_HARRY'S INHERITANCE._
I.
Colonel Sir Thomas Woolrych, K.C.B. (retired list), was a soldier of theold school, much attached to pipe-clay and purchase, and with a lowopinion of competitive examinations, the first six books of Euclid, thelocal military centres, the territorial titles of regiments, the latestregulation pattern in half-dress buttons, and most other confoundednew-fangled radical fal-lal and trumpery in general. Sir Thomas believedas firmly in the wisdom of our ancestors as he distrusted the wisdom ofour nearest descendants, now just attaining to years of maturity andindiscretion. Especially had he a marked dislike for this nasty modernshopkeeping habit of leaving all your loose money lying idly at yourbanker's, and paying everybody with a dirty little bit of crumpledpaper, instead of pulling out a handful of gold, magnificently, fromyour trousers pocket, and flinging the sovereigns boldly down before youupon the counter like an officer and a gentleman. Why should you let oneof those bloated, overfed, lazy banker-fellows grow rich out ofborrowing your money from you for nothing, without so much as athank-you, and lending it out again to some other poor devil of atradesman (probably in difficulties) at seven per cent. on shortdiscount? No, no; that was not the way Sir Thomas Woolrych had beenaccustomed to live when he was an ensign (sub-lieutenant they positivelycall it nowadays) at Ahmednuggur, in the North-West Provinces. In thosedays, my dear sir, a man drew his monthly screw by pay-warrant, took therupees in solid cash, locked them up carefully in the desk in hisbungalow, helped himself liberally to them while they lasted, and gaveIOU's for any little trifle of cards or horses he might happen to havelet himself in for meanwhile with his brother-officers. IOU's are ofcourse a gentlemanly and recognized form of monetary engagement, but forbankers' cheques Sir Thomas positively felt little less than contemptand loathing.
Nevertheless, in his comfortable villa in the park at Cheltenham (calledFutteypoor Lodge, after that famous engagement during the Mutiny whichgave the Colonel his regiment and his K.C.B.-ship) he stood one eveninglooking curiously at his big devonport, and muttered to himself withmore than one most military oath, "Hanged if I don't think I shallpositively be compelled to patronize these banker-fellows after all.Somebody must have been helping himself again to some of my sovereigns."
Sir Thomas was not by nature a suspicious man--he was too frank andopen-hearted himself to think ill easily of others--but he couldn'tavoid feeling certain that somebody had been tampering unjustifiablywith the contents of his devonport. He counted the rows of sovereignsover once more, very carefully; then he checked the number taken out bythe entry in his pocket-book; and then he leaned back in his chair witha puzzled look, took a meditative puff or two at the stump of his cigar,and blew out the smoke, in a long curl that left a sort of pout upon hisheavily moustached lip as soon as he had finished. Not a doubt in theworld about it--somebody must have helped himself again to a dozensovereigns.
It was a hateful thing to put a watch upon your servants and dependents,but Sir Thomas felt he must really do it. He reckoned up the long rowsa third time with military precision, entered the particulars once moremost accurately in his pocket-book, sighed a deep sigh of regret at thedistasteful occupation, and locked up the devonport at last with the airof a man who resigns himself unwillingly to a most unpleasant duty. Thenhe threw away the fag-end of the smoked-out cigar, and went up slowly todress for dinner.
Sir Thomas's household consisted entirely of himself and his nephewHarry, for he had never been married, and he regarded all womankindalike from afar off, with a quaint, respectful, old-world chivalry; buthe made a point of dressing scrupulously every day for dinner, even whenalone, as a decorous formality due to himself, his servants, society,the military profession, and the _convenances_ in general. If he and hisnephew dined together they dressed for one another; if they dinedseparately they dressed all the same, for the sake of the institution.When a man once consents to eat his evening meal in a blue tie and amorning cutaway, there's no drawing a line until you finally find him anadvanced republican and an accomplice of those dreadful War Officepeople who are bent upon allowing the service to go to the devil. IfColonel Sir Thomas Woolrych, K.C.B., had for a single night been guiltyof such abominable laxity, the whole fabric of society would havetottered to its base, and gods and footmen would have felt instinctivelythat it was all up with the British constitution.
"Harry," Sir Thomas said, as soon they sat down to dinner together, "areyou going out anywhere this evening, my boy?"
Harry looked up a little surlily, and answered after a moment'shesitation, "Why, yes, uncle, I thought--I thought of going round andhaving a game of billiards with Tom Whitmarsh."
Sir Thomas cleared his throat, and hemmed dubiously. "In that case," hesaid at last, after a short pause, "I think I'll go down to the clubmyself and have a rubber. Wilkins, the carriage at half-past nine. I'msorry, Harry, you're going out this evening."
