Mr. Sturgeon sat silent, revolving many things in his mind. He was one
of the few people who had seen old Tredgold after his daughter’s
flight; he had heard him say with the calmest countenance, and his hands
on his knees, “God damn them!” and though he was an attorney and old,
and had not much imagination, a shiver ran through Sturgeon’s mind, if
not through his body. Was it as a way of damning her that the old fellow
had let all this money come to his undutiful child?
“So you see,” said Stella with grave triumph, as one who feels that she
has reasoned well, “I am tied up so that I cannot move. If you say, Will
I upset papa’s will? I answer, No, not for all the world! He says it
quite plain--there is no doubt as to what he meant. He kept it by him
for years and never changed it, though he was angry with me. Therefore I
cannot, whom he has trusted so much and been so kind to, upset his will.
Oh, no, no! If Katherine will accept a present, well, she shall have a
present,” cried Stella with a great air of magnanimity, “but I will do
nothing that would look like flying in the face of papa.”
“By Jove! she is right there, don’t-ye-know,” said the heavy dragoon,
looking up at the man of law, with great pride in his clever wife.
“I suppose she is--in a kind of way,” Mr. Sturgeon said. He was a
humiliated man--he was beaten even in argument. He did not know how to
answer this little sharp woman with her superficial logic. It was old
Tredgold’s money; if he wanted it to go in a particular way, why should
his will be gainsaid? He had wished it to go to Stella, he had
remorselessly cut out her sister; the quick-witted creature had the
adversary at a disadvantage. Old Tredgold had not been a just or noble
man. He had no character or credit to keep up. It was quite likely that
he fully intended to produce this very imbroglio, and to make both his
daughters unhappy. Not that Stella would make herself unhappy or disturb
her composure with feeling over the subject. She was standing against
the big chair covered with red velvet in which old Tredgold used to sit.
Nobody cared about that chair or had any associations with it; it had
been pushed out of the way because it was so big, and the mass of its
red cover threw up the figure of Stella before it with her black dress
and her fair crisped hair. She was triumphant, full of energy and
spirit, a princess come into her kingdom, not a new heir troubled with
the responsibilities of inheritance. It would not disturb her that
Katherine should have nothing, that poor old Bob Tredgold should starve.
She was quite strong enough to put her foot on both and never feel a
pang.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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