 CHAPTER XII. WHAT CAN BE MADE OF IT? Early on the following morning Francis began his researches, but the Times and other journals of the date Mrs. Peck mentioned, which he searched through, proved quite barren of intelligence. The passenger lists he could not find complete anywhere. The newspapers, more especially devoted to these matters, contained the passenger list of the Lausander bound for Sydney, for the first and second cabin, and in the latter the names of Mrs. Ormiston and Mrs. E. Ormiston were mentioned. But for the American ship, in which he supposed his real mother had sailed, there was no mention of any passengers except those in the first cabin, and in all probability, she, being a poor woman, would sail in the steerage. There were also three vessels sailing for New York very close upon one another at the time, and he could not be sure in which the passage had been taken. Mrs. Peck said the ship was to sail the next day, but her own vessel had been rather hurried to go with the tide, and there was no saying whether that was the case with the American one. But in all the American ships there was no mention of the names of the four cabin passengers. Then the police reports gave no account of any complaint having been made about an exchanged child, and when he eagerly turned to the coroner's inquests, there was nothing to be seen there either. The mother had probably been too distressed with grief to observe the substitution, or too anxious not to lose her passage to stop to make inquiries if she had had any suspicion. Teething convulsions are not at all uncommon among children of that age, and a stranger in London was likely to get no address under such circumstances, even if she had the courage to attempt it. There was so little likely motive for anyone to take away a living child and leave a dead one, that she was sure to have been laughed to scorn if she had suggested such a thing to the landlady of the house. Francis, disappointed in the newspapers, next went to the lodging-house, but it had been pulled down and another substituted in its place, and of course no one could tell anything about the obscure woman who had kept it. A London directory for eighteen gave her name as Mrs. Martha Stubbs, which did not agree with the name which Mrs. Peck reported, which was Mrs. Dawson. This was a bad beginning to his search for corroborative evidence, but he put an advertisement in the times and weakly dispatched for her under both names in hopes that she might recollect something about a child dying in convulsions in her house in the absence of its mother just before a lodger left her house to go to Sydney with another child of the same sex and age. This, after a lapse of thirty-five years, was a desperate chance, but it was the only course open to Francis and he took it. Next he went to Edinburgh and inquired in New Street, in the old town, for the woman, Violet Stratchin, who had let the lodgings where the real Francis Hogarth was born, and where the irregular marriage had also taken place. Thirty-five years in a city like Edinburgh with an eminently migrating population is a far more unmanageable period than in a country town where people inhabit the same houses from one generation to another, and where, even if the persons whom you wish to discover are dead, there are neighbors who recollect about them. This second search was fruitless, so he could only advertise for Violet Stratchin and that he also did. Next he went to his friend Sinclair and opened his budget of news to him. Sinclair had been in America, and he might have chance to have heard something of someone who had had a doubtful baby found dead on the bed just before its mother sailed. If this had been a sensation novel, Mr. Sinclair would have been sure to have known all about it, and have turned out to be the father or the uncle of his friend. He was of the age to be either, but as this is not a sensation novel he could not throw any light on the dark subject and could only give his sympathy, and offer to take any amount of trouble on Francis's behalf. His only advice was that he should advertise in the state's leading papers if he really wanted to know, for someone who emigrated in May, 18, in one of the three ships which had sailed about that time, who had lost a child in convulsions that might not have been her own, requiring some particulars about the age and the house at which the death was believed to have taken place. It is a thousand to one against your getting an answer, said Mr. Sinclair, but what makes you so anxious to prove this? It can do no good. Only this, that if Jane Melville can be proved not to be my cousin, I can marry her and keep Cross Hall and my seat in Parliament. If it cannot be proved, then I must give up everything and go to Melbourne and ask if she will have me without a penny. Oh, is that it, said Sinclair, I am the more bound to do all I can to help you. We cannot spare you from the house nor from the country. But after all, Hogarth, one woman is as good as another, and your career should not be lightly sacrificed. One woman is good as another, exclaimed Francis. Not exactly so, but there are many women as good as Miss Melville. I grant that she is a fine woman and one of excellent principles in understanding, but not just the sort of person one could go into heroics about. I do not say that as a companion and friend her place could be filled up to you by such women as Mrs. Crickton, or any of the Jardine girls, or even by Eliza Rennie. But, Mary Forrester, what do you think of Mary Forrester? You should not let such a girl leave the country. She is handsomer, younger, and every bit as good as Miss Melville. She is a very fine girl, no doubt, but do not speak of her in the same breath with Jane Melville. I owe so much to Jane. If it had not been for her, I would never have been so valuable, even to you. Well then, let us see what is to be done to suit your wishes. Shall I go with you to McFarlane's? I will be very glad indeed of your company," said Francis. Mr. McFarlane was very much surprised at the strange business which had brought Hogarth from his parliamentary duties to consult him upon. He read carefully the document which Alice had forwarded, and listened to Francis's account of the inquiries he had made so unsuccessfully, before he ventured on giving any opinion. This is very possibly true, Mr. Hogarth, said he, at last. Indeed, very probably true. I think with you that this woman, Elizabeth Ormestown and her mother, were capable of doing anything that would bring them in money, but the secret has been kept too long, much too long. They did their work skillfully, without accomplices, and without leaving any traces of their proceedings. This confession is not worth the paper it is written on in a court of law, and you have failed in all your efforts to get corroborative evidence. There is no use in inquiring about Violet Strachan. She is dead three years ago. I paid her on Hogarth's account, a small weekly sum, that she used to come into my office for to keep her from destitution. But that payment is at an end. The other witness could only prove the irregular marriage, which there is no doubt about, as Henry Hogarth owns to it in his will. The only evidence that would be worth anything is that of your real mother, and there is no saying if she is not dead too. I think the chances are that she is," said Mr. MacFarlane, turning up the annuity tables for the chances of life at the supposed age of thirty-two, which Mrs. Peck had given as the probable age of her neighbor in the lodging-house, after a period of thirty-four years. If alive, there is no getting at her, and after all, qui bono? I am attached, very deeply attached, to my supposed cousin, Jane Melville. I want to be free to marry her. I am convinced that she is not my cousin, and you know the will said that it was on condition of not marrying or assisting either of my cousins that I was to hold the property. If I have convinced you of the feasibility of the case, that I am not related in the slightest degree to the Mrs. Melville, would not the benevolent societies to which Mr. Hogarth left his property, in case of my disobeying his injunctions, see it also? One man, or one society of men, might be convinced, said Mr. MacFarlane, and would make a compromise with you on very easy terms. But I doubt if five distinct corporations would do so. There is no one who has any right to object except these societies, said Francis, or any object in doing so. Those clauses forbidding marriage as a condition of inheriting property, or of receiving yearly incomes, are always mischievous, said Sinclair. They are contrary to public morals. Henry Hogarth, said Mr. MacFarlane, who was a clever man, and in some respects a wise man, did the foolishest things and important matters that I ever heard of. First his marriage with that girl. I saw her once at the house he lodged in, and a glycate lassie I thought her. Next the education of his nieces, which was absolutely nonsensical, and then putting such