"In all, they will be two thousand pounds. Taking mine and Miss Skate's together." "That's a settled thing, is it, Master Francis?"--alluding to the marriage. "Yes, it is," said Frank. "Her portion is just a thousand pounds, and her friends are willing to put it on the farm. Mine is another thousand." "Where does yours come from?" "Do you recollect, Mr. Brandon, that when I was a little fellow at school I had a thousand pounds left me by a clergyman--a former friend of my grandfather Elliot?" Mr. Brandon nodded. "It was Parson Godfrey. He came down once or twice to the Torr to see your mother and you." "Just so. Well, his widow has now recently died; she was considerably younger than he; and she has left me another thousand. If I can have Pitchley's Farm, I shall be sure to get on at it," he added in his sanguine way. For, if ever there was a sanguine, sunny-natured fellow in this world, it was Frank Radcliffe. Old Brandon pushed his geranium cap all aside and gave a flick to the tassel. "My opinion lies the contrary way, young man: that you will be sure not to get on at it." "I understand all about farming," said Frank eagerly. "And I mean to be as steady as steady can be." "To begin with a debt on the farm will cripple the best man going, sir." "Oh, Mr. Brandon, don't turn against me!" implored Frank, who was feeling terribly in earnest. "Give me a chance! Unless I can get some constant work, some _interest_ to occupy my hands and my mind, I might be relapsing back to the old ways again from sheer ennui. There's no resource but a farm." Mr. Brandon did not seem to be in a hurry to answer. He was looking straight at Frank, and nodding little nods to himself, following out some mental argument. Frank leaned forward in his chair, his voice low, his face solemn. "When my poor mother was dying, I promised her to give up bad habits, Mr. Brandon. I hope--I think--I fully intend to do so now. Won't you help me?" "What do you wish me to understand by 'bad' habits, young man?" queried Mr. Brandon in his hardest tones. "What have been yours?" "Drink," said Frank shortly. "And I am ashamed enough to have to say it. It is not that I have been a constant drinker, or that I have taken _much_, in comparison with what very many men drink; but I have, sometimes for weeks together, taken it very recklessly. _That_ is what I meant by speaking of my bad habits, Mr. Brandon." "Couldn't speak of a worse habit, Frank Radcliffe." "True. I should have pulled up long ago but for those fast companions I lived amongst. They kept me down. Once amidst such, a fellow has no chance. Often and often that neglected promise to my mother has lain upon me, a nightmare of remorse. I have fancied she might be looking down upon earth, upon _me_, and seeing how I was fulfilling it." "If your mother was not looking down upon you, sir, your Creator was."