Ralph Norbreck's Trust

Chapter I. Pkos And Cons

When Bertram, Bolland, and the prodigal son arrived at Carrington station, they found Mrs. Norbreck awaiting them on the platform. " Oh, my lad," she exclaimed in an agitated voice, as she laid her hand on Jacob's arm, "you have nearly broken my heart ; but I'm right fain to see you back. Come here into th5 waiting room ; I can hardly keep up." In the waiting-room she threw her arms round her son's neck and wept ; Jacob, to whom all this maternal tenderness came as a revelation, being silent with astonishment and confusion. VOL. II. B "Hoo 's bin a hard un," said Tim in an under tone to his master. " I shouldn't ha' thowt it on her. But mothers is aw alike at th' bottom — they care about nowt but their childer. I'll be bun (bound) now, as your aunt wouldn't tak it hoaf as ill if yo're uncle wor to dee as hoo has done at that lad running away.

Ay, Mr. Bertram, women's a queer lot, and that yo'll find out if ever yo' getten wed." Bertram was prevented from replying to this profound observation by the approach of his aunt. " I want to thank you for what you have done for us, Bertram," she said, drying her eyes ; " if it had not been for you I don't think as ever I should have seen my lad again. I know we haven't always been th' best o' friends, and your father wasn't very kind to me. But, after this, I shall allus look on you as my friend, whether you think th' same of me or not, and Tim there too, as you say has helped you so much. And your uncle, Bertram, is just of my mind, and he'd be very fain if you'd look o'er what's happened ; let bygones be bygones, and be to one another as you used to be." " That is impossible," returned Bertram de cidedly.

" Let bygones be bygones by all means, but I shall have nothing more to do with the business, if that is what you mean. I have other views." " I am very sorry to hear you say so, but I don't know as I can blame you," was Mrs. Norbreck's answer ; and after some further conversation on indifferent topics, she, Bertram, and Tim left for Wellsprings by train. Bertram said he had business in Carrington, and told his man to be at " The Earnsdale Arms " two hours later with the drag. He preferred driving home to going thither by rail. From the station Bertram went straight to Rooke's office. The lawyer knew of his journey to Liverpool, and congratulated him on its successful result. " Tour uncle will be very glad," he said. " He ought to be, I suppose. You know we have quarrelled ? " "Not seriously, I hope.

He told me he had been a little hasty and you a little warm, and that b you had left the office saying you would never return. But he does not believe you mean it, and I am sure he will be very glad to see you when you go back." Roger had not told the worst, then. Rooke did not know how desperate the quarrel had been — of the blows given and received. Bertram was both pleased and surprised; he had not expected that his uncle would show so much discretion, nor did it occur to him that the lawyer might know all, yet not deem it expedient to divulge the fact. " I don't know about his being glad," answered Bertram after a moment's silence, "but I shall certainly not resume my position in the business." "I am very sorry to hear you say so, Mr. Bertram. I trust you will think better of it." "That is not possible.

I have been thinking about it for a week, and the more I think the more resolved I become. My uncle and I have not pulled together for a long time, and we never shall pull together. If we were to piece up now we should fall out again before the year was over." "If that is the view you take of it there is nothing more to be said. You cannot be forced to go to the factory, and you have always your allowance, you know, and the use of Crow Nest. At the same time, your interests in the property are so great that I should think it would be -worth your while to look after it a little." "My uncle is quite able to look after the property without my help. At any rate, he gives so little heed to any suggestion of mine that the little good I might do by staying on is not worth a thought. You spoke of my allowance just now, Mr. Rooke.

Is it in the power of the* trustees to make me an advance of money — not much — a couple of thousand pounds or so for a special purpose ? " " Money ! " exclaimed Rooke, eyeing the young fellow keenly. " I hope you are not in debt, Mr. Bertram. I did not suppose " " No, indeed," answered Bertram, proudly. " I should scorn to be in debt. I wantthe money for a business purpose, which I will explain when you have told me whether the trustees can advance me this sum or not." The lawyer took from one of his drawers a copy of Ralph Norbreck's will, and turned over a few pages of it. "Yes," he said, "I believe we have the power; but, mind, I do not commit myself to a positive opinion until I have had time to consider the point. I find no expressed power, in so many words, to lend you money ; but as the trustees are authorised to deduct from the amount eventually to be paid to you any sum or sums they may have advanced out of the Trust funds, it almost seems as if the power were implied."

