“Well, as he knows now,” said Alice.
“It is possible to wish that someone was alive and a little different,” said Hester.
“You will be good to Rosebery,” said Julius, opening the door. “I find it hard to be so. And I cannot tell myself the reason. It may be that he took so much of his mother’s feeling. The bad reason would be the true one.”
“It is not in this case,” said Hester, rising. “I cannot help breaking in. I already know you well enough to say it.”
“I should have been a better father. We resent a person we have wronged.”
“You have wronged no one. I am a judge of people, and I know it. I cannot help saying what I know.”
“Other creatures stop caring for their children, when they are full-grown,” said Adrian.
“I have not done that,” said Julius, smiling. “I have never cared for him enough. He has a lifelong grievance. I ought to know it must lie between us. You are kind to me, Miss Wolsey. And it is kind of you to be here.”
“Aunt Miranda chose Miss Wolsey,” said Adrian.
“And chose her for herself,” said Francis. “And that is a judgement to follow.”
“We shall go on following her judgement,” said Hester. “We are a clan with our head gone. I feel I have become a member of it.”
“There is one of us sitting alone,” said Julius. “I cannot do anything for him. If I go to him, I shall do him harm. I have done it on the day of his mother’s death.”
The door opened and Rosebery entered with a rueful smile.
“My resolve to be alone has failed me, Father. I found I could not realise the companionship I knew was there. The fault lay in my own feebleness. I felt I must have recourse to ordinary human fellowship. I went to the drawing-room to join Miss Wolsey, but remembered she had sought the same relief.”
“You are complete without me now,” said Hester. “I will leave you to each other.”
“You will not take my appearance as the token for your signal departure? The step might be open to dubious interpretation. And your presence helps to veil the fact that we are not complete.”
“It cannot do enough in that way to make a difference.”
“Miss Wolsey,” said Rosebery, in a low, startled tone, “you did not misinterpret me? You did not take me to suggest that anything could compensate — could be a substitute — take me to mean what could not be meant? If you did, I do not wonder you felt inclined to rise and go.”
“Miss Wolsey meant what she said,” said Julius. “And you appear to mean the same.”
“Can Aunt Miranda see us now?” said Adrian, with his eyes wide.
“I hope not, if you make that grimace,” said Francis. “Anyhow I hope she is not looking.”
There was some mirth, during which Rosebery kept his eyes on the window.
“I think such a time as this may tend to easy emotions,” he said, bringing them slowly back again. “We must take it as true that they may be one at bottom. But I do not see it as an occasion for deliberate jest.”
“I meant what I said,” said Francis.
“Do men ever marry someone else, when their wives die?” said Adrian.
“You must know they do,” said Hester, gently. “You have heard of second marriages.”
“But Uncle would not do it?”
“That is enough, Adrian,” said Rosebery, with contracting brows.
But Adrian had lost his hold on himself.
“Would he be allowed to marry Miss Wolsey?”
“He would be allowed to by law,” said Alice.
“That is the way to put it, Alice,” said Rosebery. “We know what it is, that would not allow it. And Miss Wolsey does not misunderstand me.”
“And if she had wanted to marry, she would have married before,” said Adrian.
“Yes, yes, no doubt she would,” said Hester, in a low, repressive tone.
“Can Aunt Miranda hear what we say?”
“I hope not, if you talk like that,” said Francis. “Anyhow I hope she is not listening.”
“Does she mind being dead?”
“If she can mind, she cannot be dead,” said Alice.
“But does she mind not being here?”
“How can I know? It seems as if she must.”
“It does, Alice,” said Rosebery. “It does seem that her mind must linger on the scenes and faces of what we call her life. We have not the imagination to follow her. We are limited to our sphere.”
“Is it better to be dead?” said Adrian.
“To be what we call dead? It is probably better.”
“Do people really think it is? If they did, they would be glad to die.”
“It is the imagination that fails,” said Rosebery.
“Everything fails in me,” said Francis.
“And you say it with a note of complacence. A lack of belief strikes many as a ground for such a feeling. It is a strange and pathetic thing.”
“It is the freedom from credulity that strikes them in that way.”
“Ah, Francis, you are not the first to think scepticism a cause for pride.”
“Oh, surely I am the first.”
“Francis, there is something inexpressibly jarring to me in your touch on these things.”
“It is a mistake for you to discuss them,” said Julius.
“I will not take refuge behind that shelter, Father. I prefer to come out into the open. As a witness I stand unashamed.”
“Can we believe he is not ashamed?” murmured Alice.
“I will not ask you what you said, Alice. For you will answer, ‘Nothing’. But perhaps you will tell me.”
“No, not if you do not ask me.”
“I think that is reasonable,” said Julius.
“Well, I do not, Father,” said Rosebery, his eyes dilating. “I think it is foolish and self-conscious, and I question if my mother would have allowed it to pass.”
“You have no mother now.”
“What a strange thing to feel you have to tell me!”
“I meant you must hold your own with the children by yourself.”
“It sounds plausible, Father, or rather it serves the purpose of planting a shaft. But it avails nothing to stress their childhood. It constitutes a protection in my eyes.”
“We ought to feel the same of him,” murmured Francis.
Adrian happened to yawn.
“Ah, Adrian, and on this day!” said Rosebery, shaking his head and smiling. “Truly the flesh is weak.” He put his hand to his own mouth.
Francis gave a laugh, and Rosebery rose and walked from the room.
“So I can never be good to him,” said Julius.
“He is so good to himself,” said Alice, “that he hardly needs anything more.”
“I think you are good to him,” said Hester, gently. “You take him seriously, and that is the first of our duties to each other.”
“And you cannot do so, Miss Wolsey?”
“It is a thing for us to do together. I will help in any way I can. And now should not these little ones go to bed? Francis is included in the term to-night.”
“I believe Miss Wolsey would marry Uncle,” said Adrian on the stairs, “even though we are not supposed to say so.”
“No one wants to say so but you,” said Francis. “And why choose this occasion for your matchmaking?”
“The day of your wife’s death is an unusual one for your betrothal,” said Alice. “And could there be such haste, when it would mean offering Rosebery as a stepchild?”
“You can talk in your clever way, but I still think what I said.”
Chapter VII
“Aunt Miranda is dead,” said Adrian, and broke into tears.
“Yes, yes, I know, my boy,” said Mr. Pettigrew. “The news came in time to prevent my coming to you yesterday. It is a sad break-up for you all.”
“Things are to go on in the same way.”