a devastating system of competition, the world of grief, as that of action and of joy.
"My friend is gone," may be a sad thought. "How does that affect me? "is, inevitably, the first question asked. Oh, self, self! prominent in our prayers and pains, cherished in the "business and bosoms" of all, underlying our charities, affecting our friendships, raising its horrid head in the very hour of sorrow and of death.
Wonder not, that in the breasts of these simple ones, whose homes were about to be snatched from them, and the hopes of years blasted, a terrible revulsion of feeling took place. There was no escape from the inevitable conclusion that the doctor had deliberately sacrificed them.
"Did we not say," some, wise after the event, would urge, "never trust a capitalist? They cannot help theirselves. Seem they good, and mean they well, they cannot escape from the traditions and customs of their class."
A further explanation Malduke took pains to offer and enlarge upon. When this will was drawn, the doctor's son was engaged to Elms's daughter. He dared not devise the property direct to his son. He had so left it that, in the ordinary course, it would pass to him and his. So the cruel, silly tattle passed along. The name of him who had devoted fortune and life to their cause was, as is so often the case, execrated and defamed.
Some there were—Alec and the Smiths, Sandbach and Bastion—unreasoning enough to believe in the doctor still, to cling to the hope that all would be cleared up yet. There was some dreadful mistake.
"How do you make that out? Facts is stubborn things," urged those who laughed them to scorn. "There's not one blessed thing you can rake up that looks like fair dealing."
