Works of Ellen Wood

by Ellen Wood

  But about this period, or indeed some time prior to it, Mr. Halliburton had reason to believe that he was overtaxing his strength. For a long, long while, almost ever since he had been in London, he was aware that he had not felt thoroughly well. Hot weather affected him and rendered him languid; the chills of winter gave him a cough; the keen winds of spring attacked his chest. He would throw off his ailments bravely and go on again, not heeding them or thinking that they might ever become serious. Perhaps he never gave a thought to that until one evening when, upon coming in after a hard day’s toil, he sat down in his chair and quietly fainted away.

  Jane and one of the servants were standing over him when he recovered — Jane’s face very pale and anxious.

  “Do not be alarmed,” he said, smiling at her. “I suppose I dropped asleep; or lost consciousness in some way.”

  “You fainted, Edgar.”

  “Fainted, did I? How silly I must have been! The room’s warm, Jane: it must have overpowered me.”

  Jane was not deceived. She saw that he was making light of it to quiet her alarm, and brought him a glass of wine. He drank it, but could not eat anything: frequently could not eat now.

  “Edgar,” she said, “you are doing too much. I have seen it for a long time past.”

  “Seen what, Jane?”

  “That your strength is not equal to your work. You must give up a portion of your teaching.”

  “My dear, how can I do so? Does it not take all I earn to meet expenses? When accounts are settled at the end of the year, have we a shilling to spare?”

  It was so, and Jane knew it; but her husband’s health was above every consideration in the world. “We must reduce our expenses,” she said. “We must cease to live as we are living now. We will move into a smaller house, and keep one servant, and I will turn maid-of-all-work.”

  She laughed quite merrily; but Mr. Halliburton detected a serious meaning in her tone. He shook his head.

  “No, Jane; that time, I hope, will never come.”

  He lay awake all that night buried in reflection. Do you know what this night-reflection is, when it comes to us in all its racking intensity? Surging over his brain, like the wild waves that chase each other on the ocean, came the thought, “What will become of my wife and children if I die?” Thought after thought, they all resolved themselves into that one focus:— “I have made no provision for my wife and children: what will become of them if I am taken?”

  Mr. Halliburton had one good habit — it was possible that he had learnt it from his wife, for it was hers in no ordinary degree — the habit of looking steadfastly into the face of trouble. Not to groan and grumble at it — to sigh and lament that no one else’s trouble ever was so great before — but to see how it might best be met and contended with; how the best could be made of it.

  The only feasible way he could see, was that of insuring his life. He possessed neither lands nor money. Did he attempt to put by a portion of his income, it would take years and years to accumulate into a sum worth mentioning. Why, how long would it take him to economise only a thousand pounds? No. There was only one way — that of life insurance. It was an idea that would have occurred to most of us. He did not know how much it would take from his yearly income to effect it. A great deal, he was afraid; for he was approaching what is called middle life.

  He had no secrets from his wife. He consulted her upon every point; she was his best friend, his confidante, his gentle counsellor, and he had no intention of concealing the step he was about to take. Why should he?

  “Jane,” he began, when they were at breakfast the next morning, “do you know what I have been thinking of all night?”

  “Trouble, I am sure,” she answered. “You have been very restless.”

  “Not exactly trouble” — for he did not choose to acknowledge, even to himself, that a strange sense of trouble did seem to rest on his heart and to weigh it down. “I have been thinking more of precaution than trouble.”

  “Precaution?” echoed Jane, looking at him.

  “Ay, love. And the astonishing part of the business, to myself, is that I never thought of the necessity for this precaution before.”

  Jane divined now what he meant. Often and often had the idea occurred to her— “Should my husband’s health or life fail, we are destitute.” Not for herself did she so much care, but for her children.

  “That sudden attack last night has brought me reflection,” he resumed. “Life is uncertain with the best of us. It may be no more uncertain with me than with others; but I feel that I must act as though it were so. Jane, were I taken, there would be no provision for you.”

  “No,” she quietly said.

  “And therefore I must set about making one without delay, as far as I can. I shall insure my life.”

  Jane did not answer immediately. “It will take a great deal of money, Edgar,” she presently said.

  “I fear it will: but it must be done. What’s the matter, Jane? You don’t look hopeful over it.”

  “Because, were you to insure your life, to pay the yearly premium, and our home expenses, would necessitate your working as hard as you do now.”

  “Well?” said he. “Of course it would.”

  “In any case, our expenses shall be much reduced; of that I am determined,” she went on somewhat dreamily, more it seemed in soliloquy than to her husband. “But, with this premium to pay in addition — —”

  “Jane,” he interrupted, “there’s not the least necessity for my relaxing my labours. I shall not think of doing it. I may not be very strong, but I am not ill. As to reducing our expenses, I see no help for that, inasmuch as I must draw from them for the premium.”

  “If you only can keep your health, Edgar, it is certainly what ought to be done — to insure your life. The thought has often crossed me.”

  “Why did you never suggest it?”

  “I scarcely know. I believe I did not like to do so. And I really did not see how the premium was to be paid. How much shall you insure it for?”

  “I thought of two thousand pounds. Could we afford more?”

