The great West. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1889-18??, 1893-04-21
MY UNCLE'S WILL.

me in that unsightly heap of stone,
brick and rubbish, and yet some subtle
fascination seemed to chain me to the
spot that would not let me leave it.
1t was such a sad, sad ending to the
hopes had cherished so many years;
such cruel and heartlesS sacrilege of
the place my uncle had loved and cher
iShed. and which he had bid me keep
just as it was when he should be gone,
with no part of it altered or invaded
with the often miscalled march of i'm
provement, and 1, who loved it only
too well as it was, had given that
promise readily: and now what was the
result of it all-every stone and TIM
Der rent away, and the dear old house,
teeming with every fond and happy as
ISOLATION my life had known since 1
was mere lad had come to live with
my uncle, RACED to the very founda-
ton.
l was the child of his only sister,
who, by love marriage of her own
choosing. lad estranged him for years,
but toward whom his heart had re-
Tented at last. and he had sent for us
both, and received us into his home.
And none too soon, for either of us,
COR her constitution, never very strong,
the burdens that her husbands early
death had left her to carry alone, that
it Succumbed to the ordeal and after
a few months of comfort and CRATE
full reconciliation, she passed away,
leaving me t6 my uncle'S care.
Always delicate from a child. I was
completely Frustrated by my bereave-
ment and for time my. recovery was
doubtful. but my uncles unwearled
care, and the medical skill he employed,
conquered at last; and when l finally
recovered he declared l should never
be bred to the labor Of any employ
ment; l should be his companion, his
assistant, and after his death he would
make me his heir, leave me everything,
so that by no possibility his brother
his only other near relative, whom he
held in utter averSiOn-and of whom
my only remembrance when he had
called upon my mother once was one or
mingled fear and dread, could have
anything to do with it after he was
gone; and the care Of the estate would
at once afford me sufficient employ
ment. and yield me sufficient income.
Only he babe me promise him that the
old house-stanch enough to last a hun
dred years or more-should remain I'M
disturbed, intact, and that the sur
roundings likewise, should be suffered
80 remain unaltered.
| lived with him from a boy OF ten
until lad of twenty-four, with the ex-
ception of few years at school, after
my return from which, gave myseH
up to such light services as he required
of me. and as years went on, to the
building of delightful air-castles, in
which Clara Demar, the daughter OF
our nearest neighbor, lovely girl, who
had been my first acquaintance as a
child. and MY firm friend through boy
hood and youth, then to crown my hap
pincss by the pledge Of her love and
faith. should reign as the center and
source of every endearing and beauti-
flying association.
| had been attracted to her at first
from the fact that she, too, had an in
valid mother one who reminded me
very strongly of my own, and it was
my delight to think how / would be
able to surround her with every COM
fort and llXury-when I should have
the right of caring for her as my own
parent.
In fact. in my ardent desire I had
determined upon cOnfding my secret
to my uncle, and asking his consent to
our early marriage, when returning
from walk with Clara, in which, after
some persuasion, I had now her con-
sent to that course, I was startled to
see the doctors carriage before the
door: to find the servants running dis
tractedly about and to have my hand
seized by sCme one, who hurried me
into the presence Of my uncle.
He was breathing stertoriously, and
when he saw me, he managed to grasp
my hand and draw me down to him;
but his attempts to speak were fruit
less, and. after repeated efforts, he
sank back with his eyes fixed on me i'll
A look of unutterable affection until
they closed in death.
Then for the second time [ saw my
other uncle, who. being notified, came
on to attend his brothers funeral. He
was a cold, mercenary-l looking man,
apparently utterly without sympathy,
and there was something in the covet-
Gus expression when his eyes rOved
about the house and grounds that
stirred 4 strange forebOding in my
heart
WAS there WHIP was the first ques-
ton when the funeral ObseQuies were
over.
Il suppose so,' answered. MY I'M
Gle always gave me to understand that
he had made one"
'Humph!' he rejoined with sheer
ing smile, which seemed to indicate
that he had OWNED the other thoughts
and expectations that were in my mind.
1--WE must make it matter of certain
ty; for if not, shall have to take out
letters OF administration, and put my
self in charge here"
And ii became a matter of certainty
tainty for me; who saw not only my
kind and indulgent uncle taken
from me, but my home, my fort
une. all hope Of wedding Clara for
many long year, for could not ask
her to marry pennileSs man with
neither trade, business or profession;
and l knew. without attempting to
prove it. that I need ask neither aid.
sympathy or tolerance from the new
master. as he already assumed, and
soon declared himself to be.
Have you any means of support?"
he asked me abruptly, one evening,
after he had gone through the neces-
sary preliminaries to put himself in pos
session of his brothers estate.
Nothing save such as / have ac-
quired in assisting my uncle to take
care of this property" | replied.
with the expectation of having moth
ing to do but enjoy it's revenues. some
day, / suppose" he rejOined, with that
cold, insulting sneer. "Well, that air.
castle is demolished now, as this old