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How It All Came Round, a fiction by L. T. Meade |
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Chapter 55. How Sandy Wilson Speaks Out His Mind |
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_ CHAPTER LV. HOW SANDY WILSON SPEAKS OUT HIS MIND Early in the morning, the father and daughter met. Not very many words passed between them. Mr. Harman knew that Mrs. Home had told Charlotte all. Now, coming to his side, she put her arms about him, and knelt, looking into his face. "Charlotte, you know what I have been," he said. "Father, I know what you are now," she answered. After these few words, she would scarcely allow him to speak again, for he was very weak, too weak to leave his bed; but later on, in the course of the day, they had a long talk together, and Charlotte told her father of her own suffering during the past weeks. There was no longer need of concealment between them, and Charlotte made none. It was a very few days later that two trustees of the late Mr. Harman's will saw each other for the first time. Sandy Wilson had often looked forward to the moment when he could speak out his mind as to the enormity of the crime committed by Mr. Harman. Hitherto, this worthy man had felt that in this respect circumstances had been hard on him. _His_ Daisy, his pretty little gentle sister, had been treated as hardly, as cruelly, as woman could be treated, and yet the robber--for was he not just a common robber?--had got off scot free; he was to get off scot free to the very end; he was to be let die in peace; and afterwards, his innocent child, his only daughter, must bear the brunt of his misdeeds. She must be put to grief and shame, while he, the one on whose head the real sin lay, escaped. Sandy felt that it would have been some slight relief to his wounded feelings if he could find some one to whom he could thoroughly and heartily abuse Mr. Harman. But even this satisfaction was denied him. Mr. Home was a man who would listen to abuse of none; and even Charlotte, though her eyes did flash when his name was mentioned, even she was simply silent, and to all the rest of the world Sandy must keep the thing a secret. There was no doubt whatever that when, the day after Mr. Harman's confession, the Homes came to Uncle Sandy and told him, not only all, but also that at any moment he might receive a summons to visit Mr. Harman, he felt a sense of exultation; also that his exultation was caused, not by the fact that his niece would now get back her own, for he had supplied her immediate need for money, but by the joyful sense that at last, at last, he, Sandy, could speak out his full mind. He could show this bad man, about whom every one was so strangely, so absurdly silent, what _he_ thought of his conduct to his dear little sister. He went away to Prince's Gate, when at last the summons came, bristling over with a quite delightful sense of power. How well he would speak! how cleverly he would insert the arrow of remorse into that cruel heart! As he entered the house he was met by Miss Harman. She held out her hand to him without a word, and led him to the door of her father's study. Her eyes, however, as she looked at him for a moment, were eloquent. Those eyes of hers had exercised a power over him in Somerset House; they were full of pleading now. He went into Mr. Harman's presence softened, a little confused, and with his many excellent, to the point, and scathing remarks running riot in his brain. Thus it came to pass that Sandy said no word of reproach to the broken-down man who greeted him. Nay, far from reproaching, he felt himself sharing in the universal pity. Where God's hand was smiting hard, how could man dare to raise his puny arm? The two trustees, meeting for the first time after all these years, talked long over that neglected, that unfulfilled trust, and steps were put in train to restore to Charlotte Home what had for so many years been held back from her. This large sum, with all back interest, would make the once poor Charlotte very rich indeed. There would still be, after all was settled, something left for Charlotte Harman, but the positions of the two were now virtually reversed. "There is one thing which still puzzles me," said Mr. Harman before they parted. "Leaving my terrible share in this matter alone, my brother and I could never have carried out our scheme if you had not been supposed to be dead. How is it you gave no sign of your existence for three and twenty years? My brother even wrote me word from Australia that he had himself stood on your grave." "He stood on the grave of Sandy Wilson, but never on mine," answered the other trustee. "There was a fellow bearing my name, who was with me in the Bush. He was the same age. He was like me too in general outline; big, with red hair and all that kind of thing. His name was put into the papers, and I remember wondering if the news would reach home, and if my little Daisy--bless her!--would think it was me. I was frightfully poor at the time, I had scarcely sixpence to bless myself with, and somehow, your father, sir, though he did eventually trust me, as circumstances proved, yet he gave me to understand that in marrying the sister he by no means intended to take the brother to his bosom. I said to myself, 'A poor lost dog like Sandy may as well appear to be dead to those at home. I love no one in England but my little Daisy, and she does not need me, she has abundance without me.' So I ceased to write. I had gone to a part of the country where even an English paper reached us but once or twice a year. I heard nothing of the old home; and by degrees I got out of the habit of writing. I was satisfied to be considered dead. I did wrong, I confess." "By coming back, by proclaiming your existence, you could have exposed me years ago," said Mr. Harman; "how I dreaded exposure; how little I knew, when it did come, that it would fall lightly in comparison with----" "What?" asked Wilson. "The awful frown of God's displeasure. Man, to be shut away from God through your own sin is to be in hell. I have dwelt there for three and twenty years. Until two nights ago, I have known no peace; now, I know God can forgive even such a sin as mine." "I believe you have suffered, Mr. Harman," answered Wilson. "For the matter of that, we are all poor sinners. God have mercy upon us all!" "Amen," said Mr. Harman. And that was all the reproof Sandy ever found in his heart to give to his fellow trustee. _ |
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