“I think it may have a great deal,” said his mother. “I never believe much in things that are not shown. If we are left to imagine them, they may be imaginary.”
“My uncle is not showing so much.”
“Simon, you know better than to say that. I wonder you can utter the words.”
“What is it? I did not hear,” said Sir Edwin, turning his head.
“It was not worth your attention,” said Julia.
“Those books are covered with dust,” said Simon, who was walking about the room. “They cannot have been done for days.”
“Your father dusted them himself. The bindings are old and delicate. He did not like the servants to touch them.”
“I will do them,” said Simon, taking out a handkerchief.
“No, no, Simon, you will be too rough.”
“I am the last person to be so. The books will be mine one day. And the duty is surely a simple one.”
“Have you asked your uncle’s permission?”
“Why should I? He has not dusted them. You and Walter have not. It appears that the servants may not. Is it to be left to my father’s spirit?”
“Simon, I am ashamed of you. Go out of the room.”
Simon smiled and continued his task.
“He does it as his father did,” said Sir Edwin, in an empty tone. “There will be no harm.”
“There!” said Simon, folding the handkerchief. “There is a true word at last.”
“I want something to dust,” said Walter, looking round.
His uncle gave a little laugh.
“One of us will do them every day,” said Simon.
“The matter will be as your uncle wishes,” said Julia.
“Matters can go on in front of me. I will not check them. There is no time or need.”
“You are patient with Simon, Edwin.”
“We see how patient he has had to be, and still has, and will have to be.”
“We have to look beyond a single life,” said his nephew.
“At yours you mean. It may be left to you.”
“I hope this is not the real Simon,” said Julia.
“I am showing the depths within me. You are doing the same. And I may be as surprised as you are.”
“That is unfair and untrue,” said Sir Edwin.
“Are there depths in you, Deakin?” said Walter.
“Well, sir, I must own there are. And they have stood revealed at times.”
“I should be nervous of seeing it.”
“It is hardly on that scale, sir. Merely a forgivable outbreak.”
“I have not met that kind. And I don’t think I could forgive it. I suppose it is like lovable weaknesses. I find them so unlovable.”
“Have you none of your own?” said Simon.
“I think the whole of me is weakness. But I am almost sure it is lovable.”
“Simon, you are only pretending to read,” said Julia.
“Yes,” said her son, laughing. “I am upset by the recent scene. Future generations will not realise what they owe to me. Debts to the past are forgotten.”
“And they are usually to the past,” said Walter. “And then they prevent our incurring them in the present.”
“I don’t know what to think of my sons,” said Julia. “I have no husband to help me with them now.”
“Well, we know that,” said Simon. “You have not made a discovery.”
“I hope you will remember it, and make things easy for me.”
“I thought a woman’s path was always hard,” said Walter.
“A widow’s is,” said his mother.
“So we belong to the widow and the fatherless. I feel that is dignified of us.”
“I think it is pitiful,” said Simon. “And we are forgetting my uncle.”
“I am not,” said Julia. “I would as soon forget the two of you.”
“I have no claim on remembrance,” said Sir Edwin.
“You must try to be one of us, Edwin. Or you will be alone in your own house.”
“That is what I must be. None of you is to blame.”
“Simon has not been himself today. You must not let him estrange you from us.”
“We have had new glimpses of him. I think not yet the whole.”
“It is not my fault that I shall have more scope now,” said his nephew.
“Simon! I hope this is the whole,” said Walter.
“How else could I put it?”
“Surely differently,” said Julia.
“He said what he meant,” said Sir Edwin. “Other words would have had other meaning.”
“I would have chosen to hear them. Where are you going, Edwin?”
“Out for a while. And perhaps to the Grahams. I need a word with a friend.”
“There, Simon!” said Julia, as the door closed. “What a thing to hear, when he is with his own family! I hope you will learn the lesson. And on this day of all others!”
“Should I be apt to learn on that day? Is it a mental stimulus? You seem to think it should encourage every good quality. You will end by being thankful to it.”
“I shall have little reason. And you might have been such a help to me.”
“I have been more than you know. The day will come when you realise it.”
“So Simon has been misunderstood,” said Walter. “And it will be found out in his lifetime. I did not know that ever happened. And he has told us himself; and I am sure that never does.”
“Well, we must understand him in future,” said Julia, putting an arm about her son. “I think his mother has done so, but he makes it hard for other people. And now let us talk about your father, and resolve to follow where he led. That will help us with our first steps in the new life.”
“Has not Simon taken his?” said Walter. “I was trusting they were behind.”
“Now when your uncle returns, Simon,” said Julia, an hour or two later, “remember he lives in a past you do not understand. To him the old ways are best.”
“And if they are not, must I wait for his death to see it? It would mean I did wait for it, and that is a poor enough thing.”
“I am not talking about his death, but about his life. He has a future, as you have; and there is no reason to look beyond it. It is a thing that is never done.”
“Never openly you mean. That is the difference between me and other people. I am not an overreaching person. I don’t know why you think so.”
“I am glad you are not, Simon,” said Walter. “It is a great relief.”
“It is no credit to you to be the elder son. You must not stand too much on it. Somehow I did not think our talk today would be like this.”
“I know what you thought it would be. I am glad it is not.”
“It would have been better to look back on.”
“It would have meant we could never do so.”
“Well, bear one thing in mind. Your uncle has the first claim on us. And you must not expect him to be your mother.”
“We don’t even think he may be a father to us. And perhaps he should try to be that.”
“Well, in that case you should be sons to him.”
“Oh, I think he has been upset enough,” said Simon, laughing.
“You can try to put yourself in his place.”
“That is the last thing he wants. He does not even like my being in my own.”
“You know what I meant. You must look at things through his eyes.”
“In that case I must try not to see myself,” said Simon.
“Your doing so might be a help to both of you.”
“I don’t dare to imagine it all,” said Walter. “Simon will suggest things, and be honest, and will not be Father. I don’t see how Uncle will bear it.”
“Bear what?” said another voice, as Sir Edwin returned.
“Working with my son,” said Julia.
“It is not a change I have chosen. He knows that, and will ease it for me. And I am old to make it. And that is a thing he knows.”