Can You Forgive Her? (58 page)

‘When do you want to go?’ he asked sharply. In such establishments as that at Vavasor Hall the family horse is generally used for double duties. Though he
draws the lady of the house one day, he is not too proud to draw manure on the next. And it will always be found that the master of the house gives a great preference to the manure over the lady. The squire at Vavasor had come to do so to such an extent that he regarded any application for the animal’s services as an encroachment.

‘Only to Shap, grandpapa.’

‘To Shap! what on earth can take you
to Shap? There are no shops at Shap.’

‘I am not going to do shopping. I want to see some one there.’

‘Whom can you want to see at Shap?’

Then it occurred to Kate on the spur of the moment that she might as well tell her grandfather the fact. ‘My brother has come down,’ she said; ‘and is at the inn there. I had not intended to tell you, as I did not wish to mention his name till you had consented
to receive him here.’

‘And he expects to come here now; – does he?’ said the squire.

‘Oh, no, sir. I think he has no expectation of the kind. He has come down simply to see me; – about business I believe.’

‘Business! what business? I suppose he wants to get your money from you?’

‘I think it is with reference to his marriage. I think he wants me to use my influence with Alice that it may not
be delayed.’

‘Look here, Kate; if ever you lend him your money, or any of it, –that is, of the principal I mean, –I will never speak to him again under any circumstance. And more than that! Look here, Kate. In spite of all that has past and gone, the property will become his for his life when I die, – unless I change my will. If he gets your money from you, I will change it, and he shall not
be a shilling richer at my death than he is now. You can have the horse to go to Shap.’

What unlucky chance had it been which had put this idea into the old squire’s head on this especial morning? Kate had resolved that she would entreat her brother to make use of her little fortune. She feared that he was now coming with some reference to his cousin’s money, –that something was to be done to
enable him to avail himself of his cousin’s offer; and Kate, almost blushing in the solitude of her chamber at the thought, was determined that her brother must be saved from such temptation. She knew that money was necessary to him. She knew that he could not stand a second contest without assistance. With all their confidences, he had never told her much of his pecuniary circumstances in the world,
but she was almost sure that he was a poor man. He had said as much as that to her, and in his letter desiring her to come to him at Shap, he had inserted a word or two purposely intended to prepare her mind for monetary considerations.

As she was jogged along over the rough road to Shap, she made up her mind that Aunt Greenow would be the proper person to defray the expense of the coming election.
To give Kate her due she would have given up every shilling of her own money without a moment’s hesitation, or any feeling that her brother would be wrong to accept it. Nor would she, perhaps, have been unalterably
opposed to his taking Alice’s money, had Alice simply been his cousin. She felt that as Vavasors they were bound to stand by the future head of the family in an attempt which was to
be made, as she felt, for the general Vavasor interest. But she could not endure to think that her brother should take the money of the girl whom he was engaged to marry. Aunt Greenow’s money she thought was fair game. Aunt Greenow herself had made various liberal offers to herself which Kate had declined, not caring to be under pecuniary obligations even to Aunt Greenow without necessity; but she
felt that for such a purpose as her brother’s contest, she need not hesitate to ask for assistance, and she thought also that such assistance would be forthcoming.

‘Grandpapa knows that you are here, George,’ said Kate, when their first greeting was over.

‘The deuce he does! and why did you tell him?’

‘I could not get the car to come in without letting him know why I wanted it.’

‘What nonsense!
as if you couldn’t have made any excuse! I was particularly anxious that he should not guess that I am here.’

‘I don’t see that it can make any difference, George.’

‘But I see that it can, – a very great difference. It may prevent my ever being able to get near him again before he dies. What did he say about my coming?’

‘He didn’t say much’

‘He made no offer as to my going there?’

‘No.’

‘I should not have gone if he had. I don’t know now that I ever shall go. To be there to do any good, – so as to make him alter his will, and leave me in the position which I have a right to expect, would take more time than the whole property is worth. And he would endeavour to tie me down in some way I could not stand; –perhaps ask me to give up my notion for going into Parliament.’

