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Ralph the Heir

<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> <h4>SIR THOMAS IN HIS CHAMBERS.  </h4> It will be remembered that Sir Thomas Underwood had declined to give his late ward any advice at that interview which took place in Southampton Buildings;—or rather that the only advice which he had given to the young man was to cut his throat. The idle word had left no impression on Ralph Newton;—but still it had been spoken, and was remembered by Sir Thomas. When he was left alone after the young man's departure he was very unhappy. It was not only that he had spoken a word so idle when he ought to have been grave and wise, but that he felt that he had been altogether remiss in his duty as guide, philosopher, and friend. There were old sorrows, too, on this score. In the main Sir Thomas had discharged well a most troublesome, thankless, and profitless duty towards the son of a man who had not been related to him, and with whom an accidental intimacy had been ripened into friendship by letter rather than by social intercourse. Ralph Newton's father had been the younger brother of the present Gregory Newton, of Newton Priory, and had been the parson of the parish of Peele Newton,—as was now Ralph's younger brother, Gregory. The present squire of Newton had been never married, and the property, as has before been said, had been settled on Ralph, as the male heir,—provided, of course, that his uncle left no legitimate son of his own. It had come to pass that the two brothers, Gregory and Ralph, had quarrelled about matters of property, and had not spoken for years before the death of the younger. Ralph at this time had been just old enough to be brought into the quarrel. There had been questions of cutting timber and of leases, as to which the parson, acting on his son's behalf, had opposed the Squire with much unnecessary bitterness and suspicion. And it was doubtless the case that the Squire resented bitterly an act done by his own father with the view of perpetuating the property in the true line of the Newtons. For when the settlement was made on the marriage of the younger brother, the elder was already the father of a child, whom he loved none the less because that child's mother had not become his wife. So the quarrel had been fostered, and at the time of the parson's death had extended itself to the young man who was his son, and the heir to the estate. When on his death-bed, the parson had asked Mr. Underwood, who had just then entered the House of Commons, to undertake this guardianship; and the lawyer, with many doubts, had consented. He had striven, but striven in vain, to reconcile the uncle and nephew. And, indeed, he was ill-fitted to accomplish such task. He could only write letters on the subject, which were very sensible but very cold;—in all of which he would be careful to explain that the steps which had been taken in regard to the property were in strict conformity with the law. The old Squire would have nothing to do with his heir,—in which resolution he was strengthened by the tidings which reached him of his heir's manner of living. He was taught to believe that everything was going to the dogs with the young man, and was wont to say that Newton Priory, with all its acres, would be found to have gone to the dogs too when his day was done;—unless, indeed, Ralph should fortunately kill himself by drink or evil living, in which case the property would go to the younger Gregory, the present parson. Now the present parson of Newton was his uncle's friend. Whether that friendship would have been continued had Ralph died and the young clergyman become the heir, may be matter of doubt. This disagreeable duty of guardianship Sir Thomas had performed with many scruples of conscience, and a determination to do his best;—and he had nearly done it well. But he was a man who could not do it altogether well, let his scruples of conscience be what they might. He had failed in obtaining a father's control over the young man; and even in regard to the property which had passed through his hands,—though he had been careful with it,—he had not been adroit. Even at this moment things had not been settled which should have been settled; and Sir Thomas had felt, when Ralph had spoken of selling all that remained to him and of paying his debts, that there would be fresh trouble, and that he might be forced to own that he had been himself deficient. And then he told himself,—and did so as soon as Ralph had left him,—that he should have given some counsel to the young man when he came to ask for it. "You had better cut your throat!" In his troubled spirit he had said that, and now his spirit was troubled the more because he had so spoken. He sat for hours thinking of it all. Ralph Newton was the undoubted heir to a very large property. He was now embarrassed,—but all his present debts did not amount to much more than half one year's income of that property which would be his,—probably in about ten years. The Squire might live for twenty years, or might die to-morrow; but his life-interest in the estate, according to the usual calculations, was not worth more than ten years' purchase. Could he, Sir Thomas, have been right to tell a young man, whose prospects were so good, and whose debts, after all, were so light, that he ought to go and cut his throat, as the only way of avoiding a disreputable marriage which would otherwise be forced upon him by the burden of his circumstances? Would not a guardian, with any true idea of his duty, would not a friend, whose friendship was in any degree real, have found a way out of such difficulties as these? And then as to the marriage itself,—the proposed marriage with the breeches-maker's daughter,—the more Sir Thomas thought of it the more distasteful did it become to him. He knew that Ralph was unaware of all the evil that would follow such a marriage;—relatives whose every thought and action and word would be distasteful to him; children whose mother would not be a lady, and whose blood would be polluted by an admixture so base;—and, worse still, a life's companion who would be deficient in all those attributes which such a man as