Joan Haste - H. Rider Haggard (fiction books to read .TXT) 📗

CHAPTER IV

THE HOME-COMING OF HENRY GRAVES

 

Henry Graves, a man of thirty-three years of age, was the second and

only surviving son of Sir Reginald Graves, of Rosham Hall, a place

situated about four miles from Bradmouth. When a lad he chose the Navy

as a profession, and to that profession he clung with such unusual

earnestness, that during the last eighteen years or so but little of

his time had been passed at home. Some months previous to his meeting

with Joan Haste, however, very much against his own will, he was

forced to abandon his calling. He was cruising in command of a gunboat

off the coast of British Columbia, when one evening a telegram reached

him informing him of the death of his elder brother, Reginald, who met

his end through an accident whilst riding a steeplechase. There had

never been much sympathy or affection between the two brothers, for

reasons to be explained presently; still this sudden and terrible

intelligence was a heavy shock to Henry, nor did the fact that it left

him heir to an entailed property, which he believed to be

considerable, greatly mitigate it in his mind.

 

When there are but two sons, it is almost inevitable that one should

be preferred before the other. Certainly that was the case in the

Graves family. As children Reginald, the elder, had been wayward,

handsome, merry and attractive; whereas Henry was a somewhat plain and

silent boy, with a habit of courting his own society, and almost

aggressive ideas of honour and duty. Naturally, therefore, the love of

father, mother and sister went out to the brilliant Reginald, while

Henry was left very much to his own devices. He said nothing, and he

was too proud to be jealous, but nobody except the lad himself ever

knew what he suffered under this daily, if unintentional, neglect.

Though his constitutional reserve prevented him from showing his

heart, in truth he was very affectionate, and almost adored the

relations who looked on him as a dullard, and even spoke of him at

times as “poor Henry,” as though he were deficient in intellect.

 

Thus it came about that very early in his young life, with

characteristic determination, Henry arrived at the conclusion that he

would be happier away from the home where he was little wanted. Once

in the Navy, he applied himself to his profession with industry and

intelligence, and as a result did better in the service than most

young men who cannot bring to their support any particular interest,

or the advantage of considerable private means. In whatever capacity

he served, he won the confidence and the respect both of his

subordinates and of his superiors. He was a hard-working man, so hard

work was thrust upon him; and he never shirked it, though often enough

others got the credit of his efforts. At heart, moreover, he was

ambitious. Henry could never forget the slights that he had

experienced as a child, and he was animated by a great but secret

desire to show the relatives who disparaged him in favour of his more

showy brother that he was made of better stuff than they were disposed

to believe.

 

To this purpose he subordinated his life. His allowance was small, for

their father’s means were not in proportion to his nominal estate, and

as time went on his brother Reginald grew more and more extravagant.

But, such as it was, Henry never exceeded it, though few were aware of

the straits to which he was put at times. In the same way, though by

nature he was a man of strong passions and genial temperament, he

rarely allowed either the one or the other to master him. Geniality

meant expense, and he observed that indulgence in passion of any sort,

more especially if it led to mixing with the other sex, spelt anxiety

and sorrow at the best, or at the worst disgrace and ruin. Therefore

he curbed these inclinations till what began in the pride of duty

ended in the pride of habit.

 

Thus time wore on till he received the telegram announcing his

brother’s shocking death. A fortnight or so afterwards it was followed

by a letter from his father, a portion of which may be transcribed. It

began:

 

“My dear Henry,—

 

“My telegram has informed you of the terrible loss which has

overtaken our family. Your brother Reginald is no more; it has

pleased Providence to remove him from the world in the fulness of

his manhood, and we must accept the fact that we cannot alter with

such patience as we may.”

 

Here followed particulars of the accident, and of arrangements for the

interment. The letter went on:

 

“Your mother and sister are prostrated, and for myself I can only

say that my heart is broken. Life is a ruin to me henceforward,

and I think that when the time comes I shall welcome its close. It

does indeed seem cruel that one so brilliant and so beloved as

your brother should be snatched from us thus, but God’s will be

done. Though you have been little together of late years, I know

that we shall have your sympathy in our overwhelming sorrow.