" Of course it is," said Bertram, rather scorn fully. " Anybody can see that." " Excuse me," returned Rooke, rather nettled ; " anybody cannot see that. These are terms of art which a layman may easily misunderstand. I must, as I said, consider the point more fully before I can give a decisive opinion. I may even find it necessary to take counsel's opinion." " Oh, bother counsel's opinion ! I must know in a few days, or it will be too late," and then Bertram described Lowe Middling's scheme and the part he desired to take therein. " A silver mine in South America ! I may be mistaken, you know, but it certainly strikes me as being rather a wild scheme," observed Rooke. " I strongly advise you to have nothing to do with it," he was going to add, but refrained, for he reflected that he had nothing to gain by thwarting the young fellow.

If Bertram went away to South America Roger would be altogether in his power, he could do with him what he liked ; and, although he had no distinct idea at that moment how he should turn the circumstance to account, he felt that it would be to his advantage " to let the young fool go." " A wild scheme ! Not at all," answered Bertram eagerly. "Don't you see that I shall have the chance of seeing for myself before deciding ? I am not a mining man, it is true, but I take a mining man with me, and by his opinion I shall, of course, be a good deal led. If I don't like the thing, I will have nothing more to do with it, and, in that case, all I can lose is fifty pounds." "Ah, I see, that throws an entirely new light upon it. There may be something in the affair after all. How long do you suppose you would be away ?

" "That depends. If I don't like the thing, I shall come back pretty soon, though when I am there I mean to see as much of the country as I can. But if I find all right I shall probably stay a long time. Lowe Middling hinted that I might, if I liked, stay at the mines as the company's representative." " Then you might stay out there until the end of the Trust ? " " That is very likely, I think." " Well, I will think the matter over and talk to your uncle. It depends more on him than on me, remember ; for though we may have the power to make you an advance we are certainly under no obligation to do so ; and as he is the senior trustee I am naturally bound to defer a great deal to his opinion." "He defers a great deal to your opinion, Mr. Rooke, and I am sure he will do whatever you advise," answered Bertram with a smile.

Rooke smiled too, and said he should write to Mr. Norbreck at once, asking him to call the next day, and Bertram went away very much pleased with the lawyer, and fully confident that his request would be granted. Now came the painful part of his task. As yet Alice and Mrs. Whalley were unaware of the breach with his uncle, much less of his intention to leave the country ; he knew they would try to turn him from his purpose, and as the difficulty of carrying it out diminished objections which he had hitherto overlooked began to obtrude themselves, doubts hitherto dormant cooled his courage. Never before had Crow Nest and its associations seemed so dear to him. How pleasant it was to drive with honest Tim up the old avenue, listen to the familiar cawing of the rooks among the elms, the friendly barking of the dogs in the farm yard, the lowing of the kine in the Bent pasture, and watch the blue smoke as it rose lazily from the quaint chimney-stacks and floated over the tree tops towards the brown moorlands he knew and loved so well.

And when he went into the old parlour, hallowed to him by the memories of his father and mother and seeming more comfortable and homelike than it had ever seemed before, Alice met him at the threshold, threw her arms round his neck, and raising her sweet, bonny face to his, almost smothered him with kisses. It was well; for just then Bertram could not have spoken a word to save his life. " What an age you have been away ! We were beginning to think we had lost you — were we not, Mrs. Whalley ? " " Not quite so bad as that," said the governess, as Bertram touched her cheek with his lips ; " a week is not an age. Still you were very much missed, and the subject of but there, I must not make you vain. You are very very welcome dear Bertie." " All the more so as you have news for us," put in Alice.

" You found that poor little Jacob, so you must have had adventures. Tell us all about them, please, first thing. I delight in adventures." "Are you going down to Wellsprings to night?" asked Mrs. Whalley when Bertram had finished his story. " You must have much to tell your uncle." "No," said Bertram drily. "I shall go down to Wellsprings neither to-night, nor to-morrow, nor the day after to-morrow," and then he told her all that had passed between his uncle and himself on the memorable day of the Earnsdales' call and his departure for Liverpool. Mrs. Whalley was deeply pained, Alice hotly indignant. " I cannot blame you," said the former. " You know how I have always counselled moderation and submission ; but there is a limit to everything, and no gentleman — no youth of spirit can submit to such treatment as you have received from your uncle.

