She put her hand upon his, and he stroked it and smiled; but he shook his head too.
“It sounds nice, Sheila; but it wouldn’t really be practicable. You don’t know anything about the worries of small means, and I should get no opening if I refused Uncle Tom’s offer. Besides, you see, we have no choice at present. We are both minors; I sha’n’t be of age for a year, and you are only eighteen. Our uncles are our guardians, and we have to do what they settle for us. Mr. Dart says that what they have suggested is the kindest thing possible. Some day, I hope, if you don’t marry, we shall be able to have a home of our own together. But for the next few years we must make up our minds to let other people settle things for us, and be grateful to them for taking the burden and worry off our shoulders.”
Oscar could be thankful for this. He had seen just enough of life in his year at Oxford, and in the examination, under the lawyer’s direction, into his father’s involved affairs, to be aware that its battle could be a very hard and strenuous matter, and that his father had been carried away by the tide of misfortune instead of seeking to stem it. He could almost feel thankful that he was not called upon to fight any arduous up-hill battle—that things had gone so far that nothing would avail but a clean sweep. Oscar loved his home—loved it almost as well as Sheila did. If he could have lived peacefully and prosperously there, as his fathers had apparently done before him, he would have asked nothing better, and would have sought to do his duty to those about and beneath him. But he had an elastic and hopeful temperament, and he did not dislike the prospect of a complete change in his manner of life. He had a turn for electrical engineering, and his uncle had said something about an electrical branch in the works of Cossart & Sons. Congenial employment might be found for him, he thought. He had been through much sorrow of heart and worry of mind during the past weeks since his father’s death; but now he was beginning to see his way out of the tangle, and to look forward hopefully to what lay beyond.
BROTHER AND SISTER.
Sheila’s thoughts had also gone off on a private expedition. But, after a short pause, she spoke with great decision.
“I shall never marry, Oscar. Marrying makes people stupid. I know that, because all the girls who go and get married are quite spoiled directly. It begins as soon as they are engaged. Besides, most of them go away, and one forgets about them. I shall be an old maid, and keep your house for you. It will be something to look forward to whilst I am living with Uncle Cossart. Why can’t I go to Uncle Tom’s with you? It would be so much more amusing.”
“Well, they seem to have it all arranged for us, and we can’t exactly ask them to alter. But we’ll see all about it when Uncle Tom comes. He’ll tell us everything.”
Mr. Thomas Cossart was the younger of the brothers who now were the heads of a thriving business in one of the eastern counties. Their father had begun from small means; but prudence, upright dealing, and industry, combined with shrewdness and skill, had worked up the business to something very considerable. He had died a wealthy man, but his daughter had not succeeded to any farther portion of his wealth. The old Cossart had been hurt and offended at the way in which his child had been separated from her own people through Mr. Cholmondeley’s pride. He had made no complaint, but he had felt it keenly. The sons took it more quietly. They were busy men, and possibly the knowledge that what would have been their sister’s portion had fallen to their share, disposed them to take the matter with equanimity. They used to write and send presents at Christmas, just to show there was no ill-feeling, and as long as Mrs. Cholmondeley lived she had always done the same. When it was told to the Cossart brothers that Mr. Cholmondeley had died rather suddenly, leaving his affairs in a very involved state, and asking their help and guardianship for his two children, the response had been prompt and kindly.