“Come, Jack,” said Cherry, as the boy came up to him; “come now, and tell me everything.”
Jack leaned against the foot of the bed, and in the half-darkened room told all the details of the last few days. There had not been much suffering, nor long intervals of consciousness, so far as they knew. Cherry could have done no good till last night. Granny had done all the nursing. “I never thought,” said Jack, “she loved any one so much.” Mr Ellesmere had been everything to them, and had written letters and told them what to do. “But last night father came more to himself, and sent for Mr Ellesmere, and presently he fetched me, and father took hold of my hand, and said to me quite clearly, ‘Remember, your eldest brother will stand in my place; let there be no divisions among you.’ And then—then he told me to try and keep Bob straight, and that I had been a good lad. But oh, Cherry, if he had but known about Gipsy! But I couldn’t say one word then. And then Mr Ellesmere said, ‘Shall Jack say anything to Cherry for you?’ And he smiled, and said, ‘My love and blessing, for he has been the light of my eyes.’ And then he sent for Bob and Nettie, and sent messages to old Wilson and some of the servants. And he said that he had tried to do his duty in life by his children and neighbours, but that he had often failed, especially in one respect, and also he had not ruled his temper as a Christian man should; and he asked every one to forgive him, and specially the vicar, if he had overstepped the bounds his position gave him; Mr Ellesmere said something of ‘thanks for years of kindness.’ And then—we had the communion. And after a bit he said very low, ‘If my boy should live, I know he will keep things together.’ Then I think he murmured something about—about your coming—and the cold weather—and—and—you were not to fret—it was only waiting a little longer. And then quite quite loud he said, ‘Fear God, and keep His commandments,’ and then just whispered, ‘Fanny.’ That was the last word; but he lived till eleven. And poor granny, she broke down into dreadful crying, and said, ‘The light of my eyes—the light of my eyes is darkened.’ Nettie was very good with her; but at last we all got to bed—and—oh, Cherry, it isn’t quite so bad now we have you!” and Jack pressed up to his side.
Cheriton had listened to all this long, faltering tale leaning on his elbow, his wide-open eyes fixed on his brother, without interrupting him by a word. Jack cried, and he put his arm round his neck, and said, “Poor boy!” but no tears came to him.
“I never thought—” said Jack, whose natural reserve was dispelled by stress of feeling, “I never thought what a good man he was, and how much he cared.”
“Yes, he loved goodness,” said Cherry, with a heavy sigh.
It was true. With some prejudices and many weaknesses, Gerald Lester had set his duty first; he had lived such a life that those around him were the better for his existence, he had left a place empty and a work to be done. Who would fill the place—how would the work be done?
Through all the crush of personal grief, his two sons could not but ask themselves this question; but they could not bring themselves to speak of it to each other; and after a few minutes Cheriton said, “I think I will get up now. We must talk things over together; and I want to see granny.”
“If you have rested.”
“Oh, yes, as much as is possible. I am quite well, indeed. Go down, my boy. I will come directly.”
Jack went with a lightened heart. If Cherry were well and able to take the lead among them, everything could be borne. When Cheriton came into the library he found that Alvar had already appeared, and was eating some breakfast, for it was still only twelve o’clock, while Mr Ellesmere was standing by the fire. The vicar greeted him kindly and quietly, and Alvar poured out some coffee for him; and then Mr Ellesmere began to explain some of the arrangements he had been obliged to make, and that he had sent to their father’s solicitor, Mr Malcolm, to come in the afternoon. Cheriton thanked him, and asked a few questions; but Alvar did not seem to take the conversation to himself, till the butler, having taken away the breakfast things, paused, and after looking first at Cheriton, turned to Alvar, and said rather awkwardly,—“Do you expect the judge by the five o’clock train, sir, and shall the carriage be sent to Hazelby to meet him?”