CHAPTER III.
"L'HOMME PROPOSE, DIEU DISPOSE."
Mr. Herbert Harmer was sitting at breakfast reading the _Times_,--atall, slight man, of from forty-five to fifty, with a benevolentexpressive face, very sunburnt; a broad forehead, a well-defined mouth,and a soft, thoughtful eye--careless as to attire, as most Anglo-Indiansare, and yet, in appearance as in manner, an unmistakable gentleman.
Opposite to him sat his son, good-looking, but not so prepossessing aman as his father. He was about twenty-two, and looked, contrary to whatmight have been expected from his birth and bringing up in a hotclimate, younger than he really was. His complexion was very fair, aninheritance probably from his mother, as all the Harmers were dark: hisface, too, was much less bronzed than his father's, the year he hadspent in England having nearly effaced the effects of the Indian sun. Hewas of about middle height, and well formed; but he had a languid,listless air, which detracted much from the manliness of his appearance.His face was a good-looking, almost a handsome one, and yet it gave theimpression of there being something wanting. That something wascharacter. The mouth and chin were weak and indecisive--not absolutelybad, only weak,--but it was sufficient to mar the general effect of hisface.
He was toying with a spoon, balancing it on the edge of an empty coffeecup, when a sudden exclamation from his father startled him, and thespoon fell with a crash.
"What is the matter?"
Mr. Harmer gave no answer for some time, but continued to read insilence the paragraph which had so strangely excited him. He presentlylaid the paper down on his knees, seemed lost for some time in deepthought, and then took out his handkerchief and blew his nose violently.
"My dear father," the young man said, for once fairly roused by all thisemotion and mystery, "what in the name of goodness is the matter? Youquite alarm me. The bank has not broken, has it? or anything terriblehappened?"
"A very sad affair, Gerald; a very sad affair. Your uncles are bothdrowned."
"By Jove!"
This being the only appropriate remark that occurred to Gerald Harmer,there was silence again; and then, seeing that his father was notdisposed to say more, the young man stretched out his hand for thepaper, and read the paragraph which contained the intelligence.
"APPALLING ACCIDENT ON THE KENTISH COAST.--The neighbourhood of Canterbury has been thrown into a state of consternation by an accident which has deprived one of the oldest and most highly-respected families in the county of its heads. The two Messrs. Harmer, of Harmer Place, near Canterbury, had rashly ventured out from Herne Bay, with three boatmen, in a small yacht belonging to them, just before the awful tempest, which while we write is still raging, broke upon the coast. The storm came on so rapidly that it is supposed that they were unable to return. At present nothing certain is known concerning the catastrophe; but late in the afternoon, a small black object was observed by one of the Whitstable coast-guard men, drifting past at a considerable distance from shore. A telescope being brought to bear upon it, it was at once seen to be either a large spar or a boat bottom upwards, with a human figure still clinging to it. In spite of the fury of the gale, a band of noble fellows put off in one of the large fishing-boats, and succeeded in bringing off the only survivor of the five men who had embarked in the ill-fated craft. He proved to be the sailor who generally managed Mr. Harmer's little yacht. He is a one-armed man, and this fact, singularly enough, was the means of his life being saved; for he had succeeded in fastening the hook at the end of his wooden arm so firmly in the keel of the yacht, that, even after his strength had failed, and he could no longer have clung on, this singular contrivance remained secure, and kept him in his place, in spite of all the violence of the waves. He was nearly insensible when first rescued, and still lies in a precarious state, and has not yet been able to give any details of the mournful catastrophe. The bodies of the elder Mr. Harmer, and of one of the boatmen, were washed ashore this morning, and experienced sailors anticipate that the remaining bodies will come ashore with this evening's tide. Several men are on the look-out for them. The Harmers of Harmer Place are one of the oldest of the Kentish families, and were strict adherents to the Romish persuasion. It is believed that no male heir remains, and it is confidently stated that the large property will go eventually towards the aggrandisement of the Church to which they belonged."
"Is that last part true?" Gerald asked. "Do we get the property, or doesit go to the priests?"
"We shall have none of it, Gerald: of that you may be quite sure. Thepriests have taken good care of that point. They would never allow theproperty to fall into Protestant hands if they could help it; and mypoor brothers were, as far as I can hear, mere puppets in their hands.No, there is not the least chance of that. I do not say that it wouldnot have been useful had it been otherwise; for, as you know, owing tothe troubles and riots I lost a good deal of money the last three yearswe were in India; and although I have enough left for us to live uponcomfortably, Harmer Place would have been no bad addition. However, thatwas not to be. I have always known that there was not be the slightestprobability of such a thing, so I shall feel no disappointment about thematter."
"Do you mean to go down to the funeral?" Gerald asked.
"Yes. Yes, I shall go, certainly. My poor brothers and I have never beenfriends; have not seen each other for thirty years; indeed, even as aboy I saw next to nothing of them; however, the least I can do is tofollow them to the grave. I shall go down to-morrow." After a pause, Mr.Harmer added, "I shall get Ransome to go down with me to be present atthe reading of the will. I know it is of no use, as everything is sureto be done in legal form; still, as I have no desire to lose even theremotest chance of saving from the priests a property that has been inthe hands of the family for centuries, I will take every possibleprecaution. I shall therefore take Ransome down with me. I think you mayas well stay here until I return: it will be a painful and unpleasantbusiness."
Gerald had not the least wish to go. "He saw no advantage in puttinghimself in the way of being snubbed, perhaps insulted, and only to see afine property that ought to come to them handed over to foundmonasteries and convents."
So on the next morning Herbert Harmer, or Mr. Harmer, as he should nowbe called, took his seat on the top of the Canterbury coach, with Mr.Ransome, his solicitor, a shrewd man of business, beside him.
It was late in the evening when the coach drew up at the "Fountain," atthat time one of the most famous posting-inns in England.
"You stop here to-night, gentlemen?" the landlord asked.
"This gentleman will stop here," Mr. Harmer answered. "I want aconveyance in half an hour's time to take me on to Harmer Place."
The two gentlemen entered the hotel, and had some dinner, and then whenthe vehicle which was to convey him was announced to be in readiness,Mr. Harmer prepared to start, saying, "I am afraid I shall meet no warmwelcome, Ransome. I think you may as well order a bed-room for me; verylikely I shall return here to-night. If I do not, come over earlyto-morrow morning."
Mr. Harmer leaned gloomily back in the carriage as it passed out throughthe town on to the road to Sturry, and mused sadly about old times. Howdifferent, and yet in some respects how similar, was his position now towhat it was when he last trod that road thirty years back. Then, no onehad loved him; his absence would be little missed, and even lessregretted. And now, when he returned to his old home after so long anabsence, he could assuredly expect to be received with no pleasure, withno warm welcome. His sisters he remembered but faintly; he had not seenthem more than three or four times, and they were then slim, pale girls,unnaturally constrained in manner, with thin pinched lips and downcasteyes. It was a short drive: in a quarter of an hour or so they passedthrough the lodge-gates, the gravel crunched under the wheels foranother minute or two, and then there was a stop. Mr. Harmer alighted.The front of the house was dark
, not a single light gleamed in any ofthe windows, all was hushed and quiet. He pulled at the great bell; itsounded with a loud empty clang, which seemed to grate unnaturally inthe still night air.
"Stop here," he said to the driver. "I may return in a quarter of anhour."
The door was opened and a faint light streamed out. "Who is it?" a voiceasked.
"Mr. Herbert Harmer," he said, entering. There was a slight exclamationof astonishment, and then the door closed behind him. Mr. Harmer lookedround; the old hall, seen by the faint light which the servant carriedin his hand, was even blacker and more gloomy than he remembered it as aboy. He followed the man, who in silence led the way across it to asmall sitting-room, and who, lighting some candles standing on themantlepiece, then withdrew, saying he would inform his mistresses thatMr. Harmer was here.
It was some minutes before Herbert Harmer heard any other sound than theticking of a clock against the wall, then the door opened and his twosisters entered, not quite so tall as he had expected to see them, notperhaps so old, and yet with faces which disappointed him, faces whichno human love had ever brightened, no loving fingers caressinglystroked, no lover's lips ever kissed. Faces expressing an abnegation ofself, indeed, but without that love and charity for others which shouldhave taken the place of self. Faces thin and pale, as by long vigil andfasting; and eyes which seemed at times to reach your very thoughts, andthen to droop to avoid the answering glance which might seek to fathomtheirs. Habitually, perhaps from a long residence in convents abroad,their heads were slightly bent, and their eyes fixed on the ground,while their arms lay usually folded one on the other. Both were singularinstances of the manner in which natures, naturally fiery and wilful,can be completely subdued and kept down by severe discipline and longtraining, and of how a warm and perhaps affectionate disposition can bewarped and constrained by the iron trammels of an ascetic and joylesslife.
