Complete Works of F Marion Crawford

by F. Marion Crawford

  She spoke with a suppressed energy that Katharine hardly understood. The young girl mentally compared this woman’s love for her son with Alexander Junior’s parental affection for his daughter. It seemed to be a very different thing.

  “No,” continued Mrs. Ralston. “You can’t guess what Jack is to me, and always has been. I don’t think he knows it himself. If he did, he’d have trusted me more when he was in trouble. I’d do a good deal to make him happy.”

  As usual with her, there were no big words nor harmonious phrases. What she said was very simple. But at that moment she looked as though Katharine Ralston would have trampled on Katharine Lauderdale’s body, if it could have contributed to Jack’s happiness.

  “You love him very much,” said the young girl. “So do I.”

  “I know you do. I don’t mean to say that in your way you may not love him as much as I do. We shan’t quarrel about that. I only want you to understand why I was hurt because he wouldn’t tell me what he’d done. Since he was a boy I’ve thought his thoughts, I’ve lived his life, I’ve done his deeds — I’ve been sorry for the foolish ones and proud of the good ones — I’ve been his other self. It was hard that I shouldn’t have a share in the happiest moment he ever had — when he married you. It hurt me. I’d give my body and my soul — if I had one — for him. He had no right to leave me out and hide what he was doing.”

  “It was my fault,” said Katharine. “It was foolish of me to make him marry me at all, as things were then. I’ve thought of it since. Suppose that we had changed our minds, after it was done — we were married, you know — we couldn’t have got out of it.”

  “If you changed your mind, as you call it, I wouldn’t forgive you,” said Mrs. Ralston, as sternly as a man could have spoken.

  Katharine looked at her in silence for a moment.

  “Yes,” she answered, gravely. “I think that if I changed my mind now, you’d try and kill me. You needn’t be afraid.”

  Mrs. Ralston returned her gaze, and her features gradually relaxed into a peaceful smile.

  “In old times I should,” she said. “I believe I’m that kind of woman. But we’re not going to quarrel about which loves him best, my dear — though I believe we’re both capable of committing any folly for him,” she added.

  “Yes. We are,” said Katharine. “And I don’t suppose that we could say so to any one else but each other in the world.”

  “I’m glad you feel that. So do I. And Jack knows it all without our telling him. At least, he should, by this time.”

  “Do men ever know?” asked Katharine.

  “That’s hard to say. I think there are men who know what the women who love them would do for them. I’m sure there are. But I don’t think that any man that ever lived can understand what a mother’s love can be like, when it’s strongest. It belongs to us women — and to animals. Men can only understand what they can feel themselves, and they can never feel that. They understand anything that’s founded on passion, but nothing else.”

  “Isn’t a mother’s love a passion, then?” asked Katharine.

  “No — it can’t be jealous.”

  Katharine wondered whether the saying were true, and whether Mrs. Ralston’s own words and looks had not disproved her proposition before she had stated it.

  CHAPTER XX.

  IT IS NOT long since, upon the death of a well-known lawyer, it was found that he had made a long and elaborate will for himself, duly signed and witnessed, but no single clause of which was good in law, though he had been in the habit of drawing up wills for others during all his professional life. It is not an easy matter to dispose of property amongst a number of persons in such a way that no one shall be able to find a flaw which may invalidate the whole document, even if the signing and witnessing be in order and unassailable.

  For a long time past Alexander Junior had been much interested in the subject, and he believed that he had mastered it unaided, in all its details, so as to be able to detect any technical illegality at a glance. Being quite unable to foresee the nature of Robert Lauderdale’s intentions, he had done his best to prepare himself at all points, in case the will should turn out contrary to his hopes and wishes, as had actually occurred. At first sight, however, his anticipations were disappointed. So far as he could judge, the will was unassailable, though it contained very unusual provisions. If it were admitted to probate, it looked as though it would be unassailable.