Ralph Newton should look for in a wife. Sir Thomas was a man to magnify rather than lessen these evils. And now he allowed his friend,—a man for whose behalf he had bound himself to use all the exercise of friendship,—to go from him with an idea that nothing but suicide could prevent this marriage, simply because there was an amount of debt, which, when compared with the man's prospects, should hardly have been regarded as a burden! As he thought of all this Sir Thomas was very unhappy. Ralph had left him at about ten o'clock, and he then sat brooding over his misery for about an hour. It was his custom when he remained in his chambers to tell his clerk, Stemm, between nine and ten that nothing more would be wanted. Then Stemm would go, and Sir Thomas would sleep for a while in his chair. But the old clerk never stirred till thus dismissed. It was now eleven, and Sir Thomas knew very well that Stemm would be in his closet. He opened the door and called, and Stemm, aroused from his slumbers, slowly crept into the room. "Joseph," said his master, "I want Mr. Ralph's papers." "To-night, Sir Thomas?" "Well;—yes, to-night. I ought to have told you when he went away, but I was thinking of things." "So I was thinking of things," said Stemm, as he very slowly made his way into the other room, and, climbing up a set of steps which stood there, pulled down from an upper shelf a tin box,—and with it a world of dust. "If you'd have said before that they'd be wanted, Sir Thomas, there wouldn't be such a deal of dry muck," said Stemm, as he put down the box on a chair opposite Sir Thomas's knees. "And now where is the key?" said Sir Thomas. Stemm shook his head very slowly. "You know, Stemm;—where is it?" "How am I to know, Sir Thomas? I don't know, Sir Thomas. It's like enough in one of those drawers." Then Stemm pointed to a certain table, and after a while slowly followed his own finger. The drawer was unlocked, and under various loose papers there lay four or five loose keys. "Like enough it's one of these," said Stemm. "Of course you knew where it was," said Sir Thomas. "I didn't know nothing at all about it," said Stemm, bobbing his head at his master, and making at the same time a gesture with his lips, whereby he intended to signify that his master was making a fool of himself. Stemm was hardly more than five feet high, and was a wizened dry old man, with a very old yellow wig. He delighted in scolding all the world, and his special delight was in scolding his master. But against all the world he would take his master's part, and had no care in the world except his master's comfort. When Sir Thomas passed an evening at Fulham, Stemm could do as he pleased with himself; but they were blank evenings with Stemm when Sir Thomas was away. While Sir Thomas was in the next room, he always felt that he was in company, but when Sir Thomas was away, all London, which was open to him, offered him no occupation. "That's the key," said Stemm, picking out one; "but it wasn't I as put it there; and you didn't tell me as it was there, and I didn't know it was there. I guessed,—just because you do chuck things in there, Sir Thomas." "What does it matter, Joseph?" said Sir Thomas. "It does matter when you say I knowed. I didn't know,—nor I couldn't know. There's the key anyhow." "You can go now, Joseph," said Sir Thomas. "Good night, Sir Thomas," said Stemm, retiring slowly, "but I didn't know, Sir Thomas,—nor I couldn't know." Then Sir Thomas unlocked the box, and gradually surrounded himself with the papers which he took from it. It was past one o'clock before he again began to think what he had better do to put Ralph Newton on his legs, and to save him from marrying the breeches-maker's daughter. He sat meditating on that and other things as they came into his mind for over an hour, and then he wrote the following letter to old Mr. Newton. Very many years had passed since he had seen Mr. Newton,—so many that the two men would not have known each other had they met; but there had been an occasional correspondence between them, and they were presumed to be on amicable terms with each other.   <blockquote> Southampton Buildings, 14th July, 186—. Dear Sir,— I wish to consult you about the affairs of your heir and my late ward, Ralph Newton. Of course I am aware of the unfortunate misunderstanding which has hitherto separated you from him, as to which I believe you will be willing to allow that he, at least, has not been in fault. Though his life has by no means been what his friends could have wished it, he is a fine young fellow; and perhaps his errors have arisen as much from his unfortunate position as from any natural tendency to evil on his own part. He has been brought up to great expectations, with the immediate possession of a small fortune. These together have taught him to think that a profession was unnecessary for him, and he has been debarred from those occupations which generally fall in the way of the heir to a large landed property by the unfortunate fact of his entire separation from the estate which will one day be his. Had he been your son instead of your nephew, I think that his life would have been prosperous and useful. As it is, he has got into debt, and I fear that the remains of his own property will not more than suffice to free him from his liabilities. Of course he could raise money on his interest in the Newton estate. Hitherto he has not done so; and I am most anxious to save him from a course so ruinous;—as you will be also, I am sure. He has come to me for advice, and I grieve to say, has formed a project of placing himself right again as regards money by offering marriage to the daughter of a retail tradesman. I have reason to believe that hitherto he has not committed himself; but I think that the young woman's father would accept the offer, if made. The money, I do not doubt, would be forthcoming; but the result could not be fortunate. He would then have allied himself with people who are not fit to be his associates, and he would have tied himself to a wife who, whatever may be her merits as a woman, cannot be fit to be the mistress of Newton Priory. But I have not known what advice to give him. I have pointed out