‘He might
ask you, but he would not make it ground for another quarrel, if you refused.’

‘He is so unreasonable and ignorant that I am better away from him. But, Kate, you have not congratulated me on my matrimonial prospects.’

‘Indeed I did, George, when I wrote to you.’

‘Did you? well; I had forgotten. I don’t know that any very strong congratulatory tone is necessary. As things go, perhaps it may
be as well for all of us, and that’s about the best that can be said for it,’

‘Oh, George!’

‘you see I’m not romantic, Kate, as you are. Half a dozen children with a small income do not generally present themselves as being desirable to men who wish to push their way in the world.’

‘You know you have always longed to make her your wife.’

‘I don’t know anything of the kind. You have always
been under a match-making hallucination on that point But in this case you have been so far successful, and are entitled to your triumph.’

‘I don’t want any triumph; you ought to know that’

‘But I’ll tell you what I do want, Kate. I want some money.’ Then he paused, but as she did not answer immediately, he was obliged to go on speaking. ‘I’m not at all sure that I have not been wrong in making
this attempt to get into Parliament, – that I’m not struggling to pick fruit which is above my reach.’

‘Don’t say that, George.’

‘Ah, but I can’t help feeling it. I need hardly tell you that I am ready to risk anything of my own. If I know myself I would toss up tomorrow, or for the matter of that today, between the gallows and a seat in the House. But I cannot go on with this contest by risking
what is merely my own. Money, for immediate use, I have none left, and my neck, though I were ever so willing to risk it, is of no service.’

‘Whatever I have can be yours tomorrow,’ said Kate, in a hesitating voice, which too plainly pronounced her misery as she made the offer. She could not refrain herself from making it. Though her grandfather’s threat was ringing in her ears, – though she
knew that she might be ruining her brother by proposing such a loan, she had no alternative. When her brother told her of his want of money, she could not abstain from tendering to him the use of what was her own.

‘No;’ said he. ‘I shall not take your money.’

‘You would not scruple, if you knew how welcome you are.’

‘At any rate, I shall not take it. I should not think it right. All that you
have would only just suffice for my present wants, and I should not choose to make you a beggar. There would, moreover, be a difficulty about readjusting the payment.’

‘There would be no difficulty, because no one need be consulted but us two.’

‘I should not think it right, and therefore let there be an end of it,’ said George in a tone of voice which had in it something of magniloquence.

‘What is it you wish then?’ said Kate, who knew too well what he did wish.

‘I will explain to you. When Alice and I are married, of course there will be a settlement made on her, and as we are both the grandchildren of the old squire I shall propose that the Vavasor property shall be hers for life in the event of her outliving me.’

‘Well,’ said Kate.

‘And if this be done, there can be no harm
in my forestalling some of her property, which, under the circumstances of such a settlement, would of course become mine when we are married.’

‘But the squire might leave the property to whom he pleases.’

‘We know very well that he won’t, at any rate, leave it out of the family. In fact, he would only be too glad to consent to such an agreement as that I have proposed, because he would thereby
rob me of all power in the matter.’

‘But that could not be done till you are married.’

‘Look here, Kate; – don’t you make difficulties.’ And now, as he looked at her, the cicature on his face seemed to open and yawn at her. ‘If you mean to say that you won’t help me, do say so, and I will go back to London.’

‘I would do anything in my power to help you, – that was not wrong!’

‘Yes; anybody
could say as much as that. That is not much of an offer if you are to keep to yourself the power of deciding what is wrong. Will you write to Alice, – or better still, go to her, and explain that I want the money.’

‘How can I go to London now?’

‘You can do it very well, if you choose. But if that be too much, then write to her. It will come much better from you than from me; write to her, and
explain that I must pay in advance the expenses of this contest, and that I cannot look for success unless I do so. I did not think that the demand would come so quick on me; but they know that I am not a man of capital, and therefore I cannot expect them to carry on the fight for me, unless they know that the money is sure. Scruby has been bitten two or three times by these metropolitan fellows,
and he is determined that he will not be bitten again.’ Then he paused for Kate to speak.

