“Perhaps you might even love it on that ground,” said Bernard.
“Perhaps Anna will make it over to Father,” said Reuben.
“I was to give it to the Calderons a little while ago,” said his sister. “But I daresay Father will have the chief hand in directing it.”
“I hope for favours at your hands,” said Bernard, “and I have the generosity to say so. I notice that Esmond has not.”
“I think it is Anna who will have to show that quality,” said Claribel.
“There is no need for it, when the means of giving fall into your lap,” said Esmond.
“Don’t you really want any favours?” said his brother.
“Shall we be able to live differently?” said Reuben.
“How many more people will find a use for it?” said Anna. “I begin to see why Aunt Sukey left it to me. To choose one person and abide by the choice may have seemed the only thing.”
“But why not choose Father?” said Esmond.
“Oh, we cannot talk as if Aunt Sukey were alive, and we could discuss it with her.”
“We shall never know that,” said Benjamin. “And we must remember that a will stands by itself, independent of anything that goes before. It is an absolute thing.”
“Can it be that Father has a high character?” said Bernard, under his breath. “I think this must be a proof of it.”
“Anna ought not to give the money back to the Cald-erons, ought she, Jenney?” said Reuben.
“It is hardly useful to talk of a thing that is never done,” said Benjamin. “Jenney is right that a will would be no good, if we did not follow it. And the phrase, ‘give back’, is not the right one. The money belonged to no one but your aunt.”
“She might have been said to owe it to other people,” said Esmond.
“Anything to divert it from your sister!” said Anna.
“Well, it will make a difference to them, as a proportion of the money went to the house.”
“Well, money does make a difference, of course,” said Anna. “That is the meaning of it.”
“What is the first thing you will do with it?” said Reuben.
“I don’t know,” said Anna, putting back her hair from her brow. “Forget it, I think. I never spent such a day. I would have avoided it, if I could have, money and all.”
“It would be natural to wish to avoid much of it,” said Esmond.
“Oh, don’t pretend to be such a fool. Jealousy may be an excuse for a good deal, but you have gone far enough.” “If Esmond should go too far, would you stint your bounty to him?” said Bernard. “I almost think he has done so.”
“Here are the whole Calderon family coming up the drive!” said Anna. “Uncle Thomas, Aunt Jessica, Tullia and Terence. I wonder they have not brought the children. I had better go and hide my head. I do not want to face any green-eyed looks. I have come to the end of my tether.”
“I think we all have,” said Esmond.
“I thought you always had,” said his brother.
“I would not behave as if you were afraid to meet them,” said Jenney to Anna. “You have nothing to be ashamed of. You have not done anything.”
“You should be full of pride,” said Bernard. “You have ousted them in Aunt Sukey’s esteem, and they cannot fail to respect you. And if you give up the money, they may think less of you for not having it.”
“But perhaps more of her on other grounds,” said Esmond.
“Yes, but that is a lighter kind of esteem.”
“It would only be a thought that would occur to them at intervals during their lives,” said Anna.
“And the other will become entwined with their every experience,” said Bernard.
“Well, if Anna likes to look forward to that!” said Esmond.
“I have done with any thoughts of the future,” said Anna, resting her head on her hand. “I can only live in the moment; I am quite tired out. And I foresee that the moment will be enough.”
Chapter IX
JESSICA’S GREETING OF her brother showed no thought of anything but their common grief, and her manner did not change when she turned to his children. Her trouble about her sister’s state of mind overwhelmed all others. Anna, who had risen in vague apprehension, drew back and took no part in the talk. Tullia bore herself as if all eyes were watching the effect of her bereavement, and was fortunate in being in error, as the result was hardly what she thought. She held it beneath her to talk or think of money, and assumed it was always there, which would indeed have disposed of its problems. Thomas showed a simple indulgence in the matter. His daughter asked little for herself, and had a right to spurn what she did not need. Thomas and his son behaved as usual; indeed any change in them appeared in an especial care to be themselves. Claribel stood with her eyes darting from face to face, and her mouth slightly open, as if she would speak when the words came. Jenney and Reuben watched the scene in the spirit of spectators at a play, and indeed wore this expression. Thomas was the first to broach the matter in their minds.
“Well, Anna, my dear, we congratulate you on your aunt’s feeling. As for the way she chose of showing it, you are already placed above material troubles.”
“Am I?” said Anna, awkwardly. “I don’t know if that is the case. With this swarm of developing brothers about me, I should hardly have thought so. You must ask Father. I suppose it was not Aunt Sukey’s view. But thank you for what you say about her feeling. I am glad to have deserved that, or somehow to have won it. We can’t give an account of these things.”
“That is the reason of their value,” said Jessica. “I too congratulate Anna, and almost envy her. I would give much for the certainty and peace of her memory.”
“Oh, I don’t know if it is as much as that,” said Anna, looking away. “I also have my moments of compunction and doubt. I can’t stop wondering if I should have left Aunt Sukey on that last morning. But she wanted to be left to sleep, and I knew that Father was coming. I could not foresee what was going to happen; I don’t see what else I could have done.” She raised her eyes to her uncle in mute appeal.
“You could have done only what you did,” he said. “It worked out well for our sister, and we can only thank you. You can have a mind at rest.”
“I don’t think Aunt Sukey had any feeling that she was worse that morning,” said Anna, in a tone that seemed to reassure both herself and other people. “I don’t think she had any inkling that things were as they were. I only thought she was suffering from some sort of shock or strain. I had no other idea. And her mind was quite at rest when she went to sleep. I am sure you need not fear that she was keeping anything from you.”
Thomas and his wife looked at each other, almost without knowing that they did so. The interplay of thought was hardly conscious, but Jessica’s eyes were more direct on her niece.
“You know that my sister had made a fresh will more than once before,” she said, in a more natural tone than anyone else could have used on such a subject; “and that each time she destroyed it. It was one of her ways of easing her mind; her life had become too much for her. But she never altered the one that was kept in her desk. She never laid a hand on it, except to use it as a basis for another.” Jessica’s faint smile was as open as it was pitiful. She was as honest on her feelings for her sister, as she was on anything else; a want of sincerity would have seemed to her wrong. “It seems to me that she must have made a mistake. How does it seem to you?”
“I have not thought anything about it,” said Anna, looking into her aunt’s eyes for one swift moment. “I knew nothing about her wills; I believe I had never thought about people’s making them. I have heard about this one, of course; Father told us when he came home; but I had no idea what Aunt Sukey had to leave, or if she had anything. I believe I had a sort of notion that she lived at the expense of the household; something seemed somehow to suggest it. I don’t know much more now. I know no more than he said. How could I?”