Mrs. Vanderstein's jewels. Bryce Charles
whose grief at parting from her father was intense and pathetic, was comforted as best might be and sent to school at the select academy of the Misses Yorke Brown at Brighton. Here she received the best of educations in the company of about thirty other young ladies, the daughters of well-to-do middle class people. In their society she obtained a nodding acquaintance with algebra, history, science, and literature; with them she attended dancing classes, learnt a little French and German, and disported herself on the tennis court and hockey field. She roller-skated and played golf, became proficient in the art of swimming, and with a chosen and fortunate few rode daily on the downs.
At the end of six or seven years she had grown into a self-possessed, capable young woman, a little old for her years perhaps, as was obvious to those who knew her well, but to outward appearance still a mere child, easily amused at trifles, and with a rare capacity for enjoying life, which made her a delightful companion.
Her face had an innocent and helpless expression at variance with her real nature, which was eminently self-reliant and independent. She would never forgive her mother’s relations who had despised her father, and at any mention of them her large blue eyes would always flash resentfully.
Her relatives for their part made no effort to seek her out and were quite content to leave her to the Vandersteins’ tender mercies.
Before Barbara left school Mr. Vanderstein died, leaving in his will a provision to the effect that his widow was to continue the care of his friend’s daughter, either making her an annual allowance of £500 a year or taking her to live with her as friend and companion. There was a further bequest of £30,000 to Barbara, which was to become hers on Mrs. Vanderstein’s death.
This was not the only thing in the will which filled Mrs. Vanderstein with indignation.
She found to her disgust that half the fortune, which she had formed the habit of considering hers, was left to young Joe Sidney, the son of her husband’s sister. This lady had committed the horrid offence of marrying a Christian, and to her, during her lifetime, the orthodox and scandalised Moses never alluded. Her death occurred a year or two before his own, and after it Mr. Vanderstein had displayed a certain interest in his nephew, but not enough to prepare his wife for his preposterous action in regard to the division of his money. Indeed, he expressed in the will his wish that after her death it should all go to Joe, though he left the final decision on this point to her judgment.
Old Vanderstein had amassed considerably over half a million sterling during the latter and most prosperous portion of his career, so that his widow was not altogether the pauper she was fond of declaring herself; but in the first shock of seeing her income divide itself by two she decided to save the £500 provided for Barbara and to submit instead to the infliction of her presence.
She had never seen the girl, who had, indeed, been a subject of disagreement between her husband and herself, but she was so easy-going and good-natured at heart that a very short period of Barbara’s society had sufficed to change her prejudices and distrust into a warm affection, and she soon looked on her as she might have done on a younger sister.
There were occasions certainly when, if anything annoyed her, she would not refrain from pointing out to Barbara how much had been done for her and how exaggerated had been Mr. Vanderstein’s views in this direction.
“My dear husband,” she would exclaim, “would have ruined himself, if he had lived longer, by his own unbounded philanthropy. He was constitutionally unable to say ‘no’ to anyone, and goodness knows in what difficulties he would have landed himself if time had only been afforded him. How often he would admit to me that certain people had tried to borrow from him and that he had let them have what they wanted. In vain I begged him to be more firm. He would make me promises, but I would soon discover that he had been doing the same thing again. ‘My dear,’ he would reply to my reproaches, ‘I have really not the heart to refuse to help these poor young men.’”
Mr. Vanderstein did not bother his wife with details of his private affairs, holding that women have no concern with business; and he decidedly never thought it necessary to mention that he used a certain discretion in his benevolence, steeling himself against more supplications than she suspected.
It was true, however, that he never refused to lend money to such poor young men as were heirs to entailed estates or could offer other satisfactory security for the repayment of his kindness, and it was by these unobtrusive charities that his fortune was collected.
Mrs. Vanderstein’s prejudices against Joe Sidney had also decreased very rapidly when she became acquainted with that young man, as she did shortly after his mother’s death, and by the time this story begins – that is to say, three years after she herself had been left a widow – he had become a great favourite of hers, although there were still moments when she thought a little bitterly of the large sums he had deprived her of by the fact of his existence. However, she liked him well enough to let him know that it was her intention to comply with Mr. Vanderstein’s wishes in regard to the ultimate disposal of his fortune, and that her will constituted Sidney her sole legatee.
As she was only a few years older than himself and of a robust health, there was every likelihood that this provision would not affect his fortunes for many years to come, or even that she might survive him.
CHAPTER IV
When that night, during the interval between the first and second acts of the opera, the door of the box opened and Sidney made his appearance, Mrs. Vanderstein greeted him with a beaming smile and the most sincere pleasure.
“How nice to see you, dear Joe,” she said. “I didn’t know you were in London.”
“I only came up from York last night,” said her nephew, “or I should have been to see you before. The Garringdons asked me to their box, which is more or less under this, so I couldn’t see if you were here, but I thought you would be.”
He sat down and began to talk about his doings and to ask questions about theirs, Mrs. Vanderstein looking at him meanwhile with a feeling of gratification at the decorative effect on her box of this good looking youth. She hoped the audience, or at least some members of it, had noticed his entrance, and she thought to herself that even inconvenient nephews had their uses.
Joe Sidney was twenty-five years of age and his father’s son. The late Mr. Sidney had been a very tall, fair individual, and Joe resembled him, showing the merest trace of the Jew in the droop of his nose, which, however, was not very marked. His eyes too, perhaps – but why pick to pieces a young man who really was, taken altogether, a very fine specimen of his kind? Though he had not, or scarcely had, inherited the appearance of his mother’s race, he showed much of its sympathy with art and music; and his intelligence was equalled by his prepossessing manner, which had made him a favourite since his boyhood with nearly all with whom he came in contact, and, combined with his wealth, rendered him extremely popular in the cavalry regiment in which he was a subaltern. He knew a great many smart people whose acquaintance Mrs. Vanderstein would have given her ears to make, and from time to time he invited her to meet one or two of them at a restaurant dinner or theatre, quite unconscious of the pleasure he was giving; for the very intensity of her longing made Mrs. Vanderstein shy of letting this superior young relative guess at it, and Barbara had never hinted to him at the weakness of his uncle’s widow.
Poor Mrs. Vanderstein! One pities her when one reflects that if the good Moses had survived a few years, till the advent of a Radical government which was extremely short of sympathisers in the Upper House, she might have lived to hear him called “My Lord,” and have answered with beating heart to the delicious salutation of “My Lady.”
She seized the opportunity afforded by Sidney’s presence now to gather information about the occupants of the boxes facing them. Did Joe see anyone he knew? Of course she knew by sight every one in the Royal box, except that man behind the Queen. Who was that? Sidney thought it was the Italian ambassador. What a distinguished looking man! And in the next box? Sidney didn’t know. And the one beyond that? He didn’t know either. Mrs. Vanderstein was disappointed in him. Well, who did he know? Couldn’t he tell her anyone?
“Really,” said Sidney, “I don’t see many, but there are one or two. That woman with the red