was very gracious.

That evening pa.s.sed by very quietly as far as Miss Mackenzie was concerned. She had some time since, immediately on her last arrival at the Cedars, offered to relieve her aunt from the trouble of making tea, and the duty had then been given up to her. But since Lady Ball's affair in obtaining possession of her niece's secret, the post of honour had been taken away.

"You don't make it as your uncle likes it," Lady Ball had said.

She made her little offer again on this evening, but it was rejected.

"Thank you, no; I believe I had better do it myself," had been the answer.

"Why can't you let Margaret make tea? I'm sure she does it very well," said John.

"I don't see that you can be a judge, seeing that you take none," his mother replied; "and if you please, I'd rather make the tea in my own house as long as I can."

This little allusion to her own house was, no doubt, a blow at her son, to punish him in that he had dictated to her in that matter of the continued entertainment of her guest; but Margaret also felt it to be a blow at her, and resolved that she would escape from the house with as little further delay as might be possible. Beyond this, the evening was very quiet, till Margaret, a little after tea, took her candle and went off wearily to her room.

But then the business of the day as regarded the Cedars began; for John Ball, before he went to bed, told both his father and his mother the whole story,--the story, that is, as far as the money was concerned, and also as far as Margaret's conduct to him was concerned; but of his own feelings towards her he said nothing.

"She has behaved admirably, mother," he said; "you must acknowledge that, and I think that she is ent.i.tled to all the kindness we can show her."

"I have been kind to her," Lady Ball answered.

This had taken place in Lady Ball's own room, after they had left Sir John. The tidings had taken the old man so much by surprise, that he had said little or nothing. Even his caustic ill-nature had deserted him, except on one occasion, when he remarked that it was like his brother Jonathan to do as much harm with his money as was within his reach.

"My memory in such a matter is worth nothing,--absolutely nothing,"

the old man had said. "I always supposed something was wrong. I remember that. But I left it all to the lawyers."

In Lady Ball's room the conversation was prolonged to a late hour of the night, and took various twists and turns, as such conversations will do.

"What are we to do about the young woman?" That was Lady Ball's main question, arising, no doubt, from the reflection that the world would lean very heavily on them if they absolutely turned her out to starve in the streets.

John Ball made no proposition in answer to this, having not as yet made up his mind as to what his own wishes were with reference to the young woman. Then his mother made her proposition.

"Of course that money due by the Rubbs must be paid. Let her take that." But her son made no reply to this other than that he feared the Rubbs were not in a condition to pay the money.

"They would pay her the interest at any rate," said Lady Ball, "till she had got into some other way of life. She would do admirably for a companion to an old lady, because her manners are good, and she does not want much waiting upon herself."

On the next morning Miss Mackenzie trembled in her shoes as she came down to breakfast. Her uncle, whom she feared the most, would not be there; but the meeting with her aunt, when her aunt would know that she was a pauper and that she had for the last week been an impostor, was terrible to her by antic.i.p.ation. But she had not calculated that her aunt's triumph in this newly-acquired wealth for the Ball family would, for the present, cover any other feeling that might exist. Her aunt met her with a gracious smile, was very urbane in selecting a chair for her at prayers close to her own, and pressed upon her a piece of b.u.t.tered toast out of a little dish that was always prepared for her ladys.h.i.+p's own consumption. After breakfast John Ball again went to town. He went daily to town during the present crisis; and, on this occasion, his mother made no remark as to the urgency of his business. When he was gone Lady Ball began to potter about the house, after her daily custom, and was longer in her pottering than was usual with her. Miss Mackenzie helped the younger children in their lessons, as she often did; and when time for luncheon came, she had almost begun to think that she was to be allowed to escape any conversation with her aunt touching the great money question. But it was not so. At one she was told that luncheon and the children's dinner was postponed till two, and she was asked by the servant to go up to Lady Ball in her own room.

"Come and sit down, my dear," said Lady Ball, in her sweetest voice.

"It has got to be very cold, and you had better come near the fire."

Margaret did as she was bidden, and sat herself down in the chair immediately opposite to her aunt.

"This is a wonderful story that John has told me," continued her aunt--"very wonderful."

"It is sad enough for me," said Margaret, who did not feel inclined to be so self-forgetful in talking to her aunt as she had been with her cousin.

"It is sad for you, Margaret, no doubt. But I am sure you have within you that conscientious rect.i.tude of purpose that you would not wish to keep anything for yourself that in truth belongs to another."

To this Margaret answered nothing, and her aunt went on.