St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1888-04-22
MY UNCLE'S WILL.

L ndQ always Do6n lea 10 expect CIldG
would inherit my uncle's money. My
parents were poor, and am inclined to
think that they looked forward with I'M
necessary eagerness to the time when l
should be able to bring them out of their
poverty.
little knew the condition of the will,
which ran as follows: Unless married
my cousin Claude before l was eighteen
all the fortune was to be distributed
among certain hospitals, and we were
none of us to get cent. [ first heard
this from my Cousins own lips. He was
surprised that had not heard of it be-
fore, but he spoke very kindly on the
subject, and did not try to urge me very
hard to accept him. He was almost old
enough to be my father, but was fine
looking and man of intelligence.
When he had told me everything he
said: ''Dispassionately, l should say
that your, happiest course lay in accept
ing me, because you insure large
worldly prosperity to yourself and to
those you axe bound in duty to consider,
because you place yourself in your own
proper sphere and statiOn-because l
know myself to be an honorable man
well fitted for the responsibilities your
decision would devOlve upon me. On
the other hand l see faint of selfish
ness in my words. Your young beauty
tempts me; the fortune you secure to
me tempts me; and L question myself
whether l have moral right to seek to
bind your youth to my declining years,
though without you they must be passed
in comparative poverty, no small Sacrl-
flee to one who has known only luxury!
Only since | have seen you have l
learned to feel all the embarrassmentS
growing out of our uncle's strange will"
He paused; and 1, who had been re
vclving in silence all he had said, an
swered calmly: 81 am to accept you
then, before my eighteenth birthday or
all this wealth goes to swell the Golfers
of the various hOspitalSand colleges: my
parents are still poor, condemned to
this dreary life; you are impoverished,
and l am forever shut out from al
hope of higher earthly existence. Is
it so?'
He bowed his head.
Il see papa cOming," | said. 81 will
go to him: and tomorrow morning /
will inform you of my decision.''
lie kissed the hand | extended to him,
them drawing it within his arm he led
me to my father.
L shut myself in my room that day
and spoke to no one. l knew now how
my parents had always regarded me-
less as a child than as an instrument
of their release from poverty.
They must be freed-l saw that
clearly-but perhaps l need not be mar
ried at once. | decided the question
quickly enough that l would accept my
cousin. Had | but possessed but lit
tie more experience l should have
known that my reluctance to ratifica
ton OF my vows arose from doubt
whether l could love the husband l
felt compelled to accept.
The next day the old house was
filled with smiling faces-no gloom sat
on any but my own, and [ kept my
sadness for the solitude of my own
own room. "A week later, the day fol-
owing my birthday, Claude went away.
In another month my parents and my
self left the old house forever.
We took up our abode in the splendid
London mansion where my uncle had
lived his lonely, useless life. Here we
were seop surrounded by the elite of So
ciety. l had young companions of my
own sex in plenty; but l found them
shallow and frivolous. l had lived in
thought, they in the eXternalS of giddy
existence. l liked the young men no
better. Claude grew daily in my esteem
and affection. l became reconciled to
lot that would secure me so kind and
constant friend. l learned to lean
upon and trust him. He was counselor,
guide, friend, as we'll as lover. We
were married, and l was happy-a brief,
bright happiness. The month we had
allotted to travel was not passed when
l brought home his mangled remains
crushed out of all human Semblance
by that dreadful railroad collision which
shocked the country that year, and | en-
tered the home he had prepared for his
bride clad in the garments of widow
hood. l remained in my solitude some
years-years that l devoted to the i'm
provement of my mind. l was twenty
two when l again re-entered society. |
was still young and not unattractive,
and | was rich. | need not have re-
manned widow long, but l was in no
haste to marry; above all, meant. if
ever resigned my liberty, it would be
into the hands of one whom Claude
might have approved.
At last [ found such a one, or he
found me. More truly, suppose, mu-
tual and inexplicable attraction drew
our spheres into contact. We knew not
of each others existence, as we know
things here.
You Can Get Any Repairs
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