  It had of course been in the power of the testator to leave the whole property to whom he pleased, irrespective of relationship, or to divide it amongst such of the living relations as he chose to favour. But, in theory, he had favoured no one. He had willed as though the whole portion had belonged to his grandfather, and had descended from the first Lauderdale who had emigrated, to all the members of his family in its present ramifications. It was not easy to assail the justice of the idea upon which the will had thus been founded, and there could be no question of attacking it on the ground that the testator was not of perfectly sound mind.

  Clearly, however, it would be vastly to Alexander Junior’s advantage if the will were not allowed to stand. Katharine Ralston would get half the fortune, indeed, but Alexander Senior would get the other half. This, in the estimation of Alexander Junior, would be tantamount to getting it himself. It would be more easy, considering his father’s age and infirmities, and especially in consideration of the old gentleman’s known tendency to give away everything he possessed, to have a trust constituted, at his own request, so far as the world should know, which trust should manage the property and pay him the income arising from it during the remaining years of his life. In the ordinary course of human events, Alexander Senior could not be expected to live many years longer, and his son believed it would be very easy to influence him in the making of his will, or to prove that he had been of unsound mind in case the will were not satisfactory. Then the whole fortune would come to his son as next of kin.

  But Alexander Junior was met at the outset by the difficulty of finding any fault with the will of Robert Lauderdale. It was clear from the date that it had been made during his last illness, in the interval between the day when he had first been very near death, on which Alexander had met Katharine in the house, and his ultimate demise. Several weeks had passed, during which it had been expected that he might recover, and he had found ample time to reconsider his last wishes. It was immediately clear to Alexander that this was probably not the will of which his uncle had spoken to his daughter. It might be. It was possible that he had told her what he intended to do, and had then done it. But it was improbable; for when she had seen him that first time, he had not been expected to live, and it was not likely that he then looked forward to the possibility of drawing up a document requiring considerable thought and great care.

  It was quite clear that Alexander must put the matter into the hands of a keen and experienced man without delay, and he lost no time in doing so. If he had not acted quickly, the will might have been proved and administered in a few days, and his chance would be gone. Within twenty-four hours it was known that the will would be contested by Alexander Lauderdale Junior on behalf of the next of kin, being his father and Katharine Ralston.

  At this news there was a great commotion in all the Lauderdale tribe, and sides and parties declared themselves immediately. The prediction that there would be a tremendous disturbance of the family elements was immediately realized, for the interests at stake on all sides were very large. The ranks were marshalled and the battle began.

  Clearly it was to the interest of the Lauderdales and the Ralstons to invalidate the will if possible, while it was that of the Brights to sustain it, and the heads of the opposing parties were actually Alexander Lauderdale Junior and Hamilton Bright. It should have followed that the Brights should have stood alone against all the others, a state of things which Alexander believed should influence the court in his favour, since in common opinion it would not seem exactly fair that a small famil
y of distant relations should get as much as all the nephews and nieces of the deceased together. In the matter of wills, the courts often have a considerable latitude within which to exercise discretion, and no circumstance which bears upon the equity of the case is insignificant.

  Though Alexander Junior had neither a very profound nor a very diplomatic intelligence, he saw at once, and his lawyer dwelt upon the point, that it would be greatly to his advantage if he could establish an evident solidarity amongst the next of kin as against the Brights, who would profit by the will as it stood. It became his object therefore to assure the coöperation of the Ralstons.

  At first sight it seemed to him that Mrs. Ralston should without doubt support him. He could not easily conceive that she should hesitate between accepting a quarter of the fortune to be divided between her son and herself, and the half of it to be held in her own right. He judged her by himself, as people of strong passions judge others. He threw out of consideration any sentiment she might have in regard to the fulfilment of Robert Lauderdale’s wishes, and made it purely a question of money for her, as it was for himself. He did not believe that any enmity which her son might, and undoubtedly did, feel for him, could stand in the way of such a power as twenty millions of money to influence her. His lawyer, who did not know her well, agreed with him.