a clause into his will, as if he meant that you should take a fancy to each other, for prohibitions of that kind just put mischief into young folks' heads. Then do you see the absence of family likeness that Elsie relies so much upon? You knew Elizabeth Ormestown when she was young. She saw her an old woman. I'm no hand at likenesses, said MacFarlane, and did not pay much attention to the girl. But I think both she and Henry were fair and low-featured, and you are dark and high-featured. But that is of no use either, as you know. Then by a rigid interpretation of the will, you think the societies would be able to dispossess me, if I married Jane, and could not prove this story of Mrs. Peck's to be true. I think I know it pretty well by heart, but we had better turn to it, said Mr. MacFarlane, and he looked out the document he had himself drawn out, and read it aloud to Francis and Mr. Sinclair. Now you see the great purpose and bent of Mr. Hogarth's will was to impoverish his nieces, to force them to act and work for themselves. Not merely marriage, but any other way of assisting them was forbidden. He certainly meant to enrich you because he thought you deserved it, but in case of your not cooperating with him in his principal object, the property was to go away from you altogether. The Mrs. Melville have made their way in the world remarkably well, much better than I could have thought possible. I think he acted both cruelly and unjustly to them, but as they have so well conquered their difficulties, the matter had better be left as it is. Then, said Francis, you think that even if I had satisfactory proof from my real mother to corroborate Elizabeth Ormestown's confession, and could make it incontestably plain that I am not related to Mrs. Melville, so that I do not, in marrying her, marry my cousin, it would be considered in law as invalidating my right to the property, that by doing so I am assisting Jane Melville, which was forbidden as clearly as the marriage. It is a very strong point. If I were the legal advisor of any one of these benevolent associations, I certainly would recommend them to contest it. At the same time, with the proof which you speak of, I would enjoy fighting it out with them. In a court of law the decision would be against you, under the most favourable circumstances, but if we took it to the equity courts I think your chance would be better, for there is a growing feeling there that it is not right for people to bequeath property clogged with vexatious restrictions. Yet at the same time all who think well of these five charitable institutions, and they are the very best managed of the kind in Scotland, Mr. Hogarth showed judgment in his election, will think taking the property from a man who had, according to his own showing, no right to it, for the sake of the poor and afflicted, really a good work. Public feeling will be against you where you are not personally known. God knows that it is not for myself that I wish to keep Cross Hall, nor yet for Jane herself, said Francis, but my life lies out before me so clearly that at no period have I had more to give up than now. If you had the evidence you wished for, which I see very little chance of your getting, and married Miss Melville, then of course the societies would come upon you. You have got possession, you might keep them at bay for years, and in the meantime you might have interest enough with your political friends to get something good in the way of a government appointment. We hear you well spoken of in the house as a man likely to distinguish himself. Not in the way of getting government appointments, said Francis, quite in a contrary direction. But without the evidence, then, what would you advise? To let them at rest. Indeed, I think it is useless to disquiet yourself about discovering your real parents. These long lost relations never amalgamate well. I have seen several instances of it, and they were very disappointing. Then, said Francis, I suppose the only thing for me to do is to make out a deed of gift to each of these societies in the order in which Mr. Hogarth left the property to them. The personal estate I have certainly trenched upon a little, but to all the benefit of the heritable estate. Cross Hall is in better condition now than when I succeeded to it. If I have given away on the very easiest term some of the worst land on the estate, I have improved the better, and I have spent a large sum in new cottages. I have lived within my means. Even election expenses were saved out of the current income. You do not mean to say, said Mr. McFarland, that you are going to take so wild a step as this? What good end can you secure by throwing up your handsome fortune in this way? Don't propose such a thing yet. Think a little, Hogarth, said Sinclair. I am sure the figure you are making in the house would delight my old friend Harry's heart, said Mr. McFarland, just in the way he would have liked to do himself, getting in, in such an honourable way, too. I heard Prentice say that he never saw any things so open and above board and so pure as your canvassing. If you are not Harry's son, you deserve to be, and it is no fault of yours. You are like a chip off the old block in your ways of thinking. It is quite possible you are his son after all. This woman is not to be believed one way or another. To give up all this for the sake of a pair of grey eyes and a pair of healthy-looking cheeks that nobody ever thought handsome is a young man's folly. Yes, and a head and a heart, and a few other things, said Francis. She would never be so unreasonable as to wish or expect you to do it, said Mr. Sinclair. She would not expect me to do it, I know. I cannot regret my career more than she will do, but I love her, and I believe she loves me, and please God, we will begin the world together. I was sorry for the girls, said McFarlane, very sorry. You could see that when I read the will to you, but they have really done very creditably. In spite of the most absurd education in the world, one of them got a capital situation as a governess, and the other did very well, I hear, at some sort of woman's work. It's the youngest that is going to be well married in Australia, and very likely the other will do the same. I think it is very likely she will, said Francis. But if she is married to someone else before you go out, they do these things very quickly at the antipodes, said Mr. McFarlane. There, the first male after their arrival, we hear of Alice Melville being engaged to be married. I will trust her, said Francis. She will surely wait till she hears how I receive this news. Even at the worst I can console myself with your friend, Mr. Sinclair. She will be at hand, and that is a great matter. Don't give it up so rashly. I'd rather fight it out to the death than that. At any rate, you might keep possession of Cross Hall for a while till you have made your way in public life, said Mr. McFarlane. The plan of action I had laid out for myself was not likely to succeed for ten or twenty years in all probability, and the lawsuit, if protracted to the utmost, would likely go against me at last. I see it would, and the only effect would be that the benevolent societies would come to the property when it had been reduced about one half by litigation. With all due respect for you personally, Mr. McFarlane, I think money spent in law the very worst investment for all parties concerned, and for the world in general. No, it shall be given up at once. But, said Sinclair, it would be unfair to yourself to begin the world at a greater disadvantage than before you were left to the property. Yes, I think it would, said Francis. I might represent the case to them in that light. I am satisfied with your opinion, Mr. McFarlane, but on a question of such importance you will, of course, have no objection to my consulting another advisor, the Lord Advocate, I think. Certainly, you could not have a better man, said Mr. McFarlane. Give me the will or a copy to show him, said Francis. I must make a note of the names and addresses of these societies in case his opinion coincides with yours, for I must write to each of them to send a delegate or deputation to meet me. I should see them all at once and explain matters to them. Rather a hard matter for a shy man like myself to bring his love affairs before five charitable associations. Shy, said Sinclair, you are as bold and frank a politician as I ever saw. All politics are another matter, but until I met with Jane I never had anyone in whom I could confide. I never even knew the blessing of friendship before. She taught me to be frank, for she had confidence in me and felt for me. You see, I am practicing for the associations by speaking to two elderly gentlemen on the subject. Another lesson at the Lord Advocates, and I hope to be equal to the emergency. The Lord Advocate agreed in all points with Mr. McFarlane as to the legal chances of keeping the property, and although he thought it a very chaotic thing to give it up, Francis was determined on