Borderland : $b a country-town chronicleFothergill, Jessie
General
Borderland : $b a country-town chronicle
Fothergill, Jessie
English fiction -- 19th century
‘If it were twenty thousand, it would make no difference,’ said Roger
slowly, for he had been working the thing out in his mind. ‘I can see
where it is. Do you suppose Michael could have got beside himself in
that way, just because he was disappointed of money that he had
expected? He thinks too little of it for that. If every penny had been
left at his own disposal, I have very little doubt he would have left it
entirely in Gilbert’s hands, for he thought all the world of his
business capacities. It is the treachery, not the money. When I think
how Gilbert has sneaked—sneaked, all through it——’ Roger stamped his
foot. ‘It shows you ought never to trust any one, least of all your
nearest relations. Where Michael trusts, he trusts with his whole heart,
just in the same way that he loves. He trusted Gilbert and he trusted
his father, and they have cheated and duped him like a couple of
blacklegs. I hope Master Gilbert’s greed will avenge itself on his own
head, and I wish a pest upon every penny of his ill-gotten inheritance.
It isn’t the money only that Michael has lost; it’s his faith and his
trust: it is his brother, that’s what it is. That isn’t a loss you get
over in a moment, even if your brother dies; and Michael has lost
Gilbert in a worse way than if he had been burying him to-day beside
their father. That’s about it. He will never get over it, to be the same
again.’
‘I’m afraid not—I’m afraid not.’
‘He would not be what he is if he could,’ said Roger.
‘How can one console him?’
‘Nohow. It isn’t to be done.’
‘What can I say to him, my poor lad?’
‘Nothing, if you’ll believe me. I can tell you I shall not speak of it.
There are things no one ought to meddle with, unless they are opened out
to one. I know why he sent for me—it was in order that he might not have
to enter into the whole business again. He wanted it done with, sealed
up, that I might know he had no brother any more. You can’t very well
talk to a man of a relation he hasn’t got, and I shall keep my mouth
shut.’
‘I will try,’ said Dr. Rowntree; ‘but if I see him looking very
miserable, I don’t think I can keep quiet.’
‘You won’t see Michael looking miserable, I can tell you that. My time
is up,’ added Roger, looking at his watch. ‘I must go back to my work.’
He left the house, with the thought just come into his mind, ‘After all,
I shall have to speak to him. I don’t see how how I can stay in this
shop any longer, after the treatment he has had.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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