Complete Works of Bram Stoker (336 page)

And now let me say, my dear boy, that your letter has given me the most intense pleasure.  It is an unspeakable delight to me to find in the son of your father  —  a man whom I loved, and a boy whom I love  —  the same generosity of spirit which endeared your father to all his comrades, old as well as young.  Come what may, I shall always be proud of you; and if the sword of an old soldier  —  it is all I have  —  can ever serve you in any way, it and its master’s life are, and shall be, whilst life remains to him, yours.

It grieves me to think that Janet cannot, through my act, be given that ease and tranquillity of spirit which come from competence.  But, my dear Rupert, you will be of full age in seven years more.  Then, if you are in the same mind  —  and I am sure you will not change  —  you, being your own master, can do freely as you will.  In the meantime, to secure, so far as I can, my dear Janet against any malign stroke of fortune, I have given orders to my factor to remit semi-annually to Janet one full half of such income as may be derived in any form from my estate of Croom.  It is, I am sorry to say, heavily mortgaged; but of such as is  —  or may be, free from such charge as the mortgage entails  —  something at least will, I trust, remain to her.  And, my dear boy, I can frankly say that it is to me a real pleasure that you and I can be linked in one more bond in this association of purpose.  I have always held you in my heart as though you were my own son.  Let me tell you now that you have acted as I should have liked a son of my own, had I been blessed with one, to have acted.  God bless you, my dear.

Yours ever,
Colin Alex. Mackelpie.

Letter from Roger Melton
,
of Openshaw Grange
,
to Rupert Sent Leger
,
Esq.
, 14,
Newland Park
,
Dulwich
,
London
,
S.E.

July
1, 1892.

My dear Nephew,

Your letter of the 30th ult. received.  Have carefully considered matter stated, and have come to the conclusion that my duty as a trustee would not allow me to give full consent, as you wish.  Let me explain.  The testator, in making her will, intended that such fortune as she had at disposal should be used to supply to you her son such benefits as its annual product should procure.  To this end, and to provide against wastefulness or foolishness on your part, or, indeed, against any generosity, howsoever worthy, which might impoverish you and so defeat her benevolent intentions regarding your education, comfort, and future good, she did not place the estate directly in your hands, leaving you to do as you might feel inclined about it.  But, on the contrary, she entrusted the corpus of it in the hands of men whom she believed should be resolute enough and strong enough to carry out her intent, even against any cajolements or pressure which might be employed to the contrary.  It being her intention, then, that such trustees as she appointed would use for your benefit the interest accruing annually from the capital at command,
and that only
(as specifically directed in the will), so that on your arriving at full age the capital entrusted to us should be handed over to you intact, I find a hard-and-fast duty in the matter of adhering exactly to the directions given.  I have no doubt that my co-trustees regard the matter in exactly the same light.  Under the circumstances, therefore, we, the trustees, have not only a single and united duty towards you as the object of the testator’s wishes, but towards each other as regards the manner of the carrying out of that duty.  I take it, therefore, that it would not be consonant with the spirit of the trust or of our own ideas in accepting it that any of us should take a course pleasant to himself which would or might involve a stern opposition on the part of other of the co-trustees.  We have each of us to do the unpleasant part of this duty without fear or favour.  You understand, of course, that the time which must elapse before you come into absolute possession of your estate is a limited one.  As by the terms of the will we are to hand over our trust when you have reached the age of twenty-one, there are only seven years to expire.  But till then, though I should gladly meet your wishes if I could, I must adhere to the duty which I have undertaken.  At the expiration of that period you will be quite free to divest yourself of your estate without protest or comment of any man.

Having now expressed as clearly as I can the limitations by which I am bound with regard to the corpus of your estate, let me say that in any other way which is in my power or discretion I shall be most happy to see your wishes carried out so far as rests with me.  Indeed, I shall undertake to use what influence I may possess with my co-trustees to induce them to take a similar view of your wishes.  In my own thinking you are quite free to use your own property in your own way.  But as, until you shall have attained your majority, you have only life-user in your mother’s bequest, you are only at liberty to deal with the annual increment.  On our part as trustees we have a first charge on that increment to be used for purposes of your maintenance, clothes, and education.  As to what may remain over each half-year, you will be free to deal with it as you choose.  On receiving from you a written authorization to your trustees, if you desire the whole sum or any part of it to be paid over to Miss Janet MacKelpie, I shall see that it is effected.  Believe me, that our duty is to protect the corpus of the estate, and to this end we may not act on any instruction to imperil it.  But there our warranty stops.  We can deal during our trusteeship with the corpus only.  Further, lest there should arise any error on your part, we can deal with any general instruction for only so long as it may remain unrevoked.  You are, and must be, free to alter your instructions or authorizations at any time.  Thus your latest document must be used for our guidance.