  “I think not. What would be the yearly premium for that sum?”

  “I don’t know. I will ascertain all particulars. What are you sighing about, Jane?”

  Jane was sighing heavily. A weight seemed to have fallen upon her. “To talk of life-insurance puts me too much in mind of death,” she murmured.

  “Now, Jane, you are never going to turn goose!” he gaily said. “I have heard of persons who will not make a will, because it brings them a fancy they must be going to die. Insuring my life will not bring death any the quicker to me: I hope I shall be here many a year yet. Why, Jane, I may live to pay the insurance over and over again in annual premiums! Better that I had put by the money in a bank, I shall think then.”

  “The worst of putting by money in a bank, or in any other way, is, that you are not compelled to put it,” observed Jane, looking up a little from her depression. “What ought to be put by — what is intended to be put by — too often goes in present wants, and putting by ends in name only: whereas, in life-assurance, the premium must be paid. Edgar,” she added, passing to a different subject, “I wonder what we shall make of our boys?”

  Mr. Halliburton’s cheek flushed. “They shall go to college, please God — though I have not been able to get there myself.”

  “Oh, I hope so! One or two of them, at any rate.”

  Little difficulty did there appear to be in the plan to Mr. Halliburton. His boys should enter the University, although he had not done so: the future of our children appears hopeful and easy to most of us. William and Frank were in the school attached to King’s College: of which you hear Mr. Halliburton was now a professor. Edgar — never called anything but “Gar” — went to a private school, but he would soon be entered at King’s College. Remarkably well-educated boys for their years, were the young Halliburtons. Mr. Halliburton and Jane had taken care of that. Home teaching was more effici
ent than school: both combined had rendered them unusually intelligent and advanced. Naturally intellectual, gifted with excellent qualities of mind and heart, Mrs. Halliburton had not failed to do her duty by them. She spared no pains; she knew how children ought to be brought up, and she did her duty well. Ah, my friends! only lay a good foundation in their earlier years, and your children will grow up to bless you.

  “Jane, I wonder which office will be the best to insure in?”

  Jane began to recall the names of some that were familiar to her.

  “The Phœnix?” suggested she.

  Mr. Halliburton laughed. “I think that’s only for fire, Jane. I am not sure, though.” In truth, he knew little about insurance offices himself.

  “There’s the Sun; and the Atlas; and the Argus — oh, and ever so many more,” continued Jane.

  “I’ll inquire all about it to-day,” said he.

  “I wonder if the premium will take a hundred a year, Edgar?”

  He could not tell. He feared it might. “I wish Jane,” he observed, “that I had insured my life when I first married. The premium would have been small then, and we might have managed to spare it.”

  “Ay,” she answered. “Sometimes I look back to things that I might have done in the past years: and I did not do them. Now, the time has gone by!”

  “Well, it has not gone by for insuring,” said Mr. Halliburton, rising from the breakfast-table and speaking in gay tones. “Half-past eight!” he cried, looking at his watch. “Good-bye, Jane,” said he, bending to kiss her. “Wish me luck.”

  “A weighty insurance and a small premium,” she said, laughing. “But you are not going about it now?”

  “Of course not. The offices would not be open. I shall take an opportunity of doing so in the course of the day.”

  Mr. Halliburton departed on his usual duties. It was a warm day in April. His first attendance was King’s College, and there he remained for the morning. Then he proceeded to gain information about the various offices and their respective merits: finally fixed upon the one he should apply to, and bent his steps towards it.

  It was situated in the heart of the City, in a very busy part of it. The office also appeared to be busy, for several people were in it when Mr. Halliburton entered. A young man came forward to know his business.

  “I wish to insure my life,” said Mr. Halliburton. “How must I proceed about it?”

  “Oh yes, sir. Mr. Procter, will you attend to this gentleman?”

  Mr. Halliburton was marshalled to an inner room, where a gentlemanly man received him. He explained his business in detail, stated his age, and the sum he wished to insure for. Every information was politely afforded him; and a paper, with certain printed questions, was given him to fill up at his leisure, and then to be returned.

  Mr. Halliburton glanced over it. “You require a certificate of my birth from the parish register where I was baptized, I perceive,” he remarked. “Why so? In stating my age, I have stated it correctly.”

  The gentleman smiled. “Of that I make no doubt,” he said, “for you look younger than the age you have given me. Our office makes it a rule in most cases to require the certificate from the register. All applicants are not scrupulous about telling the truth, and we have been obliged to adopt it in self-defence. We have had cases, we have indeed, sir, where we have insured a life, and then found — though perhaps not until the actual death has taken place — that the insurer was ten years older than he asserted. Therefore we demand a certificate. It does occasionally happen that applicants can bring well-known men to testify to their age, and then we do not mind dispensing with it.”

  Mr. Halliburton sent his thoughts round in a circle. There was no one in London who knew his age of their own positive knowledge; so it was useless to think of that. “There will be no difficulty in the matter,” he said aloud. “I can get the certificate up from Devonshire in the course of two or three days by writing for it. My father was rector of the church where I was christened. This will be all, then? To fill up this paper and bring you the certificate.”

