The Mighty and Their Fall (15 page)

“What hours those have been! I shall welcome an ordinary day.”

“I shall not. I should have to make a habit of it. It is a pity so much has happened on one. It could have gone much further.”

“If it had not been for this, Uncle Ransom would have lived alone. That may have influenced him.”

“Yes, I saw him being influenced.”

“You see so much,” said Egbert.

“Yes, it has been my life work. And I can feel I have done it well.”

“Will Uncle Ransom leave anything to you?”

“I have asked myself that, as I could not ask him. No one thinks of my wanting anything. I never speak of it, as it is humbling to have needs that are not fulfilled. And people would wonder what I should do with money, if I had it. And I have had no chance to learn.”

“To learn what?” said Ninian, returning to the room.

“What to do with money. It is a thing you know.”

“I know it well. Its uses are indeed defined. There is none over.”

“I don't dare to voice my thought.”

“No, do not voice it,” said Ninian, in a grave tone. “It is not mine. Ransom is my younger brother. It is his right to outlive me. I hope he will. If not, the disposal of what is his, is a question for him alone.”

“He has answered it, Father,” said Egbert.

“He can give it any other answer. If he does, we shall see it as the right one.”

“I admire nobility,” said Hugo. “But it is a pity for it to be wasted. You can accept the truth.”

“I cannot, for the reasons I have given. It is not the truth to me.”

“I suppose he might leave everything to Lavinia,” said Egbert, lightly.

“I suppose nothing.”

“Or divide it between all of us.”

“I suppose nothing,” said his father.

“What do you feel about Lavinia's being with him?” said Hugo.

“A young girl with an ageing man in uncertain health? It is late to ask me what I feel. What good would it be to say?”

“He is not as old as we are. And our age does not matter any longer. It will soon be said that we get younger with every day.”

“It will not be said of Ransom,” said Ninian, still gravely.

“He is fortunate to have Lavinia,” said Egbert. “And he showed that he thought so.”

“Yes, the help is not only for her. May they both have it. I wish it from my heart. Now I must return to your grandmother. I came to fetch something for her. Other people can need help.”

“Why cannot we like people in lofty moods?” said Hugo. “I suppose it is their being so unnatural to them. It produces discomfort.”

“And they like themselves so much,” said Egbert. “Father is ennobling himself enough to balance his dealings with Lavinia. Or can he really be what he suggests? People's views of themselves may not be always wrong.”

“It is when they express it. Or why should they need to? They must know there is no evidence for it.”

“Would you dare to express yours?”

“Well, I should have to ennoble myself,” said Hugo.

“A good home, a good girl, good people in the house,” said Ransom, leaning back in his doorway. “A free past and a short future. It is the last that brings the balance down.”

“You feel no better, Uncle?”

“Feebler each day. It will go on and bring the end.”

“The end of what I have,” said Lavinia.

“Another beginning. I will see that it is. My own end is eased for me. One besides my mother will regret me. It is more than I looked for. I find it much.”

“What should I have done without you?”

“We should both have been poorly placed. We have helped each other. And I have never had return before. I shall die, knowing what it is. If I recovered, would you live with me or go back to your father?”

“Live with you, Uncle. And see my father at times.”

“Ah, the forces work. Nothing lives only on itself. Anything can die. And your family take no risk with you. They are on their way.”

Hugo and Egbert and Teresa approached, and Ransom leaned back with his eyes on them.

“Good-day. I am glad to see you. And I can offer you the person you are glad to see.”

“Your father sends his love to you, Lavinia,” said Teresa. “And we can see he hopes to have yours.”

“No, he has had enough of my love. I will not offer any more.”

“He has begun to talk of you,” said Egbert. “Your desertion has added to your value.”

“On that basis mine should be high,” said Ransom.

“But I hardly found it was. What are you looking at, Hugo?”

“At your house and all there is about you. A wanderer returned with provision for his needs! The situation is hardly recognised.”

“It is what gives me a foothold. I should not have had one.”

“You would have lived in Ninian's house,” said Teresa. “That would have been your home.”

“And something only a home can be. But it is a kind word.”

“How did you make your money, Ransom?” said Hugo.

“Not in any way that would be useful to you.”

“No way would be. So you can admit the truth.”

“It was in ways accepted in their time and place.”

“So you know life,” said Egbert. “How strange that seems in Father's brother!”

“You have your own knowledge of it. And one I hardly feel strange in his son.”

“Did you find Ninian changed?” said Hugo.

“Hardly. He is not subject to change.”

“He has had the chance to be himself.”

“We know he was independent of it.”

“I can't imagine him in a secondary place.”

“It is no good to have unnatural thoughts,” said Ransom.

“Suppose he had been in mine?”

“It is the place that would have been different.”

“And I have accepted it as it is?”

“You were not offered it as anything else.”

“Are you a man of the world, Uncle?” said Egbert. “It is the first time I have met one.”

“Only a man of the whole world. The other stays in his place.”

“Then perhaps I am the other,” said Hugo.

“Perhaps you are,” said Ransom.

“He would be a narrower being,” said Egbert.

“On the surface,” said Ransom. “He is deeper and more complete.”

“Then you do wish you were one?”

“I have wished I was equal to it.”

“Then does Father go deep?”

“Well, he goes to his depths.”

“I think that is true, Uncle,” said Lavinia.

“He has shown concern about me and my end. That gives his measure. Or gives it to me.”

“He feels you will live on in him,” said Hugo. “I heard him say so.”

“As a substitute for living yourself,” said Lavinia. “It is not a good one. But there is not a better.”

“Father wishes there was,” said Egbert. “I am bound to say it.”

