He learnt by letter from Sir Bevil Acton that his father had been much struck by what he had seen in Cecily-row, and had strongly expressed his concern that Robert had been allowed to strip himself for the sake of a duty, which, if it were such at all, belonged more to others. There might have been wrongheaded haste in the action, but if such new-fangled arrangements had become requisite, it was unfair that one member of the family alone should bear the whole burthen. Sir Bevil strongly supported this view, and Mr. Fulmort had declared himself confirmed in his intention of making provision for his son in his will, as well as of giving him a fair allowance at present. There must have been warnings of failing health of which none had been made aware, for Mr. Fulmort had come to town partly to arrange for the safe guardianship of poor Maria and her fortune. An alteration in his will upon the death of one of the trustees had been too long neglected, and perhaps some foreboding of the impending malady had urged him at last to undertake what had been thus deferred. Each of the daughters was
to have £10,000, the overplus being divided between them and their eldest brother, who would succeed both to the business, and on his mother’s death to the Beauchamp estate, while the younger had already received an ample portion as heir to his uncle. Mr. Fulmort, however, had proposed to place Robert on the same footing with his sisters, and Sir Bevil had reason to think he had at once acted on his design. Such thorough forgiveness and approval went to Robert’s heart, and he could scarcely speak as he gave Phœbe the letter to read.
When she could discuss it with him after her mother had fallen asleep for the night, she found that his thoughts had taken a fresh turn.
‘If it should be as Bevil supposes,’ he said, ‘it would make an infinite difference.’ And after waiting for an answer only given by inquiring looks, he continued—‘As she is now, it would not be a violent change; I do not think she would object to my present situation.’
‘Oh, Robert, you will not expose yourself to be treated as before.’
‘That would not be. There was no want of attachment; merely over-confidence in her own power.’
‘Not over confidence, it seems,’ murmured Phœbe, not greatly charmed.
‘I understood how it had been, when we were thrown together again,’ he pursued. ‘There was no explanation, but it was far worse to bear than if there had been. I felt myself a perfect brute.’
‘I beg your pardon if I can’t be pleased just yet,’ said Phœbe. ‘You know I did not see her, and I can’t think she deserves it after so wantonly grieving you, and still choosing to forsake Miss Charlecote.’
‘For that I feel accountable,’ said Robert, sadly. ‘I cannot forget that her determination coincided with the evening I made her aware of my position. I saw that in her face that has haunted me ever since. I had almost rather it had been resentment.’