He had never known a mother’s love, and his father’s death was the first blow that helped to shatter his early notions of felicity. The cloud that overshadowed him at that time was very dark, and he received no sympathy worth mentioning from his only relative, the solicitor.
“Well, Jeff, what d’you think of doing?” asked that austere relative, two days after the funeral. “Of course at your age you can’t carry on the school alone.”
“Of course not,” answered the boy, with a suppressed sob.
“What say you to entering my office and becoming a lawyer, Jeff?”
“Thanks, uncle, I’d rather not.”
“What will you do, then?” demanded the uncle, somewhat offended at this flat rejection of his proposal.
The lad thought for a moment, and then said quietly but decidedly, “I’ll go to sea.”
“Go to the world’s end if you like,” returned the uncle, who was proud and touchy, and hated the sea; “but don’t ask me to help you.”
“Thank you, uncle,” replied the lad, who was as proud as himself, though not touchy, and had a strong affection for the sea; “having no particular business at the world’s end just now, I’ll put off my visit to a more convenient season.”
They parted, and we need scarcely add that the brief intercourse of uncle and nephew which had thus suddenly begun as suddenly ceased.