‘George,’ she said, slowly.

‘Well.’

‘I wish you would try any other scheme but that.’

‘There is no other scheme! That’s so like a woman; – to quarrel with the only plan that is practicable.’

‘I do not think you ought to take Alice’s money.’

‘My dear Kate, you must allow me to be the best judge of what
I ought to do, and what I ought not to do. Alice herself understands the matter perfectly. She knows that I cannot obtain this position, which is as desirable for her as it is for me –’

‘And for me as much as for either,’ said Kate, interrupting him.

‘Very well. Alice, I say, knows that I cannot do this without money, and has offered the assistance which I want. I would rather that you should
tell her how much I want, and that I want it now, than that I should do so. That is all. If you are half the woman that I take you to be, you will understand this well enough.’

‘Kate did understand it well enough. She was quite awake to the fact that her brother was ashamed of the thing he was about to do, – so much ashamed of it that he was desirous of using her voice instead of his own. ‘I
want you to write to her quite at once,’ he continued; ‘since you seem to think that it is not worth while to take the trouble of a journey to London.’

‘There is no question about the trouble,’ said Kate. ‘I would walk to London to get the money for you, if that were all.’

‘Do you think that Alice will refuse to lend it me?’ said he, looking into her face.

‘I am sure that she would not, but
I think that you ought not to take it from her. There seems to me to be something sacred about property that belongs to the girl you are going to marry.’

‘If there is anything on earth I hate,’ said George, walking about the room, ‘it is romance. If you keep it for reading in your bedroom, it’s all very well for those who like it, but when it comes to be mixed up with one’s business it plays
the devil. If you would only sift what you have said, you would see what nonsense it is. Alice and I are to be man and wife. All our interests, and all our money, and our station in life, whatever it may be, are to be joint property. And yet she is the last person in the world to whom I ought to go for money to improve her prospects as well as my own. That’s what you call delicacy. I call it infernal
nonsense.’

‘I tell you what I’ll do, George. I’ll ask Aunt Greenow to lend you the money, – or to lend it to me.’

‘I don’t believe she’d give me a shilling. Moreover, I want it quite immediately, and the time taken up in letter-writing and negotiations would be fatal to me. If you won’t apply to Alice I must. I want you to tell me whether you will oblige me in this matter.’

Kate was still hesitating
as to her answer, when there came a knock at the door, and a little crumpled note was brought up to her. A boy had just come with it across the fell from Vavasor Hall, and Kate, as soon as she saw her name on the outside, knew that it was from her grandfather. It was as follows:–

‘If George wishes to come to the Hall, let him come. If he chooses to tell me that he regrets his conduct to me, I
will see him.’

‘What is it?’ said George. Then Kate put the note into her brother’s hand.

‘I’ll do nothing of the kind,’ he said. ‘What good should I get by going to the old man’s house?’

‘Every good,’ said Kate. ‘If you don’t go now you never can do so.’

‘Never till it’s my own,’ said George.

‘If you show him that you are determined to be at variance with
him, it never will be your own;
– unless, indeed, it should some day come to you as part of Alice’s fortune. Think of it, George; you would not like to receive everything from her.’

‘He walked about the room, muttering maledictions between his teeth and balancing, as best he was able at such a moment, his pride against his profit. ‘You haven’t answered my question,’ said he. ‘If I go to the Hall, will you write to Alice?’

‘No, George; I cannot write to Alice asking her for the money.’

‘You won’t?’

‘I could not bring myself to do it’

‘Then, Kate, you and my grandfather may work together for the future. You may get him to leave you the place if you have skill enough.’

‘That is as undeserved a reproach as any woman ever encountered,’ said Kate, standing her ground boldly before him. ‘If you have either heart or
conscience, you will feel that it is so.’