Mr Hogarths Will | Page 6

weary and monotonous existence, far
from each other, while he, possessed of superabundance, was debarred

from helping them.
He advanced timidly to the sofa. Alice, who had recovered
consciousness, covered her face with both her hands, and sobbed aloud.
Jane turned towards him a glance, not of reproach, but of pity. He felt it,
and took her hand.
"Believe me, Miss Melville, no one can regret this extraordinary will as
I do. I will overturn it, if I possibly can."
"You cannot," said Jane; "it is quite in keeping with all my uncle's
ideas--quite consistent with all he has told us over and over again. He
had many strange notions, but he was generally in the right, and it
MAY prove to be so now." The sigh that accompanied these words told
how faint her hopes were.
"It has been positive unkindness to bring you up as he did, and now to
throw you upon the world. My beginning was different. How could he
expect the same success for you--women, too?"
"And are women so inferior, then? It was my uncle's cherished belief
that they were not. He said he never saw a woman take up man's work
without succeeding in it. I must try to show that I will be no exception.
He was not unkind to take us on our mother's death from a careless and
unprincipled father, to bring us into a quiet and happy home, to educate
us to the best of his judgment, to be always kind, always reasonable.
Ah, no, my dear uncle, though this seems very hard, it was not meant
for unkindness!"
"It is cruel, cruel," said Alice. "He must have been mad. What will
become of us? What will become of us?"
At this burst of despair from Alice, Jane's courage gave way, and the
heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. "Elsie, darling, at the worst we can
only die, and we are not afraid of death. But no, we shall live to
conquer all this yet."
"You cannot as yet lay any plan," said Mr. Macfarlane. "Mr.

Ormistown--Mr. Hogarth, I should say--is in no hurry to take
possession. You can have a month to look about you, and there is no
saying what may turn up in a month."
"Certainly," said the new cousin; "I am sure I should be most happy to
give the young ladies accommodation in this large house for as long as
they please, if that is not forbidden by the will."
"A permanent residence is clearly forbidden; for no assistance, beyond
the small money payment specified, Can be offered or accepted; but I
think a month to remain and to collect all their wardrobe and personal
property may be permitted."
"I ought to return to the bank, and work till they find a substitute, and
will leave my cousins the undisturbed possession of Cross Hall for a
month. In the meantime, I feel as if my presence must be a painful
intrusion. I must leave you."
"Perhaps," said Jane, "though you cannot give us money, you may be
able to give us advice. You are going to Edinburgh; you may see or
hear of something we could do."
"I should be most happy to do so. What line of life should you like to
enter on?"
"Anything we could make a living by."
"Then I suppose a governess's situation?"
"I might teach boys, but I have not learned what would qualify me to
instruct girls. But I do thoroughly understand bookkeeping, write a
good hand, have gone through Euclid, and know as much of the
classics as nine out of ten young men in my rank of life. But my uncle
cared very little for the classics. I know a good deal of chemistry and
mineralogy, but uncle was most pleased with my bookkeeping. How
did you get on when you began to work for yourself?"
"I entered the bank as a junior clerk, at the age of sixteen, and got 30

pounds for the first two years. An unknown friend--I know now who he
was--who had paid for my education and all other expenses previously,
sent me 12 pounds a year for three years to help out my earnings."
"And you could live on that?" said Jane.
"I did live on it somehow," said Francis. "My coats were very
threadbare and my meals scanty, but I weathered these three years, and
then I got a good step, and crept up gradually. I have been now in this
same bank for seventeen years, and am at present in the receipt of 250
pounds a year, thinking myself rich and fortunate;--now I am rich and
unfortunate. Why did not my father leave me to the career I had made
for myself, and you to the inheritance you had been