You did right in resenting it„ and I applaud your resolution not to return to Well springs, grave as it is. But what will you do, Bertie ? You do not come into the property for two or three years. If your poor father could only have foreseen ! " " I am going to South America," said Bertram slowly and gravely. " To South America ! " exclaimed Mrs. Whalley, falling back in her chair as if somebody had struck her. " To South America ! " echoed Alice, turning pale. " Yes, South America. A voyage to South America is nothing now adays — at any rate nothing to be alarmed about. It is not like going to Australia or New Zealand, you know." " It is not the voyage that I fear, Bertie," exclaimed Alice, throwing her arms round his neck a second time ; " it is your going away and the long, long separation.

Don't go ! Oh, Bertie, please, don't go ! " " Don't be foolish, you little woman," said Bertram, returning her caress. " I am not sure that it will be a long separation. I may be back in three or four months, and it is not certain yet that I shall go. Let me tell you all about it." " Then your going depends on uncle letting you have two thousand pounds," said Alice, when he had told them all about it. " I hope he will not let you have it. I have a great mind to go to Wellsprings this moment and ask him not to ; and I hate that Mr. Lowe Middling who has put it into your head." " Have you thought it well over, Bertie ? Do you think it right ? " asked Mrs. Whalley, and she glanced significantly at Alice. " I know what you mean, Mrs. Whalley. Yes, it will be hard to leave my sister, and you think, perhaps, I should not leave her.

But she is in good hands; she has the trustees and she has you, and you can take care of her without me just as well as you can take care of her with me. And then, how could I remain here more than two years, having no position in the business, no authority on the estate, and on unfriendly terms with my uncle ? " " That is quite true," replied Mrs. Whalley sympathetically ; " but South America is a long way off, and three years a long time to look forward to. Who can tell what may happen before you come back ? " Just then Bertram was called out to see a man from Wellsprings, who wanted to speak to him at the door. " It is no use trying to dissuade him, Alice," said Mrs. Whalley, with a sorrowful shake of the head. " He is quite set on, as they say here, and nothing we can say will keep him at home.

I am not surprised, and I do not blame him. I daresay if I were a young man I should do the same. But there is one thing, Alice — if he does go we will not stay here." " Not stay here ! What shall we do, then ? " " Travel. You require now better masters than we can get at Carrington. We will stay for a while in London, and then go somewhere on the Conti nent. I shall propose to the trustees to shut up Crow Nest, and as our travelling expenses need not exceed the cost of housekeeping, they are sure to consent, I think." " Yes, that would be very nice. I want to go on the Continent almost as much as Bertie wants to go to South America," said Alice; "and life here without him would be intolerable." Two days afterwards Bertram received a letter from Rooke, asking him to call at the office on the following afternoon.

He called accordingly, and rather to his surprise found his uncle, whom he had not seen since their quarrel, in the lawyer's room. Roger seemed unusually quiet and subdued, and his greeting was shy and embarrassed, as if, Bertram thought, he felt a little ashamed of himself. " Your uncle and I have given your application for an advance of two thousand pounds from the trust funds our serious consideration," said Rooke, slowly and with an air of importance, " and I have asked you to meet us here in order that you may learn our decision. We have decided, on conditions which I shall presently set forth, and without offering any opinion on the use you propose to make of the money, or accepting the slightest responsi bility in connection therewith, to accede to your request. The conditions are these : The loan must be secured by being made a first charge on your reversion under your father's will; it must bear interest, payable half yearly, at the rate of five per cent, per annum — the amount thereof to be deducted from your allowance, which will thereby be reduced to four hundred pounds a year — and, finally, you will be required to defray all the legal and other expenses arising out of the matter.

Do you accept the conditions ? " " Certainly," replied Bertram. The conditions were better than he had dared to expect ; he had feared they might propose to abolish his allowance altogether. " Good. The papers will be ready for your signature, and the money at your disposal, this day week, and I trust the venture in which you are about to engage will turn out to your satisfaction." "I trust so, too," said Roger, rising from his chair. "Two thousand pounds is a good deal of money, and South America is a long way off. I am loath for you to go, but I don't suppose anything I could say would turn you from your purpose. You were very good about Jacob. I hope you will think kindly of us when you are gone. I loved your father, Bertram, I did, and " The old man's voice trembled, and his eyes filled with tears.

