CHAPTER XVII.—PROBATION.
"I am so glad you have called, Mr. Murray. I do so want a long chat with you," Mrs. Clair said one day, about a month after her husband's death. "You have been such a kind friend, that I feel I may ask your advice."
"And I'll be very glad to give it, if you will only follow it. What's the matter now?"
"First of all, I'm unhappy about Bertie; he is worked very hard, and I am afraid his uncle is not very kind to him; I am grieved to see how thin and pale he has grown. Then Mr. Gregory declares Eddie must do something for himself, and suggests his entering a timber-merchant's office, as there is no money to continue his artistic education. Of course, my husband did everything for Eddie; and if there is any income from Riversdale after paying the mortgages, he never heard anything of it. I ventured to ask Mr. Gregory if he would pay for Eddie's classes, and I'm sorry to say he refused, and declares that the lad must work like other people. It will break poor Eddie's heart to go into that timber place."
"Oh no, Mrs. Clair; boys' hearts are tough things. Is that all your trouble?"
"No, indeed. I am perplexed about myself; this house is far too large for me, and far too expensive. My husband was always a poor man: that is, he lived up to his income; and his health was such that he could not insure his life. A few hundred pounds and the lease and furniture of this house were all he left; but every day I find bills unpaid, many of them long-standing accounts, and my stock of money is diminishing rapidly. I think I should have an auction, dispose of the lease if I could, and go into cheap lodgings with Agnes and Eddie; but I fear I shall not be able to pay for his classes and colours. Can you suggest anything for me to do?"
"No; I think your ideas are very sensible. But would it not be better to try to let this house furnished? I fancy I can find you a tenant, and then you will have a certain, even if small, income. Then if both boys are willing to work they will bring you in something every week."
"But, Mr. Murray, Eddie is to have no salary for three years, and Bertie must remain with his Uncle Gregory," Mrs. Clair said, sadly. "Oh, how I wish he could come and live with me! he is a dear boy!"
"Yes, yes; a good straight up-and-down lad, with plenty of backbone, though his uncle does not quite understand him. However, I think Eddie should do something at once, though I don't entirely approve of the timber-yard; still, anything for a beginning. Now, Mrs. Clair, when would you like to leave here?"
"As soon as possible; every day only lessens our little fund."
"I think I know a person who would take this house, if he could get it at once. This is Wednesday; could you manage to leave if I found you suitable lodgings by next Monday?"
"Quite easily, Mr. Murray; but are you sure you can let it? I do not want the house to remain on your hands."
"Never mind that. In the name of a person I know intimately, I offer you £180 a year for it: and it's cheap too. Of course there are a great many things you can take away with you, such as plate, linen, pictures: they will make your lodgings more comfortable."
"But the person who takes the house?"
"Has a great many things of his own—unconsidered trifles—that he must find room for. It's a great comfort to give advice to a reasonable person who is willing to follow it. As for the boys, don't worry about them. Just as soon as you are settled, I'll have a talk with Eddie, and then go and see Mr. Gregory."
Mr. Murray was no half-hearted friend; when he undertook to do a thing, it was done well and promptly, so that before a week from her first mentioning the matter Mrs. Clair was settled in very pleasant lodgings not far from Hampstead Heath.
The rooms seemed very small at first, but they soon became used to that, and the garden, with its prim walks, edged on either side with old-fashioned autumn flowers, was delightful. Even Eddie looked happier, and Agnes declared Hampstead was nearly as good as Brighton. When Bertie came to see them, he could hardly keep from crying, it was all so cosy, pretty, and homelike, compared with the gloomy grandeur of Gore House; and, worst of all, his uncle was becoming more exacting and severe every day. The secret of Mr. Gregory's unkindness to Bertie was the open interest taken in him by Mr. Murray, who, in spite of many hints, refused to have anything to do with Dick Gregory, and told his father plainly that the boy had no taste or capacity for business. Poor Bertie had to suffer for that disappointment: he was scolded, overworked, reproved, but he bore it all patiently; never complained, never answered, but he was plainly unhappy. And Eddie was a worry to him too: he should be working for himself and Aunt Amy, instead of being a burden to them. As "head of the family," he said so, and even went so far as to say he thought Riversdale now a secondary consideration, and his own savings in future would not go to the bank, but to buy little delicacies for his aunt and cousin. When he heard about the timber-yard, he said at once that Eddie should accept the situation. "One office is just like another, Eddie," he cried; "tea or timber, what does it matter? one has to go through the same routine to begin with. Besides, we must do something to help Aunt Amy."
So Eddie agreed to accept Uncle Gregory's proposal.
"Bravo, Eddie, old fellow! I knew when it came to the point that you would act rightly and generously," Bertie cried earnestly. "And if we're both very saving, you may still be able to have classes in the evening, and when I get a little rich you shall return to your painting; but we must both put our shoulders to the wheel now, old boy, and be as saving as ever we can."
"I've nothing to save," Eddie replied. "I've no salary for three years. Still, I'll write to Uncle Gregory to-night: the sooner I begin the better."
"they arrived at the hall door" ([p. 355]).
No one knew what an effort it cost Eddie to give in; still, in spite of his pride and vanity, he was a right-hearted, independent lad at heart, and the idea of being a burden to Aunt Amy was simply intolerable. When Mr. Murray heard of his resolution, he puckered up his eyebrows, and talked to himself for fully five minutes, then he patted Eddie on the shoulder, and said he was glad he had sufficient real pride to enable him to put his false pride in his pocket, and declared that he would never lose his self-respect and the respect of others by honest hard work. "But work for three years you shall not!" he cried, suddenly. "They must give you a small salary to begin with." So Eddie, the lofty, the haughty, the often intolerant Eddie, went to the timber-yard with a tolerably good grace, and when, at the end of the first week, he placed his earnings in Aunt Amy's hands, he felt positively happy. Very soon after, owing to the kind intervention of Mr. Murray, Bertie got permission to live with Aunt Amy, his uncle paying ten shillings a week extra for his board and lodgings, so that in all he had a pound, and it seemed quite a large sum of money. Of course he had a long way to go to the City; but what of that, when loving hands waved him an adieu from the window? What did any extra amount of labour matter now that the stiff formal dinners, and the terribly chilling evenings in the library at Gore House were at an end for ever.
Mr. Murray often paid a visit to the little cottage at Hampstead, and whenever he came he was always warmly welcomed, both by Agnes and Mrs. Clair.
The tenant of the house in Fitzroy Square was behaving very well indeed: the rent would be ready by quarter-day, and there were several things in the house that he would be pleased if Mrs. Clair could take away: the piano, for instance; he would consider it a real kindness if she could remove that, he had no use whatever for it, and had a case of rare butterflies that would stand very comfortably in its place. So the instrument arrived one day at the lodgings, and gave the children more enjoyment than anything else, for the evenings were drawing in, and it was too dark for a run on the Heath after the boys returned from the City.
They all sang and played by instinct, and Aunt Amy gave them a lesson each every evening, and as the evenings became longer, and winter crept towards them with "stealthy steps and slow," they settled down to a regular course of study.
Bertie devoted most of his time to music; Eddie to reading up his French and German—for he found both those languages would be very useful to him in the City; while Agnes was busy over her drawing-board, tracing designs for Christmas and Easter cards. She declared she was not going to be the only drone in the hive, and bade fair to be successful later on, for two of her little cards had already been accepted by a great City publishing firm. When Mr. Murray dropped in of an evening he used to have a long look from one to the other of their cheerful, contented faces, and then he would have a little private conversation with himself in a corner.
"They're too happy," he would mutter, "too content, too well occupied. Good fortune would only spoil them now. I'll wait and watch a little longer; and yet, people who bear poverty with such equanimity should bear the accession of riches with humility; still, I'll wait a little. My old friend's children are bearing their probation bravely." For to Mr. Murray Mrs. Clair's income seemed absolute poverty: he paid some of his own servants nearly as much; and the great City merchant was learning, for the first time, that it is not the actual amount of income one has, but the way it's spent, that constitutes poverty and wealth.