"Why so, uncle? It's only just round to the Whitmarshes', you know."
Sir Thomas shut one eye and glanced with the other at the light throughhis glass of sherry, held up between finger and thumb critically andsuspiciously. "A man may disapprove _in toto_ of the present system ofcompetitive examinations for the army," he said slowly; "for my part, Icertainly do, and I make no secret of it; admitting a lot of butchersand bakers and candlestick makers plump into the highest ranks of theservice: no tone, no character, no position, no gentlemanly feeling; agreat mistake--a great mistake; I told them so at the time. I said tothem, 'Gentlemen, you are simply ruining the service.' But they took nonotice of me; and what's the consequence? Competitive examination hasbeen the ruin of the service, exactly as I told them. Began with that;then abolition of purchase; then local centres; then that abominablestrap with the slip buckle--there, there, Harry, upon my soul, my boy, Ican't bear to think of it. But a man may be opposed, as I said, to thewhole present system of competitive examination, and yet, while thatsystem still unfortunately continues to exist (that is to say, until aEuropean War convinces all sensible people of the confounded folly ofit), he may feel that his own young men, who are reading up for a directcommission, ought to be trying their hardest to get as much of thisnonsensical humbug into their heads as possible during the time justbefore their own examinations. Now, Harry, I'm afraid you're not readingquite as hard as you ought to be doing. The crammer's all very well inhis way, of course, but depend upon it, the crammer by himself won't getyou through it. What's needed is private study."
Harry turned his handsome dark eyes upon his uncle--a very dark, almostgipsy-looking face altogether, Harry's--and answered deprecatingly,"Well, sir, and don't I go in for private study? Didn't I read up_Samson Agonistes_ all by myself right through yesterday?"
"I don't know what Samson Something-or-other is," the old gentlemanreplied testily. "What the dickens has Samson Something-or-other got todo with the preparation of a military man, I should like to know, sir?"
"It's the English Literature book for the exam., you know," Harryanswered, with a quiet smile. "We've got to get it up, you see, with allthe allusions and what-you-may-call-its, for direct commission. It's asort of a play, I think I should call it, by John Milton."
"Oh, it's the English Literature, is it?" the old Colonel went on,somewhat mollified. "In my time, Harry, we weren't expected to knowanything about English literature. The Articles of War, and theOfficer's Companion, By Authority, that was the kind of literature weused to be examined in. But nowadays they expect a soldier to be read upin Samson Something-or-other, do they really? Well, well, let them havetheir fad, let them have their fad, poor creatures. Still, Harry, I'mvery much afraid you're wasting your time, and your money also. If Ithought you only went to the Whitmarshes' to see Miss Milly, now, Ishouldn't mind so much about it. Miss Milly is a very charming, sweetyoung creature, certainly--extremely pretty, too, extremely pretty--Idon't deny it. You're young yet to go making yourself agreeable, my boy,to a pretty girl like that; you ought to wait for that sort of thingtill you've got your majority,
or at least, your company--a young manreading for direct commission has no business to go stuffing his headcram full with love and nonsense. No, no; he should leave it all freefor fortification, and the general instructions, and SamsonSomething-or-other, if soldiers can't be made nowadays without Englishliterature. But still, I don't so much object to that, I say--a sweetgirl, certainly, Miss Milly--what I do object to is your knocking aboutso much at billiard-rooms, and so forth, with that young fellowWhitmarsh. Not a very nice young fellow, or a good companion for youeither, Harry. I'm afraid, I'm afraid, my boy, he makes you spend agreat deal too much money."
"I've never yet had to ask you to increase my allowance, sir," the youngman answered haughtily, with a curious glance sideways at his uncle.
"Wilkins," Sir Thomas put in, with a nod to the butler, "go down andbring up a bottle of the old Madeira. Harry, my boy, don't let usdiscuss questions of this sort before the servants. My boy, I've neverkept you short of money in any way, I hope; and if I ever do, I trustyou'll tell me of it, tell me of it immediately."
Harry's dark cheeks burned bright for a moment, but he answered never asingle word, and went on eating his dinner silently, with a veryhang-dog look indeed upon his handsome features.
II.
At half-past nine Sir Thomas drove down to the club, and, when hereached the door, dismissed the coachman. "I shall walk back, Morton,"he said. "I shan't want you again this evening. Don't let them sit upfor me. I mayn't be home till two in the morning."