that subject. The letters were written to the associations and a day was appointed for his meeting a delegate from each of them, entrusted with powers to decide an act. Mr. McFarlane wished to be present, for he had no confidence in the prudence of his client, who would be sure to show his hand to the opposing party, and let them know too soon how little there was in it, and Francis rather reluctantly consented. In the meantime he worked off some of his excitement by visiting Peggy and the Lowries to deliver Elsie's messages. She was busy, as usual, but laid aside her work at the side of the unexpected visitor. Have you any news? said she, for I have had no letter for Miss Jean this month, and next mail I'll know be here to get it. You look as if there was good news, Mr. Hogarth. Good and bad, said Francis. Can you guess the good? Miss Elsie and Mr. Brandon, said Peggy, and I see by your eyes I'm right. You are a good guesser, Peggy. She is only sorry she could not be married from your house, but she did not think Mr. Brandon would wait so long. Oh, I daresay no! But indeed I marveled that he went to Australia without her, for I thought it was a thing that was to be, from the first day he spoke about her. But there's not much time lost, after all. There's to be a Mrs. Brandon at Barragong at last, and what says Miss Jane about it? It is Elsie herself who writes to me that it is a settled thing, and that she hopes to be very happy and sends you this message. But what would you say if Miss Jane were to be married herself? You don't say so, said Peggy, looking surprised and puzzled. I never thought upon her being married. And that's the bad, is it? I wonder what man about weary Wilta has got the presumption to even himself to her. I missed out she's throwing herself away, as many a sensible woman has done before her. One marriage is quite enough for me at a time. Perhaps it is premature in me to speak of it, said Francis, for the Saldana will be three months away, or nearly so on the way, and she has not been rightly asked yet. The Saldana? What in the name of wonder do you mean? I mean to go with you in the Saldana, if I finish the little matter of business I have got to do on this side of the world before she sails. But I see I must let you read my letters so that you may judge of the news. It's fine big writing, said Peggy. I hope it's easier made out than what you say. And she proceeded to read Elsie's letter and enclosure with a running comment. She scarcely understood the drift of the beginning of the letter, but when she came to Mr. Brandon's name she knew her ground. Happy! She's sure to be happy. Mr. Brandon will give her all her own way, and she does not want for sense. That's a kind message to me, but she might have been married here if Mr. Brandon had had more gumption and asked her before he went away. Then Mrs. Phillips is more reasonable. I'd like to see her show any errors to her now when Mr. Brandon is by. He'll let her know her place. And they like Australia both of them. Who in all the world is it Miss Jean can have taken up with? And so that was the way Cross Hall got his bonny bargain of a wife. He was young and simple to be entrapped with such a pair. Well, well it was a homecoming to hear such words passing between her and an old sweet heart. I'll be bound he never wanted to see her again. But mercy on us, and so it was not you that was the barn after all, Master Francis, and the old Lord had really no call to care about you. But that woman should be punished. Men and women had been hanged for less guilt. I'd hurry no one into the presence of the great judge, but that she should be at large, boasting of her wickedness and hoping to make sorrow of it is a thing that should not be permitted. Then you believe this story, Peggy? said Francis. What should I'll me to believe it? It's all of a peace. No woman that was not as wicked as that would make up so wicked a story. Every one that I show the narrative to believes it, and yet they all say that it would not hold in a court of justice. So I am going to give up Cross Hall to the benevolent associations, as Mr. Hogarth made him his heirs, in case of me not obeying some of his directions. And I will then sail with you in the Saldana to begin the world afresh and to ask Jane Melville to begin it with me. Peggy made no doubt that that was the only thing Francis could do under the circumstances. She did not know the value of what he lost. She only thought of what he was likely to gain. Well, Mr. Francis, or whatever your name may be, if that is the marriage you spoke of, I think that news is good too. I'm not a woman of many words, but I think you'll never repent of this or grieve for the loss of this world's gear. And so far as my poor judgment goes, I think Miss Jean is not the woman to say you nay. And she shook his hand warmly, and entered into his plans for beginning life in Melbourne, as neither Sinclair nor MacFarlane had done. There's good work to be done in Australia, Mr. Francis, and there's one thing there that will help you to do it. There's no doubt Providence intends to make something of you. After all this chopping and changing, it would be a queer thing if you would not rise as high at the other end of the world as you have done in this. Perhaps there never was a romantic communication made to five more prosaic-looking people than the accredited agents of the societies. Middle-aged and elderly men, who if they ever took up a novel, skipped the love passages, and in all instances preferred to read newspapers, they were very much bewildered at the purpose of their being called together. They had thought there must have been a codicil found to the very strange will of which they had had a copy sent to their societies, as being, though in a very unlikely contingency, possibly interested, and that it was possible they were to receive a small sum in Essa, instead of the large one in Pase. But when Mr. McFarlane produced no codicil, but read to them gravely Mrs. Peck's confession instead, and paused at the conclusion, as if he expected them to express an opinion, they looked at each other for a few seconds, unwilling to commit themselves by initiating any remark whatever. At last the boldest of the number observed that it was a strange story which the others agreed to unanimously. Do you think it is true? said Francis. Perhaps it is, said the Director of the Blind Asylum. There is no saying. Of course it does not at all invalidate Mr. Hogarth. My client's right to the estate, movable and heritable, of the late Hogarth of Cross Hall, said Mr. McFarlane, for you know that was left to him by will. Of course not, said the Director of the Blind Asylum. One can see that. But what was the use of calling us here? said the Representative of the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, to tell us that Cross Hall left his property perhaps by a mistake. Had he claimed as heir of entail or as heir-at-law the case would have been different, but it would have been our business to have found that out, or the next heirs, and certainly not the present possessors. You will observe, said Francis, that I hold the property under conditions. One is that I shall not marry either of my cousins. If Jane Melville is not my cousin, marrying her and restoring her to the property, which she has a better right to than I have, should not invalidate my right by this will. Oh! that is a very different affair, said the Deaf and Dumb Delegate. You want to marry Miss Melville and to keep the estate too. Yes, if I can legally. I know that if Mr. Hogarth was alive at this day and could see this confession he would believe it, and he would no longer see any bar to my marriage with his niece. If he could see how well and how bravely his nieces have battled with the world, he would require no further trial of their fortitude or patience. We would never think of disturbing you in possession of Cross Hall, so long as you fulfill the conditions of the will, said the Delegate from the Blind Asylum. Certainly, you need never think of it, for you cannot, said McFarland. But such a step as you contemplate is so flagrant of violation of the spirit and purport of Mr. Hogarth's will, for right or wrong he never meant Jane Melville to be mistress of Cross Hall, that we must claim our just rights. This confession, given with the hope of extorting money from the supposed heirs of Mr. Hogarth, is worthless, particularly considering the character of the person who makes it. I think you have no case whatever. Do not you agree with me? said the director of the Duff and Dumb Asylum, one who took the greatest possible interest in the working and the prosperity of that charity, and the funds of which were rather at a low ebb at this time. We cannot be supposed to be actuated by selfish motives. We are perfectly disinterested trustees for great public interests. But if property is left to these institutions, we would be wanting in our duty if we did not claim it. The other four directors took the same view of the case. None of