  But when it became necessary to find out what Mrs. Ralston meant to do, Alexander was conscious that he might be wrong in his calculations. Much against his will he secretly admitted that there might be other motives at work besides the love of money, especially in a case where a large fortune was a certainty, whatever happened, and where the choice lay not between much and nothing, but between much and more. Mrs. Ralston returned answer that she desired to consider the matter and wished to know how soon she must make a definite reply.

  Then she consulted John.

  “I don’t know what to do, Jack,” she said, seating herself in her favourite chair in his study.

  It was late in the afternoon, and it was raining. But it was warm, and one of the windows was raised a little. The smell of the wet pavement and the soft swish of the shower came up from the street.

  “Why should you do anything, mother?” asked Ralston. “However — I don’t know—” he checked himself suddenly and became thoughtful.

  “What is it, Jack? Why do you hesitate?” asked his mother. “I hesitate, too. I want to know what you think about it.”

  Ralston reflected in silence for a few minutes, before he spoke.

  “There are so many ways of looking at it,” he said at last. “In the first place, you and I should naturally like to carry out the dear old man’s wishes, shouldn’t we? That’s our first instinct, I suppose. Isn’t it?”

  “Of course it is. There can be no question of that.”

  “Yes. You and I always agree. We were both fond of him, and we’re both grateful to him. We both want things to be done as he wished. He’s tried to be just all round, and if he hasn’t been quite fair in leaving the Brights so much, it’s because justice isn’t always exactly fair. Law is one thing and equity’s another, all the world over. His general idea was to make litigation impossible, and in carrying it out the principle happened to favour the Brights. It might have happened to favour us instead.”

  “Yes. That’s plain,” said Mrs. Ralston. “That’s one side of the case. But there’s the other.”

  “More than one other, perhaps. In the first place, if poor uncle Robert did anything that’s not good in law, I’ve no business to advise you to support his mistake out of sentiment, and to lose twenty millions by it.”

  “Put that out of the question, Jack.”

  “No — I can’t. It’s a first-rate reason against my giving you any advice at all. I ought not to influence you. You should act for yourself. Only, as we agree about things generally, we’re talking it over.”

  “No,” answered Mrs. Ralston. “It’s not that. It’s your children. If I should stand out against Alexander on the ground of sentiment, I may be keeping money from your children, or their children, which they have much more claim to have than the Crowdies’ descendants, for instance. And you must think of that, too. Hamilton Bright’s getting on towards forty. I suppose he doesn’t marry because he’s still in love with Katharine, poor fellow. But if he doesn’t marry soon, he probably never will. At his age men get into grooves. He’s devoted to his mother, and with all her good qualities I don’t believe she’d be a pleasant mother-in-law, if Hamilton brought his wife to the house. He’ll see that, and unless he falls in love rather late, he won’t marry for any other reason. Well — he and aunt Maggie will leave their money to Hester’s children, if she has any. There’s no reason why they should have such an enormous amount. They’re very distant relations, anyhow. I wonder how uncle Robert didn’t see that. There’ll be an accumulation of money enough for twenty ordinary fortunes, if things turn out in that way.”

  “Yes — but you wouldn’t leave the Brights out altogether, mother, would you? That’s what will happen, if the will won’t hold.”

  “We’ll make a compromise and give them enough.”

  “A few millions,” suggested Ralston, with a little laugh. “Isn’t it funny that we should be talking about such sums in real earnest? But Alexander can’t see it in that light.”

  “Well — if he doesn’t? We can do it alone in that case. What’s a million in forty?”

  “Two and a half per cent,” answered Ralston, promptly, from sheer force of the new habit he had acquired at the bank.

  “You’re turning into a business man,” laughed his mother. “I didn’t mean that. I meant it would be little enough.”