to him the miseries of such a match; and I have also told him how surely his prospects for the future would be ruined, were he to attempt to live on money borrowed on the uncertain security of his future inheritance. I have said so much as plainly as I know how to say it;—but I have been unable to point out a third course. I have not ventured to recommend him to make any application to you. It seems, however, to me, that I should be remiss in my duty both to him and to you were I not to make you acquainted with his circumstances,—so that you may interfere, should you please to do so, either on his behalf or on behalf of the property. Whatever offence there may have been, I think there can have been none personally from him to yourself. I beg you to believe that I am far from being desirous to dictate to you, or to point out to you this or that as your duty; but I venture to think that you will be obliged to me for giving you information which may lead to the protection of interests which cannot but be dear to you. In conclusion, I will only again say that Ralph himself is clever, well-conditioned, and, as I most truly believe, a thorough gentleman. Were the intercourse between you that of a father and son, I think you would feel proud of the relationship. I remain, dear sir, Very faithfully yours, Thomas Underwood. Gregory Newton, Esq., Newton Priory.   </blockquote> This was written on Friday night, and was posted on the Saturday morning by the faithful hand of Joseph Stemm;—who, however, did not hesitate to declare to himself, as he read the address, that his master was a fool for his pains. Stemm had never been favourable to the cause of young Newton, and had considered from the first that Sir Thomas should have declined the trust that had been imposed upon him. What good was to be expected from such a guardianship? And as things had gone on, proving Stemm's prophecies as to young Newton's career to be true, that trusty clerk had not failed to remind his master of his own misgivings. "I told you so," had been repeated by Stemm over and over again, in more phrases than one, until the repetition had made Sir Thomas very angry. Sir Thomas, when he gave the letter to Stemm for posting, said not a word of the contents; but Stemm knew something of old Mr. Gregory Newton and the Newton Priory estate. Stemm, moreover, could put two and two together. "He's a fool for his pains;—that's all," said Stemm, as he poked the letter into the box. During the whole of the next day the matter troubled Sir Thomas. What if Ralph should go at once to the breeches-maker's daughter,—the thought of whom made Sir Thomas very sick,—and commit himself before an answer should be received from Mr. Newton? It was only on Sunday that an idea struck him that he might still do something further to avoid the evil;—and with this object he despatched a note to Ralph, imploring him to wait for a few days before he would take any steps towards the desperate remedy of matrimony. Then he begged Ralph to call upon him again on the Wednesday morning. This note Ralph did not get till he went home on the Sunday evening;—at which time, as the reader knows, he had not as yet committed himself to the desperate remedy. On the following Tuesday Sir Thomas received the following letter from Mr. Newton:—   <blockquote> Newton Priory, 17th July, 186—. Dear Sir,— I have received your letter respecting Mr. Ralph Newton's affairs, in regard to which, as far as they concern himself, I am free to say that I do not feel much interest. But you are quite right in your suggestion that my solicitude in respect of the family property is very great. I need not trouble you by pointing out the nature of my solicitude, but may as well at once make an offer to you, which you, as Mr. Ralph Newton's friend, and as an experienced lawyer, can consider,—and communicate to him, if you think right to do so. It seems that he will be driven to raise money on his interest in this property. I have always felt that he would do so, and that from the habits of his life the property would be squandered before it came into his possession. Why should he not sell his reversion, and why should I not buy it? I write in ignorance, but I presume such an arrangement would be legal and honourable on my part. The sum to be given would be named without difficulty by an actuary. I am now fifty-five, and, I believe, in good health. You yourself will probably know within a few thousand pounds what would be the value of the reversion. A proper person would, however, be of course employed. I have saved money, but by no means enough for such an outlay as this. I would, however, mortgage the property or sell one half of it, if by doing so I could redeem the other half from Mr. Ralph Newton. You no doubt will understand exactly the nature of my offer, and will let me have an answer. I do not know that I can in any other way expedite Mr. Ralph Newton's course in life. I am, dear sir, Faithfully yours, Gregory Newton, Senior.   </blockquote> When Sir Thomas read this he was almost in greater doubt and difficulty than before. The measure proposed by the elder Newton was no doubt legal and honourable, but it could hardly be so carried out as to be efficacious. Ralph could only sell his share of the inheritance;—or rather his chance of inheriting the estate. Were he to die without a son before his uncle, then his brother would be the heir. The arrangement, however, if practicable, would at once make all things comfortable for Ralph, and would give him, probably, a large unembarrassed revenue,—so large, that the owner of it need certainly have recourse to no discreditable marriage as the means of extricating himself from present calamity. But then Sir Thomas had very strong ideas about a family property. Were Ralph's affairs, indeed, in such disorder as to make it necessary for him to abandon the great prospect of being Newton of Newton? If the breeches-maker's twenty thousand would suffice, surely the thing could be done on cheaper terms than those suggested by the old Squire,—and done without the intervention of Polly Neefit! <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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