Making His Way; Or, Frank Courtney's Struggle Upward. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ shall have it," assured Deborah, rather enjoying the way in which Mark was put down; "that is, if he don't get me kicked out of the house."

      "You had better not make any such threats in the future, Mark," said Frank, significantly.

      "Who's to hinder?" blustered Mark.

      "I am," answered Frank, pointedly.

      "You are nothing but a boy like me," retorted Mark.

      "My mother is mistress here, and I represent her."

      "Things may change soon," muttered Mark; but Frank had left the room and did not hear him.

      Mark did not trouble himself even to inquire for his stepmother, but went out to the stable and lounged about until bedtime. He seemed very much bored, and so expressed himself.

      Frank wished to sit up all night with his mother, but, as she had a professional nurse, it was thought best that he should obtain his regular rest, the nurse promising to call the family if any change should be apparent in her patient's condition.

      About half-past four in the morning there was a summons.

      "Mrs. Manning is worse," said the nurse. "I don't think she can last long."

      One last glance of love—though she could no longer speak—assured Frank that she knew him and loved him to the last.

      The memory of that look often came back to him in the years that followed, and he would not have parted with it for anything that earth could give.

      Just as the clock struck five, his mother breathed her last. The boy gazed upon the inanimate form, but he was dazed, and could not realize that his mother had left him, never to return.

      "She is gone," said Mr. Manning, softly.

      "Dead!" ejaculated Frank.

      "Yes, her sufferings are over. Let us hope she is better off. My boy, I think you had better return to your bed. You can do nothing for your mother now."

      "I would rather stay here," said Frank, sadly. "I can at least look at her, and soon I shall lose even that comfort."

      The thought was too much for the poor boy, and he burst into tears.

      "Do as you please, Frank," assented Mr. Manning. "I feel for you, and I share in your grief. I will go and tell Mark of our sad loss."

      He made his way to Mark's chamber and entered. He touched Mark, who was in a doze, and he started up.

      "What's the matter?" he asked, crossly.

      "Your poor mother is dead, Mark."

      "Well, there was no need to wake me for that," said the boy, irritably. "I can't help it, can I?"

      "I think, my son, you might speak with more feeling. Death is a solemn thing."

      "There's nobody here but me," said Mark, sneering.

      "I don't catch your meaning," said his father, showing some annoyance, for it is not pleasant to be seen through.

      "Why should you care so much?" continued Mark. "I suppose you will be well provided for. Do you know how she has left the property? How much of it goes to Frank?"

      "I can't say," said Mr. Manning. "I never asked my wife."

      "Do you mean to say, father, that you don't know how the property is left?" asked Mark, with a sharp glance at his father.

      "I may have my conjectures," said Mr. Manning, softly. "I don't think my dear wife would leave me without some evidences of her affection. Probably the bulk of the estate goes to your brother, and something to me. Doubtless we shall continue to live here, as I shall naturally be your brother's guardian."

      "Don't call him my brother," said Mark.

      "Why not? True, he is only your stepbrother; but you have lived under the same roof, and been to school together, and this ought to strengthen the tie between you."

      "I don't like Frank," said Mark. "He puts on altogether too many airs."

      "I had not observed that," said his father.

      "Well, I have. Only this evening he saw fit to speak impudently to me."

      "Indeed! I am really amazed to hear it," said Mr. Manning, softly.

      "Oh, he thinks he is the master of the house, or will be," said Mark, "and he presumes on that."

      "He is unwise," said Mr. Manning. "Even if the whole property descends to him, which I can hardly believe possible, I, as his guardian, will have the right to control him."

      "I hope you'll do it, father. At any rate, don't let him boss over me, for I won't stand it."

      "I don't think he will boss over you," answered his father, in a slow, measured voice, betraying, however, neither anger nor excitement. "Of course, I should not permit that."

      Mark regarded his father fixedly.

      "I guess the old man knows what's in the will," he said to himself. "He knows how to feather his own nest. I hope he's feathered mine, too."

      Mr. Manning passed from his son's chamber and went softly upstairs, looking thoughtful.

      Anyone who could read the impassive face would have read trouble in store for Frank.

      CHAPTER IV

      MRS. MANNING'S WILL

      During the preparations for the funeral Frank was left pretty much to himself.

      Mr. Manning's manner was so soft, and to him had been so deferential, that he did not understand the man. It didn't occur to him that it was assumed for a purpose.

      That manner was not yet laid aside. His stepfather offered to comfort him, but Frank listened in silence. Nothing that Mr. Manning could say had the power to lighten his load of grief. So far as words could console him, the sympathy of Deborah and the coachman, both old servants, whom his mother trusted, had more effect, for he knew that it was sincere, and that they were really attached to his mother.

      Of Mr. Manning he felt a profound distrust, which no words of his could remove.

      Meanwhile, Mr. Manning was looking from an upper window down the fine avenue, and his eye ranged from left to right over the ample estate with a glance of self-complacent triumph.

      "All mine at last!" he said to himself, exultingly. "What I have been working for has come to pass. Three years ago I was well-nigh penniless, and now I am a rich man. I shall leave Mark the master of a great fortune. I have played my cards well. No one will suspect anything wrong. My wife and I have lived in harmony. There will be little wonder that she has left all to me. There would be, perhaps, but for the manner in which I have taken care he shall be mentioned in the will—I mean, of course, in the will I have made for her."

      He paused, and, touching a spring in the wall, a small door flew open, revealing a shallow recess.

      In this recess was a folded paper, tied with a red ribbon.

      Mr. Manning opened it, and his eyes glanced rapidly down the page.

      "This СКАЧАТЬ