But as soon as the coachman had had full time to get back again inperfect safety, Sir Thomas walked straight down the club steps oncemore, and up the Promenade, and all the way to Futteypoor Lodge. When hegot there, he opened the door silently with his latch-key, shut it againwithout the slightest noise, and walked on tip-toe into the library. Itwas an awkward sort of thing to do, certainly, but Sir Thomas wasconvinced in his own mind that he ought to do it. He wheeled an easychair into the recess by the window, in front of which the curtains weredrawn, arranged the folds so that he could see easily into the room bythe slit between them, and sat down patiently to explore this mystery tothe very bottom.
Sir Thomas was extremely loth in his own mind to suspect anybody; andyet it was quite clear that some one or other must have taken themissing sovereigns. Twice over money had been extracted. It couldn'thave been cook, of that he felt certain; nor Wilkins either. Veryrespectable woman, cook--very respectable butler, Wilkins. Not Morton;oh dear no, quite impossible, certainly not Morton. Not the housemaid,or the boy: obviously neither; well-conducted young people, every one ofthem. But who the dickens could it be then? for certainly somebody hadtaken the money. The good old Colonel felt in his heart that for thesake of everybody's peace of mind it was his bounden duty to discoverthe real culprit before saying a single word to anybody about it.
There was something very ridiculous, of course, not to say undignifiedand absurd, in the idea of an elderly field officer, late in HerMajesty's service, sitting thus for hour after hour stealthily behindhis own curtains, in the dark, as if he were a thief or a burglar,waiting to see whether anybody came to open his devonport. Sir Thomasgrew decidedly wearied as he watched and waited, and but for his strongsense of the duty imposed upon him of tracking the guilty person, hewould once or twice in the course of the evening have given up the questfrom sheer disgust and annoyance at the absurdity of the position. Butno; he must find out who had done it: so there he sat, as motionless asa cat watching a mouse-hole, with his eye turned always in the directionof the devonport, through the slight slit between the folded curtains.
Ten o'clock struck upon the clock on the mantelpiece--half-pastten--eleven. Sir Thomas stretched his legs, yawned, and mutteredaudibly, "Confounded slow, really." Half-past eleven. Sir Thomas wentover noiselessly to the side table, where the decanters were standing,and helped himself to a brandy and seltzer, squeezing down the cork ofthe bottle carefully with his thumb, to prevent its popping, till allthe gas had escaped piecemeal. Then he crept back, still noiselessly,feeling more like a convicted thief himself than a Knight Commander ofthe Most Honourable Order of the Bath, and wondering when the deuce thispilfering lock-breaker was going to begin his nightly depredations. Nottill after Harry came back most likely. The thief, whoever he or shewas, would probably be afraid to venture into the library while therewas still a chance of Harry returning unexpectedly and disturbing thewhole procedure. But when once Harry had gone to bed, they would allhave heard from Morton that Sir Thomas was going to be out late, and thethief would then doubtless seize so good an opportunity of helpinghimself unperceived to the counted sovereigns.
About half past eleven, there was a sound of steps upon the garden-walk,and Harry's voice could be heard audibly through the half-open window.The colonel caught the very words against his will. Harry was talkingwith Tom Whitmarsh, who had walked round to see him home; his voice wasa little thick, as if with wine, and he seemed terribly excited (tojudge by his accent) about something or other that had just happened.
"Good night, Tom," the young man was saying, with an outward show ofcarelessness barely concealing a great deal of underlying irritation."I'll pay you up what I lost to-morrow or the next day. You shall haveyour money, don't be afraid about it."
"Oh, it's all right," Tom Whitmarsh's voice answered in an off-handfashion. "Pay me whenever you like, you know, Woolrych. It doesn'tmatter to me when you pay me, this year or next year, so long as I getit sooner or later."
Sir Thomas listened with a sinking heart. "Play," he thought to himself."Play, play, play, already! It was his father's curse, poor fellow, andI hope it won't be Harry's. It's some comfort to think, anyhow, thatit's only billiards."
"Well, good night, Tom," Harry went on, ringing the bell as he spoke.
"Good night, Harry. I hope next time the cards won't go so persistentlyagainst you."
The cards! Phew! That was bad indeed. Sir Thomas started. He didn'tobject to a quiet after-dinner rubber on his own account, naturally: butthis wasn't whist; oh, no; nothing of the sort. This was evidentlyserious playing. He drew a long breath, and felt he must talk verydecidedly about the matter to Harry to-morrow morning.
"Is my uncle home yet, Wilkins?"
"No, sir; he said he wouldn't be back probably till two o'clock, and wewasn't to sit up for him."
"All right then. Give me a light for a minute in the library. I'll takea seltzer before I go upstairs, just to steady me."
Sir Thomas almost laughed outright. This was really too ridiculous.Suppose, after all the waiting, Harry was to come over and discover himsitting there in the darkness by the window, what a pretty figure hewould cut before him. And besides, the whole thing would have to comeout then, and after all the thief would never be discovered andpunished. The Colonel grew hot and red in the face, and began to wish togoodness he hadn't in the first place let himself in, in any way, forthis ridiculous amateur detective business.
But Harry drank his seltzer standing by the side table, with no brandy,either; that was a good thing, no brandy. If he'd taken brandy, too, inhis present excited condition, when he'd already certainly had quite asmuch as was at all good for him, Sir Thomas would have been justly andseriously angry. But, after all, Harry was a good boy at bottom, andknew how to avoid such ugly habits. He took his seltzer and his bedroomcandle. Wilkins turned out the light in the room, and Harry wentupstairs by himself immediately.
Then Wilkins turned the key in the library door, and the old gentlemanbegan to reflect that this was really a most uncomfortable position forhim to be left in. Suppose they locked him in there till to-morrowmorning! Ah! happy thought; if the worst came to the worst he could getout of the library window and let himself in at the front door by meansof his latch-key.
The servants all filed upstairs, one by one, in an irregular procession;their feet died away gradually upon the upper landings, and a solemnsilence came at last over the whole household. Sir Thomas's heart beganto beat faster: the excitement of plot interest was growing stron
gerupon him. This was the time the thief would surely choose to open thedevonport. He should know now within twenty minutes which it was of allhis people, whom he trusted so implicitly, that was really robbing him.
And he treated them all so kindly, too. Ha, the rascal! he should catchit well, that he should, whoever he was, as soon as ever Sir Thomasdiscovered him.
Not if it were Wilkins, though; not if it were Wilkins. Sir Thomas hopedit wasn't really that excellent fellow Wilkins. A good old tried andtrusty servant. If any unexpected financial difficulties----
Hush, hush! Quietly now. A step upon the landing.
Coming down noiselessly, noiselessly, noiselessly. Not Wilkins; notheavy enough for him, surely; no, no, a woman's step, so very light, solight and noiseless. Sir Thomas really hoped in his heart it wasn't thatpretty delicate-looking girl, the new housemaid. If it was, by Jove,yes, he'd give her a good lecture then and there, that very minute,about it, offer to pay her passage quietly out to Canada, and--recommendher to get married decently, to some good young fellow, on the earliestpossible opportunity.
The key turned once more in the lock, and then the door openedstealthily. Somebody glided like a ghost into the middle of the room.Sir Thomas, gazing intently through the slit in the curtains, murmuredto himself that now at last he should fairly discover the confoundedrascal.
Ha! How absurd! He could hardly help laughing once more at theridiculous collapse to his high-wrought expectations. And yet herestrained himself. It was only Harry! Harry come down, candle in hand,no doubt to get another glass of seltzer. The Colonel hoped not withbrandy. No; not with brandy. He put the glass up to his dry lips--SirThomas could see they were dry and feverish even from that distance;horrid thing, this gambling!--and he drained it off at a gulp, like athirsty man who has tasted no liquor since early morning.
Then he took up his candle again, and turned--not to the door. Oh, no.The old gentleman watched him now with singular curiosity, for he waswalking not to the door, but over in the direction of the suspecteddevonport. Sir Thomas could hardly even then guess at the truth. Itwasn't, no it wasn't, it couldn't be Harry! not Harry that ... thatborrowed the money!
The young man took a piece of stout wire from his pocket with a terriblelook of despair and agony. Sir Thomas's heart melted within him as hebeheld it. He twisted the wire about in the lock with a dexterouspressure, and it opened easily. Sir Thomas looked on, and the tears roseinto his eyes slowly by instinct; but he said never a word, and watchedintently. Harry held the lid of the devonport open for a moment with onehand, and looked at the rows of counted gold within. The fingers of theother hand rose slowly and remorsefully up to the edge of the desk, andthere hovered in an undecided fashion. Sir Thomas watched still, withhis heart breaking. Then for a second Harry paused. He held back hishand and appeared to deliberate. Something within seemed to haveaffected him deeply. Sir Thomas, though a plain old soldier, could readhis face well enough to know what it was; he was thinking of the kindwords his uncle had said to him that very evening as they sat togetherdown there at dinner.
For half a minute the suspense was terrible. Then, with a suddenimpulse, Harry shut the lid of the devonport down hastily; flung thewire with a gesture of horror and remorse into the fireplace; took uphis candle wildly in his hand; and rushed from the room and up thestairs, leaving the door open behind him.