As to the general principle involved in your wish I make no comment.  You are at liberty to deal with your own how you will.  I quite understand that your impulse is a generous one, and I fully believe that it is in consonance with what had always been the wishes of my sister.  Had she been happily alive and had to give judgment of your intent, I am convinced that she would have approved.  Therefore, my dear nephew, should you so wish, I shall be happy for her sake as well as your own to pay over on your account (as a confidential matter between you and me), but from my own pocket, a sum equal to that which you wish transferred to Miss Janet MacKelpie.  On hearing from you I shall know how to act in the matter.  With all good wishes,

Believe me to be,
Your affectionate uncle,
Roger Melton.

To Rupert Sent Leger, Esq.

Letter from Rupert Sent Leger to Roger Melton
,

July
5, 1892.

My Dear Uncle,

Thank you heartily for your kind letter.  I quite understand, and now see that I should not have asked you as a trustee, such a thing.  I see your duty clearly, and agree with your view of it.  I enclose a letter directed to my trustees, asking them to pay over annually till further direction to Miss Janet MacKelpie at this address whatever sum may remain over from the interest of my mother’s bequest after deduction of such expenses as you may deem fit for my maintenance, clothing, and education, together with a sum of one pound sterling per month, which was the amount my dear mother always gave me for my personal use  —  “pocket-money,” she called it.

With regard to your most kind and generous offer to give to my dear Aunt Janet the sum which I would have given myself, had such been in my power, I thank you most truly and sincerely, both for my dear aunt (to whom, of course, I shall not mention the matter unless you specially authorize me) and myself.  But, indeed, I think it will be better not to offer it.  Aunt Janet is very proud, and would not accept any benefit.  With me, of course, it is different, for since I was a wee child she has been like another mother to me, and I love her very much.  Since my mother died  —  and she, of course, was all-in-all to me  —  there has been no other.  And in such a love as ours pride has no place.  Thank you again, dear uncle, and God bless you.

Your loving nephew,
Rupert Sent Leger.

ERNEST ROGER HALBARD MELTON’S RECORD  — 
Continued
.

And now
re
the remaining one of Sir Geoffrey’s children, Roger.  He was the third child and third son, the only daughter, Patience, having been born twenty years after the last of the four sons.  Concerning Roger, I shall put down all I have heard of him from my father and grandfather.  From my grand-aunt I heard nothing, I was a very small kid when she died; but I remember seeing her, but only once.  A very tall, handsome woman of a little over thirty, with very dark hair and light-coloured eyes.  I think they were either grey or blue, but I can’t remember which.  She looked very proud and haughty, but I am bound to say that she was very nice to me.  I remember feeling very jealous of Rupert because his mother looked so distinguished.  Rupert was eight years older than me, and I was afraid he would beat me if I said anything he did not like.  So I was silent except when I forgot to be, and Rupert said very unkindly, and I think very unfairly, that I was “A sulky little beast.”  I haven’t forgot that, and I don’t mean to.  However, it doesn’t matter much what he said or thought.  There he is  —  if he is at all  —  where no one can find him, with no money or nothing, for what little he had he settled when he came of age, on the MacSkelpie.  He wanted to give it to her when his mother died, but father, who was a trustee, refused; and Uncle Roger, as I call him, who is another, thought the trustees had no power to allow Rupert to throw away his matrimony, as I called it, making a joke to father when he called it patrimony.  Old Sir Colin MacSkelpie, who is the third, said he couldn’t take any part in such a permission, as the MacSkelpie was his niece.  He is a rude old man, that.  I remember when, not remembering his relationship, I spoke of the MacSkelpie, he caught me a clip on the ear that sent me across the room.  His Scotch is very broad.  I can hear him say, “Hae some attempt at even Soothern manners, and dinna misca’ yer betters, ye young puddock, or I’ll wring yer snoot!”  Father was, I could see, very much offended, but he didn’t say anything.  He remembered, I think, that the General is a V.C. man, and was fond of fighting duels.  But to show that the fault was not his,
he
wrung
my
ear  —  and the same ear too!  I suppose he thought that was justice!  But it’s only right to say that he made up for it afterwards.  When the General had gone he gave me a five-pound note.

