Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1875-01-14

might turn out horribly bad, and worry and
disturb you all p
"Just so, my dear; it was undeniably a
risk, you know. But many time since, l
have thought how fortunate it was that John
was less cautious and prudent than J. was.
There's poor dear Emily with all her children
taken from her and what comfort and help
you've been to her don't know how she
would have got on without you"
"Mother has been so good to me, that l
cannot strive too hard to show her my graft
tude"
"Very true. Emily is one in thousand, and
so, may say, is my brother also. am sure
they love you, and have always treated you,
as though you were their own daughter"
"Yes, indeed"
"And speaking of that, Estelle, reminds
me that would like that letter written to
them without farther delay. I am quite SEN
sible that my strength has declined with un-
usual rapidity during the last two days, and
it will probably not be long ere it fails me al
together. So while retain sufficient to die
tate to you what I wish to say, get your paper
and pen and write at once"
Estelle went into the next room to obtain
the desired articles, and muttered impatiently
to herself, while selecting what she wanted
from desk that stood open on the table
"There he has gone off at tangent again J!
Twice he has commenced talking about what
he is going to leave me, and never gives me
any satisfaction on the subject. Bother this
letter; I am sure I don't want to write it."
She came back with serene face, and
drawing little table near the bedside, sat
down to write. The epistle dictated by the
invalid was very short one:
"MY DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER: "Although
not expecting to have thehappiness ofseeing either
of you again, Think it my duty to write and IN
form you of my rapidly approaching end; TOR
feel convinced, my dear ones, that in very short
time shall receive the long-eXpected summons,
which will release me from this weary world. l
we'll know how impossible it is for you, Drother,
to leave your wife in her present weak health, and
do not, therefore, write this in order to lnclte
YOU to any uncalled-for exertion, but merely to
| bid YOU farewell and to assure you OF my love
and affectionate remembrance OF you both, Whlch
shall carry with me to my grave, and, God will
| ling, even into better world. Estelle has been
a blessed comfort to me, and ministers to me With
untirine devotion. thank you both for having
spared her to me so long.
"Farewell, dear brother and sister, and that
Heaven may bless you both, and grant us the
privilege of happy reunion hereafter is the fer
Your ever affectionate brother,
RICHARD BLANDFORD."
I am not sure but that Estelle shed some
tears while penning this letter. At all events,
her handkerchief was more than once pressed
to her eyes, and her face wore deeply sor-
rowful expression when she had finished it.
"Don't look so downcast, child" said Uncle
Dick, in cheerful, though somewhat tremu-
lous tone, as he a8ectionately pattedhe hand !;
"Why, this is no evil that is coming to me;
but great, inexpressibe good. Think how I
have suffered, my dear, and rather rejoice
with me at the prospect of a speedy release
from pain"
To this Estelle made no reply; but the
softened look remained on her face as she re-
turned to the adjoining room to put her wri-
ting materials in their places, and this time it
was not mask.
Late that evening, when the fire burned
low, and the dim light, screened in corner,
scarcely dispelled the shadows that had gath
cred in the room, Uncle Dick recurred to the
subject, in the discussion of which he had
that morning interrupted HIMSELF just as Es-
telle's keenest interest and anxiety had been
aroused by it.
"I was talking to you to-day, my dear,
about my disposal ofmy property, was mott"
"You made some alluson to it, l think sir ;
that is-you said"
II told you that I had made an adequate
provision for you or at least [ meant to.
You see dear, this place will have to 60 to
my brother I couldn't will that away to any
one not of kindred blood Poor, dear little
Carrie; 1 always meant it for her, you know"
He was speaking in more childish and
feeble tone than usual, and seemed very weak.
Estelle was conscious of change; but she
thought less of that than of the all-absorbing
topic he had brought before her.
This place. uncle?"
eyes, Silverlake. Didn't tell you? 1t
was to have been Carries; it will be hers
still, if she ever comes home. But alas !! that
is scarcely bare possibility, after all these
years. So I've left it to brother John, to be
given up to her if she should prove to be
alive. Do you know, Estelle, I dreamed Of
the child last night"
Estelle clenched his hand impatiently, and
pressed her lips tightly together, at this indi-
cation of again wandering from the subject !;
but she constrained herself to rejoin gently
"Yes, uncle ?"
eyes. 1 saw her plainly, just as she used
to look, only taller and older. In fact she
was nearly grown up, but she had the same
innocent face and light -curls, so that except
for her figure she did not seem changed. l
thought she came to me and kissed me, and
said it was all Dream uncle Dick; I'm not
dead And then I woke up, half-fancying
that I must really have seen and heard her,
and for a moment was sadly grieved and
disappointed to find that it was not so. Well,
we'll, dear chid I ought not to wish her
back no doubt she is in happier world,
and there 1 shall meet her soon! But what
was 1 saying? Oh! about the will. Yes.
I've left you nice sum, Estelle; but it's no
more than you deserve.'
"Dear uncle-you are too good, too kind"
"Nonsense, child I've plenty of money, as
you know; and I've tried to divide it as fair
" as could Of course the bulk of it all