When they had entered and the door was closed, they stood side by sidein exactly the same attitude, apparently not looking at their brother,but waiting for him to speak. As he did not, Cecilia the eldest brokethe silence in a harsh, monotonous voice, speaking like one who haslearnt a lesson, and who only delivers what she has got by rote.
"So you have come back at last, Herbert Harmer, to the house you havedisgraced, to the home you have forfeited. We expected you; what wouldyou have?"
"Nothing," Mr. Harmer answered. "I want nothing; I am come only toattend the funeral of my dead brothers."
"And would you, Herbert Harmer--apostate to the faith of yourancestors--would you dare to follow those who died faithful to theirGod? They cast you off in their life, and their dead bodies would bleedif you approached them."
"Cecilia," Mr. Harmer said, much shocked, "to what end these uselessrecriminations? I have trodden my path; those who are gone have followedtheirs. We shall each answer before our Maker. Why should we makeearthly quarrels about heavenly matters? Rather let us be friends, letus forget the long unfortunate past, let us be as brother and sisters toeach other, and let me try to fill to you the place of those who aregone."
For the space of a minute there was no answer, and then the elder sisteragain spoke, but in a changed tone, and a voice in which some naturalfeeling struggled.
"It cannot be, Herbert. We have chosen, as you say, opposite paths, andwe must keep them to the end. I do not--we do not--wish to thinkunkindly of you; we will try and forget what cause we have for doing so.Even you must feel sorrow to know that the old walls which have held theHarmers so long, will, at our death, hold them no longer. For I tellyou, brother, that it will be so. He who has gone has left us a lifeinterest in part of the property, as trustees only for the good cause,and at our death it all goes to support the glory and power of the trueChurch. I tell you this that you may cherish no false hopes of what isnot to be."
"I did not, sister. Knowing the Harmers as I know them, I was sure thatneither I nor mine would ever dwell here. Still, I owe it to myself andmy son to be present when that will is read. It is better to know forcertain that the matter is final and irrevocable."
"The will will be opened and read after the funeral, which will takeplace at half-past eleven to-morrow. You are perfectly welcome to bepresent: indeed, it is better so."
"I have my legal adviser with me; I should wish him to accompany me."
"Certainly; he will see that everything has been done in perfectly legalform. Is there anything else you would say?"
"Nothing," Mr. Harmer said; and preparing to take leave, he approachedthe door, near which they were standing. He stopped before them, andthen, with a sudden impulse, held out a hand to each.
"Oh, sisters, why should this be? Why, after so many years, should wemeet and part thus? Can we not be friends? Can we not yet love eachother? Can we not be happy together, and worship God in our own ways?"
Touched by the voice and manner, and by the warm, loving tone--such asfor years had not fallen upon their ears--perhaps at that moment, fornearly the first time in their lives, they obtained a glimpse of whatlife might have been to them, but was not and now never could be; thefloodgates of the hearts of those two cold, self-restrained women wereall at once broken down, as never before they had been, and, with apassion of tears, they threw themselves simultaneously on theirbrother's neck.
It was not for long. Training and habit soon reasserted their power, andthey stood before him again, calm, but still tearful and shaken.
"We have been wrong, brother; but no, not so. It has been good for us tohave met you. I believe you to be a good man. I believe now that you aresincere, although grievously mistaken. If, as will probably be the case,after to-morrow we should not see you again--for our present intentionis at once to retire from the world--we shall always think of you withkindness, as of the only being in it in whom we have an interest; weshall remember you with prayers to God, that you may yet see your errorsand be saved; and now, good-bye."
"I shall see you to-morrow?" Mr. Harmer asked.
"Yes, after the funeral." And they were gone.
Mr. Harmer again took his place in the carriage, and returned sad andthoughtful to Canterbury.
At a quarter after eleven the next day, Mr. Harmer and his solicitoralighted from a carriage at the lodge gates, and, sending the vehicleback to the town, entered the grounds.
"I think you were wrong to come so early, Ransome. The service will lastat least two hours. You had much better have taken my advice, and comeon by yourself later."
"I shall do very well, Mr. Harmer. I can walk about the grounds. I seethere are a good many people about, and I am sure to find some one totalk to till it is time for me to come in."
There were several other persons walking the same way as themselvestowards the house; but they presently met a man coming in the oppositedirection,--an old man, in a rough sailor's suit, with only one arm.When he came up to them he stopped, looked Mr. Harmer full in the face,and then took off his hat, saying, "God bless your honour! it's many along year since I saw you. Do you not remember Robert Althorpe?"