Then Sir Thomas rose slowly from his seat in the window corner; lightedthe gas in the centre burner; unlocked the devonport, with tears stilltrickling slowly down his face; counted all the money over carefully tomake quite certain; found it absolutely untouched; and flung himselfdown upon his knees wildly, between shame, and fear, and relief, andmisery. What he said or what he thought in that terrible moment ofconflicting passions is best not here described or written; but when herose again his eyes were glistening, more with forgiveness than withhorror (anger there never had been); and being an old-fashioned oldgentleman, he took down his big Bible from the shelf, just to reassurehimself about a text which he thought he remembered somewhere in Luke:"Joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than overninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance." "Ah, yes," hesaid to himself; "he repented; he repented. He didn't take it. He felthe couldn't after what I said to him." And then, with the tears stillrolling silently down his bronzed checks, he went up stairs to bed, butnot to sleep; for he lay restless on his pillow all night through withthat one terrible discovery weighing like lead upon his tender oldbosom.
III.
Next morning, after breakfast, Sir Thomas said in a quiet tone ofcommand to Harry, "My boy, I want to speak to you for a few minutes inthe library."
Harry's cheek grew deadly pale and he caught his breath with difficulty,but he followed his uncle into the library without a word, and took hisseat at the table opposite him.
"Harry," the old soldier began, as quietly as he was able, after anawkward pause, "I want to tell you a little--a little about your fatherand mother."
Harry's face suddenly changed from white to crimson, for he felt surenow that what Sir Thomas was going to talk about was not the loss of themoney from the devonport a week earlier; and on the other hand, thoughhe knew absolutely nothing about his own birth and parentage, he knew atleast that there must have been some sort of mystery in the matter, orelse his uncle would surely long since have spoken to him quite freelyof his father and mother.
"My dear boy," the Colonel went on again, in a tremulous voice, "I thinkthe time has now come when I ought to tell you that you and I are norelations by blood; you are--you are my nephew by adoption only."
Harry gave a sudden start of surprise, but said nothing.
"The way it all came about," Sir Thomas went on, playing nervously withhis watch-chain, "was just this. I was in India during the Mutiny, asyou know, and while I was stationed at Boolundshahr, in the North-WestProvinces, just before those confounded niggers--I mean to say, beforethe sepoys revolted, your father was adjutant of my regiment at thesame station. He and your mother--well, Harry, your mother lived in asmall bungalow near the cantonments, and there you were born; why,exactly eight months before the affair at Meerut, you know--thebeginning of the Mutiny. Your father, I'm sorry to say, was a man verymuch given to high play--in short, if you'll excuse my putting it so, myboy, a regular gambler. He owed money to almost every man in theregiment, and amongst others, if I must tell you the whole truth, to me.In those days I sometimes played rather high myself, Harry; not so highas your poor father, my boy, for I was always prudent, but a great dealhigher than a young man in a marching regiment has any right to do--agreat deal higher. I left off playing immediately after what I'm justgoing to tell you; and from that day to this, Harry, I've never toucheda card, except for whist or cribbage, and never will do, my boy, if Ilive to be as old as Methuselah."
The old man paused and wiped his brow for a second with his capacioushandkerchief, while Harry's eyes, cast down upon the ground, began tofill rapidly with something or other that he couldn't for the life ofhim manage to keep out of them.
"On the night before the news from Meerut arrived," the old soldier wenton once more, with his eye turned half away from the trembling lad, "weplayed together in the major's rooms, your father and I, with a fewothers; and before the end of the evening your father had lost a largesum to one of his brother-officers. When we'd finished playing, he cameto me to my quarters, and he said 'Woolrych, this is a bad job. Ihaven't got anything to pay McGregor with.'
"'All right, Walpole,' I answered him--your father's name was CaptainWalpole, Harry--'I'll lend you whatever's necessary.'
"'No, no, my dear fellow,' he said, 'I won't borrow and only get myselfinto worse trouble. I'll take a shorter and easier way out of it all,you may depend upon it.'
"At the moment I hadn't the slightest idea what he meant, and so I saidno more to him just then about it. But three minutes after he left myquarters I heard a loud cry, and saw your father in the moonlight out inthe compound. He had a pistol in his hand
. Next moment, the report of ashot sounded loudly down below in the compound, and I rushed out at onceto see what on earth could be matter.
"Your father was lying in a pool of blood, just underneath a bigmango-tree beside the door, with his left jaw shattered to pieces, andhis brain pierced through and through from one side to the other by abullet from the pistol.