them would agree to leave Francis unmolested if he took the step he meditated. But you observe, said Francis, that this will has been the cause of great injustice. In the first place, Mr. Hogarth's two nieces had been brought up as his heirs, and they were left to struggle with difficulties and hardships, which were harder and more severe than any man has to go through, and for which the education their uncle had given them had not made them more fitted. In the second place, he left the property to me as supposing me to be his son. If this confession is true, I am not his son. But if I marry the woman, who in that case is not my cousin, you will not allow me to keep the estate for her. So I am forced to stop, Mr. Hogarth, said Mr. MacFarlane eagerly. I am forced to make a deed of gift to each of you, as I am really in possession of the estate. I save you all the expense and trouble of litigation, and I have to begin the world again at far greater disadvantage than when I was taken from my bank desk and my two hundred and fifty pounds a year two years ago. I have acquired expensive habits. I am two years older, and I shall have a wife and probably a family to maintain. There is a great deal of truth in what you say, said the Director of the Institution, for the sub-matronship of which Jane Melville had applied in vain. The other four were speechless with astonishment at the extraordinary proposition which Francis made to them. Litigation is long and expensive. I may say for my body of directors that we would be very happy to give some consideration for the very handsome, the very generous offer you make to us. It is not right to marry without being a little beforehand with the world, and it would be very unfair to accept of all you gained by the will without making a little compensation for what you have lost. Any personal property, books and furniture that you would like to keep, to the value of two hundred pounds, or thereabouts, and a sum of four hundred pounds from each of us, I think would be fair, to give you a start in a new country. I believe Miss Melville is a very deserving lady. If it had not been for her youth we should have had her with us. I hope my friends here will agree with me that this is reasonable and just. You get the estate too cheaply, said Mr. McFarland, with warmth. Think that Mr. Hogarth might have kept it for ever if it had not been for this romantic crotchet. Think that he might marry Miss Melville, and having possession might defy you to oust him, and drag you through court after court, and run you up ten thousand pounds of cost, and, after all, the chancellery courts would decide that he should keep it. Public feeling is against these restrictions, for they lead to people living par amours if they are forbidden to marry, and Mr. Hogarth's positioning character would be all in his favour. You get property worth fifty thousand pounds divided amongst you, and you offer my client a paltry two thousand pounds out of consideration for his generosity and forbearance. I am satisfied with it, said Francis, and I think Jane will be the same. It is too little, said the director of the infirmary, who had never spoken before. We must make it five hundred pounds each, and we are very much obliged to Mr. Hogarth, and we should not limit him so much with regard to the personal property. Cross Hall Library was valued at more than one thousand pounds, and as they are all such reading folk, they might take two hundred pounds of books alone. Let us be liberal, and say seven hundred pounds for what he may like to take from Cross Hall. If I have any voice in the administration of the property I make over to you, I should like to have it applied specially to paying your officers better, particularly in those situations which are filled by women. I know you think it right to economize your funds, and I believe that all Scotch charities are much better managed, and much more honestly administered than those on the other side of the Tweed. But I think you pay your surgeons and your matrons very shabbily. You say you get so many applications that it shows you do not underpay them, but it would be much better to demand better qualifications and pay them more highly. Out of sixty applications for a matronship worth thirty pounds a year there is perhaps one or two only fit for the work, and if they are fit for it they are well worth seventy pounds," said Francis. We have raised that salary," said the director of the institution. I am glad to hear it. Very glad to hear it," said Francis. We will take what you say into consideration," said the director of the deaf and dumb institution, who was speculating on all that could be done with a sum amounting to more than nine thousand pounds. I object to specify sums in making the deed of gift, or I should make some special provision on that score. But the value of money changes so much that what is a fair salary in one generation is not a fair one the next, and if salaries are fixed too high they are apt to lead to favoritism and jobbing. I dare say it would be much better to trust your own sense of honor on the matter. I think you may safely do so, Mr. Hogarth. With regard to the property, I suppose we should advertise it for sale and then divide the proceeds. The payments to Mr. Hogarth must be made at once, however, as I suppose he is bound for Australia," said the director of the deaf and dumb asylum. Yes, in the first ship, which some friends of mine are going on, said Francis. I am sure we wish you all prosperity and happiness in the marriage you contemplate, which has been so fortunate for those in whom we are interested, said the last speaker, and the sentiment was echoed by all the others. Could you not buy Cross-Hall, said Francis to Miss Thompson on the day after this matter was settled? I should feel half my sorrow at parting with it removed, if I knew you could have it. No, no, I am not going to buy a property that I cannot pay for. My father did something of the kind once, and all the time he was allured we were poor. He sold the property at a great loss, and then things looked up again with him. I'd rather be a rich farmer than a poor proprietor. If I could see you in possession of Cross-Hall, and Mr. Sinclair in my seat in Parliament, I should really have very little to give up. But it appears I cannot. I have accepted the stewardship of her Majesty's children hundreds today, and the boroughs will be declared vacant directly. But Mr. Sinclair cannot afford it, and he could not carry the election. His manner is not good enough. He does not conciliate people. If our scheme were carried there would be no fear of Sinclair getting in, for he is a man really wanted. He could get a sufficient number of votes here to carry him half in, and the remainder of the quota would be attracted by his original genius and upright character, which he could show by his speeches and addresses, and we hope to make a seat in Parliament a much less costly affair. Fifty pounds or one hundred pounds should cover it all. But I fear the boroughs must fall back on either the Duke's nominee or the Earl's. Then are you more sorry to leave your people at Cross Hall or your parliamentary duties, said Miss Thompson? The people at Cross Hall, I think, are really in a much better position than when I came, and perhaps it is well for them to be left to work out things for themselves. I have become much attached to them, but perhaps if I stayed there they would depend too much upon me. But in Parliament I have not yet broken ground in the work I had set myself to do, and I confess that I do regret it, both for my own sake, for the sake of my friends who depended on me, and for the sake of the dear old country itself. There may be more able men and more energetic men in Parliament, but I am sure there are none whose heart was more in the work than mine. But that was Jane's doing. I know if she had not urged these matters on me I would very likely have spent my life in indolent enjoyment. Without the one drop of bitter in my cup, in the sufferings of Jane and Elsie, I could never have felt the responsibilities of wealth. I should have made a fine picture gallery at Cross Hall, and probably acquired a name as a man of good taste, but the higher objects of life would have been lost side of. The farewell address to his constituents was next written and read, with genuine sorrow on both sides. The farewells at Cross Hall were taken, and the establishment broke up. But Susan, the housemaid, when she heard that the master was going to Australia, with the purpose of marrying Miss Jane, begged to go with Peggy Walker's family in hopes of being engaged in the service of the best master and the best mistress she ever saw, and her request was acceded to. Next came the journey to London, and the preparations for the voyage, and the hardest task of all, the parting from the friends and the objects he had so much at heart there. He had written a full explanation of his conduct to his co-ajuders in London on his resigning his seat. And, though