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Page 63
But on the whole, the hope which Stephen had given him of the squire's
final recovery was a too flattering one. There was, perhaps, no
immediate danger of death, but there was still less prospect of entire
recovery. He had begun to remember a little, to speak a word or two, to
use his hands in the weak, uncertain way of a young child; but in the
main he lay like a giant, bound by invisible and invincible bonds;
speechless, motionless, seeking through his large, pathetic eyes the
help and comfort of those who bent over him. He had quite lost the fine,
firm contour of his face, his ruddy color was all gone; indeed, the
country expression of "face of clay," best of all words described the
colorless, still countenance amid the white pillows in the darkened
room.
As the spring came on he gained strength and intelligence, and one
lovely day his men lifted him to a couch by the window. The lattices
were flung wide open, that he might see the trees tossing about their
young leaves, and the grass like grass in paradise, and hear the bees
humming among the apple-blooms, and the sheep bleating on the fells.
The earth was full of the beauty and the tranquillity of God. The squire
looked long at the familiar sights; looked till his lips trembled, and
the tears rolled heavily down his gray face. And then he realized all
that he had suffered, he remembered the hand that had dealt him the
blow. And while Mrs. Sandal was kissing away his tears, and speaking
words of hope and love, a letter came from Sophia.
It was dated Calcutta. Julius had taken her there in the winter, and the
news of her father's illness did not reach her for some weeks. But, as
it happened, when Charlotte's letter detailing the sad event arrived,
Julius was particularly in need of something to wonder over and to
speculate about; and of all subjects, Seat-Sandal interested him most.
To be master of the fine old place was his supreme ambition. He felt
that he possessed all the qualities necessary to make him a leader among
the Dales gentlemen. He foresaw, through them, social influence and
political power; and he had an ambition to make his reign in the house
of Sandal the era of a new and far more splendid dynasty.
He had been lying in the shade, drinking iced coffee, and smoking. But
as Sophia read, he sat upright, and a look of speculation came into his
eyes. "There is no use weeping, my love," he said languidly, "you will
only dim your beauty, and that will do neither your father nor me any
good. Let us go to Sandal. Charlotte and mother must be worn out, and we
can be useful at such a time. I think, indeed, our proper place is
there. The affairs of the 'walks' and the farms must be attended to, and
what will they do on quarter-day? Of course Harry will not remain there.
It would be unkind, wrong, and in exceedingly bad taste."
"Poor, dear father! And oh, Julius, what a disgrace to the family! A
singer! How could Harry behave so shamefully to us all?"
"Harry never cared for any mortal but himself. How disgracefully he
behaved about our marriage; for this same woman's sake, I have no doubt.
You must remember that I disapproved of Harry from the very first. The
idea of terminating a _liaison_ of that kind with a marriage! Harry
ought to be put out of decent society. You and I ought to be at
Seat-Sandal now. Charlotte will be pushing that Stephen Latrigg into the
Sandal affairs, and you know what I think of Stephen Latrigg. He is to
be feared, too, for he has capabilities, and Charlotte to back him; and
Charlotte was always underhand, Sophia. You would not see it, but she
was. Order your trunks to be packed at once,--don't forget the rubies my
mother promised you,--and I will have a conversation with the judge."
Judge Thomas Sandal was by no means a bad fellow. He had left
Sandal-Side under a sense of great injustice, but he had done well to
himself; and those who had done him wrong, had disappeared into the
cloud of death. He had forgotten all his grievances, he had even
forgotten the inflicters of them. He had now a kindly feeling towards
Sandal, and was a little proud of having sprung from such a grand old
race. Therefore, when Julius told him what had happened, and frankly
said he thought he could buy from Harry Sandal all his rights of
succession to the estate, Judge Thomas Sandal saw nothing unjust in the
affair.
The law of primogeniture had always appeared to him a most unjust and
foolish law. In his own youth it had been a source of burning anger and
dispute. He had always declared it was a shame to give Launcelot every
thing, and William and himself scarce a crumb off the family loaf. To
his eldest brother, as his eldest brother, he had declined to give
"honor and obedience." "William is a far finer fellow," he said one day
to his mother; "far more worthy to follow father than Launcie is. If
there is any particular merit in keeping up the old seat and name, for
goodness' sake let father choose the best of us to do it!" For such
revolutionary and disrespectful sentiments he had been frequently in
disgrace; and the end of the disputing had been his own expatriation,
and the founding of a family of East-Indian Sandals.
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