 

“To turn to other matters, of which this event makes it necessary

that I should speak: of course your beloved brother’s death puts

you in the place he held—that is, so far as temporal things are

concerned. I may as well tell you at once that the finances of

this property are in great confusion. Latterly Reginald had the

largest share in its management, and as yet I cannot therefore

follow all the details. It seems, however, that, speaking

generally, affairs are much worse than I supposed, and already,

though he lies unburied, some very heavy claims have come in

against his estate, which of course must be met for the honour of

the family.

 

“And now, my dear boy, I—or rather your mother, your sister, and

I—must ask you to make a sacrifice, should you look at it in that

light: namely, to give up your profession and take the place at

home to which the death of your brother has promoted you. This

request is not made lightly; but, as you know, my health is now

very feeble, and I find myself quite unable to cope with the

difficulties of the time and the grave embarrassments by which I

am hampered. Indeed, it would be idle to disguise from you that

unless matters are speedily taken in hand and some solution is

found to our troubles, there is every prospect that before long

Rosham will be foreclosed on—a probability of which I can

scarcely bear to think, and one that will be equally painful to

yourself when you remember that the property has been in our

family for full three hundred years, and that we have no resources

beyond those of the land.”

 

Then the letter went into details that were black enough, and ended by

hinting at some possible mode of escape from the family troubles which

would be revealed to him on his return to England.

 

The receipt of this epistle plunged Henry Graves into a severe mental

struggle. As has been said, he was fond of his profession, and he had

no wish to leave it. His prospects in the Navy were not especially

brilliant, indeed, but his record at the Admiralty was good, and he

was popular in the service both with his brother officers and the men,

though perhaps more so with the latter than the former. Moreover, he

had confidence in himself, and was filled with a sincere ambition to

rise to the top of the tree, or near it. Now, after serving many years

as a lieutenant, when at last he had earned an independent command, he

was asked to abandon his career, and with it the hopes of half a

lifetime, in order that he might undertake the management of a

bankrupt estate, a task for which he did not conceive himself to be

suited.

 

At first he was minded to refuse altogether; but while he was still

hesitating a second letter arrived, from his mother, with whom he was

in greater sympathy than with any other member of the family. This

epistle, which did not enter into details, was written in evident

distress, and implored him to return to England at all hazards if he

wished to save them from ruin. In conclusion, like that received from

his father, it hinted mysteriously at an unknown something by means of

which it would be in his power, and his alone, to restore the broken

fortunes of their house.

 

Duty had always been the first consideration with Henry Graves, and so

it remained in this emergency of his life. He had no longer any doubt

as to what he ought do do, and, sacrificing his private wishes and

what he considered to be his own advantage, he set himself to do it.

 

An effort to obtain leave on urgent private affairs having failed, he

was reduced to the necessity of sending in his papers and begging the

Lords of the Admiralty for permission to retire from the service on

the ground of his brother’s death.

 

The night that he posted this application was an unhappy one for him:

the career he had hoped to make for himself and the future honour

which he dreamed of had melted away, and the only prospect left to him

was that of one day becoming a baronet without a sixpence to support

his title, and the nominal owner of a bankrupt estate. Moreover,

however reasonable and enlightened he may be, no sailor is entirely

without superstition, and on this matter Henry Graves was

superstitious. Something in his heart seemed to tell him that this new

start would bring him little luck, whatever advantage might result to

his family. Once again he felt the awe of an imaginative boy who for

the first time understands that the world is before him, and that he

must fight his way through its cruel multitudes, or be trampled to

death of them.

 

In due course my Lords of the Admiralty signified to Commander Graves

that his request had been taken into favourable consideration, and

that he was granted leave pending the arrangements necessary to his

retirement from Her Majesty’s Navy. His feelings as for the last time

he was rowed away