“On second thoughts, it will be best to do it at once,” said Mr. Ochterlony. “Hugh, ring the bell—— What do I speak like this, for, my boy? For a very plain reason; because my course is going to end, and yours is only going to begin.”
“But, uncle!” cried Hugh.
“Hush—the one ought to be a kind of continuation of the other,” said Mr. Ochterlony, “since you will take up where I leave off; but I hope you will do better than that. If you should feel yourself justified in thinking of the museum afterward—— But I would not like to leave any burden upon you. John, let some one ride into Dalken directly, and ask Mr. Preston, the attorney, to come to me—or his son will do. I should like to see him to-day—— And stop,” said Mr. Ochterlony, reluctantly, “he may fetch the doctor, too.”
“Uncle, do you feel ill?” said Hugh. He had come up to his uncle’s side, and he had taken fright, and was looking at him wistfully as a woman might have done—for his very inexperience which had prevented him from observing gave him a tender anguish now, and filled him full of awe and compunction, and made him in his wistfulness almost like a woman.
“No,” said Mr. Ochterlony, holding out his hand. “Not ill, my boy, only dying—that’s all. Nothing to make a fuss about—but sit down and compose yourself, for I have a good deal to say.”
“Do you mean it, uncle?” asked Hugh, searching into the grey countenance before him with his suddenly awakened eyes.
Mr. Ochterlony gave a warm grasp to the young hand which held his closely yet trembling. “Sit down,” he said. “I’m glad you are sorry. A few years ago there would have been nobody to mind—except the servants, perhaps. I never took the steps I might have done, you know,” he added, with a certain sadness, and yet a sense of humour which was curious to see, “to have an heir of my own—— And speaking of that, you will be sure to remember what I said to you about the Henri Deux. I put it away in the cabinet yonder, the very last day they were here.”
Then Mr. Ochterlony talked a great deal, and about many things. About there being no particular occasion for making a will—since Earlston was settled by his father’s will upon his own heirs male, or those of his brother—how he had bethought himself all at once, though he did not know exactly how the law stood, that there was some difference between real and personal property, and how, on the whole, perhaps, it was better to send for Preston. “As for the doctor, I daren’t take it upon me to die without him, I suppose,” Mr. Ochterlony said. He had never been so playful before, as long as Hugh had known him. He had been reserved—a little shy, even with his nephew. Now his own sense of failure seemed to have disappeared. He was going to make a change, to get rid of all his old disabilities, and incumbrances, and antecedents, and no doubt it would be a change for the better. This was about the substance of Mr. Ochterlony’s thoughts.
“But one can’t take Psyche, you know,” he said. “One must go alone to look into the face of the Immortals. And I don’t think your mother, perhaps, would care to have her here—so if you should feel yourself justified in thinking of the museum—— But you will have a great deal to do. In the first place your mother—I doubt if she’ll be so happy at the Cottage, now Mrs. Percival has come back. I think you ought to ask her to come here. And I shouldn’t wonder if Will gave you some trouble. He’s an odd boy. I would not say he had not a sense of honour, but—— And he has a jealous, dissatisfied temper. As for Islay, he’s all safe, I suppose. Always be kind to them, Hugh, and give Will his education. I think he has abilities; but don’t be too liberal. Don’t take them upon your shoulders. You have your own life to think of first of all.”
All this Mr. Ochterlony uttered, with many little breaks and pauses, but with very little aid from his companion, who was too much moved to do more than listen. He was not suffering in any acute way, and yet, somehow, the sense of his approaching end seemed to have loosened his tongue, which had been to some extent bound all his life.