there was no reproach, there was a great deal of regret, for there was not another man either able or willing to take the part which Francis had purposed to hold, for any number of years in what she might be in Parliament. Mary Melville was very much surprised at the extraordinary news that Elsie wrote to her with regard to Mrs. Peck's revelations to herself and Mr. Brandon. Though she was quite prepared for a very interesting letter on their own private affairs, she felt this touch her still more nearly. She was sorry that Elsie had written to Francis on the subject without consulting her, and that she had to wait a whole month before she could assure him that this confession made no difference in her feeling of regard and affection toward him, or in her pride in his career, saying that she hoped he was now satisfied that he was the son of honest and loving parents, though unknown ones, rejoicing that he had got quit of such a mother as Mrs. Peck, and expressing the pleasure with which she read his speeches, and her interest in the objects with which he had in a measure identified himself. She tried to think that all was with them as before, and that, though no longer his cousin, she might continue to be his affectionate and sympathizing friend. Elsie's marriage gave to her sister great and unmixed pleasure. It took place very shortly after Brandon had obtained her consent, and Emily and Jane went to Melbourne to act as bridesmaids, and Edgar too was needed on such an occasion as this. Although there were twenty miles between where Wilta and Bear Gong, the sisters contrived to see a good deal of each other. Mrs. Phillips was kinder and more cordial to the Melvils than before, and now Elsie had an ascertained position as Brandon's wife, even Miss Phillips could not condescend quite so much to her. During Brandon's honeymoon Dr. Grant had got matters in such excellent train that he made his proposal in due form and was accepted, but there could not be such promptitude in carrying it out as in Brandon's case, for he could never think of taking a lady of Miss Phillips's pretensions to bend more without making considerable additions and improvements on it, and the masons and carpenters were very slow about their work. The pangs occasioned by delay were sweetened by frequent and long visits, and the plan of his house and of the garden which he was laying out and planting was constantly in the hands of the betrothed lovers for mutual suggestions and admiration. At last the day was fixed, and it was to be a very grand affair. There was to be a special license, and she was to be married from her brother's house, as there was no English church within reasonable distance. The Lord Bishop of Melbourne was to come out to perform the ceremony, and all the neighbors from far and near were invited, the Valentines and some of their town acquaintance besides. There were to be thirty-five at breakfast, and little or nothing could be had from town, so there was an extraordinary amount of cooking going on at Weary Wilta. Mrs. Bennet, who was worth any two of the women's servants in the house, was going hither and thither, and surpassing herself in her culinary successes. Emily was instructing Harriet how she was to behave on the following day as bridesmaid, for the two little girls were to support their aunt on the trying occasion, and after officiating in that capacity at the marriage of her favourites, Brandon and Alice, Emily felt quite experienced on the subject. Their dresses were very pretty, and as for Miss Phillips's it was magnificent, for she thought, if there ever was an occasion on which one should be richly dressed, it was on an occasion like this. Mrs. Phillips had been persuaded for once to allow her sister-in-law to outshine her, at least so far as she could do so. Jane was as busy in the kitchen as any one, when she was called away by Miss Phillips to be consulted as to how her veil should be disposed of, for Mrs. Phillips had declined to give an opinion, and there were two modes of arranging it that she was doubtful about. Could not Miss Melville settle that naughty point? I really cannot say. One seems to me to look as well as the other, said Jane. That is very unsatisfactory, said Harriet. I know they are not equally becoming. Elsie will be here this evening, said Jane, or early to-morrow morning, and I am sure she will be most happy to give the last touches to your dress. Her taste is good, and you know how wretched mine is. Well, I suppose I must trust to that, but I should prefer to have everything settled to-day, so that my mind might be quite easy. I should not like to look flurried to-morrow. I must ask Dr. Grant when he comes in. Perhaps he will give me an idea. Your sister's dress was very simple, she told me, but then the affair was so hurried, there was no time to make preparations. We have not that excuse thanks to these tiresome tradespeople, but Alice and Brandon seem to get on very comfortably. Very happily, I think, said Jane. Oh, yes, he's good-natured enough, and I daresay very kind to her, and she seems quite satisfied. But I have been just thinking how difficult it would have been for me to have been suited in such a colony as this if I had not been so fortunate as to meet with Dr. Grant. Being a professional man, he is necessarily an educated man, and you know how much that weighs with me, and he has the manners of a gentleman which are also indispensable to my happiness in marriage. None of your rough, borish bushmen, who can only talk of sheep and cattle, could possibly have done for me. Then his family connections are most unexceptionable. My own relations cannot feel in any way compromised by such an alliance. The near neighborhood, as I suppose it must be called, to Wirwilte, and even to Baragang, makes it very pleasant. I should not have at all liked marrying to be at a distance from my brother and his family. Coming out, as I did on their account principally, it would be dreadful for all of us if we were separated. I am sure I am quite pleased, too, to have your sister and Brandon as neighbors. Alice looks quite a different person now she has a house of her own. I don't call her pretty, I never did, but she looks very well indeed at Baragang, and seems to get on wonderfully well considering. Considering what? was about to come from Jane's lips, for she had never liked Miss Phillips' condescending way of talking about her sister. But she checked herself, for it was of no use to argue with the bride on the evening of her wedding-day, and gave an indifferent and conciliatory reply. But the conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of two old friends, not any of the party invited for the morrow, but two large, beautiful dogs, who ran up to Jane with the wildest expressions of canine delight. Oh, Nep! Oh, Flora! said Jane, where have you come from? Who can have brought you here? Poor old fellows, dear old fellows! And the favourites from Cross Hall laid their happy heads in her lap, and rejoiced in their old mistress's caresses. What beauties! said Miss Phillips! But I do not like dogs in the drawing-room. I will take them out, said Jane, trembling with wonder and agitation. She went out of the room, and at the hall door, which stood, bush-fashioned, hospitably open, she saw Frances standing, allowing Nep and Flora, who seemed to know there was a friend in the house, to make an entrance and introduce themselves. She extended her hand, but he clasped her in his arms. Not farewell this time, dearest Jane. I have come for you, and I will not be refused. When we parted, I said you knew I loved you, and now I believe you loved me. I have given up everything, the property, the seat in Parliament, and now that I have no career to relinquish, perhaps you will acknowledge that you love me? Oh, Frances, I have always loved you! But I could have lived without you all my life if I had thought it for your good and your happiness. I could not bear to be your stumbling block. But is it really the case? Did you believe that strange story? Have you given up what you made such good use of? Come out into the garden with me, and I will tell you all about it. And Frances led Jane, where they were more secure from interruption. Flora and Neppe followed them in the greatest exuberance of spirits. I had to stay one day in Melbourne, and found that I could get a situation there as accountant in a merchant's office, at three hundred pounds to begin with. I had Mr. Rennie's testimonial to speak for me. It is not so much as my fifty pounds in Edinburgh. But will you marry me on that? said Frances. I would marry you on less, said Jane, for my own part of it, but you care for more comfort and luxury than I do. If you will consent to be cheerfully without what we cannot afford, I will do my best. I have been roughing it a little on board ship. You may ask Peggy and Mary Forester if I have not. But I hope to get on, for your sake, if not for my own. I feel just like a boy again beginning the world, and feeling it is all his for the winning. But