Hector's Inheritance, Or, the Boys of Smith Institute by Jr. Horatio Alger (short novels to read .txt) 📕

“So you say, Mr. Roscoe.”

“So my brother says in his letter to me.”

“Do you think it probable that, with all this affection for me, he would have left me penniless?” asked the boy.

“No; it was his intention to make a will. By that will he would no doubt have provided for you in a satisfactory manner. But I think my poor brother had a superstitious fear of will making, lest it might hasten death. At any rate, he omitted it till it was too late.”

“It was a cruel omission, if your story is a true one.”

“Your—my brother, did what he could to remedy matters. In his last sickness, when too weak to sign his name, he asked me, as the legal heir of his estate, to see that you were well provided for. He wished me to see your education finished, and I promised to do so. I could see that this promise relieved his mind. Of one thing you may be assured, Hector, he never lost his affection for you.”

“Thank Heaven for that!” murmured the boy, who had been deeply and devotedly attached to the man whom, all his life long, he had looked upon as his father.

“I can only add, Hector,” said Mr. Roscoe, “that I feel for your natural disappointment. It is, indeed, hard to be brought up to regard yourself as the heir of a great estate, and to make the discovery that you have been mistaken.”

“I don’t mind that so much, Mr. Roscoe,” said Hector, slowly. “It is the hardest thing to think of myself as having no claim upon one whom I have loved as a father—to think myself as a boy of unknown parentage. But,” he added, suddenly, “I have it only on your word. Why should I believe it?”

“I will give you conclusive proof, Hector. Read this.”

Allan Roscoe took from his pocket a letter, without an envelope. One glance served to show Hector that it was in the handwriting of his late father, or, at any rate, in a handwriting surprisingly like it.

He began to read it with feverish haste.

The letter need not find a place here. The substance of it had been accurately given by Mr. Allan Roscoe. Apparently, it corroborated his every statement.

The boy looked up from its perusal, his face pale and stricken.

“You see that I have good authority for my statement,” said Mr. Roscoe.

“I can’t understand it,” said Hector, slowly.

“I need only add,” said Mr. Roscoe, apparently relieved by the revelation, “that my brother did not repose confidence in me in vain. I accept, as a sacred charge, the duty he imposed upon me. I shall provide for you and look after your education. I wish to put you in a way to prepare yourself for a useful and honorable career. As a first step, I intend, on Monday next, to place you in an excellent boarding school, where you will have exceptional privileges.”

Hector listened, but his mind was occupied by sad thoughts, and he made no comment.

“I have even selected the school with great care,” said Mr. Roscoe. “It is situated at Smithville, and is under the charge of Socrates Smith, A. M., a learned and distinguished educator. You may go now. I will speak with you on this subject later.”

Hector bowed. After what he had heard, his interest in other matters was but faint.

“I shall be glad to get him out of the house,” thought Allan Roscoe. “I never liked him.”