  “All; with the exception of being examined by our physician.”

  “What! is it necessary to be examined by a physician?” exclaimed Mr. Halliburton. “The paper states that I must hand in a report from my ordinary medical attendant. He will not give you a bad report of me,” he added, smiling, “for it is little enough I have troubled him. I believe the worst thing he has attended me for has been a bad cold.”

  “So much the better,” remarked the gentleman. “You do not look very strong.”

  “Very strong I don’t think I am. I am too hard worked; get too little rest and recreation. It was suspecting that I am not so strong as I might be that set me thinking it might be well to insure my life for the sake of my wife and children,” he ingenuously added, in his straightforward manner. “If I could count upon living and working on until I am an old man, I should not do so.”

  Again the gentleman smiled. “Looks are deceitful,” he observed. “Nothing more so. Sometimes those who look the most delicate live the longest.”

  “You cannot say I look delicate,” returned Mr. Halliburton.

  “I did not say it. I consider that you do not look robust; but that is not saying that you look delicate. You may be a perfectly healthy man for all I can say to the contrary.”

  He ran his eyes over Mr. Halliburton as he spoke; over his tall, fine form, his dark hair, amidst which not a streak of grey mingled, his clearly-cut features, and his complexion, bright as a woman’s. Was there suspicion in that complexion? “A handsome man, at any rate,” thought the gazer, “if not a robust one.”

  “It will be necessary, then, that I see your physician?” asked Mr. Halliburton.

  “Yes. It cannot be dispensed with. We would not insure without it. He attends here twice a week. In the intervening days, he may be seen in Savile-row, from three to five. It is Dr. Carrington. His days for coming here are Mondays and Thursdays.”

  “And this is Friday,” remarked Mr. Halliburton. “I shall probably go up to him.”

  Mr. Halliburton said good morning, and came away with his paper. “It’s great nonsense, my seeing this doctor!” he said to himself as he hastened home to dinner, which he knew he must have kept waiting. “But I suppose it is necessary as a general rule; and of course they won’t make me an exception.”

  Hurrying over his dinner, in a manner that prevented its doing him any good — as Jane assured him — he sat down to his desk when it was over and wrote for the certificate of his birth. Folding and sealing the letter, he put on his hat to go out again.

  “Shall you go to Savile-row this afternoon?” Jane inquired.

  “If I can by any possibility get my teaching over in time,” he answered. “Young Finchley’s hour is four o’clock, but I can put him off until the evening. I dare say I shall get up there.”

  By dint of hurrying, Mr. Halliburton contrived to reach Savile-row, and arrived there in much heat at half-past four. There was no necessity for hurrying there on this particular day, but he felt impatient to get the business over; as if speed now could atone for past neglect. Dr. Carrington was at home but engaged, and Mr. Halliburton was shown into a room. Three or four others were waiting there; whether ordinary patients, or whether mere applicants of form like himself, he could not tell; and it was their turn to go in before it was his.

  But his turn came at last, and he was ushered into the presence of the doctor — a little man, fair and reserved, with powder on his head.

  Reserved in ordinary intercourse, but certainly not reserved in asking questions. Mr. Halliburton had never been so rigidly questioned before. What disorders had he had, and what had he not had? What were his habits, past and present? One question came at last: “Do you feel thoroughly strong? — healthy, elastic?”

  “I feel languid in hot weather,” replied Mr. Halliburton.

  “Um! Appetite sound and good?”

  “Generally speaking. It has not be
en so good of late.”

  “Breathing all right?”

  “Yes; it is a little tight sometimes.”

  “Um! Subject to a cough?”

  “I have no settled cough. A sort of hacking cough comes on at night occasionally. I attribute it to fatigue.”

  “Um! Will you open your shirt? Just unbutton it here” — touching the front— “and your flannel waistcoat, if you wear one.”

  Mr. Halliburton bared his chest in obedience and the doctor sounded it, and then put down his ear. Apparently his ear did not serve him sufficiently, for he took a small instrument out of a drawer, placed it on the chest, and then put his ear to that, changing the position of the instrument three or four times.

  “That will do,” he said at length.

  He turned to put up his stethoscope again, and Mr. Halliburton drew the edges of his shirt together and buttoned them.

  “Why don’t you wear flannel waistcoats?” asked the doctor, with quite a sharp accent, his head down in the drawer.

  “I do wear them in winter; but in warm weather I leave them off. It was only last week that I discarded them.”

  “Was ever such folly known!” ejaculated Dr. Carrington. “One would think people were born without common sense. Half the patients who come to me say they leave off their flannels in summer! Why, it is in summer they are most needed! And this warm weather won’t last either. Go home, sir, and put one on at once.”

  “Certainly, if you think it right,” said Mr. Halliburton with a smile. “I thank you for telling me.”

  He took up his hat and waited. The doctor appeared to wait for him to go. “I understood at the office that you would give me a paper testifying that you had examined me,” explained Mr. Halliburton.

  “Ah — but I can’t give it,” said the doctor.

  “Why not, sir?”

  “Because I am not satisfied with you. I cannot recommend you as a healthy life.”