Bertram was touched ; he took Roger's hand and pressed it warmly. "Yes, uncle, we will always think kindly of each other — why shouldn't we ? Let everything unpleasant be forgotten, if only for my father's sake. I will see you again before I go." As Bertram walked from Rooke's office towards " The Earnsdale Arms," where he had left faithful Tim and old Smiler, misgivings as to the expe diency of the course he was pursuing again crossed his mind. Was he acting rightly, he asked himself, in going away without making yet another effort to work with his uncle; and although he pondered the question long and deeply he did not succeed in finding an answer which fully satisfied both judg ment and conscience. But he had gone too far to retreat — or thought he had — and he wrote by the following post to Lowe Middling, accepting his offer and agreeing to go out to South America on condition that, in the event of a company being definitively constituted he should have the option of becoming resident agent at the mines. VOL. II. o

Chapter II

alan's hope. The rather large kitchen of a small farmhouse; a sanded stone floor, in the middle of which stands a round deal table. In the middle of this, again, stands a big brown mug, surrounded, at a respectable distance, by a number of white basins, each containing an iron spoon. Overhead hangs a big bread cratch, filled with oat cakes and flanked by a side of bacon, two or three hams and a round of " hung " beef. A collection of pewter plates and brass candlesticks adorns the mantelpiece ; the long dresser is topped by a tall pot-rail. A few straw-bottomed chairs and two or three settles are ranged round the room, one corner of which is filled up by an oaken cupboard, another by an ancient clock in an oaken case. In an arm-chair near the hearth reposes our friend Caleb Cuerdale, smoking a long pipe and thoughtfully watching his wife as she stirs, with a thible like a miniature oar, an immense pan of porridge; and on a settle near the lozenge-paned window, their son, Alan, is poring over a volume of Goethe.

" That's them," exclaimed Mrs. Cuerdale, as a sound of approaching clogs was heard faintly in the distance ; whereupon Caleb clapped down his pipe, rose from his chair, and, lifting off the fire the big pan, poured the contents of it into the big brown mug, his wife meanwhile filling each of the white basins with milk. Hardly was this done when the door opened with a bang and half-a-dozen lads and lasses clattered into the kitchen. "Come on, Alan," cried one of the lads, as they drew up to the table. Alan laid down his Goethe with a sigh and took his place with the others. There was not much ceremony. The spoons were first dipped into the porridge pot, then into the milk basins, o and the contents conveyed to their destination with marvellous rapidity. The mug was emptied almost as fast as it had been filled.

Then Mrs. Cuerdale, who had meanwhile been busy at the dresser, served each of her children with an enormous slice of bread-and-butter. Alan, who had not made very vigorous play with his spoon, pushed his portion aside, rose from his chair, and, making a muttered excuse about having something to do in the stable, went out of the house. " What's to do wi' Alan to-neet ? " asked Mary Cuerdale. " He seems put out o' th' way." "He [is that," said the farmer, "and so am I. It's about th' young mayster going away." " Yo've yerd, then — it's true ! " "Ay, is it. Alan met him this afternoon when he was out wi' th' cart. He's to go up to Crow Nest o' Saturday neet. Alan thinks a deal o' th' young mayster, he does that." "He's weel thowt on by everybody. It's a gradely bad job, his going away." " Thou art reyt, lass, it is," returned the farmer with great energy of manner, " a gradely bad job, both for th' tenants and th' factory folks.

It's aw along o' that Roger, as is too near to let onybody live but hissel — d n him." " Hush, Caleb, don't swear," said Mrs. Cuerdale severely, " it isn't recht, and if Mr. Norbreck heard as you used sic like language about him it might be bad for us. Yes, I am very sorry; but it's waur for Alan than ony other body — he'll lose th' best fren' as he has, and it's sometimes been borne on my mind as th' young mayster might happen do summat for th' lad, he seems to set so much store on him." " I don't think as Alan has ever had such a thought, mother," said Mary warmly; "it's Mr. Bertram's going away as is fretting him, and nowt at all else." " I did not say no different, bairn. But we may have wer thowts and wer hopes, maan't us?" observed Mrs. Cuerdale, who, as her twang denoted, came from the neighbourhood of Morecambe Bay.

