Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1863-06-05
SIMON WARMERS WILL.
BY AMY RANDOLPH.


richest man in Seaburne-nor would vol
have recognized that individual in the wrin
killed. seXagenarian who sat on thu porch
smoking his pipe, under the shadow OF Il per
fectly blooming honeysuckle that was nearly
as old as himself.
Tonight, Simon Warner was troubled il
spirit; the red glow in his pipe bowl had faded
into white ashes, and he wiped his brow re
peatedly with the old-fashioned yellow silk
handkerchief he always carried in the right
hand pocket of his pepper and-salt coloreC
coat.
81 didn't spose you'd ha' gone off and left
your old uncle in this sort O way, Martin,
he said, querulOusly. ,'It's blow to me ~
'Uncle, am sure you would give my plans
hearty approval, if you would only consider
them"
The words came from a tall, handsome
young fellow with sunburnt cheeks and eyes
full of blue, flashing fire, who leaned against
one of the rude wooden pillars that supported
the church.
"rhen you've made up your mind to GO
headlong off to get yourself killed or take
prisOner-it don't matter much Wilhelm
those pestilent North Carolina swamps."
"No, uncle, haven't any such intention,
laughed young Martin Warner. ''But hav.
made up my mind to go and do my duty on
the field where a thousand better men than
myself have left the stain OF their hearts
blood"
"Pshawl" calculated Uncle Simon.
''Just as you please, sir" said the young
man, spontaneously.
rs it just as l please?" snarled Simon
Warner. "Look here, Martin-you say this
country of yours is more to you than life or
wealth-well prove it! If you are determin-
ed to make fool Of yourself do it. Only
warn you henceforth to abandon all thoughts
OF ever succeeding to the wealth [ have
anassed If you act in opposition to my wishes
be good enough to consider yourself no long
err my heir"
81 am poor, uncle" said the young man,
with changing color, ''but not poor enough, |
hope, to allow my sense of right and duty to
be battered for gold. Leave your money
where you please-its disposition cannot in
tiuence my decision"
''Stay though" pursued Uncle Simon,
keenly watching the young face from beneath
his frosty yC-laShes, "there is yet another
consideration. Do you suppose DR.. Maybe
Will give his pretty daughter to penny less
adventurer? Do you think Dora Maybe
would have been engaged to you, had you
not been the heir of my money!"
The words, though spoken with the bitter
est sarcasm, glanced back from the armor of
frank truthtulness that encased Martin War
ner's heart. He only smiled.
II have the irmest faith in Dora's love, un-
cle."
length Martin broke it.
'Uncle Simon, am going-wlll you not
say good bye?"
The old man shook his head gruffly
eat least shake hands," and Martin ex-
tended his hand cntreatingly Simon War
ner merely touched it with his cold, shriv-
eled hand, and the n Ext moment Martin had
disappeared ar3ong the tall shrubs OF the little
door yard.
Gone-he was indeed gone. Up to the last
moment, Simon Warner had scarcely be-
lieved he would actually depart-now he must
believe it.
"What do you say, Dora, darling; will you
love your~oldier as truly as you loved Uncle
Simons heir2"
"Martin !"
1t was a lovely young face that was turned
up to his, in the silver June moonlight face
with vi0let-gray eyes and checks shaded from
pearl into carmine-a face that was truth and
purity combined.
Then you will love me still?"
Il will love you until death, Martin, and
through all the ages ofeternity p
lie folded the frail figure to his breast
with passionate tenderness that was beyond
all words.
81 know it, dearest! Dora, in as far as man
may, miH prove worthy of your loveI And
when | come back"
"When you come back, Martini All, do
not speak too confdingly. If | should lose
you"
''lt you should lose me, love, could you
not remember that | died for my country
under the folds of the glorious old tiag-and
be resgned?'
eyes" exclaimed Dora, with a sort of sob
bling SIGH as the scarlet blood rose to her
cheek. Il could give my best and dearest
for that cause! But, oh, Martin, God will
keep you unscathed for my sake!"
"Amen!" said the young man. reverently
The November snow was falling white and
thick among the leafless hickory trees; the
wind shook and ratified the easement of the
lonely room in the old farmhouse where ST.
mon Warner lay dead and shrouded! Vain
and glorious had been his golden stores to
bride the grim messenger Death!
In the keeping room below sat forteth
cousin, one Bella Warner, spreading his long,
clawlike fingers over the blazing pine logs,
and talking, by fits and starts, to bony te-
male in a calico short-grown, who sustained
toward him the relation of wife.
'The will is to be read this arternoon-of
course I'm the heir, seem he's disinherited
his nephy. You and I'll be grand folks, Ell.
viry; see if | don't keep a kerridge equal to
Squire Duncan's, and I'll buy that corner
medder o Nat Prices, the fust thing!"
"Aint you going to low nothin' to young
Martini"
''Not l; what's Martin Warner to me?
Hallom as the door opened; ''it's you, is it,
Mr.. Martin? l hardly knew ye, you was so
fine in your new uniform. | was Jest Sayln'
to Elviry, of course you wouldn't expect me
to do nothin' for you, when the property come
to me. Let every man look arter himself
that's my motto"
Martins cheek flushed slightly.
IL entertain no expectations of any kind,
SIR" he returned, haughtily 81 am only too
glad that l was here in time to receive a dy-
ing grasp of my uncle's hand, and to hear
from his dying lips that l was still dear to
him in spite of what had come and gone. l
attend his funeral from motive of deep res
pect and atfection-pray do not misinterpret
me-"
Bella chuckled, visibly relieved, and as the
funeral guests dropped in, one by one, he
went about with long face and sanctimoni-
Gus whine, doing the honors of host, chief
mourner, and heir apparent, to the edificaton
OF the whole neighborhood.
But when at length the snuify little old law
yer uniolded the will, with a pompous