Ivy Compton-Burnett: The Last and the First

“There is the greater question,” said Angus. “What is to happen to this house and all that is in it?”

“The house will be let,” said his father. “Not sold, as the future is uncertain. Then after the other house is furnished, the rest of the things must go. We shall be able to keep the best ones.”

“And those that are nearest to our hearts,” said Madeline. “Some that have no intrinsic value may have another and deeper one.”

“They will need space, whatever their value,” said Eliza. “And there will not be too much of it.”

“Well, space is not everything, Mater. I am sure we shall be equally happy in the other house.”

“Why are you sure? I should think there is anyhow doubt of it.”

“Happiness does not depend on the size of the rooms.”

“It depends on many things. Your father is the one who will suffer. And I shall feel what he does.”

“Yes, I fear it is so,” said Sir Robert, almost to himself. “This house is a living thing to me. It seems to carry the other lives, whose legacy is in my own. I thought to breathe my last within it. I feel I leave it something of myself. It may be false and foolish and untrue. It is my own truth. I will not hide it as I should betray myself.”

“Well, it is something to feel in that way, Father. It is in a sense fulfilment. You can hardly regret it.”

“He regrets what it involves,” said Eliza. “You heard what he said. And I think so did someone else. There are steps at the door.”

“You will excuse me, my lady,” said Mrs. Duff. “It seems the case of the bad penny. But there is an item that I felt should be conveyed, as it might be fraught with consequence. Mr. Grimstone has left all he had to a strange young lady.”

“A strange young lady? Someone they did not know? Left her all he had! Is it certain? How did you hear?”

“It passed from mouth to mouth, my lady, as it passes from mine now. It was unforeseen and fell on them like a blow.”

“To someone who was a stranger to them? What a very unlikely thing! Is there any idea who it is?”

“Rumours are current, my lady. I will say no more.”

“Indeed you will,” said Angus. “Say some more at once.”

“No, sir. Too much has already passed my lips.”

“But more has passed other people’s,” said Sir Robert. “You can tell us what it is. There can be no harm in that.”

“It might ensue, Sir Robert. I will not be the one to occasion it. It has never been my tendency.”

“You can repeat a rumour, if you say that is what it is.”

“Rumour has its name, Sir Robert. I feel my lips should be sealed.”

“But they have not been sealed,” said Angus. “And you should not deal in half measures. It is an unworthy course.”

“The word is yours, sir. My standard is my own.”

“It is; that is my complaint.”

“You would have known nothing, sir, if I had not been the informant.”

“That is true. It is another complaint. I should rather have known nothing.”

“I doubt it, sir. It is not the usual preference. Half a loaf is better than no bread. And I am not yet provided with a whole one.”

As she withdrew, her hearers met each other’s eyes, with uncertain smiles on their lips.

“Well, who dares to say it?” said Sir Robert. “I do not dare.”

“Neither do I,” said Roberta. “And it was clear that Mrs. Duff did not. It takes more than human courage.”

“It may be better not to dare,” said Madeline. “When a thing is once out, it can’t be unsaid.”

“We should not want it to be,” said Angus. “What good would it be to anyone?”

“I have the courage to say it,” said Eliza. “My courage does not often fail. Life would be different for all of you if it did. I hope you all have the courage to hear it. The name of the young woman in question is Hermia Heriot.”

“You can’t just say it is Hermia,” said Angus. “Your courage does partly fail.”

“Do you mean she inherits the money, Mater?” said Madeline.

“I mean it is left to her. What will come of it is another thing.”

“Let us all begin to decide,” said Angus.

“No, it is better not,” said Madeline. “But what a change it may bring!”

“What a change it has brought!” said Sir Robert, looking at the faces round him. “But we must not depend on it. It is only a surmise. There are other young women in the world.”

“Not many in Hamilton Grimstone’s world,” said Eliza. “It is a plausible assumption. It can be accepted.”

“It was Hermia he wanted to marry,” said Angus. “Not the other young women, or I suppose not.”

“Something tells me it is Hermia,” said Madeline. “I hear the still, small voice that is seldom wrong.”

“Other voices have told you so,” said Eliza. “They are often wrong, but in this case there is not much doubt.”

“None that matters,” said Angus. “It is a good enough foundation. I am ready to build on it.”

“We will not do that,” said his father. “In any case, the matter is not our concern. No one here has inherited anything.”

“It would be in the family,” said Eliza. “And we can hardly stand apart from each other. We have shared risk and failure. It would be natural for a debt to be paid.”

“Mrs. Duff was right,” said Sir Robert, “to say her lips were sealed. She set a good example.”

“I don’t see why ours should be,” said Angus. “Anyhow I am glad they are not.”

“So am I,” said Roberta. “It would be hard to discern any purpose for them.”

“I wonder if Hermia has heard,” said Madeline. “She would surely have let us know.”

“Heard what?” said Sir Robert, smiling. “What is there to hear or know? There may not be anything. We should assume there is not. But I agree it is a moment of suspense. I wish with you that it was over.”

“I think it may be,” said Roberta, looking at the door. “I believe it is.”

It was. Mrs. Duff entered with a light in her eyes.

“The bad penny again, my lady. But it hardly earns the name. It is good news of which I am the bearer. I have carried it before and felt it, as if it was my own. That is what good news for others is to me.”

“But what is this to us?” said Angus. “I fear we are more ordinary.”

“The term has not often been applied to me, sir. My dealings bear my stamp. And in this case I can be true and terse. Mr. Grimstone’s money passes to our eldest young lady.”

“To Hermia,” said Eliza, almost to herself.

“To Miss Hermia, my lady, who went out into the world and left her sphere. Her reward has come, and no one would grudge it to her.”

“Well, I suppose the Grimstones,” said Angus. “It must be the word for their feeling.”

“You can use your own words for your own, sir. The occasion warrants it.”

“We are glad to know, Mrs. Duff,” said Eliza. “It is most unexpected news. How did you hear?”

“The usual channel, my lady. Those that wait upon their house and this. It is a current source.”

“I suppose we can depend on it?” said Sir Robert.

“I am told you would do so, Sir Robert, if you had been present in the other house. I put the question and it led to the rejoinder.”

“Our thought does go to the family there,” said Madeline. “And it meets a sad enough picture.”

“Well, miss, if his thought did not go to them, there is no call on anyone else’s.”

“They may feel they have a moral claim to what he left.”

“Well, miss, the other sort of claim is the one that is followed, in my experience. And experience is not a a thing I am without,” said Mrs. Duff, as she withdrew.

“What power money has!” said Madeline, with a sigh. “You would hardly expect it to loom so large to Mrs. Duff.”