At the Sign of the Silver Flagon

by B. L. Farjeon

"All at the table were conversing loudly together," said Mr. Weston, continuing his reminiscence with visible effort: it was evident that silence was oppressive to him, "when my attention was called to Reuben by several voices crying, 'What was that you said, Mr. Thorne--what was that you said?' 'I said,' he replied, that if I happen not to be myself the last survivor of this party--and I hope not to be, for the duty he will have to perform will be a dismal one--I promise to visit him, whoever he may be, and drink wine with him once more. Will any others join me?' Unthinkingly, those at the table responded, 'I will,' and 'I will!' I raised my hand for silence. 'It is,' I said, 'too grave a subject to jest upon.' But Reuben was not to be diverted from his light humour. 'I have promised,' he said; and there was an end of the matter. Little did I think, when those words were exchanged, that I should be the last survivor, and that Reuben Thorne's promise would make such an impression upon me."

Mr. Weston ate very little, but he drank a great deal of wine, and pushed his plate from him with nervous haste, wishful to bring the solid part of the dinner quickly to an end. There were many courses, however, and the serving and removing of them occupied some time. The colours of the sunset could be seen through the folds of the curtains which hung before the windows, changing from a clear rose-red, like the blush on the face of a fair woman, to the deeper glow which mantles the face of a brunette; from that to purple, fringed by darkest blue; thence by delicate and sadder tints, melting one in the other, into quieter shades, until the fiery sky grew calm, and heralded a lovely and peaceful night. As daylight disappeared, additional candles were lighted, and the room would have presented a cheerful aspect but for the empty chairs and the serious faces of the attendants. Then, for the first time, Mr. Weston purposely raised his eyes to the portraits which hung upon the walls.

"Ah, me!" he sighed. "And this is all that remains of them--painted canvas! I cannot distinguish their faces without my spectacles, but I can see them in my mind's eye. All dead, all dead, but ourselves!"

"Few lived to our age," remarked Mr. Rowe.

"How many--how many? Let me see. One--two--three; no more. You were right when you said 'tis only the years that fly. And some died very young. Whether was it for good or ill, Rowe, that we, strangers to one another, should have been brought together by one unknown to all of us?"

"It can scarcely have been for good," replied Mr. Rowe. "Looking back, as we can look back, upon the lives of those to whom the money was left, to what one of all those who are dead can it be said to have brought happiness? To some it brought a curse. Too well do we know the story of those two hapless ones, Caroline and Edward, whom it drove to an early grave. Left to the absolute guardianship of a man whose heart was stone, those orphans met and loved. In all human calculation, no lot in life could be happier than that of these lovers would have been had they married. But to marry without Stephen Viner's consent entailed upon them, according to the provisions of the will, absolute beggary; and this consent their guardian refused to give. He cast a strange spell upon his delicate, susceptible ward. His strong mind and will dominated her sensitive nature absolutely. He won from her a solemn promise that she would not wed without his consent. Dinah Dim, that kindly old maid, told me that Viner made Caroline swear this upon the Bible. Edward and Caroline were but boy and girl when they were first given into the guardianship of this man--what wonder that they loved as they grew to man's and woman's estate? We all knew of their love, and interceded for them, vainly. Prayers, entreaties, remonstrance--all were useless. You yourself were one of the most earnest in your entreaties, but Stephen Viner turned a deaf ear, and so arranged that the lovers were to be parted. Edward was to be sent to India, 'where he would get over his foolish passion,' Stephen Viner said. Of my own knowledge I am aware that Edward wanted Caroline to marry him and defy her guardian. But her oath, which she was never allowed to forget, was of too solemn a nature to permit of this; and besides, she had a clear and painful remembrance of privations endured by her parents when she was a child, and, knowing that they had married for love against the wish of their friends, she refused to bring a similar suffering as her dowry to Edward. You know the sad ending. Driven to despair, the young lovers drowned themselves--at least, so it was supposed, when their bodies were found in the river. You remember the gloom the news cast over our party when we met, and the savage looks and words which were cast at Stephen Viner. Who that is acquainted with this sad story can doubt that the money left so strangely brought a curse to these two innocent young souls?"

By this time it was night. The dessert was now on the table, which required but guests around it to make a very charming scene. Mr. Weston had drunk a good deal of wine, and was in a feverish, excited condition. Michael Lee still kept watch outside the door. The only voices that were heard were the voices of Mr. Weston and Mr. Rowe. This latter person was evidently determined not to lose sight of the principal object in his mind, and almost every word he uttered had reference to it.

"At such a time as this," he said, "it is but natural that our thoughts should revert to those who are gone. I am thinking now of my dead Philip, with reference to worldly things. Do you know, friend, that I would cheerfully live the rest of my days in poverty if the sacrifice of my worldly goods could bring my son to life?"

"They are the natural feelings of a father," responded Mr. Weston. "Were I in your place, I would surely feel the same."

"And yet how strangely do we regulate our actions with reference to those we love! While they live, we thwart their dearest hopes; when they are gone, we are ready to make the extremest sacrifice upon the altar of our affections. But then it is too late."