Mr Hogarth's Will — Disappointment and Hope; Prose and Poetry, part 2

"It is a very pretty name, nevertheless, and would look as well on the title-page of a book as any I know--only in a newspaper you do not like it," said Jane.

"I must bid you good-bye for a few hours now, for I am going to Miss Thomson's. I am going to ride, and will not be very long."

Miss Thomson had just taken up the local newspaper after her morning ride over the farm, and had read the peculiarly interesting paragraph relating to Mr. Hogarth's will, when Mrs. Dalzell's note was put into her hands, and Miss Melville was announced.

Miss Thomson was a very fine-looking old lady, with keen, though also kind grey eyes, looking out from rather shaggy eyebrows, and an open frank smile on her mouth.

The colour of health still bloomed on a cheek that had seen sixty summers and winters, and the elasticity of youth had only been transformed into the dignity and repose of a green old age.

It is better to be at the head of the commonalty than dragging in the rear of the gentry, and for substantial comfort, liberal housekeeping, generous almsgiving, and frank hospitality, the farmhouse of Allendale was out and out superior to the mansion of Moss Tower, where the Dalzells had lived for at least two centuries.

As Mrs. Dalzell's note had been introductory and not explanatory, Miss Thomson could not guess the cause of the unexpected visit.

She, however, kindly welcomed Miss Melville, and asked her to sit down, which Jane did with an ease and youthful dignity that was as suitable to her time of life as Miss Thomson's at three-score.

"I have called, madam," said Jane, "because I have always admired you, and wished to know you; and also because at this critical juncture I have thought that your advice would be far more valuable to me than that of people who have never made an effort or conquered an obstacle.

You know our position"--and she glanced at the open newspaper.

"Yes, I do.

I feel both surprised and grieved at your uncle's extraordinary settlement," said Miss Thomson.

"My uncle always used to point to you as an instance of what women could do if they tried, and I am sure he must have had you in his eye when he felt so sure of my success in life.

Could you, would you teach me to farm, and I will keep your books, write your letters, manage your household, be your factotum, if you will allow me.

I have studied agricultural chemistry, and if you would permit me to learn from you the practical details of farming operations, I might really be of use to you."

Miss Thomson shook her head.

"My dear girl, you do not know what you ask.

Without capital, and a large capital, no one need think of taking a farm in Scotland; and all those things that you offer to do for me are precisely the things that I can do for myself, and I hope will be able to do for the next ten years.

I should be better for an assistant, it is true, but it must be some one who can ride to market, buy stock, sell to butchers, take or let grass parks, and oversee my working farm steward, for I am getting rather old for such long rides as I have been in the habit of taking on the farm.

And, my poor girl, anxious as I am to befriend you in your straits, and to encourage your honest ambition, I have nephews and nieces, and grand-nephews and grand-nieces of my own, who have all claims upon me.

My two married sisters have large families, and not very much to keep them on, so I have to help in various ways.

Do as you like, the burden of bringing up the next generation is pretty equally divided among us, and I am only thankful that Providence has so prospered me that I can be of use of the young people.

I have arranged that my nephew, John Forrester, is to come and do for me what I cannot so well manage without help; and as I have no idea of falling behind the high farming of the times, I have given him a thorough course of the agricultural chemistry, so much in fashion, before he tries the practical branch of the science.

I hope he will not be too new-fangled and upsetting altogether with his theories; but he is a good lad in the main, and I think he will do.

Besides John, I have to help his brother James to begin business, and I have two nieces whose education I am making more thorough than their parents could afford to do."

"So you have no room for me," said Jane.

"I should have known it.

I

have no claim on any one, not a relation in the world but a sister, less fit to cope with it than myself, and a cousin, newly found under sad circumstances, and tied down not to assist us.

But could you not give us any encouragement, for that is what I want most?

Your own experience----" "My own experience is very different from what yours can be.

My father died in the early years of a long lease of twenty-one years, when he had laid out several thousands, all the capital he had, and all he could raise, upon the land, hoping to get it out again with interest and a large profit, for the farm was a fine one, though it had been badly managed before.

He had no son to take up the lease; and had things been wound up, and the lease sold, there would have been a heavy loss.

I believed that I could manage the concern, and got leave from the landlord, rather as a favour, to continue on Allendale.

I was industrious and methodical, and reduced the expenses of management below what they had been in my father's time, and consequently made more money than even he could have made of it.

My landlord willingly took me again for a tenant when the lease was expired, particularly as I offered as much as any one for it.

The value of the lease, stock, and crop, that I began business with, could not have been less for me to keep than 5,000 pounds, though if they had been sold they might have brought only half that amount.

You see I had a good start.

I like the work, and it likes me.

I am a richer, a happier, and a more useful woman, than I could have been if I had had 20,000 pounds all left me in a lump."

"This is very different, indeed, from our case," said Jane.

"It is the want of capital that I feel so very hard.

I could make something of capital."

"I suppose that for you, Miss Melville, with nothing but youth, health, and a stout heart, there is nothing but a governess's situation to be thought of.

Society seems to say to gentlewomen who have not enough to live on, 'Teach or marry;' and the governess market and the marriage market are both sadly overstocked.

People have not all got a taste for either alternative.

Here am I, a sensible, well-disposed woman, but yet I never could teach in my life, and I never had any wish to marry."

"The world is large," said Jane; "there are thousands of fields of labour.

