It was late when Jim descended. He found Stephen waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, and was conducted by him into a small bare room, sparsely furnished with two arm chairs, a few 'books and a table covered with writing materials. Herrick rather tired, threw himself into one of the chairs, and informed Stephen that he would stay the night.
"Is my mother so ill?" asked the young man anxiously.
"Pretty bad, but I have seen worse cases. Don't you trouble yourself Marsh. I'll do the best I can to save her life."
"Save her life," echoed Stephen sadly. "Ah, what a terrible thing it will be if she dies now, when wealth is coming. She always wanted to be rich and now--life is very cruel."
"That depends upon the way you look at it," said Jim. "Give me some supper Marsh, and a whisky. I feel rather played out."
The meal was waiting in a poverty-stricken looking dining-room. Jim saw that the pauperism of the Marshes was no fiction. They were evidently terribly poor. Certainly the Colonel had done nothing to alleviate their distress. "He would not give us a penny," said Stephen after supper, and when they were smoking in the small room which proved to be the young man's special sanctum. "All the time he kept telling me that I was his heir, but refused to help my mother and me. I do not want to speak evil of the dead" added Stephen, "but Colonel Carr--" he shook his head.
By this time Herrick had seen his patient sinking into a sleep, and leaving Petronella to call him should anything go wrong, was prepared for a little conversation. He utilised the time by asking Marsh about himself and his uncle. The young man answered him with the utmost frankness, and indeed seemed glad to have a friend in whom he could confide.
"My father was a gentleman farmer," he said, "but he attended more to pleasure than to business. While out hunting, he saved the life of Miss Carr the Colonel's sister. Afterwards she married him. I was their only child, for my mother died when I was born. My father lost all his money from reckless living, and went abroad for economy. In Italy he met my step-mother, who is the daughter of an English consul by an Italian mother. He met her in a little town on the Adriatic coast. Her father was dead and she was alone save for Petronella. It was her intention to become a singer; but she fell in love with my father. He brought her home to Beorminster, along with Petronella, who would not leave her. With what remained of his money, my father bought this house. Five years ago he died, leaving my mother two hundred a year. With this freehold and that income we have managed to scrape along. I was educated at Bedford, and afterwards went to Oxford. My father said that though he could give me no money, he could at least afford me a decent education. I believe he pinched himself to do so. Mrs. Marsh helped me; for she has always been good to me. I was twenty-one years old when my father died, and after the funeral I wanted to go to London and become a journalist. Mrs. Marsh however would not hear of this. She insisted that I was the Colonel's heir and that I should wait till he died.----"
"Ah!" interrupted Herrick shaking his head, "bad thing waiting for dead men's shoes."
"Do you think it was my wish to do so?" protested Stephen passionately. "I should much have preferred to earn my own living, and fight my way in London. I have some talent as a poet and a writer, and I was prepared to battle with the world like other people. But Mrs. Marsh made me stop with her. I am twenty-six years of age now, and I have done nothing. I write poetry and send it to the American magazines, also a few prose articles. These keep me supplied with pocket-money. It was Bess who put me on to the New York papers. There, the editors are more open to new talent."