Leonora | Page 7

dropped the 'Signal,' which slid to the hearthrug with a
rustle, and turned his head so that he could just see the left side of his
wife's face and her left hand as it moved over the keys of the piano. She
played with gentle monotony, and her playing seemed perfunctory, yet
agreeable. John watched the glinting of the four rings on her left hand,
and the slow undulations of the drooping lace at her wrist. He moved
twice, and she knew he was about to speak.
'I say, Leonora,' he said in a confidential tone.
'Yes, my dear,' she responded, complying generously with his appeal
for sympathy. She continued to play for a moment, but even more
softly; and then, as he kept silence, she revolved on the piano-stool and
looked into his face.

'What is it?' she asked in a caressing voice, intensifying her femininity,
forgiving him, excusing him, thinking and making him think what a
good fellow he was, despite certain superficial faults.
'You knew nothing of this Ryley business, did you?' he murmured.
'Oh, no. Are you sure there's anything in it? I don't think there is for an
instant.' And she did not. Even the placing of Milly's hand on Fred
Ryley's shoulder in full sight of the street, even this she regarded only
as the pretty indiscretion of a child. 'Oh! there's nothing in it,' she
repeated.
'Well, there's got to be nothing in it. You must keep an eye on 'em. I
won't have it.'
She leaned forward, and, resting her elbows on her knees, put her chin
in her long hands. Her bangles disappeared amid lace.
'What's the matter with Fred?' said she. 'He's a relation; and you've said
before now that he's a good clerk,'
'He's a decent enough clerk. But he's not for our girls.'
'If it's only money----' she began.
'Money!' John cried. 'He'll have money. Oh! he'll have money right
enough. Look here, Nora, I've not told you before, but I'll tell you now.
Uncle Meshach's altered his will in favour of young Ryley.'
'Oh! Jack!'
John Stanway stood up, gazing at his wife with an air of martyrised
virtue which said: 'There! what do you think of that as a specimen of
the worries which I keep to myself?'
She raised her eyebrows with a gesture of deep concern. And all the
time she was asking herself: 'Why did Uncle Meshach alter his will?
Why did he do that? He must have had some reason.' This question
troubled her far more than the blow to their expectations.

John's maternal grandfather had married twice. By his first wife he had
had one son, Shadrach; and by his second wife two daughters and a son,
Mary (John's mother), Hannah, and Meshach. The last two had never
married. Shadrach had estranged all his family (except old Ebenezer)
by marrying beneath him, and Mary had earned praise by marrying
rather well. These two children, by a useful whim of the eccentric old
man, had received their portions of the patrimony on their respective
wedding-days. They were both dead. Shadrach, amiable but
incompetent, had died poor, leaving a daughter, Susan, who had
repeated, even more reprehensibly, her father's sin of marrying beneath
her. She had married a working potter, and thus reduced her branch of
the family to the status from which old Ebenezer had originally raised
himself. Fred Ryley, now an orphan, was Susan's only child. As an act
of charity John Stanway had given Fred Ryley a stool in the office of
his manufactory; but, though Fred's mother was John's first cousin,
John never acknowledged the fact. John argued that Fred's mother and
Fred's grandfather had made fools of themselves, and that the
consequences were irremediable save by Fred's unaided effort. Such
vicissitudes of blood, and the social contrasts resulting therefrom, are
common enough in the history of families in democratic communities.
Old Ebenezer's will left the residue of his estate, reckoned at some
fifteen thousand pounds, to Meshach and Hannah as joint tenants with
the remainder absolutely to the survivor of them. By this arrangement,
which suited them excellently since they had always lived together,
though neither could touch the principal of their joint property during
their joint lives, the survivor had complete freedom to dispose of
everything. Both Meshach and Hannah had made a will in sole favour
of John.
'Yes,' John said again, 'he's altered it in favour of young Ryley. David
Dain told me the other day. Uncle told Dain he might tell me.'
'Why has he altered it?' Leonora asked aloud at last.
John shook his head. 'Why does Uncle Meshach do anything?' He
spoke with sarcastic irritation. 'I suppose he's taken a sudden fancy for
Susan's child, after ignoring him all these years.'

'And has Aunt Hannah