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Page 23
After the funeral was over, the squire went back to Up-Hill to eat the
arvel-meal, [Death-feast.] and to hear the will of his old friend read.
It was nearly dark when he returned, and he was very glad to find his
wife alone. "I have had a few hard hours, Alice," he said wearily; "and
I am more bothered about Barfs will than I can tell why."
"I suppose Steve got all."
"Pretty nearly. Barf's married daughters had their portions long ago,
but he left each of them three hundred pounds as a good-will token.
Ducie got a thousand pounds and her right in Up-Hill as long as she
lived. All else was for Steve except--and this bothers me--a box of
papers left in Ducie's charge. They are to be given to me at her
discretion; and, if not given during her lifetime or my lifetime, the
charge remains then between those that come after us. I don't like it,
and I can't think what it means. Eh? What?"
"He left you nothing?"
"He left me his staff. He knew better than to leave me money. But I am
bothered about that box of papers. What can they refer to? Eh? What?"
"I can make a guess, William. When your brother Tom left home, and went
to India, he took money enough with him; but I'm afraid he got it
queerly. At any rate, your father had some big sums to raise. You were
at college at the time; and though there was some underhand talk, maybe
you never heard it, for no one round Sandal-Side would pass on a word
likely to trouble the old squire, or offend Mistress Charlotte. Now,
perhaps it was at that time Barf Latrigg 'did well to Sandal.'"
"I think you may be right, Alice. I remember that father was a bit mean
with me the last year I was at Oxford. He would have reasons he did not
tell me of. One should never judge a father. He is often forced to cut
the loaf unevenly for the good of every one."
But this new idea troubled Sandal. He was a man of super-sensitive honor
with regard to money matters. If there were really any obligation of
that kind between the two houses, he hardly felt grateful to Latrigg for
being silent about it. And still more the transfer of these papers vexed
him. Ducie might know what he might never know. Steve might have it in
his power to trouble Harry when he was at rest with his fore-elders. The
subject haunted and worried him; and as worries are never complete
worries till they have an individuality, Steve very soon became the
personal embodiment of mortifying uncertainty, and wounded _amour
propre_. For if Mrs. Sandal's suspicion were true, or even if it were
not true, she was not likely to be the only one in Sandal-Side who would
construe Latrigg's singular disposition of his papers in the same way.
Certainly Squire William did not feel as if the dead man had 'done well
to Sandal.'
Stephen was equally annoyed. His grandfather had belonged to a dead
century, and retained until the last his almost feudal idea of the bond
between his family and the Sandals. But the present squire had stepped
outside the shadows of the past, and Stephen was fully abreast of his
own times. He understood very well, that, whatever these papers related
to, they would be a constant thorn in Sandal's side; and he saw them
lying between Charlotte and himself, a barrier unknown, and
insurmountable because unknown.
From Ducie he could obtain neither information nor assistance. "Mother,"
he asked, "do you know what those papers are about?"
"Ratherly."
"When can you tell me?"
"There must be a deal of sorrow before I can tell you."
"Do you want to tell me?"
"If I should dare to want it one minute, I should ask God's pardon the
next. When I unlock that box, Steve, there is like to be trouble in
Sandal. I think your grandfather would rather the key rusted away."
"Does the squire know any thing about them?"
"Not he."
"If he asks, will you tell him?"
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