“Ah, sir, he had great projects—I might call them grand projects, for Ireland, had he been spared to carry them out.”
“Let us still hope that he may.”
“No, no, sir, that is not to be; and if Belton be correct, it is as well, perhaps, it should not be.” Here he touched his forehead with the top of his finger, and gave a glance of most significant meaning.
“Does he apprehend permanent injury to the brain?”
The other pursed his mouth, and shook his head slowly, but did not speak.
“That's very dreadful,” said L'Estrange, sadly.
“Indeed it is, sir; take this from us,” and here he touched his head, “and what are we? What are we better than the beasts of the field? But why do I say this to you, sir? Who knows these things better than yourself?”
The curate was half inclined to smile at the ambiguity of the speech, but he kept his gravity, and nodded assent.
“Nobody had the slightest conception of his wealth,” said Harding, coming up, and actually whispering the words into the other's ear. “We knew all about the estated property; I did at least, I knew every acre of it, and how it was let; but of his money in shares, in foreign securities, on mortgages, and in various investments; what he had out at venture in Assam and Japan, and what he drew twenty-five per cent from in Peru;—of these, sir, none of us had any conception; and would you believe it, Mr. L'Estrange, that he can talk of all these things at some moments as collectedly as if he was in perfect health? He was giving directions to Simcox about his will, and he said, 'Half a sheet of note-paper will do it, Simcox. I 'll make my intentions very clear, and there will be nobody to dispute them. And as to details of what little'—he called it little!—'I possess in the world, I want no notes to aid my memory.' The doctor, however, positively prevented anything being done to-day, and strictly interdicted him from hearing any matters of business whatsoever. And it is strange enough, that if not brought up before him, he will not advert to these topics at all, but continue to wander on about his past life, and whether he had done wisely in this, or that, or the other, mixing very worldly thoughts and motives very oddly at times with those that belong to more serious considerations. Poor Mr. Augustus,” continued he, after a short breathing moment. “He does not know what to do! He was never permitted to take any part in business, and he knows no more of Bramleigh and Underwood than you do. And now he is obliged to open all letters marked immediate or urgent, and to make the best replies he can, to give directions, and to come to decisions, in fact, on things he never so much as heard of. And all this while he is well aware that if his father should recover, he 'll not forgive him the liberty he has taken to open his correspondence. Can you imagine a more difficult or painful situation?”
“I think much of the embarrassment might be diminished, Mr. Harding, by his taking you into his counsels.”