“Miss Wolsey, the children; you know what they are to me. I could not show my feeling; I had to fear to show it. And my wife thought they took my love from her son, and she was right in thinking it. It cannot trouble her now. But the custom has set, and I cannot break it. Will you give them what you can? In a way they have had a father. In a way I have done my part.”
“I will. I see how they need it. They should not be dependent on each other.”
“They are safe enough there. But they need something more. This house that will be their home, what memories will it have for them? They have had so little. And I would give them much.”
“We will do it together. I will break the ice and you will follow. There is no end more worthy, and no two hearts more at one.”
Chapter VIII
“I have a double knowledge of you all,” said Hester at the breakfast table. “Your portrait looks me in the face, as I sit here. Mrs. Hume must have felt that she lived at two different times.”
“I expect she no longer saw it,” said Julius. “I can hardly remember when I did so.”
“I used to see her turn her eyes on it, Father,” said Rosebery, resting his own eyes on the group of his parents and himself, that Miranda had caused to be executed. “I think it served a purpose for her.”
“It is a speaking likeness of all three,” said Hester.
“Does that mean that the subjects might be speaking, Miss Wolsey?”
“Well, we know what they might say,” said Julius. “They are not strangers to us.”
“Father,” said Rosebery, in a tone of deep concern, leaning forward, “would you like the portrait to be moved elsewhere? Are its suggestions disturbing to you? I would willingly attend to the matter.”
“No, no, I no longer see it. And I do not hear the speech. Leave it where it is.”
“There is something I have wanted to ask of you. It is my wish to bespeak a group of you and my cousins. That would have its own meaning for you, and find its place in your life. Do you give your sanction?”
“I should like a portrait of them. I will not be included myself.”
“Father, I would willingly have it done as a family group. You are not considering my feelings?”
“No, I dislike living with my successive stages, as I leave them.”
“It shall be done as you will, and by whom you will. And I shall feel the opportunity a privilege.”
“I shall look forward to having a photograph of it,” said Hester. “I think a good portrait often throws light on people. And I cannot have too much on these three interesting persons. I am always on the watch for it.”
She was about to be rewarded. There was a knock at the door and Mr. Pettigrew entered.
“Am I right in assuming you have finished your breakfast, Mr. Hume? I am glad to perceive it is the case. I have sought a word with you on my way to the schoolroom, where I am due early to-day. I need hardly say it concerns my pupils; and as it does so in a somewhat intimate aspect, you may prefer to exchange the word in private.”
“No, it can be said here. Miss Wolsey and my son had better hear it. It may be of help to them.”
“Then I am obliged to say,” said Mr. Pettigrew, his tone suggesting that his advice must appear justified, “that my pupils have lost their hold on themselves since their aunt’s death. And it does not appear to be the result of the trouble. The suggestion is indeed rather of the opposite nature. There is a tendency to frivolity and indolence, and remonstrance is met by levity and veiled ridicule. The trouble began with Adrian, but has spread to the other two. I would have chosen to spare you, but knowing your concern for them, could not feel justified in doing so.”
“I am grateful for the truth. It helps me to do my best for them. I am all they have by way of a father.”
“And it helps me too,” said Hester. “I am all they have by way of a mother, and I need the help.”
Mr. Pettigrew gave her a glance and continued to Julius.
“The controlling influence has been withdrawn, and they appear to be yielding to the reaction. I have nothing to say against a youthful rebound of spirits, but as liberty degenerates into license, it calls for restraint.”
“Will you send them to me and wait for them, or will you witness their discomfiture?”
“I will take the first course. I have no wish to enhance the occasion. And I have no doubt that a word in time will work in the way of the proverbial stitch.”
“Dear me, I feel so unhappy,” said Hester, as the speaker withdrew. “I cannot bear to see the young and helpless taken to task for being what they are. But I suppose it has to be.”
“And there is a touch here of something not quite helpless,” said Rosebery, gravely.
“It is simple guilt,” said Julius. “They feel they can yield to their impulses, and have done so at Pettigrew’s expense.”
“I cannot but think that shock and disturbance have done their work,” said Hester. “He should surely allow for it.”
“He has done so. It is a part of his life. Complaints recoil on himself.”
“He might lack imagination.”
“Perception was what was needed, and that he does not lack. The faculty must be highly trained.”
“Oh, I hear the footsteps. I am in such a sorry state.”
“Would you like to go, Miss Wolsey?” said Rosebery, in a formal manner.
“No, I will stay at my post. I feel it is one of observation. I shall do better not to desert it.”
The children entered and stood in silence, avoiding anyone’s eyes.
“Do you feel you have treated Mr. Pettigrew well or badly?” said Julius.
“Badly,” said Adrian, before he thought.
“Had he done any harm to you?”
“He did his duty by us,” said Alice. “And that seemed to us to be harm.”
“Well, there is one question answered. Did it appear to you an occasion to cast off normal restraint?”
“It was our only occasion,” said Francis. “We had never had one before.”
“Francis!” said Rosebery. “You do not refer to the feeling aroused in you by my mother’s death?”
“It was not the only feeling. But it was there amongst others. And it was the easiest to gratify.”
“So that is your use for freedom,” said Julius. “You will bequeath a sense of it to other people.”
“Of course we must mend our ways,” said Alice.
“Then your case is settled. What do you feel, Adrian?”
“The same as Alice does.”
“And you, Francis?”
“I see I have behaved like a child.”
“You have behaved badly. It is not only children who do that.”
“I too must mend my ways.”
“Then the matter is ended. You may go and do as you say.”
“Oh, it was short and sharp,” said Hester. “I don’t know if it was better or worse than I expected. I did appreciate your method, Mr. Hume. No preaching and no malice; just respectful, equal dealing. But in a way the better method goes deeper. There were moments I did not know how to bear.”
“Father,” said Rosebery, “I say nothing of the callousness and ill will involved in the episode. But the attitude to our loss has astonished and grieved me.”
“Oh, the boy had to say something,” said Hester. “His words should not be remembered, And, if you will forgive me, callousness and ill will were not involved.”
“They will be regretted, Miss Wolsey, by one person, if by no other.”
“I could almost envy Mr. Pettigrew. He has the chance to know and help three such appealing people. To me late childhood stands first among the human stages.”