The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1892-11-19
A DEAD LETTER.
rcoyrIyrEp FROM FIRST PAGE


can-al that could remember of that
angry letter-how | had called him a
thief base enough to defraud an orphan !;
how had upbraided him with all our
misery But Duncan lay half asleep and
half unconscious could not tighten my
conscience by asking him to sly that 1t
did not seem to him probable my letter
had had ANYTHING to do with it. All day
long went about in pitiiul state, and IN
the evening wrote to Audrey, telling her
of Duncans illness, except for which l
should have certainly gone to Bedford
square at once to learn all the particulars-
to see if there were any chance of my be-
ing cleared in my own eyes from the ap-
parant consequences of my rash deed.
Audrey's answer came by return. She
said it was pity | was so urgently re-
ouired at home, as Uncle Andrew had left
directions that | was to be summoned to
the funeral Fancy she said, Ibis
treasuring up u modification for you, even
when he was not there TO enjoy 1t. Ever
since heard. she went on, THAT he had
been struck while he was reading some
letter, have been expecting to hear that
all his fortune had collapsed, as the for
tunes of great contractors occasionally do {;
but Mr.. Long the lawyer, assures me
that there is no probability OF such
thing. have talked to the doctor, too,
and he says he faucies it was private
letter, which annoyed him very much just
when he was least able to bear agitation.
So there it was. had longed to pun
ISL Uncle Andrew, and | had done this
thing. reasoned with myself, argued
for and against myself but there the mat
ter was. and Uncle Andrew had ordered
that was to come to be present at his
funeral That was, in itself overwhclm-
ing evidence against me.
Ii was the afternoon Of the day ON which
Sir Andrew Alison had been followed to the
grave by some hundreds of men who had
been interested in his life and startled by
his death. Audrey and had been chief
mourners, and Audrey, who did not even
assume the slightest show of grief, wondered
why was so terrible shaken.
Il suppose it is all you have gone through
lately, she said for you can't be humbug
enough to want us to think you are sorry
for him.
She said this as she and and one or two
far-away cousins, some old employees and
the servants were collecting in the dining
room to hear the will read. The library
had been first mentioned, but | had vent
ured to object, and to my amazement the
lawyer had promptly deferred to my hall
expressed wish that We should not 20 into
that fatal room. sat down by the lire,
clasping my baby in my arms, while my
thoughts rambled off to my poor husband,
living so weak and lonely far away, and,
sitting in imagination beside him. ran
through all the gamut of self-accusatlon
and reproach which felt must kill me, |
did not. dared not. listen to the will.
knew that my own name would come sooner
ar later, and then
Presently, sooner than | expected, Mr.
Long read it aloud with great emphasis.
Then heard my fathers name, and the
room seemed to waver and float round me.
when was this will made 2 ! grasped
knew. but wanted to stave off the
evil moment.
Didn't YOU hear the date 2 asked Au-
drey sharply.
Il drew it up for the late Sir Andrew,
replied Mr.. Long, 'on the morning of
Thursday last, the twelfth instant, during
the few hours of consciousness which pre-
ceded his death. and during which time his
faculties were so little impaired that | was
astonished to hear later the sad news of his
decease."
He then proceeded, and by degrees ]
learned from the long involved sentences
that there was incontestable proof of the
truth of what my uncle had said about our
father. and that though | had been un-
grateful and defiant in my conduct, he
considered me honest and trustworthy;
therefore. after few legacies to the distant
relations. 60 his oldest employees and the
house servants, he left me heiress to the
whole of his property, to the exclusion Of
his elder niece Audrey Alison. Then the
property was specified, but J did not hear
anything further. How could | accept this
euofnoas fortune after what had done .?
Surely ia those last hours Uncle Andrew
must have been strangely changed. to have
made such an unheard-of reply to my lurl-
Gus attack
| looked acrossed to where Audrey sat
with wide open, half-dazed eyes. Yes, he
had been true 20 himself; this exclusion of
her was Just one of those tyrannical capri
ces which had made our lives SO burden
some. | really pitied Audrey, and made
ap nv mind that she must not suffer from
my fault.
The short silence which followed the law
yer's voice was broken by her.
''He was wicked old man, she cried in
a sharp, bitter voice, needless of Mr. Long
and the yest of them. "a wicked old man!
| have sacrificed my best years to him, and
he has left me pauper while Sylvia, who
CONSULTED nothing but her own selfish hap
piness. is to be millionaire 1t is too hate
full. do not believe he was sane at the
last"