"Bless me!" Mr. Harmer exclaimed, shaking the old sailor warmly by thehand. "I am indeed glad to see you, old friend. This, Mr. Ransome, is avery old friend of mine; I may say the first I ever had. So you arestill here?"
"Aye, aye, your honour; but I live at Herne now. I came over here latelast night, and heard you had been up at the house in the evening; so Ithought you would be coming to the funeral this morning, and made boldto wait here in hopes of seeing you."
"You did quite right, and I am very glad that I met you. But there, thetime is getting on, and I must not wait. Come down to the 'Fountain'this afternoon, and ask for me; we must have a long talk over old times,and I will see what can be done to make you comfortable for the future.This is a dreadful business," he added, as he turned to go up to thehouse.
"Aye, your honour, it is. God knows, I would have saved them if Icould."
"You!" Mr. Harmer said, stopping suddenly. "What, were you with them? Iremember now that the ac
count said it was a one-armed sailor, but ofcourse I never thought for a moment of its being you."
"Aye, your honour, it were me sure enough; but don't let me keep younow. I will tell you the whole yarn this afternoon."
Mr. Harmer walked away leaving the old sailor with the solicitor, whohad, from the instant when the man said he had been present at theaccident, regarded him with the most lively interest.
"So you were there, my man," he said. "Well, the day is very cold, Ihave some time to wait, and I daresay you have nothing particular to do,so walk down with me to the village; we shall be able, I have no doubt,to get a snug room with a good fire, and you shall tell me the wholestory over a glass of grog."
When Mr. Harmer entered the house, he found the hall, and indeed thewhole dwelling, thronged with the priests and assistants of the RomishChurch, in the full robes of their office. All seemed engaged, and noone paid much attention to him. In a few minutes a procession wasformed; in the rear of this he took his place, and it then moved withlow chanting through the long passages of the house to the chapel whichadjoined, and indeed formed part of it. Herbert Harmer followedmechanically, mechanically he took the place assigned to him there, andlistened to the solemn service. As in a dream he saw the chapel hungwith black, and the catafalque containing the coffins of his deadbrothers, and the two black figures kneeling beside them; as if it weresome strange thing in which he had no part or share. His thoughts wentfar back, through long years, to the time when he had last heard thosesolemn chants and smelt the faint odour of the incense, the tears welledup in his eyes, and his thoughts were still of the days of hischildhood, when a stir around him roused him, and he saw that theservice was over. In a few minutes the chapel was emptied, and allreturned into the dwelling. Here a servant informed him that a gentlemanwas awaiting him in the library. Opening the door, he beckoned to Mr.Ransome to follow him, and together they went into the drawing-room.Here he found his sisters, and several of the higher clergy who hadassisted at the ceremonial, assembled.
On his entrance his sisters rose to meet him, and greeted him withformal ceremony; but Mr. Harmer thought that, under their impassiveexterior, he could perceive that they were much moved; and that,although thoroughly agreeing as they did in the propriety and justice ofthe deed, they were yet sorry at heart for the coming sentence which wasto cut off their only surviving brother from all share in the old familyproperty. Miss Harmer then shortly introduced her brother to thosepresent, who received him courteously, being far too well bred men ofthe world to betray the least exultation over a conquered enemy whocould no longer be dangerous, and towards whom, therefore, a generousmagnanimity might be safely displayed.
A few general remarks suitable to the occasion were exchanged, and thenat a sign from Miss Harmer, all took seats round the room, and a quietbusiness-looking man, evidently a solicitor, approached the table with alegal document in his hand. It was the will of the late Edward Harmer,which he opened and proceeded to read. Divested of all legaltechnicalities, the contents were briefly as follows:--
After leaving his sisters a life interest in a considerable sum, hebequeathed the whole remainder to his brother Robert. In the event,however, of Robert not surviving him, he ordered that the estate shouldbe sold, and that the proceeds, together with all other propertywhatsoever of which he should be possessed--and the amount was large, asthe Harmers had not for years lived up to their income--should be paidinto the hands of two well-known dignitaries of the Roman CatholicChurch, to be expended by them in accordance with an enclosed document.
When the lawyer had finished, he folded up the will, and, addressing Mr.Harman, said,--
"Have you any question you would like to ask? If so I shall be happy toanswer you. This will was drawn up by me some years since at the requestof the testator, who was in good health, mentally and bodily. I wasmyself one of the witnesses of his signature; the other witness can beproduced."
"I have no question to ask," Mr. Harmer said, gravely; "the contents ofthe will are precisely such as I had anticipated they would be."
There was a pause, and the lawyer remarked,--
"In that case I do not know that there is anything further to be said atpresent."