your plans, your ambitions, are they all given up? You know the property was really yours, as much yours without a name as with my uncles. I am sorry you were so rash. No, Jane, don't be sorry. Don't be anything but very glad. I never was so happy in all my life. I left all my regrets on the other side of the world. Now, when I have your hand in mine, your heart in my keeping, when you have promised to give yourself to me, I will not feel that I have cause for anything but devout gratitude to our Heavenly Father, and humble but confident hope that he will bless our union. My dearest love, do look in my face and say you are happy. Yes, I am happy, said Jane. Very happy. Thank God for all his goodness. But what are we to do for a name? I ought not to be Hogarth or Ormestown or Francis either. Can you give me a new name to begin our new life with? I think we will still call you Francis Hogarth. It is the name I learned to love you by, and I think if my poor dear uncle saw us now, and saw how we love each other, he would be pleased that my husband should have his name. Then you have really given up everything? said Jane, who could not at once believe in the fact. To the benevolent societies, but they behaved very handsomely and gave to me, nor rather to you, a sum of money sufficient to better our position. I have not only the three hundred pounds a year, I have twenty-five hundred pounds besides, and a lot of things from Cross Hall to furnish the cottage with. I had to leave the horses, but I thought you and Elsie would like the dogs. Susan helped to pack the furniture, and I have brought her out to go into your service in any capacity. I suppose we can afford to keep one domestic on our small means, even in Melbourne. I suppose the rest of the establishment were sorry to lose a good master, said Jane, and the laborers, too. What about your arrangements there? The cottages were built and the allotments made over securely, and I think they are the better and not the worse, for my two years tenure at Cross Hall. As for the political and social reforms, I have no doubt that there are five hundred men in England as good as me. Sinclair is as good an apostle of my crotch as I could be. Only he is not in the house. I will not be so insincere as to say that I did not give up my parliamentary life with the greatest regret. That really was thus sacrificed. You must be very, very kind to me on that account, but you know that I could not, as an honest man, keep property which had been bequeathed to me under such a mistake. You would not have done it under the circumstances. I tried to save it for you, to whom it ought to have been left. But after consulting the best authorities, I found I could not do so, for your uncle's will was so distinct in excluding you from any benefit from his estate. So, Jane, you must say that you are glad. Don't look at me as if you were anything but my guiding star, the life of my life, all the world to me. A hindrance, a stumbling block. Without you I should have had no high aims, no noble ambition. If I had done little or nothing I have learned a great deal, so love me for the sake of what I am and not of what I do. You know that I will be only too happy to be your wife, Francis, said Jane. And perhaps if I get on well here I may go into political life in the colony and do the work I was sent into the world for at the other end of it. Then when are you going to give yourself to me? As soon as I can possibly leave this family, we must let Mr. Phillips know immediately how surprised Elsie will be. Not so much as you are, I fancy. Bless her for writing me that letter. There is not one of yours that I prize more. But with regard to the Phillips's, Mrs. Mary Forrester, I think, would be very happy to take your place, and from all I can see of her she will do admirably. Did you really want me to fall in love with her? I wanted you to be happy, and I thought she could make you so. You do not understand how unselfish a woman's love can be. Then if Miss Forrester can take my place here there need be no delay. You make none on your part like a good honest girl as you are. Why should I? We have loved each other for two years. Our wedding will be the simplest if air possible. Why should I pretend to wish to delay what will be my happiness as well as yours? Oh, Francis! Though I could not have wished you to make the sacrifice you have made for my poor sake, yet now that it is done, it is not a half-heart I give you. I will try to give you no cause to regret what I have cost you. Oh, how glad I am to be able to tell you frankly how dear you are to me! CHAPTER XIV JANE HOGARTH is busy making arrangements for a quiet family dinner in her pretty house not far from Melbourne. A little annoyed because the season is so backward that no fruit is to be had for love or money, but on the whole certain that things will go off very well without it. Francis has succeeded very well in Victoria. His talents and industry made him very valuable to the mercantile house he went into. In the course of a few years he put his capital into it and got a partnership, which now that the principal was absent on a visit to England was on equal terms. The Brandons and Hogarths exchanged Christmas visits with each other, and this year it is Jane's turn to be the entertainer, and Elsie, with her husband and children, have come down from the bush to have a little gaiety in Melbourne. This occasion was one to be especially remarked on, for there was a bride to be honoured in the person of pretty Grace Forster, whom Tom Lowry, now a rising engineer, had succeeded in winning as his wife. All the Lowries had made good colonists, the eldest girl had married respectively, the second assisted her aunt in the shop, which she had recently enlarged and improved, but Tom's prospects were better than those of any other in the family and fully justified Jane's hopes and expectations. There is no saying where he may stop in his colonial career. Peggy, now called Miss Walker universally, except by one or two old friends, was to accompany her nephew and his wife. Is it really Peggy whom we see at Mrs. Hogarth's door with the dress of rich black silk, destitute of crinoline, and the bonnet, in these days of tall bonnets, flattened down in contemptive fashion, but still of excellent materials? She is a better-looking woman in her older days than when she was younger. Brandon declares that in time she will turn out quite a beauty, and takes more interest in the caps that his wife makes as a regular thing for Peggy, for every year, nobody can make them to please her as Mrs. Brandon can do, than in any other of her attempts at millinery. Another member of the party was Mr. Dempster, who had just come over from Adelaide. He had been seized on by Francis and begged to accept of a little corner of their somewhat crowded house. There are a number of very bright faces collected round the table. How many recollections of early difficulties faithfully rested with and overcome, throng upon our friends at such an hour of meeting? Peggy was disposed to improve the occasion. Well, said she, to think of us all being together in this way after all we've come through. I'm not speaking of you, Mr. Dempster, for I know none of your harrisments. But when I mind of the night when Miss Jean and Miss Elsie sat in my little room so downcast and so despairing, and I told them about all my troubles just to hearten them up a little bit, and to show what God had enabled me to win through, little did I think of how the Almighty was leading us all. You mind well of how I spoke of Miss Thompson that night, and of the money she gave me for my help when I was in sore straits, how to provide for my barns. And to think of my Tam being married on her niece. It's no for worms like us to be proud, but to be connected with such as Miss Thompson is a cause of thanksgiving. And I have had a letter from Aunt Margaret, and so has Tom, said Grace, and she is quite pleased with our engagement. She says she knows that as Tom has raised himself so far by his own industry and abilities, helped by the education his good aunt gave to him, that there is no fear of his ever falling, and she said Tom's letter to her is the best thing of the kind she ever read. Mrs. Hogarth taught him to write letters, said Peggy, and really when he reads out anything to me that he has written, it reads like a printed book. As for Miss Thompson's own letter, it deserves to be printed in letters of gold. But, mind you young folk, not to be over much set up about being married and all your friends being so satisfied. It is a great good providence that you have happened so well, but all folks have not your good luck. You must not look down on your sister Mary, who is the best of the whole bunch of you, I reckon, because she is six years older than you and not married yet. Oh, Auntie, said Grace, with such a maiden aunt as I have, and such a maiden aunt as Tom has, you could never dream of my looking down on old maids, or fancying I can be compared to