“To take no notice whatever of it; for that it would only bring trouble and discredit on me if she was no impostor, and be a very foolish thing if she was.  He says that he had mentioned to my father, when he was making his will, that in all probability the widow, if left out of the will, would come upon the heir, and extort something very handsome from him; but that Mr. Hogarth had said sternly that she could not do it, for she had not a scrap of evidence that she dared bring forward to prove that she had ever been his wife.  That he had no objection to provide handsomely for me, for I had proved that I was worthy of it; but for her, she had been a thorn in his side all his life; that he had done all for her that he meant to do, and all that she expected him to do.  This made Mr. McFarlane think that he had given her a sum of money to get rid of her claims, and not a yearly allowance.  She had certainly parted with me for money, and took no further care for my happiness.  Mr. McFarlane never told me this before, but he wished to put me on my guard about this letter.”

“My uncle, certainly, must have been a good deal excited when he made his will,” said Jane.

“Mr. McFarlane says he certainly was so, and has no doubt he would have altered it had he lived a little longer—­provided you had not married Mr. Dalzell, which was his great fear for you.”

“Do you feel disposed, then, to answer this letter, or to prosecute any inquiries?”

“The whole affair is full of such unmitigated bitterness,” said Francis, “that I shrink from stirring it up; but yet I certainly ought to know if this woman is my mother or not.  Should not I, Jane?  I rely on your judgment.”

“It is your affair, Francis, not mine.  I can scarcely dare to advise.”

“What would you do under such circumstances?”

“I cannot tell what, with your character, I would do under such circumstances,” said Jane.

“But with your character, which is a thousand times better than mine, my dear Jane?  Only think for me.  Things have been taken so much out of my hands by this detestable will, that I seem to lose the power of judging altogether on any matter that relates to it.  I cannot aid when I most wish to do it.  My father did not positively forbid me to assist my mother.  I suppose, if he had done so, it would have raised as vehement a desire to that course of action as I now feel to oppose all his other prohibitions.”

The expression of Francis’ face was earnest—­almost impassioned—­as it turned towards Jane.  She felt now that there was a reason for his apparent coolness—­a reason that made her heart beat fast and her eyes fill.  She did not speak for a few moments till she felt that her voice would not betray her, and then said: