Percival, the lawyer. He's an old man like
myself, and we've had many a long talk together. About a year and a
half ago I told him what I've told you now. Since I came back to
England he's been managing the money for me; he's paid me the little
we needed, and the rest of the income has been used in charity by
some people we could trust. Well, Mr. Percival doesn't go with me in
my plans for Jane. He thinks I'm making a mistake, that I ought to
have had the child educated to fit her to live with rich people.
It's no use; I can't get him to feel what a grand thing it'll be for
Jane to go about among her own people and help them as nobody ever
could. He said to me not long ago, "And isn't the girl ever to have
a husband?" It's my hope that she will, I told him. "And do you
suppose," he went on, "that whoever marries her will let her live in
the way you talk of? Where are you going to find a working man
that'll be content never to touch this money--to work on for his
weekly wages, when he might be living at his ease?" And I told him
that it wasn't as impossible as he thought. What do you think,
Sidney?'
The communication of a noble idea has the same effect upon the
brains of certain men--of one, let us say, in every hundred
thousand--as a wine that exalts and enraptures.
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