“It makes a demand on other people,” said Adrian. “They have to be pleased by it, when it does nothing for them.”
“You and I will not put them to the test,” said Alice. “We shall be overshadowed by Francis. He will be an elder son, even though an impoverished one.”
“And that means he can never really be impoverished.”
“Stay, Miss Alice. Are you condemning your cousin to perpetual bachelorhood?”
“It is his own resolve and choice,” said Francis. “All his feeling is given to his mother.”
“But in the nature of things that state of affairs must cease.”
“He has put it into words. And that is so rare that he must be believed. He will be faithful to her memory.”
“You cannot depend on it, Francis,” said Mr. Pettigrew, in troubled warning. “Many people misjudge the permanent effect of sorrow, and their capacity to live in the past. And it is not a course to be wished for them. For example, if I had followed it, Mrs. Pettigrew and I should have missed much happiness; and it is hard to see how it would have benefited those who had gone before.”
“It benefits those who are to come after,” said Alice. “In this case it is Francis. And Rosebud will have what he wants. He will think of Aunt Miranda as existing, and appreciating his faithfulness.”
“But would she appreciate it, Miss Alice? Would she not choose him to be happy and fulfilled in the normal way? If I were a mother — that is rather a feat of imagination, and I see you find it so — if I held any intimate relation to a younger person, I should wish to benefit him without exacting sacrifice to my memory. And I venture to think your aunt would feel as I do.”
A sound of amusement confirmed this view as venturesome.
“She does nothing like anyone else,” said Alice.
“As the applicant for her post would probably concur,” said Mr. Pettigrew, smiling. “But I should hardly have judged from your cousin’s demeanour towards her that he was likely to be vowed to bachelorhood. Not that I suggest any especial feeling towards the person in question. The idea had not occurred to me; and it would involve discrepancies that do not concern us.”
“Pettigrew will go any length rather than refer to the companion as a lady,” murmured Alice.
“And yet he refers to himself in the corresponding way,” said Francis.
“What did you say, Miss Alice?”
“Nothing. Nothing that had any meaning.”
“I caught my own name and the word, ‘companion’, and fail to see what connection there is between us.”
His pupils yielded to mirth, as the question did not find them at a loss.
“Well, we will resume our work. It was a mistake to interrupt it. I fear the blame is mine.”
The remaining time passed without disturbance, and the tutor apportioned the tasks and took his leave. The pupils at once relaxed.
“What is the meaning of our life?” said Francis. “To keep Pettigrew from want?”
“What will he do when we are grown-up?” said Adrian.
“I suppose he will suffer the want.”
“And his wife and family with him,” said Alice, smiling at the wider possibility.
“Shall we ever have to teach, as he does?” said Adrian. “Perhaps Aunt Miranda will be dead, and Uncle will be willing to support us.”
“So you have death in your heart,” said Francis.
“I should not do anything to make her die. And she has never wanted us to live at all. She is worse than I am.”
“Alice, we must remember that Adrian is our brother. Should not our combined influence do something for him? Is it our fault that it has failed so far?”
“What is this?” said Bates, coming in on some quest. “Now, have you been teasing him?”
“I wish Nurse had not gone,” said Adrian. “It was because Aunt Miranda would not pay her.”
“Now that is an ungrateful way to talk. And you know Bates is always here.”
“Why should we talk gratefully?” said Alice. “Nurse has not stayed.”
“Bates, Alice made faces at Pettigrew, and he saw her,” said Adrian.
“What nonsense! Of course I did not.”
“It was the reflection of your face on hers, that gave the illusion,” said Francis.
“Now if I leave you, will you see he does not tease him?” said Bates, feeling no need to be more specific.
“Don’t speak to him, unless I give you permission,” said Alice to Francis, in an incidental tone.
Adrian relapsed in the manner of a person protected.
“Do we have an empty life?” he said.
“Well, that is fair enough,” said Alice. “We don’t save anyone else’s from emptiness.”
“I think we should save Uncle’s, if it were not for Aunt Miranda.”
“Why think of the might-have-beens?” said Francis.
“It is strange that she and Rosebery like each other, when no one else likes either of them.”
“Uncle feels they are his wife and son.”
“He knows it, if he does not feel it,” said Alice.
“He feels it about Aunt Miranda,” said Adrian. “That is the reason of everything.”
The tutor met Julius and his son in the hall, and paused with a flush and start.
“Good-evening, Mr. Hume.”
“How are you, Pettigrew?” said Julius, shaking hands. “I hope my young ones do not trouble you. Remember me to your wife.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hume, I will certainly do so. And she would wish me to give you a similar message. Good-evening, Mr. Rosebery; it is a chilly night; I hope you have been able to remain indoors.”
“Good-evening, Mr. Pettigrew,” said Rosebery, with a full smile and handshake. “I have been out on a mission of my own, but have otherwise been unoccupied. I fear I should be called a less useful person than you.”
“Oh, I do not know. There are many kinds of usefulness.”
“Too many,” said Julius. “It results in a workaday world. Goodbye again. We keep early hours, and my wife is firm about them.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Hume. Mrs. Pettigrew is of a similar mind. Indeed she finds inexactitude about hours more trying than the more serious shortcomings; though the lack of consideration involved should perhaps place it among those.”
Mr. Pettigrew put on his hat and coat with a consciousness that eyes were on him, and Julius withdrew his own and turned to the dining-room.
“There are exceptions to human inconsistency. Pettigrew can only be himself.”
“He was concerned for Miss Burke,” said Francis, “indeed moved by her position.”
“Well, it is really the same as his,” said Alice.
“We should all have a fellow-feeling for those who are in it,” said Rosebery. “Think how easily we might be in it ourselves.”
“I was thinking it,” said Francis, “and it will indeed be easy.”
“I am not sure I have not missed something in being placed beyond, or shall we say apart from such necessity. It might bring out qualities now unsuspected.”
“Has nothing aroused your own suspicions?” said Julius.
“How mean of people not to suspect them!” said Alice. “It is not a thing we should be left to do for ourselves.”
“People’s qualities are clear,” said Miranda, looking from her son to her nephews, as if she saw an illustration of this. “There is no occasion to suspect them.”
“But I think my mother does suspect them in my case,” said Rosebery, smiling. “And I feel it is a natural situation between a mother and a son. If you three had had a mother, which I know not to have been the case, I should not have to suggest that.”
“We have not had one, whom we can remember,” said Francis.
“You have not, Francis. And often have I found my heart bleed for you on that ground. I think the little beliefs and blindnesses between two people so near to each other, are not the least of the things that we may have, and that you have missed.”