LITMIR.BIZ

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did not fulfil her intentions of going into matters of business with her brother-in-law that day, for little Armine, always delicate, had been so much knocked up by his course of adventures, that he needed her care all the rest of the day. Nor would she have been fit for anything else, for when his aunt recommended a totally different treatment for his ailments, she had no spirit to argue, but only looked pale and determined, being too weary and dejected to produce her arguments.

      Jock was sufficiently tired to be quiescent in the nursery, where she kept him with her, feeling, in his wistful eyes, and even in poor little Armine’s childish questions, something less like blank desolation than her recent apathy had been, as if she were waking to thrills of pain after the numbness of a blow.

      Urged by a restless night and an instinctive longing for fresh air, she took a long walk in the park before anyone came down the next morning, with only Jock for her companion, and she came to the breakfast table with a freshened look, though with a tremulous faintness in her voice, and she let Janet continue tea maker, scarcely seeming to hear or understand the casual remarks around her; but afterwards she said in a resolute tone, “Robert, I am ready whenever you wish to speak to me.”

      So in the drawing-room the Colonel, with the two wills in his hand, found himself face to face with her. He was the more nervous of the two, being, much afraid of upsetting that composure which scandalised his wife, but which he preferred to tears; and as he believed her to be a mere child in perception, he explained down to her supposed level, while she listened in a strange inert way, feeling it hard to fix her attention, yet half-amused by the simplicity of his elucidations. “Would Ellen need to be told what an executor meant?” thought she.

      She was left sole guardian of the children, “the greatest proof of confidence a parent can give,” impressively observed the Colonel, wondering at the languor of her acquiescence, and not detecting the thought, “Dear Joe! of course! as if he would have done anything else!”

      “Of course,” continued the Colonel, “he never expected that it would have proved more than a nominal matter, a mere precaution. For my own part, I can only say that I shall be always ready to assist you with advice or authority if ever you should find the charge too onerous for you.”

      “Thank you,” was all she could bring herself to say at that moment, feeling that her boys were her own, though the next she was recollecting that this was no doubt the reason Joe had bidden her live at Kenminster, and in a pang of self-reproach, was hardly attending to the technicalities of the matters of property which were being explained to her.

      Her husband had not been able to save much, but his life insurance was for a considerable sum, and there was also the amount inherited from his parents. A portion of the means which his mother had enjoyed passed to the elder brother, and Mrs. Brownlow had sunk most of her individual property in the purchase of the house in which they lived. By the terms of Joseph’s will, everything was left to Caroline unreservedly, save for a stipulation that all, on her death, should be divided among the children, as she should appoint. The house was not even secured to Allen, so that she could let or sell it as she thought advisable.

      “I could not sell it,” said Carey quickly, feeling it her first and only home. “I hope to see Allen practising there some day.”

      “It is not in a situation where you could sell it to so much advantage as you would have by letting it to whoever takes the practice.”

      She winced, but it was needful to listen, as he told her of the offers that had been made for the house and the good-will of the practice. What he had thought the best offer was, however, rejected by her with vehemence. She was sure that Joe would never stand that man coming in upon his patients, and when asked for her reasons, would only reply, that “None of us could bear him.”

      “That is no reason why he should not be a good practitioner and respectable man. He may not be what you like in society, and yet—”

      “Ask Dr. Lucas,” hastily interrupted Carey.

      “Perhaps that will be the best way,” said the Colonel gravely. “Will you promise to abide by his decision?”

      “I don’t know! I mean, if everyone decided against me, nothing should induce me to let that Vaughan into Joe’s house to meddle with his patients.”

      Colonel Brownlow made a sign of displeased acquiescence, so like his brother when Carey was a little impetuous or naughty, that she instantly felt shocked at herself, and faltered, “I beg your pardon.”

      He seemed not to notice this, but went on, “As you say, it may be wise to consult Dr. Lucas. Perhaps, putting it up to competition would be the best way.”

      “Oh, no,” said Caroline. “Have you a letter from Dr. Drake?”

      “No.”

      “Then depend upon it he must have too much delicacy to begin about it so soon. I had rather he had it than anyone else.”

      “Can he make a fair offer for it? You cannot afford to throw away a substantial benefit for preferences,” said the Colonel. “At the outside, you will not have more than five hundred pounds a year, and I fear you will feel much straitened after what you are used to, with four boys, and such ideas as to their education,” he added smiling.

      “I don’t know, but I am sure it is what Joe would wish. He had rather trust his patients to Harry—to Dr. Drake—than to anyone, and he is just going to be married, and wants a practice; I shall write to him. It is so nice of him not to have pressed forward.”

      “You will not commit yourself?” said Colonel Brownlow. “Remember that your children’s interests are at stake, and must not be sacrificed to a predilection.”

      Again Caroline felt fiery and furious, and less inclined than ever to submit her judgment as she said, “You can inquire, but I know what Joe thought of him.”

      “His worthiness is not the point, but whether he can indemnify you.”

      “His worthiness not the point!” cried Caroline, indignantly. “I think it all the point.”

      “You misunderstand me; you totally misunderstand me,” exclaimed the Colonel trying hard to be gentle. “I never meant to recommend an unworthy man.”

      “You wanted Vaughan,” murmured Mother Carey, but he did not regard the words, perhaps did not hear them, for he went on: “My brother in such a case would have taken a reasonable view, and placed the good of his children before any amiable desire to benefit a—a—one unconnected with him. However,” he added, “there is no reason against writing to him, provided you do not commit yourself.”

      Caroline hated the word, but endured it, and the rest of the interview was spent upon some needful signatures, and on the question of her residence at Kenminster, an outlook which she contemplated as part of the darkness into which her life seemed to have suddenly dashed forward. One place would be much the same as another to her, and she could only hear with indifference about the three houses, possible, and the rent, garden, and number of rooms.

      She was very glad when it was over, and the Colonel, saying he should go and consult Dr. Lucas, gave her back the keys he had taken from Janet, and said that perhaps she would prefer looking over the papers before he himself did so, with a view to accounts; but he should advise all professional records to be destroyed.

      It may be feared that the two executors did not respect or like each, other much the better for the interview, which had made the widow feel herself even more desolate and sore-hearted.

      She ran, downstairs, locked the door of the consulting room, opened the lid of the bureau, and kneeling down with her head among all the papers, she sobbed with long-drawn, tearless sobs, “O father! O Joe! how could you bid me live there? He makes me worse! They will make me worse and worse, and now you are gone, and Granny is gone, there’s nobody to make me good; and what will become of the children?”

      Then she looked drearily on the papers that lay before her, as if his hand-writing at least gave a sort of nearness. There was a memorandum book which had been her birthday present to him, and she felt drawn to open it. The first she saw after her own writing of his name was—

      “‘Magnum

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