"Well, to tell th' truth," said Caleb, "I've thowt th' same mysel at times. But never mind ; th' lad's doing vary weel as he is. Book laming is a very fine thing, I darsay ; but it is not o' much use to a poor mon, as far as I can see. A bit o' coal-rake sense (a capacity for making money) 'ud tell a different tale, and our Alan hasn't getten a bit." The object of these remarks was meanwhile seated on an up-ended bucket in the stable. For a wonder, he was without a book. He could not read, he could hardly think, or, rather, he could hardly think of anything save Bertram Norbreck — and somebody else. His dearest, his best friend, whom he loved as Jonathan loved David, was going away to a foreign land. No more peeps into Elysium, no more evenings at Crow Nest, no more seeing Alice, no more touches of her soft hand — gone for him her pleasant railleries, her pretty coquetries, the music of her silvery voice — all gone.

But who was he that he should think thus of one so much above him — a young lady of fortune who lived in a grand house, and was beautiful and rich enough to marry a lord ? And she scorned him and laughed at his rough ways, his coarse clothing, and his big hands — he knew she did. How could it be otherwise ? And when Bertram was gone she would never think of him or look at him again. He wondered if she would be at home on Saturday night. Bertram had asked him up to supper, the last time, it might be, for years — perhaps for ever. Yes, just one more peep into Elysium, and then — darkness. When Saturday night came, poor Alan donned himself with unusual care, put on his best holiday shirt, and almost washed the skin off his hands in the effort to free them from the stains of work. The servant who opened the door showed him into the morning room, and he sat down alone, and looked at every object in it as if he might never see them more.

He took up a book and turned over a page or two ; it was no use, he could not read a word, and he put it down again with a sigh. As he sighed the door opened softly, and in stepped — not Bertram, but Alice. " My brother will be with you presently, Alan," she said, offering him her hand; "you have come a little sooner than he expected, and he is just finishing a letter. You look very sorry. I knew you would be when you heard." She had never spoken in this way to him before, and he could see that she was little less downspirited than himself. "Your brother is my best friend, Miss Nor breck; he has been more to me than a brother, and when a man is going to lose his best friend, how can he help showing his sorrow ? Everything seems dark to me. I feel as if life were not worth living." " Poor Alan ! not so bad as that, I hope.

Bertie will not be away always, you know ; and he told me a little secret to-day that, when you know it, will, I am sure, give you pleasure, and perhaps — but no, I am saying too much. He must tell you himself." Alan shook his head and smiled sadly, as if he were doomed never to know pleasure more ; yet he felt as if he would willingly be torn in pieces by wild horses to hear her say " Poor Alan " in that pitying, sympathetic voice again. " Oh, you must keep up your courage. Who knows ? You will perhaps be a great man one of these days, and then we shall all be proud of you — shall we not, Bertie ? " " Proud of whom ? " asked her brother, who had entered the room as she spoke. " Of Alan here, when he is a great man. I was trying to cheer him a little. He seems so low about your going away."

" Low-spirited ! Come, that will never do, Alan. You will make me low-spirited too if you go on in that way. Why, I shall be back almost before you know I am gone. Meanwhile But I will tell you all about that afterwards. I must first tell you about this South American business. Draw up to the fire, Alan. Will you stay, Alice, or go to Mrs. Whalley ? " " I'll stay if you will let me. We shall not be together many times more, you know." " We three," laughed Bertram, as he lighted a cigar ; " not this year, perhaps, but often, I hope, in the years to come when Alan here realises your anticipation, and becomes a great man, and I return from the Spanish Main with a shipload of silver." And then he went on to tell his friend of all that had come to pass since he last saw him. The day before he had been to Liverpool a second time, and ascertained from Lowe Middling that he and his associates willingly accepted Bertram's con dition as to appointing him resident agent.

The mining captain was already engaged, and Mr. Dunbar wanted them to sail as soon as possible. On his way to Southampton Bertram was to spend a day or two with that gentleman, read through his correspondence with Rivaz, and otherwise inform himself touching the matters which it concerned him to know. Bertram had further ascertained that the mines were neither in Chili nor Peru, "nor any of those places," as Lowe Middling had vaguely put it, but near a place called El Dorado, in Venezuela — whereabouts in that country he had not the most remote idea — it was not marked in any atlas he possessed. " Let me look," said Alice, whereupon an atlas was produced, and, the map of Venezuela being turned up, all put their heads together and looked hard at it for a long time, but without finding any El Dorado.