"He was dead--stone dead. There was no good doctoring him. We took himup and carried him into the surgeon's room, and none of us had thecourage all that night to tell your mother.
"Next day, news came of the rising at Meerut.
"That same night, while we were all keeping watch and mounting guard,expecting our men would follow the example of their companions athead-quarters, there was a sudden din and tumult in the lines, aboutnine in the evening, when the word was given to turn in, and McGregor,coming past me, shouted at the top of his voice, 'It's all up, Woolrych.These black devils have broken loose at last, and they're going to firethe officers' quarters.'
"Well, Harry, my boy, I needn't tell you all about it at full lengthto-day; but in the end, as you know, we fought the men for our ownlives, and held our ground until the detachment came from Etawah torelieve us. However, before we could get to the Bibi's bungalow--thesepoys used to call your mother the Bibi, Harry--those black devils hadbroken in there, and when next morning early I burst into the ruinedplace, with three men of the 47th and a faithful havildar, we foundyour poor mother--well, there, Harry, I can't bear to think of it, evennow, my boy: but she was dead, too, quite dead, with a hundredsabre-cuts all over her poor blood-stained, hacked-about body. And inthe corner, under the cradle, the eight-month-old baby was lying andcrying--crying bitterly; that was you, Harry."
The young man listened intently, with a face now once more ashy white,but still he answered absolutely nothing.
"I took you in my arms, my boy," the old Colonel continued in a softertone; "and as you were left all alone in the bungalow there, with noliving soul to love or care for you, I carried you away in my armsmyself, to my own quarters. All through the rest of that terriblecampaign I kept you with me, and while I was fighting at Futteypoor, anative ayah was in charge of you for me. Your poor father had owed me atrifling debt, and I took you as payment in full, and have kept you withme as my nephew ever since. That is all your history, Harry."
The young man drew a deep breath, and looked across curiously to thebronzed face of the simple old officer. Then he asked, a little huskily,"And why didn't my father's or mother's relations reclaim me, sir? Dothey know that I am still living?"
Sir Thomas coughed, and twirled his watch-chain more nervously anduneasily than ever. "Well, you see, my boy," he answered at last, aftera long pause, "your mother--I must tell you the whole truth now,Harry--your mother was a Eurasian, a half-caste lady--very light, almostwhite, but still a half-caste, you know, and--and--well, your father'sfamily--didn't exactly acknowledge the relationship, Harry."
Harry's face burnt crimson once more, and the hot blood rushed madly tohis cheeks, for he felt in a moment the full force of the meaning thatthe Colonel wrapped up so awkwardly in that one short embarrassedsentence.
There was another long pause, during which Harry kept his burning eyesfixed fast upon Sir Thomas, and Sir Thomas looked down uncomfortably athis boots and said nothing. Then the young man found voice again feeblyto ask, almost in a whisper, one final question.
"Had you ... had you any particular reason for telling me this storyabout my birth and my parents at this exact time ... just now, uncle?"
"I had, Harry. I--I have rather suspected of late ... that ... that youare falling somehow into ... into your poor father's unhappy vice ofgambling. My boy, my boy, if you inherit his failings in that direction,I hope his end will be some warning to you to desist immediately."
"And had you ... any reason to suspect me of ... of any other fault ...of ... of any graver fault ... of anything really very serious, uncle?"
The Colonel held his head between his hands, and answered very slowly,as if the words were wrung from him by torture: "If you hadn't yourselfasked me the question point-blank, Harry, I would never have told youanything about it. Yes, my boy, my dear boy, my poor boy; I know it all... all ... all ... absolutely."
Harry lifted up his voice in one loud cry and wail of horror, and dartedout of the room without another syllable.
"I know that cry," the Colonel said in his own heart, trembling. "I haveheard it before! It's the very cry poor Walpole gave that night atBoolundshahr, just before he went out and shot himself!"
IV.
Harry had rushed out into the garden; of that, Sir Thomas felt certain.He followed him hastily, and saw him by the seat under the lime-trees inthe far corner; he had something heavy in his right hand. Sir Thomascame closer and saw to his alarm and horror that it was indeed the smallrevolver from the old pistol-stand on the wall of the vestibule.
Even as the poor old soldier gazed, half petrified, the lad pushed acartridge home feverishly into one of the chambers, and raised theweapon, with a stern resolution, up to his temple. Sir Thomas recognizedin that very moment of awe and terror that it was the exact attitude andaction of Harry's dead father. The entire character and tragedy seemedto have handed itself down directly from father to son without a singlechange of detail or circumstance.
The old man darted forward with surprising haste, and caught Harry'shand just as the finger rested upon the trigger.