Mary. Bravo, Mrs. Lowry, said Brandon. I wish I could find any one good enough for Miss Forrester, but I cannot. Mistress and Claire cannot comprehend my going off before Mary. He says if he does not hear news of her in two years' time, he must come to Australia for her himself, said Grace. There is likely to be another wedding-air long at Rewilta, however, said Brandon. Emily, said Peggy, Grace was getting word of it from her sister. She's young yet. So she is, and so is Edgar, but it is a subtle thing. A year's engagement or something of that sort. Mr. and Mrs. Phillips have consented very handsomely, but Mrs. Grant thinks that, with Emily's beauty and education, for Miss Forrester has certainly brought her on wonderfully, that she should make a better marriage. But for my part, Frank, said Brandon, addressing his brother-in-law, I do like to see young people falling in love in this natural way, and willing to begin life not just as their fathers leave off. I talked to Emily like a father, and told her what she could expect until they worked for it. And she gave me a kiss and said that she knew quite well that she could not have everything just as it was at Rewilta. But if there was twice as much to give up she would do it. For as she said very charmingly, I am very fond of Edgar, and Edgar is very fond of me. To see people beginning life in a love marriage so young as the happy-parent company, or even younger, as in the case of Edgar and Emily, is very refreshing to old fogies like you and me, Frank, who began our married life a good deal on the wrong side of thirty, and whose eldest children look out for white hairs in our heads. The only consolation I have for not being happy younger is that if I had married before I should have married someone else, and that would never have done. Elsie might have taken me a year before she did, however. I have never quite forgiven her. And the young people are very fond of each other, said Peggy. All very right, but I don't like to see them make too much fuss. Tom and Grace are very ridiculous wiles. Well, I must say I like to see it, said Brandon. I quite enjoy seeing Emily stealing out with Edgar in the gloaming and meeting him in the hall when she hears his knock, and getting into corners with him. Harriet, who has some notion what the thing means, has patience with it, but Constance, who is younger, despises all this philandering. I said to her the other day, when she was expressing her disgust at these proceedings, Ah, Constance, three years or so and you will be doing just the same. I have another nephew coming out next month, and a fine fellow you said to me. You'll be just as foolish. You'll see me boiled first, said Constance, with a vehemence which startled her Aunt Harriet, and brought down a serious rebuke, though she herself thought the young people rather ridiculous, to use Peggy's phrase. But I know very well that one great reason for Emily's fancy for Edgar is her wish to call Elsie and myself aunt and uncle. I think it likely that weighed with you, Mrs. Lowry. None of your nonsense, Mr. Brandon, said Peggy, who would care to be connected with an old woman like me? And yet she was pleased with Brandon's remark, not withstanding. Well, joking apart, I think it really is a great thing for a girl to marry into a family where they are prepared to love her, and to put the most charitable construction on all she does and all she does not do, said Brandon. But, Mr. Hogarth, said Mr. Dempster, you promised at this family party to tell me the whole story of which I have got some separate threads. You recollect that we had some curious revelations one evening at a seance at my house in London. Shortly after I returned to Adelaide, I met in a wayside in an old woman whom I took to be your mother, who entered into conversation with me. But as the spiritual directions had been to have nothing to do with her, I did not inquire sufficiently to get much information from her. Some time after that I heard of your giving up your property in Scotland, sailing for Australia, marrying your cousin, and settling here. But what connection these three things have with each other I never knew. Will you be good enough to explain?" The spirit was in the wrong on that occasion in two important particulars. The letter I had in my pocket was for Mrs. Peck, but she was not my mother. Mr. Hogarth was not my father, said Francis. Not your mother! Not your father! said Mr. Dempster. Can you prove that? No, but I am quite convinced of it, said Francis. I would believe the spirits always, if I had no positive proof to the contrary, said Mr. Dempster. Mrs. Peck confessed to Brandon that as her own child died suddenly she had picked up another, with the view of imposing on Mr. Hogarth and getting a handsome allowance from him. But when he saw me he preferred keeping me out of her hands and educated me, but never loved me, said Francis. I would not believe that woman on her oath, said Mr. Dempster, and I know her motive. She wanted to get something out of your cousins and for that purpose invented this confession. That would never shake my belief in the spirits. Look at the way in which those names were spelled out. You were convinced of the truth of it at the time. My dear sir, said Francis, I certainly heard and saw great many things which I could not explain. They seemed to echo my own thoughts marvelously correctly, but whenever I was at fault they too were misinformed. Elsie had been suspicious beforehand that I was not Henry Hogarth's son. Mrs. Peck's confession was consistent and probable. She stuck to it as being true to her dying day. I went to see her on her deathbed, and she declared that, as she hoped for forgiveness, I was not her child or Mr. Hogarth's, so that, though I never got any clue to my real parents, for she did not know my name and the advertisements which I put into American papers were never answered, thirty-five years being a lapse of time in which such matters cannot be traced, I am morally certain that I am not Jane's cousin, and consequently that the spirit was wrong. It might be a mesmerism, or extraordinary quickness of sight, for though I tried to pass over the letters which spelled out the names, a very practised I might observe an infinitesimal hesitation over the particular letter, but of one thing I am certain, that if Henry Hogarth had been there in the spirit, he would have been able to tell me both that he was not my father, and also whose son I really was, which information I wished to obtain. But did not the spirit say you were to have happiness after a time? said Mr. Dempster triumphantly. And have you not got it? Certainly I have, and if it had had any hand in bringing it about I am very grateful to it, said Francis, looking at his wife with pride and pleasure. But I think we owe our happiness very much to each other. The will, which was as unjust and absurd a one as could have been made, indirectly did as service. I am quite sure that but for the singular relations in which I was placed I never could have known Jane and could not have loved her. If Elsie had been loved twenty thousand pounds I never should have dared to have looked up to her, said Brandon, and would have lost that would have been to her, not to speak of myself. It is a hundred chances to one against two heiresses getting two such good husbands and keeping all such capital friends as we do. It is quite true, said Jane. My uncle's will has resulted in more happiness than even he could have hoped for. Though he certainly would not have contemplated with equanimity the passing of Cross Hall into the hands of Mrs. William Dalzel, whose trustees invested her fortune in it when it was sold by the benevolent societies to whom I relinquished the inheritance, said Francis. Dalzel does not make so bad a landlord as we expected, particularly as he has not much in his power. The proceeds of the sale are doing good to the sick and afflicted while we are quite as comfortable without it. I cannot think enough of the providence that has made good come out of evil, said Jane, but with regard to the wrappings, Mr. Dempster, the irracular sentences that all would be well in the end and that Francis should be happy after a time were of the vaguest description while on positive matters they were decidedly misinformed. It might have been a lying or mocking spirit, said Mr. Dempster. My faith in the truth of these manifestations is not to be shaken by what you say. I wonder if your spirits could tell us if Grant is in for—and his majority? The election must have taken place, but no one in the room knows of it. That would be a crucial test, as Jane calls it, said Brandon. In a company of such unbelievers, said Mr. Dempster, we could not get up a seance, and what is more we have no medium. It is well that Dr. Grant goes out of his own district, said Brandon, for he would not stand a chance there, and now he is promising to those strangers anything and everything. With all Grant's aristocratic feelings, and his wives too, which are still stronger, their desire that he should have a seat in the assembly, now that McIntyre is in, seems to drag him into as low-depth as any one. I cannot see why they should be so anxious about it, unless it is that, since they cannot afford to go home, they want to take as good a position here as any of their neighbors. Grant's affairs will suffer if he has to be so much in Melbourne, and at best he will make a very fourth-rate legislature. I think he is naturally indifferent honest, said Francis. At least he is disposed to be honest, but canvassing is very different work here as well as in Britain. You should really get into our assembly, Frank, said Brandon, to give the natives here the benefit of your experience. How great you would be on a point of order or a question of privilege. I wish Francis had time to give to parliamentary duties, said Jane. I live in hopes that when Mr.