  “Yes — but Ham wouldn’t take it. You know him as well as I do. He’ll have his rights or nothing. Honestly, there’s no reason on earth why you should make him a present of a million, if the law doesn’t give it to him. And there can’t be any comparison in this case, because Alexander means to have everything for his father, and then lock him up in Bloomingdale and manage the fortune in his own Trust Company. For the Brights it means forty millions or nothing — not a red cent.”

  “I suppose you’re right about that. And Hamilton’s your friend, Jack.”

  “He’s been a good friend to me. But he’s not the sort of fellow to turn on me because I’m opposed to him in a suit. Still — he couldn’t help feeling that it must make a difference. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t. You mustn’t blame him for it.”

  “Blame him! Of course not! Who would? He’s the one who has everything at stake. Well, Jack, what shall we do? We’ve got to decide.”

  “It’s not easy. Mother — why don’t you send for Harry Brett and put the whole thing in his hands? He’s a perfectly honourable man — there aren’t many like him. Tell him what your position is, and then wash your hands of the matter. That seems to me to be by far the best thing to do. Tell him just how far you feel that you should like to carry out uncle Robert’s wishes, and all you’ve told me. He’s absolutely honest, and he’s a gentleman. If the law is plainly for us, and there’s no question about it, then let him take it. But if Alexander’s going to try and get round it by quibbling, Brett will stand up against him like a man. He’s a fine fellow, Brett. I like him. You can be sure that he’ll do the right thing.”

  “I think that’s very good advice. I’ll see him and get him to answer the letter. I suppose the next thing will be that Alexander will come to see me and want to persuade me, especially if Brett’s for upholding the will. If he does, I won’t say anything. What I hate is the uncertainty of it all. Until it’s settled you and Katharine can’t consider yourselves married. At least, you could — but I suppose you won’t.”

  “She shan’t go back to Clinton Place, at all events,” said Ralston. “The next time she goes through that door, she shall go as my wife. That brute has ill-treated her enough, and he shan’t have another chance. Of course, she can’t go on staying at the Brights’ through all this. That’s another thing. It won’
t be pleasant for her to feel that her father’s trying his best to keep them out of the fortune, and to have to sit down to dinner with them every day and hear it discussed. Besides — poor Ham’s deadly in love still, in his dear old heavy way. I wish she’d go to the Crowdies’. I tried to make her go the other day—”

  “But that would be just as bad,” said Mrs. Ralston. “Worse, in fact. Crowdie wouldn’t be half so careful how he talked as Bright would be.”

  “That’s true. Well — she’ll just have to go and stay with the three Miss Miners, then. It won’t be gay, but it won’t be unpleasant, at all events.”

  “Upon my word, Jack, you’d better let me ask her here. At all events, we can keep her father away. Go and see her and try to persuade her to come. Or I’ll go. I can manage it better. If you’ll let me tell her that you’ve told me about your marriage, it will be easier. Otherwise she’ll have that on her mind as a reason for not coming. After all, there’s no especial reason why she should not know, is there? And then, Jack — you don’t know how I should like to feel as though she were really your wife! I’ve always wanted her for you.”

  Ralston kissed his mother’s hand affectionately, and held it in his own a moment.

  “There’s no reason,” he said, presently. “I think you’ll love each other as I love you both.”

  “If she loves you, I shall,” answered Mrs. Ralston, and her face set itself oddly. “If she doesn’t — I think I could kill her.”

  In this way they agreed as far as possible upon the position they would assume in the great family quarrel which was imminent, and, on the whole, they seemed to have chosen wisely.

  CHAPTER XXI.

  IN EACH HOUSEHOLD there was rumour of war and discussion of plans, and the nervous tension was already great. In Lafayette Place, the exceedingly unfashionable and somewhat remote corner where the Crowdies dwelt in one of the half-dozen habitable houses there situated, there was considerable disturbance. Walter Crowdie and his wife were in the studio, alone together, talking about it all. Crowdie had received a communication from his brother-in-law, telling him of Alexander’s contemplated attack and enquiring as to Crowdie’s opinion, more as a matter of form than because he expected any interference or needed any help.