"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 brought up to
expect?"

"Thirty pounds a year to begin with," said Jane, half aloud; "250 pounds
after seventeen years' work. Very sweet--all one's own earning. I am
not afraid, only let Elsie keep up heart."

"I cannot," said Elsie; "I'll be dead long before seventeen years are
over."

"I will take good care of you," said Jane.

"How are you to take good care either of yourself or of me if we
are starving?" said Elsie, with a fresh burst of tears.

"We will do our best. So you are going, Mr. Hogarth. Write to me if you
can hear of anything for me. I will be much obliged to you. Good-bye."

Jane shook hands with her cousin kindly, and soon after Mr. MacFarlane,
and Mr. Baird also, withdrew, leaving the sisters alone. Elsie wept
till she was completely exhausted, while her sister sat at the table
with pen and ink and paper before her, but writing nothing.