Mr. Harmer turned towards his sister with the intention of sayingfarewell, when he was surprised by Mr. Ransome stepping forward andsaying--
"I have a remark or two to make on behalf of Mr. Harmer in reference tothe document which has just been read."
There was a little movement of surprise, Mr. Harmer being moreastonished than any one present, and all listened with anxiety for whatwas to follow.
"I admit on behalf of Mr. Harmer that the document which has just beenread is the last testament of the late Mr. Edward Harmer; of that noquestion can I suppose arise. By the terms of that will he bequeathesthe whole of his property to his brother Robert, subject to the paymentof the legacies to the Misses Harmer. In the event of Robert notsurviving him, he makes other dispositions of his property. These it isnot necessary to enter into, as that contingency has not arisen. For,gentlemen, I am in a position to prove to you that Mr. Robert Harmer didsurvive his brother; he, therefore, under the will, came into possessionof the property, and as Mr. Robert Harmer has unfortunately diedintestate, at least so I presume, Mr. Herbert Harmer, as heir-at-law, ofcourse inherits the estate."
As Mr. Ransome spoke he moved to the door, opened it and called to someone who was waiting in the hall, and Robert Althorpe entered with hishat in his hand. No one moved, no one spoke, a stupor of blank dismayhad fallen upon all present. Their faces, which when the will was read,were bright with irrepressible exultation, now expressed the deepestconsternation. They could hardly believe that the prize which they hadmade so sure of was about to be snatched from their grasp.
"This," Mr. Ransome said, "is Robert Althorpe, the sailor who had chargeof the little yacht belonging to the late Mr. Harmer, and who was thesole survivor of those who embarked in her. Miss Harmer knows that thisis correct. Be so good, my man, will you, as to tell these ladies andgentlemen what you told me relative to the death of the Mr. Harmers.
"Well ladies, and your honours," the sailor said, "when I felt the boatgo over I stuck to her, and never left go. I soon got my head abovewater, and clambered on to her bottom. I had hardly got my breath,before I saw a head come out of the water close by me. I held on to thekeel with my hook, leaned over, and caught him by the hair, and helpedhim on to the boat beside me. That was Mr. Robert Harmer. I looked roundagain, and thought I saw an arm come up for a moment, but that was all Isaw of any of them, and I don't think one of them ever came up after sheupset. Mr. Robert Harmer was very weak, but he clung with me for nighten minutes, sometimes washed nearly off, and getting weaker and weakerevery minute, and I saw he could not last long. We did not speak, thewaves and the wind were too high, and we were half the time under water;but I could see the poor gentleman was praying very hard. At last a bigwave came over all, and nearly carried me off, and I had a hard fight toget back again. When I had time to look round, Mr. Robert Harmer wasgone, and that was the last I ever saw of him. Which I am ready to takemy davy."
When the sailor had done there was another long silence, and then Mr.Ransome said,--
"This, gentlemen, is perfectly conclusive proof that Mr. Robert Harmersurvived his brother, and would be held so in any court of law. It is, Ihave no question, a surprise to you, as it is to my client, Mr. Harmer;indeed, it is only within the last hour that I have been put inpossession of the fact; I am sure, therefore, that Mr. Harmer will notwish to force upon you any sudden decision; but I would submit to youthat no question can arise either in the point of law or fact. I wouldsuggest to him that he should retire for an hour and then return foryour answer. In the meantime, merely as a matter of form, I have placeda person in the hall to keep possession of the place in the name of Mr.Herbert Harmer, as heir-at-law to his brother the late Mr. RobertHarmer. The sailor will remain here, and you can interrogate him furtheron the subject."
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bsp; So saying, and bowing to those present, who had not yet recoveredsufficiently from their dismay to utter a word, he took the almoststupefied Mr. Harmer by the arm and left the room.
After they had gone there was a long and animated debate; but theconclusion at which they most reluctantly arrived, under the advice ofthe lawyer who had drawn up the will, was, that there was at presentnothing to do, but to leave Mr. Herbert Harmer in possession, and then,if upon deliberation and further advice it should be thought right tobring the case to trial, to do so. And so they all went away, and Mr.Harmer took possession of the home of his father; but not immediately,for his sisters asked him to leave them a week to make theirarrangements. He begged them to stay there as long as they wished, andindeed pressed them to make it their home. This, however, they refusedto do. By the will of their brother they were amply provided for, andthey intended to travel, and perhaps finally to enter a religious houseon the Continent.
So in a week the old house was empty, and Herbert Harmer entered it asundisputed master.