Ivy Compton-Burnett - A Heritage and its History

“I suppose I have not. The question has not arisen. I daresay to be young is just as pitiful.”

“If youth leads you to this, it is what you say. I cannot be proud of my sons.”

“Nor I of my father,” muttered Ralph. “Yes, what did I say, sir? I said I was not proud of you, and I am not.”

“What fault do you find with me?”

“You cannot need me to tell you.”

“I have asked you to do so.”

“You forget you have a duty to us. You forget how you were dealt with yourself. It is not our fault that your life is changed. Our poor outlook is no advantage to us. It is not fair to hold us guilty because of it.”

“It will not be considered a credit to you. It is no good to think it will, or even that it should be. It is for me to prepare you for life, as you will find it. It is my duty to you, and will continue to be.”

“I hope it will,” murmured Naomi. “Suppose he changed, and we had to be grateful! It is better to face our accepted goal. It is anyhow familiar.”

“We must say goodbye,” said Fanny. “The day has been a great one. We shall always remember it.”

“And we shall renew it,” said her sister. “It will come again. I feel it. It is not the last.”

“So it is over,” said Hamish to his cousins. “I fear you cannot regret it. I wish it could have been different. I wish my home was more like yours. I suppose you would say the same to me. We all have our reasons.”

“I hope Father will drop down dead on his way home,” said Ralph. “I really do hope it. I don’t know how I am to meet him. And we could repair to the workhouse. It has come to seem homelike.”

“Do you suppose we have to work there?” said Naomi. “Does Father know the meaning of the word? What does he think we can do? He would hardly feel we could be useful. And the people there dislike work. That is how they come to enter. Perhaps the name holds a challenge.”

“What is the subject?” said Simon, overtaking them. “Do not tell me it is the only one.”

“You have said it, sir,” said Graham.

“I suppose your life is narrow,” said Simon, in another tone. “There is the lack of interest, the limited outlook. But the paucity of your ideas, your poverty of thought! It troubles me. I do not know what to say.”

“Then let him avoid the topic,” muttered Ralph. “It is his standby as much as ours. Who else started it?”

“I am not going to bind myself to silence on the subject, to swear that the word shall not pass my lips. If you copy me, it is not my fault. You say it is my main subject. What other have you? You had better let me hear it.”

“Here is Hamish coming back with us,” said Julia, overtaking them with Fanny and her nephew. “To make a happy ending to our happy day.”

“Happy day,” said Emma, who was sitting with her nurse outside the house.

“Is that what you have had?” said Fanny.

Emma made no reply.

“They have had a very nice day, ma’am,” said the nurse.

“Why?” said Claud.

“Well, you have been to see your great-uncle on his birthday.”

“Not birthday,” said Claud.

“Well, perhaps he did not have any presents,” said Julia.

“Oh, yes,” said Claud, in a shocked tone.

“Well, he did not show them to us.”

“Not for us,” said Claud, in admonition.

“All for Uncle Edwin!” said Emma.

“You understand everything, don’t you?” said Fanny.

“Clever girl!” said Emma, doing so once again.

“It is dishonest to listen at a door,” said Claud.

“Yes,” said Emma, continuing to do so.

“Miss Dolton says no good person does it.”

“She says it about everything. It can’t always be true.”

“Who is talking in the schoolroom?”

“Hamish and Naomi. They are going to marry each other. Hamish will give Naomi his house, when Uncle Edwin dies. And he is glad she hasn’t anything to give to him. Then that made endearment that hadn’t any meaning. I knew they had that with each other.”

“I don’t want Naomi to live with Hamish.”

“Neither do I. She is better than Miss Dolton. It is always the best who have to go. Of course they generally die.”

“She is too old to marry.”

“Not much. She is twenty-one. You can marry when you are older.”

“Then she is too young. She is not like a married person. And Hamish has Aunt Rhoda and Uncle Edwin. Naomi is not his.”

“Everyone belongs to someone before she marries.”

“Father will forbid her to do it.”

“I don’t think he can. Marrying is different. And Hamish would not obey.”

“I don’t want it to happen,” said Claud, with tears in his voice.

“Neither do I. Why should Hamish take what is ours?”

“Whatever is wrong?” said Simon, from the landing below.

“Naomi belongs to us,” said Claud. “We don’t want Hamish to marry her. Her home is here.”

There was a pause.

“Oh, he will not do that. It is not a thing that could happen. They are too nearly related to marry.”

“You will forbid it?” said Emma, her tone rising. “But you don’t know how much they will mind.”

“What makes you think they want to marry?”

“I heard them through the door.”

“You must not listen at doors. It is a thing we never do.”

“She doesn’t often,” said Claud. “You might almost say never.”

“We must say it quite. And you must not speak of what you heard. That is as wrong as listening. You must just forget it.”

“I can’t do that,” said Emma. “I remember everything.”

“She can’t help it,” said Claud. “Her memory is above the average.”

“Well, put it out of your minds, and run away and be happy.”

“How can anyone do that?” said Claud.

“You have everything to make you so. A pleasant home and every care and comfort.”

“You could have all that in the workhouse,” said Emma. “I suppose you would, when you were young.”

“And when you were ill,” said her brother.

“You need not think about the workhouse. It is nothing to do with you.”

“It is in our old age, that it will be our refuge,” said Emma, in an informative manner. “And that creeps on us all.”

“So it will not happen,” said Claud, as his father left them. “I somehow knew it couldn’t. But it is not true that relations can’t marry. The gardener married his cousin. You and I will have to wait, until we are too old for Father to forbid it.”

“Or until he is too old to understand,” said Simon’s daughter.

Simon looked quickly at Hamish and Naomi, as they entered the library. The group from the other house had been bidden to luncheon, and the elders had just arrived.

“So you came on before your parents, Hamish. You might have let us have your company. How long have you been in the house?”

“Most of the morning, sir. I have been with Naomi. To me the time seemed short.”

“I missed you in my study. I was to explain something to you.”

“You must forgive me, sir. You will, when you hear my reason. This is a great day to me. It is the day of my life. I think you understand me. I hope you have nothing against me as a son-in-law?”

“But of course I have,” said Simon, lightly. “You and Naomi are cousins twice over, doubly bound by blood. You might as well marry your sister.”

“I have often wished she was that. But she was not, and I have lived to be glad of it. There is nothing against our marriage. I am sure you will give your consent.”

“You can hardly be saying what you mean. Of course I cannot give it. You must see how unwise it would be, see the folly and the risk. You have wished Naomi was your sister. You have almost had your wish. You can have it now. But it must be enough.”