Basil and Annette: A Novel

by B. L. Farjeon

The doctor gazed at him with serious eyes, "It will perhaps be as well not to wait. She seems to have something of importance to communicate to your By-and-bye may be too late?"

Inexpressively grieved, Basil returned to the bedside, and took Mrs. Chaytor's thin hand in his; her fingers clung to his convulsively.

"I must speak to you about your father," she said, and to save her the effort of raising her voice, Basil laid his head on the pillow close to her mouth. A beautiful smile came to her lips as he did so. "Always loving and considerate!" she murmured. "Always the same tender and unselfish lad! Newman, your father has not seen you yet; all the time you were lying ill he has been unable to rise from his bed. Don't contradict him, my dear lad."

"I will not," said Basil.

"He has strange fancies; he was always strange--but he has been good to me. Remember that, Newman, and bear with him for my sake."

"I will do so."

"Thank you, my dear boy. If he says anything about the past, listen in silence--even if it is hard to hear, listen in silence. He was not so considerate of you as he might have been, but we can't alter our natures, can we, my darling? He could never see that young people love pleasure, and ought to have it; he wanted you to be grave and serious, as he was, and he would not make excuses for little faults. Bear that in mind, my dear."

"Yes, I will."

"He said to me, 'I shall speak to Newman plainly,' and I know what that means. He may speak harsh words, but you will be prepared for them. He loves you in his heart, indeed he does, and intends to behave rightly to you. Yesterday he wrote a paper, which I think he will give you, and something else with it--something that will make your life easy and happy. You need never want again, my dear boy, never, never. Oh, how you must have suffered! And you were starving, and were too proud to come to us, who would have shared our last crust with you. Let me tell you about our fortune, Newman. When some cheques were brought to your father for the shares, he would not take them: he would take nothing but notes and gold; and the money was brought to him, and he has it now under his bed. 'If I put it into a bank,' he said, 'it will break, and I shall be ruined again. I will keep it always by me in cash.' I told him it wasn't safe, that we were old and might be robbed, but he would not listen to me. He was always self-willed, you must remember that; he would always have his way, and never thought that anyone was right but himself. I don't know how much money he has, but it must be thousands of pounds. He gave me a hundred pounds in gold to pay the house expenses; I have only spent forty, and there is sixty left. Here it is--take it, Newman; take it, my dear boy. If you love me don't refuse. That's right, put it in your pocket; all we have belongs to you--every farthing. 'When you want more,' he said to me, 'ask me for it and you shall have it.' He was never niggardly, I will say that of him; we had a beautiful home once, did we not? How happy you made it when you were little--and when you were big, too, my dear! One day, when you are married--I hope you will marry a good woman, who will love you with all her heart, and appreciate you--you will find out how happy a little child can make a home. Then you will think of me, will you not?--then you will know better what I mean."

Her breath was spent, and she could not continue. She closed her eyes, but her fingers tightened upon Basil's, and presently she began to babble incoherently. The entrance of the nurse who had been sent her was a welcome relief to Basil; the woman had received her instructions, and she went about her duties noiselessly. Mrs. Chaytor's grasp relaxed, and Basil removed his hand.