—returns, he may try his fortune in the political world here. If representative assemblies would limit themselves to what really concerns such bodies, it would not be so heavy attacks upon people in business to give their time to the public. But they will meddle with things that ought to be left alone, and endless floods of talk on such matters take up much valuable time. Then Mr. Hogarth's public spirit has not been gently smothered by a happy marriage and a fine family of children. That is the modern view of the case, said Mr. Dempster. Nothing great is done by married men unless they are unhappily mated. A most ignoble view of a wife's duties, said Jane. My wife would never smother any public spirit I may have, said Francis. She had too much to do with the birth of it, not to cherish it as fondly as any of her other babies. But I fear that, till my friend Mr. Harris' scheme is carried, I could not get a majority in Victoria. We want the reform very much here, and in all the colonies, and as yet it has been failure, failure, failure. And if such men as you do not get in, Frank, it will never be carried. Grant is stupid, thoroughly stupid. I talked to him for four mortal hours on the subject, and made it plain to the meanest capacity, that though we wanted a representation of minorities, the minority in the house would faithfully represent the minority out of doors, and not be able to defeat the majorities, as he was convinced it would do. I put it down in black and white, proved it with figures. Elsie and I made fancy voting papers, and I acted as returning officer, and showed the thing as clear as day. But though he drank a bottle and a half of sherry during the process, he was just as wise at the end as at the beginning. Now I don't call myself at all clever, but would Frank explain the method of voting to me, I saw it all in a minute. And you, Tom, did you not, too? But then you are rather a genius. It is as plain as a pike staff, said Tom Lowry. Walter thinks, because he has not read very much, that we must think him stupid, said Elsie, when he really has the quickest apprehension of all sorts of things. Dr. Grant will, perhaps, take up the meaning of Hare's scheme, when the newspapers have advocated it for years, and it has been familiar to all the people around him, said Francis, or he may vote for it without understanding it when it becomes a popular cry. But to have to stir such a dish of skimmed milk to honorable action, said Brandon, Frank, you really must stand for our district. I fancy McIntyre will go home by the time your partner comes back, so we will have a vacancy. I will canvas for you, and so will Edgar. It would be a credit to us to have a real British MP as our representative, and then you could push your grand idea, as you intended to have done in England, before love routed ambition. As you say, the result has hitherto been a failure in the colonies, but the contest should not be abandoned. I fear that the movement makes slow progress in Britain, said Francis, but still it makes progress. It is too great a change there, and there are so many vested interests which consider such a reform would interfere with their prescriptive rights. On the Continent it makes more way, and perhaps as my French friends say, the discovery may be first carried into practice there, but I had hopes of its success in the colonies. There is so much less to disturb here that a change from exclusively local to general elections would not be difficult, if we could only make the idea familiar. All we see in America, all we see in political matters here, only show how much easier it is to reform before abuses go too far. I should very much like to try your district, Brandon, and will be very glad of your services when the time comes, and so I should feel that my work had been postponed, but not altogether given up. If we could carry the measure up by a coup d'hémon in any of the colonies, and bring it into working, the whole world would be the better for it, said Brandon. There can be no carrying it by a coup d'hémon, said Francis. Every inch of the ground must be fought here, as in Britain, but the extent of ground is shorter. I've grown much more patriotic since I was married, said Brandon. The place where you have a real home, the birthplace of your children, and where you hope to see them grow up, becomes very dear to you. And here are the youngsters. Little Maggie Brandon, so-called in compliment to Peggy, seemed to know by intuition that there was something for her in the pocket of the worthy woman, and went to her at once, and the others distributed themselves according to their several likings. Well, said Peggy, I've often thought to ask you before, Mrs. Hogarth, but how are you going to educate your lasses? What are you going to do with them? And you favor lasses in both families, two to one in each of them. Very much as we educated ourselves, said Jane, with more care taken for the cultivation of their natural tastes, but the groundwork will be the same. That education has certainly turned out admirable wives, said Francis. Speak for yourself, Frank, said Brandon, but my wife spoils me and everybody in the house. There is a sad want of vinegar in her composition. She cannot scold her servants. The mildest approach to it that she ever makes is by saying, Mr. Brandon does not like such a thing, or that Mr. Brandon would be displeased if they do not attend to such another. The idea of making a bugbear of me is very ingenuous, but I fear not very efficacious, for I know they see through it. As for me, a penitent recollection of a conversation in an English railway carriage has stopped her mouth forever, and she never gives me a hard word, however I may deserve it, and for the children the less we say of them the better. But, Walter, I can keep my servants, and they really do very well, and the children are good enough, and so are you, so there is no need to scold. That is where the dangerous part of this subtle flattery lies. It is so perfectly sincere. But I suppose we get along pretty well, considering, as Mrs. Grant would say, and I really think her household would be more comfortable if she took a leaf out of my wife's book. Her servants will not stay three months with her, and she has three of the most spoiled, exacting children I ever saw, far worse than their cousins at where Wilta were in their worst days. The Philipses had spirit, but the Grants have none, except perhaps the spirit of discontent. I think we might do worse, Peggy, than educate our girls to resemble their mothers. But, said Jane, we must make some provision for them also, if we can. I suppose that I could have got on as well as you, Francis, if I had been a man. Yes, there is nothing I have done that you could not have done as well. I have as much perseverance as you, but not so much energy. It is likely you would have made a better figure in the world than I have done. But I could get nothing to do but to take a governess's situation, and wonderfully lucky I was to get it. Mary Forrester is a much better governess for Mr. Philips's family than I was. Elsie could only maintain herself as a milliner or as a ladiesmaid, and yet Elsie, placed as a clerk or bookkeeper in a bank or merchant's office, would have filled the situation as satisfactorily as half of the young men I know. Then you have not quite given up your notions of women's rights, said Mr. Dempster. For my part, I think the best right a woman has is the right to a husband. That is a right she cannot assert for herself, said Jane, smiling. One would think, to hear people talk on this subject, that the entreaties for work and independence come from those who in their youth disdained faithful lovers, and perversely and unnaturally refused to love, honor, and obey. I think on the contrary that the women of our century are only too easily one, and cannot be charged with any unnecessary cruelty to lovers. I do not think that you increase the number of happy marriages, or lessen the number of mercenary unions, by making the task for a single woman to maintain herself honestly and usefully such very uphill work. End of Mr. Hogarth's Will by Catherine Helen Spence