"My boy! my boy!" he cried, wrenching the revolver easily from histrembling grasp, and flinging it, with a great curve, to the other endof the garden. "Not that way! Not that way! I haven't reproached youwith one word, Harry; but this is a bad return, indeed, for a lifedevoted to you. Oh, Harry! Harry! not by shuffling off yourresponsibilities and running away from them like a coward, not by thatcan you ever mend matters in the state you have got them into, but byliving on, and fighting against your evil impulses and conquering themlike a man--that's the way, the right way, to get the better of them.Promise me, Harry, promise me, my boy, that whatever comes you won'tmake away with yourself, as your father did; for my sake, live on and dobetter. I'm an old man, an old man, Harry, and I have but you in theworld to care for or think about. Don't let me be shamed in my old ageby seeing the boy I have brought up and loved as a son dying indisgrace, a poltroon and a coward. Stand by your guns, my boy; stand byyour guns, and fight it out to the last minute."
Harry's arm fell powerless to his side, and he broke down utterly, inhis shame and self-abasement flinging himself wildly upon the seatbeneath the lime-trees and covering his face with his hands to hide thehot tears that were bursting forth in a feverish torrent.
"I will go," he said at last, in a choking voice, "I will go, uncle, andtalk to Milly."
"Do," the Colonel said, soothing his arm tenderly. "Do, my boy. She's agood girl, and she'll advise you rightly. Go and speak to her; butbefore you go, promise me, promise me."
Harry rose, and tried to shake off Sir Thomas's heavy hand, laid with afatherly pressure upon his struggling shoulder. But he couldn't; the oldsoldier was still too strong for him. "Promise me," he said once morecaressingly, "promise me; promise me!"
Harry hesitated for a second, in his troubled mind; then, with aneffort, he answered slowly, "I promise, uncle."
Sir Thomas released him, and he rushed wildly away. "Remember," theColonel cried aloud, as he went in at the open folding windows,"remember, Harry, you are on your honour. If you break parole I shallthink very badly, very badly indeed, of you."
But as the old man turned back sadly into his lonely library, he thoughtto himself, "I wonder whether I oughtn't to have dealt more harshly withhim! I wonder whether I was right in letting him off so easily for twosuch extremely--such extremely grave breaches of military discipline!"
V.
"Then you think, Milly, that's what I ought to do? You think I'd bettergo and never come back again till I feel quite sure of myself?"
"I think so, Harry, I think so.... I think so.... An
d yet ... it's veryhard not to see you for so long, Harry."
"But I shall write to you every day, Milly, however long it may be; andif I conquer myself, why, then, Milly, I shall feel I can come back fitto marry you. I'm not fit now, and unless I feel that I've put myselfstraight with you and my uncle, I'll never come back again--never,never, never!"
Milly's lip trembled, but she only answered bravely, "That's well,Harry; for then you'll make all the more effort, and for my sake I'msure you'll conquer. But, Harry, I wish before you go you'd tell meplainly what else it is that you've been doing besides playing andlosing your uncle's money."
"Oh, Milly, Milly, I can't--I mustn't. If I were to tell you that youcould never again respect me--you could never love me."
Milly was a wise girl, and pressed him no further. After all, there aresome things it is better for none of us to know about one another, andthis thing was just one of them.
So Harry Walpole went away from Cheltenham, nobody knew whither, exceptMilly; not daring to confide the secret of his whereabouts even to hisuncle, nor seeing that sole friend once more before he went, but goingaway that very night, on his own resources, to seek his own fortune asbest he might in the great world of London. "Tell my uncle why I havegone," he said to Milly; "that it is in order to conquer myself; andtell him that I'll write to you constantly, and that you will let himknow from time to time whether I am well and making progress."
It was a hard time for poor old Sir Thomas, no doubt, those four yearsthat Harry was away from him, he knew not where, and he was left aloneby himself in his dreary home; but he felt it was best so; he knew Harrywas trying to conquer himself. How Harry lived or what he was doing henever heard; but once or twice Milly hinted to him that Harry seemedsorely in want of money, and Sir Thomas gave her some to send him, andevery time it was at once returned, with a very firm but gentle messagefrom Harry to say that he was able, happily, to do without it, and wouldnot further trouble his uncle. It was only from Milly that Sir Thomascould learn anything about his dear boy, and he saw her and asked herabout him so often that he learned at last to love her like a daughter.
Four years rolled slowly away, and at the end of them Sir Thomas was oneday sitting in his little library, somewhat disconsolate, and reflectingto himself that he ought to have somebody living with him at his time oflife, when suddenly there came a ring and a knock that made him startwith surprise and pleasure, for he recognized them at once as beingHarry's. Next moment, the servant brought him a card, on which wasengraved in small letters, "Dr. H. Walpole," and down in the left-handcorner, "Surrey Hospital."