I don’t think Uncle Roger was very pleased with the way Rupert behaved about the legacy, for I don’t think he ever saw him from that day to this.  Perhaps, of course, it was because Rupert ran away shortly afterwards; but I shall tell about that when I come to him.  After all, why should my uncle bother about him?  He is not a Melton at all, and I am to be Head of the House  —  of course, when the Lord thinks right to take father to Himself!  Uncle Roger has tons of money, and he never married, so if he wants to leave it in the right direction he needn’t have any trouble.  He made his money in what he calls “the Eastern Trade.”  This, so far as I can gather, takes in the Levant and all east of it.  I know he has what they call in trade “houses” in all sorts of places  —  Turkey, and Greece, and all round them, Morocco, Egypt, and Southern Russia, and the Holy Land; then on to Persia, India, and all round it; the Chersonese, China, Japan, and the Pacific Islands.  It is not to be expected that we landowners can know much about trade, but my uncle covers  —  or alas! I must say “covered”  —  a lot of ground, I can tell you.  Uncle Roger was a very grim sort of man, and only that I was brought up to try and be kind to him I shouldn’t ever have dared to speak to him.  But when was a child father and mother  —  especially mother  —  forced me to go and see him and be affectionate to him.  He wasn’t ever even civil to me, that I can remember  —  grumpy old bear!  But, then, he never saw Rupert at all, so that I take it Master R  —  - is out of the running altogether for testamentary honours.  The last time I saw him myself he was distinctly rude.  He treated me as a boy, though I was getting on for eighteen years of age.  I came into his office without knocking; and without looking up from his desk, where he was writing, he said: “Get out!  Why do you venture to disturb me when I’m busy?  Get out, and be damned to you!”  I waited where I was, ready to transfix him with my eye when he should look up, for I cannot forget that when my father dies I shall be Head of my House.  But when he did there was no transfixing possible.  He said quite coolly:

“Oh, it’s you, is it?  I thought it was one of my office boys.  Sit down, if you want to see me, and wait till I am ready.”  So I sat down and waited.  Father always said that I should try to conciliate and please my uncle.  Father is a very shrewd man, and Uncle Roger is a very rich one.

But I don’t think Uncle R  —  - is as shrewd as he thinks he is.  He sometimes makes awful mistakes in business.  For instance, some years ago he bought an enormous estate on the Adriatic, in the country they call the “Land of Blue Mountains.”  At least, he says he bought it.  He told father so in confidence.  But he didn’t show any title-deeds, and I’m greatly afraid he was “had.”  A bad job for me that he was, for father believes he paid an enormous sum for it, and as I am his natural heir, it reduces his available estate to so much less.

And now about Rupert.  As I have said, he ran away when he was about fourteen, and we did not hear about him for years.  When we  —  or, rather, my father  —  did hear of him, it was no good that he heard.  He had gone as a cabin-boy on a sailing ship round the Horn.  Then he joined an exploring party through the centre of Patagonia, and then another up in Alaska, and a third to the Aleutian Islands.  After that he went through Central America, and then to Western Africa, the Pacific Islands, India, and a lot of places.  We all know the wisdom of the adage that “A rolling stone gathers no moss”; and certainly, if there be any value in moss, Cousin Rupert will die a poor man.  Indeed, nothing will stand his idiotic, boastful wastefulness.  Look at the way in which, when he came of age, he made over all his mother’s little fortune to the MacSkelpie! I am sure that, though Uncle Roger made no comment to my father, who, as Head of our House, should, of course, have been informed, he was not pleased.  My mother, who has a good fortune in her own right, and has had the sense to keep it in her own control  —  as I am to inherit it, and it is not in the entail, I am therefore quite impartial  —  I can approve of her spirited conduct in the matter.  We never did think much of Rupert, anyhow; but now, since he is in the way to be a pauper, and therefore a dangerous nuisance, we look on him as quite an outsider.  We know what he really is.  For my own part, I loathe and despise him.  Just now we are irritated with him, for we are all kept on tenterhooks regarding my dear Uncle Roger’s Will.  For Mr. Trent, the attorney who regulated my dear uncle’s affairs and has possession of the Will, says it is necessary to know where every possible beneficiary is to be found before making the Will public, so we all have to wait.  It is especially hard on me, who am the natural heir.  It is very thoughtless indeed of Rupert to keep away like that.  I wrote to old MacSkelpie about it, but he didn’t seem to understand or to be at all anxious  —  he is not the heir!  He said that probably Rupert Sent Leger  —  he, too, keeps to the old spelling  —  did not know of his uncle’s death, or he would have taken steps to relieve our anxiety.  Our anxiety, forsooth!  We are not anxious; we only wish to
know
.  And if we  —  and especially me  —  who have all the annoyance of thinking of the detestable and unfair death-duties, are anxious, we should be so.  Well, anyhow, he’ll get a properly bitter disappointment and set down when he does turn up and discovers that he is a pauper without hope!