“Say something else, Father. Say something to help me. I am in need of help. Say something as man to man, if not as father to son.”
The photograph fell to the ground, and Julius retrieved it. It showed a large, heavy man, of a type that accounted for Rosebery’s. He seemed to catch an echo of Rosebery in the letter’s phrase.
“No wonder you have never seemed to me like my son.”
“Father, it is a hard word. You have seemed to me like my father.”
“Yes, you have done better than I. Your mother was more right than I knew. So we lived with this between us. We parted with it there. And I had revealed my life to her. And she said she thanked God that she had not dealt with me as I had with her!”
“Father, she was ill; she was dying. To her the words were true. She was not thinking of the past. And she had done no more wrong than you.”
“She had done the same wrong. My confession must have recalled it to her. And she turned to me and said that! And she had done more wrong, the greater wrong that women do. She let me accept you as my son, pass on to you my inheritance. She lived with that on her conscience, and died with it on it. So she had the strength to live her own life and die her own death, as I had not.”
“Father, she was a brave woman. And I am a poor, weak man. I must ask for your pity, as she did not need to ask it.”
“Her courage did what she needed. She put it to her own use. She explained your unlikeness to me by citing some forbear of her own. I questioned her command of money, and she gave me some account of it. I wonder if she ever spoke to me a true word.”
“Father, her words were true. That is why she left this in silence. I wish that her — that my — that the man had done so. I wish the truth had lain covered, as so much truth must lie.”
“So that you could pass as my son, inherit the family place, hand it on to people not of my blood. Like mother, like son, indeed.”
“Father, I need not have spoken of the letter. I could have been silent. I could have remained your son.”
“You could not support the truth alone.”
“I could not support the falsehood. That was the burden. And my mind was in tune with yours; I thought of the question of the place. It was the first thing that came to my mind. And I quickly made my resolve. I will relinquish my claim to it; I see I have no claim. I will say I shrink from the burden of it. That is in character and will be accepted. Francis will be your heir. That will be some compensation for you. You must have wished he could be. You have loved him as you could not love me. And it was he who had a right to your love. But I have loved you, Father. Let me always call you by that name.”
“It will be best that you should. Indeed your plan will involve it. It is a sound and unselfish plan. You are an honest man, Rosebery. And why should I want to lose you? You have been a part of my life.”
“Then the future is settled, Father,” said Rosebery, sitting down with his face pale and full of deep relief. “We can go on in our old way. My mother’s money will be enough for me. I will give my help to the house. And at your death I will go and leave it to your son. So all is straight between us and before us.”
As silence fell, both men had a sense of another presence, and turned to find Hester at their side.
“So you have heard again, Miss Wolsey,” said Julius.
“I could not help it. I was crossing the hall and could not pass you. I had no thought of your talking secrets here.”
“You will think we talk them everywhere, that we talk of nothing else. Well, you know more about us than we knew ourselves a day ago!”
“If you will, I will know nothing.”
“You will wonder what families are like, when your first emerges like this. You will not think anyone is what he is supposed to be. You can keep another secret. You see that other people must keep theirs.”
“I will keep it. I feel it is mine. I feel this makes me one of you. I feel that I follow what has happened, and that no one is to blame.”
“If we accept the normal code, more than one of us has broken it. It is Rosebery who is rather sinned against than sinning.”
“Father, should not Francis hear of the change in his life? I want it to be known and accepted. It somehow seems an obstacle in my path, and I long to relax and be at peace. It has been a hard hour. I may be thinking of myself, but perhaps the time has come for it. I have tried to think of others. May I bring him to learn of his future?”
“You may bring all three. It will affect them all, if you take only what is yours. There is an income apart from the place, though your mother would not have them know it. You are right that the matter is better dealt with and ended. It hinders the real silence.”
As Rosebery left them, Julius spoke to himself.
“I have not lost my son as much as my wife. And I do not mean the loss by death.”
“I know you do not,” said Hester, in a low tone. “And I see that in a way you have lost her, perhaps in the deepest way. You must let it help you in the loss by death. We should lessen our pain in any way we can. It does no good to suffer.”
“We might choose the usual suffering that comes from the usual good. It is something we have missed.”
“Let the feeling pass. We should not clutch at pain. We move to the future, whether or no we will. It is not possible to be still.”
“There are times when we pause and look about us.”
“We think we are pausing, but we are going on. Each minute carries us forward. We find we have taken a step in spite of ourselves.”
“I do not feel I have taken one.”
“But you have, and you are to take another. Here are your son and the children.”
“Yes, my son, Miss Wolsey, my son and my brother’s children.”
The latter entered and looked about them, Rosebery silently following.
“So there is something to be said,” said Francis.
“Is it another solemn thing?” said his brother.
“It is a serious one,” said Julius. “It will make a change in your lives. It is no good to think that money does not do that.”
“Does anyone think so?” said Francis.
“I hope you do not. I should like you to value what is yours. I will tell you in a word what it will be. Rosebery is waiving his claim to the place and what it brings, in your favour. He shrinks from the responsibility they involve. He has as much from his mother as he cares to have. He does not ask much for himself.”
“Then he is a rare type. I do not claim to belong to it. I am of ordinary mould. If he is sure of his mind, I welcome the news indeed. But is it not the result of his mother’s death? He feels the future is empty, and does not care what becomes of it. But the mood will pass and leave him as other men. I must not build my life on an uncertainty, or on a risk of holding him to a dead resolve.”
“Francis, you may build it with confidence,” said Rosebery. “You may step without hesitation into my place. I shall not be as other men, except in the sense that I must be as they are. I already see everything as yours.”
“Will Francis have it all?” said Adrian.
“No, not quite,” said Julius. “Only one of you can have the place, and it naturally goes to the eldest. But there will be more for you and your sister, enough to better your lives.”
“Then may I tell Pettigrew that I shall not have to earn my living?”
“You may tell him there will be no absolute need for you to do so.”
“Thank you,” said Adrian, in a tone of gratitude. “But I suppose we must still have him?”
“You must,” said Rosebery. “The need is rather more than less.”
“Did Aunt Miranda want you to give things up, so that you could always think about her?”
“She did not want it. But it may be a true account.”