“You must do justice to yourself,” said Ransom. “It is a pity when it involves doing it to someone else.”

“Joy for yourself is not gratitude,” said Hugo.

“It is what gives rise to it,” said Lavinia. “I don't think there is ever any other reason.”

“Then no wonder we dislike gratitude,” said Ransom. “Joy for yourself indeed!”

“Do we often meet it?” said Egbert. “We keep what is ours, until we die.”

“Well, that is something. It is not so much joy for themselves. Suppose people had any more of it!”

“I am to have it, Egbert. To have my own home, where you can be with me. And where Uncle Hugo can come.”

“You would have to support us both. Father would not help me.”

“Ask him,” said Ransom. “He is coming.”

“Without permission, Uncle? I thought he was to wait for it?”

“It is not a thing he recognises. He has had his own.”

“Well, is there a welcome for me?” said Ninian. “My wife and son and brothers are here. The family may as well be complete.”

“You have left my mother,” said Ransom.

“She has sent me for news of you. You will let me take it? And whether you want to see me or not, I am glad to see you.”

“These are generous words. Do they spring from a generous heart? We were asking a question that may tell us. Would you allow this son enough money to live with his sister? When you have more of it yourself.”

“No, of course I would not. They have their home, and no reason to leave it. They are only two of my five children. I have to consider them as a whole. It is what I owe to them. To do as you say would be to evade the debt.”

“We were not talking quite like that, Father,” said Egbert.

“I hope you were not. I would rather not think it of you.”

“Are these words generous or not?” said Ransom. “I am not quite sure.”

“Yours were hardly true. Is it a better thing for them to be?”

“Send your family into the garden, Ninian. And come yourself with me. We will have a word together. We shall not have many more.”

“I shall like to have one, Ransom. It is long since we did so. Indeed I came with a hope of it.”

Ransom led the way into the house, and sat down with his eyes on his brother.

“Will you do something for me?”

“Anything. I need not say it. I would rather it was much than little.”

“It is not a great thing. I have lived over fifty years. I do not ask much of people. If you go into the other room, you will find two documents in the chest. Will you put the earlier one on the fire, and turn the key on the other? I am able for nothing myself. The dates will strike your eye. You need not read beyond them.”

“I should not,” said Ninian, smiling. “They are nothing
to do with me. Of course I will do it, Ransom. It will be a matter of a moment. But will you not come and see it done?”

“No, my sight is failing; my strength is gone. I use neither more than I must. You can do me the small service. I am not so enfeebled that my words do not count. Here is the key of the chest. I shall not go to it again.”

Ninian took it and left the room, and Ransom sat with his eyes on his watch, finding that they served him.

“Too simple,” he said to himself. “Too simple to hold any reason. But people who have power respond simply. They know no minds but their own.”

“Thank you,” he said, when Ninian returned. “Now it is done and can be forgotten.”

“Yes, put such things from your thoughts. They are not in anyone else's. And there may be time for many changes.”

“What things?” said Ransom easily. “Changes in what?”

“In your will. I saw what the documents were. I could hardly keep my eyes from them. And I had seen wills before.”

“There is not much time. So I will have the key of the chest. It may soon be wanted.”

“Oh, had I not better keep it? Then I should have it in case of need.”

“It has its place. It will easily be found. The people in the house will know.”

Ninian took the key from a pocket of his purse.

“You would have kept it safe,” said Ransom.

“Yes, I am used to matters of trust. I have met with many.”

They talked for a while, Ninian with life, and Ransom feebly, with his eyes on his brother. When the others came in to say good-bye, he spoke again to him.

“Stay for a time, Ninian. You want to see your girl. Take them to the gate and come back to me.”

“I will stay indeed. It is what I should choose to do. Mother will be glad to hear of it.”

Ninian remained for a while at the gate, and returned to the house with his daughter. Ransom was sitting in the same chair, with a difference in himself. He waited until they were seated, and turned to a table and took up a document.

“This is not the will with the later date, Ninian.”

“Isn't it? What is it?” said his brother, leaning forward. “Is it some other will? Yes, the date is earlier. How many did you make?”

“The two that you saw. This is the one you should have burnt.”

“Yes, I put it on the fire. What of it? This is another?”

“You know which it is. It is the one that should be ashes. I have been to the chest and found it.”

“Ah, so you are not so feeble as you claim to be,” said Ninian, smiling and shaking his head. “And I am glad of it, Ransom. It is good news. I hope it marks a turning-point in your health. Now what of the wills? Earlier and later! Later and earlier! You have found another and are puzzled by it.”

“I have found this one. The one you should have destroyed. I forced myself to reach the chest. I had a feeling that I should do so. And it was a sound one.”

“You mistrusted me and my preoccupations? Then why did you give me such a charge?”

“No one would be inattentive in a matter like this.”

“Well, did I make a muddle?” said Ninian, drawing in his brows. “Is this the will from the chest or another one?”

“You know there is no other. It is the will I asked you to burn. The will with the earlier date. The will that leaves everything to you. The ashes of the other are in the grate.”

“Why do you not do your own work, if you are so equal to it?”

“I am equal to nothing. You know my state. This effort is my last.”

Ninian remained with his eyes contracted on the will.

“There is nothing amiss with your sight. It is the kind that is good for reading. And you found it good.”

“Then there is something amiss with
me
,” said Ninian lightly. “There must be, if you say the truth. I must have had a fit of mental blankness. I do have them at times. There is a good deal of strain in my life.”

“Then you stand it well. For you had a bout of something else. You read the wills quickly, and as quickly made up your mind. You thought I should not go to the desk, but took the key as a precaution. It was a moral blankness that fell on you. Your brain was doing its work.”