Uncle did not wish us to be governesses, I am quite sure; he did not educate us for it; and I do not think he wished us to marry either."

"He should have left you a small competence--not enough to tempt others, but to save you from being tempted yourself," said Miss Thomson.

"I dare say he made a great mistake; but I think he fancied that the strong necessity for effort would stimulate us to exertion.

To vegetate on a small annuity would not be so pleasant as to earn even the same income for ourselves," said Jane.

"Well, my dear girl, I do not fear for you, though things look so very gloomy at present.

You have got the stuff in you.

There is promise of success in your step and voice--in your quick eye and honest smile.

Is your sister like yourself?

--no; you said she was less fit for the life that is before you; that is a pity."

"It is; but we love each other so dearly--we are all the world to each other."

"Well, that is good for both of you; love is just as great a necessity as air or food.

I cannot help thinking that you should try your luck in Edinburgh; you are more likely to find what will suit you there than in a country side, like this of Swinton.

Have you any friends there?"

"None to rely upon," said Jane.

"Your cousin that has come into such an inheritance, does he seem friendly?"

"Very much so, but he is forbidden to give us help."

"In money, perhaps; but it would be only right if he would take some trouble to make inquiries, and speak for you to any one he thinks could employ you.

It would be a satisfaction to his own mind, besides."

"I have a letter from him this morning, saying that he has heard of something that he fears is not good enough for me, or either of us, and urging me to come to Edinburgh, to see for myself, offering me or both of us, if we are so inclined, the hospitality of his humble home, as he calls it.

I cannot afford to go to a hotel, and we have no friend to whose house we could go uninvited, so I feel inclined to accept the invitation."

"You had better do so, Miss Melville; and as it may be a while before you meet with work, and as travelling about to look for it costs money, you will be so good as to take this, with my best wishes," said Miss Thomson, opening her desk and taking out a five-pound note and handing it to Jane, who, though she had fancied she never could have accepted money from a stranger, felt this to be offered so frankly and kindly, that she thanked Miss Thomson and took it.

"This is the best sign of you yet--no foolish pride--no flying in my face with indignant disclaiming of what people call charity, and throwing the bit of paper on the carpet for the lass to sweep out, but a sensible and reasonable way of taking from a fellow-creature what she would take as pleasantly from you if she needed it and you had it to spare.

You will do, Miss Melville; only mind, as the old Scotch proverb has it, 'You must set a stout heart to a stey brae'."

On Jane's return to Cross Hall she found her sister in very much better spirits than when she set out for Allendale.

An idea had struck Elsie, consequent partly on the remark Jane had made about her name looking well on the title-page of a book, and partly on her seeing in the Poet's Corner of the SWINTON COURIER some verses very inferior to her own which Mrs. Dalzell had returned to her.

She was a poet; and what was there to hinder her from distinguishing herself in the literary world by thoughts that breathe and words that burn; and also from earning in this pleasant way a handsome income.

Hope arose out of the vision; the fanciful and fragile mind that every one had despised and undervalued might, perhaps, do greater things than Jane's clear head and busy hands.

Never had her ideas flowed more rapidly, or her words arranged themselves so well.

She began by bewailing her own sad fate, the loss of fortune, and the desertion of friends; and the sincerity of her feelings made it feel like an inspiration.

Things that appeared to her to be new thoughts crowded on her, and before Jane's return she had finished a short poem very much to her own satisfaction.

She would scarcely wait to hear the result of her sister's visit to Miss Thomson, but impetuously and affectionately made Jane sit down to listen to her lay.

"I wish I were a good judge, Elsie.

It seems to me to be very pretty.

Here and there I would alter a word; but, on the whole, I think you have succeeded," was the welcome criticism.

"You think so; and you are so prosaic.

I feel as if I could go on for ever writing.

Don't you think you have seen worse verses printed, not in a newspaper, but in a book?"

"I read so little of that kind of literature; but I am sure you often read pieces to me, from both newspapers and books, that do not interest me half so much."

"Oh, Jane, I count so much on your good opinion, because I know that you will give it honestly, and because I think if I can please you I may please anybody."

And Elsie looked so animated, so joyous, and so spiritual, that Jane's hopes rose.

She, indeed, was no judge of poetry, but anything that could give courage and hope to her sister's mind must be a good thing.

"You must persevere, my dear.

It will do yourself good, if no other good comes of it," said she.

"But other good is sure to come of it, Jane.

Do not such things get printed, and of course the writer is paid for them?

I can write so fast; and now I know some of the real trials of life, I can speak from experience."

"And you are the type of the bulk of the poetry-reading public," said Jane thoughtfully.

"The lady readers, I mean; generous, impulsive, and romantic; you ought to know what will suit the public taste.

I wish you all success.

But I have failed in my object, and have been advised to go to Edinburgh.

You saw I had a letter this morning from Mr. Hogarth, with an invitation for both of us to come and live at his house, and look about us.

You would not like to go?"

"No, Jane, I would far rather stay here and write; but it would be uncomfortable for you to go by yourself.

I will go, if you very much wish it."

"No, my dear, if you think this writing is to be your vocation, it is not necessary for you to look for a situation, and I do not mind going by myself, only I feared you would be unhappy alone."

"I will be quite happy.

I must have something better than this done while you are away."

"I must write to my cousin, accepting the invitation, and telling him when to expect me.

The sooner I can go the better."