Sir Thomas turned the card over and over with a momentary feeling ofdisappointment, for he had somehow fancied to himself that Harry hadgone off covering himself with glory among Zulus or Afghans, and hecouldn't help feeling that beside that romantic dream of soldierlyrehabilitation a plain doctor's life was absurdly prosaic. Next moment,Harry himself was grasping his hand warmly, and prose and poetry werealike forgotten in that one vivid all-absorbing delight of his boyrecovered.
As soon as the first flush of excitement was fairly over, and Harry hadcried regretfully, "Why, uncle, how much older you're looking!" and SirThomas had exclaimed in his fatherly joy, "Why, Harry, my boy, what afine fellow you've turned out, God bless me!" Harry took a little bankbag of sovereigns from his coat pocket and laid it down, very red, uponthe corner of the table. "These are yours, uncle," he said simply.
Sir Thomas's first impulse was to say, "No, no, my boy; keep them, keepthem, and let us forget all about it," but he checked himself just intime, for he saw that the best thing all round was to take them quietlyand trouble poor Harry no more with the recollection. "Thank you, myboy," the old soldier answered, taking them up and pocketing them asthough it were merely the repayment of an ordinary debt. ("The Schoolfor the Orphan Children of Officers in the Army will be all the richerfor it," he thought to himself) "And now tell me, Harry, how have youbeen living, and what have you been doing ever since I last saw you?"
"Uncle," Harry cried--he hadn't unlearnt to think of him and call him bythat fond old name, then--"uncle, I've been conquering myself. From theday I left you I've never touched a card once--not once, uncle."
"Except, I suppose, for a quiet rubber?" the old Colonel put in softly.
"Not even for a rubber, uncle," Harry answered, half smiling; "nor a cuenor a dice-box either, nor anything like them. I've determined to steerclear of all the dangers that surround me by inheritance, and I'm notgoing to begin again as long as I live, uncle."
"That's well, Harry, that's well. And you didn't go in for a directcommission, then? I was in hopes, my boy, that you would still, in spiteof everything, go into the Queen's service."
Harry's face fell a little. "Uncle," he said, "I'm sorry to havedisappointed you; sorry to have been compelled to run counter to anylittle ambitions you might have had for me in that respect; but I felt,after all you told me that day, that the army would be a very dangerousprofession for me; and though I didn't want to be a coward and run awayfrom danger, I didn't want to be foolhardy and heedlessly expose myselfto it. So I thought on the whole it would be wiser for me to give up thedirect commission business altogether, and go in at once for being adoctor. It was safer, and therefore better in the end both for me andfor you, uncle."
Sir Thomas took the young man's hand once more, and pressed it gentlywith a fatherly pressure. "My boy," he said, "you are right, quiteright--a great deal more right, indeed, than I was. But how on earthhave you found money to keep yourself alive and pay for your educationall these years--tell me Harry?"
Harry's face flushed up again, this time with honest pride, as heanswered bravely, "I've earned enough by teaching and drawing to pay myway the whole time, till I got qualified. I've been qualified now fornine months, and got a post as house-surgeon at our hospital; but I'vewaited to come and tell you till I'd saved up that money, you know, outof my salary, and now I'm coming back to settle down in practice here,uncle."
Sir Thomas said nothing, but he rose from his chair and took bothHarry's hands in his with tears. For a few minutes, he looked at himtenderly and admiringly, then he said in his simple way, "God bless you!God bless you! I couldn't have done it myself, my boy. I couldn't havedone it myself, Harry."
There was a minute's pause, and then Sir Thomas began again, "What asecretive little girl that dear little Miss Milly must be, never to havetold me a word of all this, Harry. She kept as quiet about all detailsas if she was sworn to the utmost secrecy."
Harry rose and opened the library door. "Milly!" he called out, and alight little figure glided in from the drawing-room opposite.
"We expect to be married in three weeks, uncle--as soon as the banns canbe published," Harry went on, presenting his future wife as it were tothe Colonel. "Milly's money will just be enough for us to live uponuntil I can scrape together a practice, and she has confidence enoughin me to believe that in the end I shall manage to get one."
Sir Thomas drew her down to his chair and kissed her forehead. "Milly,"he said, softly, "you have chosen well. Harry, you have done wisely. Ishall have two children now instead of one. If you are to live near me Ishall be very happy. But, Harry, you have proved yourself well. Now youmust let me buy you a practice."
THE END.