The Carbon advocate. [volume] (Lehighton, Pa.) 1872-1924, 1890-01-11
JUST BY CHANCE.

watched them intently until they faded
away. He knew he would never see
them again.
Death had confronted the old lawyer
suddenly His energies, overtaxed
through long life devoted to ceaseless
money getting, had collapsed in an in
slant almost, and left that which we call
life without the support necessary for
its further continuance.
"He cannot live through the night; |
probably the end is not more than a few |
hours distant, the old family physician |
had said but few minutes before when |
the son who now sat by his fathers bed !
side asked what the chances were.
The son sat with bowed head, His
features were composed in an expression
of decorous grief; his hands were folled
upon his lap, and at almost regular inter
walls he sighed. Had he raised his head
it would have appeared that there was
not the suspicion of tear III his eyes, and
that there fingered in their depths look
of quiet satisfaction which the lines of
sorrow that were set upon his face could
not entirely hide.
Perhaps the fact that he knew himself
to be the sole heir to his fathers wealth
had something to do with shaping the
younger mans inner feelings. Some
hearts are ruled by the desire for personal
gain rather than by affection.
"Robert."
Scarcely above a whisper the single
cord came from the colorless lips of the
old man. The man at the bedside started
Glightly, as one who is suddenly aroused
from thought that has carried him far
away from present surroundings. Then
be turned and answered; eyes, father,
what do you wishP'
81 have been thinking of your brother,
Robert fear that after all l should
not have treated him as 1 did"
The old man paused, exhausted by the
effort which the words had cost him.
An expression that was unpleasant to see
fitted across the younger mans features,
but in an instant it was gone again.
ST know that have but short time
to i've" resumed the old man, "and
things appear to me in a different light.
It was heartless in me to disinherit and
disown Jack because he married accord
ing to his own wishes instead of my die
tates. shall change my will; there is
enough for you both. Each shall have
half, and 1 shall die happier"
Eyes, father" The words came gently
from the sons lips, but the look on his
face would have surprised the father
could he have seen it. But the gloom
was thickening and his half closed eyes
did not see.
"Draw up the will as wish it, quickly,
while have yet the strength left me to
sign" directed the dying man.
Robert went to a table near by, Lit a
gas jet and began to write, not at all
hastily.
"Why are you so long about it2 A few
words will certainly be enough" impa-
tiently exclaimed the old man after the
son had been busy what seemed to be a
very long time.
81 shall be done directly. There, l
am through" replied the son, as he rose
and handed what he had written to his
father.
"That is right" was all the latter said
after he had read the will. Then he took
the pen from his sons hand and with a
great effort signed his name.
snow sign as a witness, and call Han
nah; she will do as the other witness"
Robert affixed his signature; then he
called the housekeeper and she also
signed her name.
snow go to my desk and take the old
will and burn it. You will find it in the
little drawer to the right"
Robert went to the desk, took a folded
paper from the drawer indicated, held it
In the gas flame until it was well ablaze
and threw it upon the open fireplace
where it lay a moment later a charred
mass.
"There; it is not so hard to die nov, !"
whispered the dying man 81 feel that
lcannot live until Jack could be sent for;
but want you, Robert, % 90 to i.ir3 tlis
very night and tell him that nay herr
was not steeled against him TO IL,
Tell him of the will which,
Isaac Rawson ceased Speaking and lay
motionless. He was dead.
1t is not yet midnight when Robert
steps aboard train that will take him
to the city where his brother, Jack, lives;
for has not his father with his diving
breath told him to go to his brother this
very night Who would fail to respect
the last wishes of one now deadf Surely
not a son.
The city where Jack lives is not fa..
Distant but there is a river to cross on
the way. As the train rumbles slowly
across the bridge, Robert Pauses in the
task of trimming his finger nails in which
be is apparently deeply engrossed, and
looks out of the window down upon the
dark waters below in which the stars,
reflected, gleam.
A thought comes TO him. which
though spontaneous in itself is but the
elimination of what has been passing in
his mind ever since his fathers death.
He takes from his breast pocket folded
paper on which the writing is but few
hours old. This he wraps about the
handle of the knife he holdsi in his hand.
Then he shuts the blade So that the paper
Ia held firmly. With careless move
ment he lays the hand holding the knife
upon the edge Of the window. When he
withdraws the hand a moment later 1t is
empty. The knife is a heavy one and
will 60 straight TO the bottom, and with
II the paper wrapped about it. The
waters often give up their dead, but in.
animate objects of value they hold with,
In their depths.
It is a week later. The viii Of IsaaC
Rawson is 70 be read In the presence Of
those interested. 1t is a mere formality
Of course, for other than his two sons ths
testator left no kin. The sons both know
what they viii hear. Robert at leas
knows, and Jack may surmise. And