"Somewhat about three hundred pounds," replied his niece.
"A good round sum," said the old man, "to be all in hard money. And is it all past you—all in the house?"
"All."
Davidson thought for a moment. Then—"Well, I'll tell you what it is, Jane," he said: "I do not at all approve of your leaving Braehead. If you do so, you throw yourselves at once upon your little capital, which will not last you very long in a town like this, where all would be going out, and nothing coming in—and where would you be when it was exhausted? Now, your byres and farm in the country are a certain source of emolument to you; and, by keeping these, you will make a decent maintenance of it, without encroaching on the funds left you by your father. My advice to you, then, Jane, is, by all means to remain where you are. Hire persons to do your heavy out-of-door work; and, as the distance is not great, I will come out myself once or twice a week, and assist you with both my personal services and advice."
"Thank you, uncle," replied his niece; "but we really cannot remain at Braehead, on any account. I would not remain in it another week for any consideration."
"No! what for, Jane? What are you afraid of?" said her uncle.
"Of being murdered," replied Jane; "and I have but too good reason to fear it."
"Nonsense, Jane. Who would murder you? What ridiculous fears are these?"'
"But I have a reason, though, for fearing it, uncle," replied his niece, with emphasis.
"Reason!—what reason can you have but your own idle and absurd fears?"