The Indianapolis sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis, Ind.) 1880-1904, 1885-04-05

-Ur course L am. may L ask WHAT
brings yc.,Y'
THAT which composes all quarrels
and squares all accountS-Death."
Colonel Clifford said this solemnly.
and with less asperity. He added, with
a glance at MOnckton, "this is a very
private matter"
BARLEY took the hint, and asked
MoncktOn to retire into the inner office.
As soon as he and Colonel Clifford
were alone, that warrior, still standing
straight as dart, delivered himself of
certain short sentences, each of which
seemed to be propelled, or indeed jerked
out of him, by some foreign power seat
ed in his breast.
@iy sister, your injured wife, is no
more"
Dead This is very sudden. 1 am
very, very sorry. +"
"She leaves YOU GOO in trust for
the benefit of her child and yOurs-Mary
Barley"
Poor. dear Eliza"
The Colonel looked as less high-bred
people do when they say Cannon"
but proceeded civilly though brusquely.
I'm dealing with the funds you have
a large discretion. Should the girl die
before you, or unmarried, the money
lapSes to your nephew, my son, Walter,
Clifford. He is a Scapegrace, and has
run away from me: but | must protect
his Just interests. So as a mere matter
of form | will ask you whether Mary
BARLEY is alive"
BARLEY bowed his head.
Colonel Clifford had not heard she was
i'll, SO he continued: "In that case"-and
then, interrupting himself for moment,
turned away to Bartley's private table.
and there emptied his pockets of Ger
tain documents, one of which he want
ed TO select. He then turned and step
ped toward BARLEY with the document
he had selected at the table. BARLEY went
to meet him.
The.Colonel gave it to him and said it
was copy of the will.
BARLEY took it, and Colonel Clifford
expelled his last sentences.
I'VE have shaken hands. Let Us for
get our past quarrels, and respect the
wishes of the dead"
With that he turned sharply on both
heels, and forced the door of the little
Office before he moved; then marched
out in about seven steps, as he had
marched in, and never looked behind
him for two hundred miles.
Ht UlOlutUJ llt NdS OUT Ol SlgllI.
BARLEY, with his wife's will in his hand
and ice at his heart, went to his child's
room. The nurse met him, crying, and
said, "A change"-mild but fatal words
that from nurses lips end hope.
He came to the bedside just in time
to see the breath hoveringOn his child's
lips, and then move them as the sum-
mer air stirs leaf Soon all was sill,
and the rich mans child was clay.
The unhappy father burst into pas
sion of grief, short but violent. Then
he ordered the nurse to watch there.
and let no one enter the room; then he
staggered back to the office, and flung
himself down at his table and buried his
head. To do justice, he was all parental
grief at first, for his child was his idol.
The arms were stretched out across
the table; the head rested on it; the man
was utterly crushed.
Whilst he was SO, the little Office door
opened softly, and pale, worn, haggard
face looked in. 1t was the father of the
poor mans child in mortal danger from
privatiOn and hereditary consumption.
That haggard face had come to ask the
favor of employment, and bread for his
girl, from the rich man whose child was
clay.