The record-union., 1896-10-04
THE PURLOINED WILL.

| had first retired from him, but MS age
and infirmities alone justified-if they
had not compelled-his withdrawal from
active life. He was wealthy bachelor,
residing in Albany, where he possessed
a cellar of port wine which was the envy
of his friends. Hence. perhaps. the ort-
gin of the gout which severely afflicted
him; but his tastes were luxurious and
self-indulgent in other respects also. He
| was an art patron of a very Shrewd
and discriminating type; his pictures
were valued at several thousand pounds,
ard his collection of china was unique.
Nevertheless he was extremely thrifty,
rot to say stingy, with his money. and
he had never been known to give away
d siXpence in his life.
In fact, old Barker was a thoroughly
selfish, ill-conditioned old curmudgeOn,
whose choleric temper was emphasized
by sort of savage humor which caused
him to be treated with aweSOme respect.
He had a wicked old squint or cast in
one of his watery, pale-blue eyes, and
he uttered his most trenchant remarks
with his defective optic glaring In such
| a manner as to complete his victim s
discontinue. His nephew, Charles Gas
coigne, had frequently noticed this un-
pleasant popularity, for next to the OLD
mans valet-a crushed, down-trodden
creature. who retained his post only
from the hope of legacy-this young
gentleman was the only subject of the
C.C.'s cruelest witticisms.
1t must not be imagined from this cir
cumstance that GaScoigne lacked man
| liness or self respect. On the contrary,
he was a very spirited young fellow,
and this was one of the main causes
| Of his uncle's displeasure. But after
all. when one is -presumptive to a
hundred thousand pOunds-which was
considered the most modest estimate or
] the old mans weaHh-it is sheer folly
not to exercise a little patience and
| self-control. Gascoigne was by no
means averSe to the prospect OF a life
| Of ease or luxury in the near future;
and in view of this agreeable contin-
gency, he took things very easily at
the bar, though he suffered from oc-
| caSional misgivings and twinges OF con-
science on account of his idleness-for
he had brains enough to perceive that
he was wasting his opportunities.
If he could only have felt reasonably
sure of his uncle's testamentary inten-
tions regarding him, his conscientious
scruples would have troubled him very
rerplex him by contradictory hints and
threats, and constantly reminded him
that he had cousin, the wife of a
| country parson, whose claims were
equal in point of kinship to his own.
1t was true that this young lady had
| mortally offended old Barker by mar
rying without his consent, but this
| might not have prevented him from
making a will in her favor. Gascoigne
was too high minded and generous to
| feel any resentment against his cousin
On this account, and ne would have
| been perfectly satisfied to know that
he would inherit equally with her. But
what perpetually worried him was the
irritating suspense which his uncle
seemed purposely to infiict; and there
| were moments when he felt strongly
| inclined to sacrifice his future pros
poets for the luxury of giving the old
gentleman a piece ofhiSmind.
| =
One eventful morning Gascoigne called
at his uncles chambers, and was
ushered into the old mans sitting-room,
| a gloomy apartment, full Of artistic
treasures but rendered obnoxious to the
dutiful nephew by association with It's
owner 1t was tenantless, however, at
the moment; his uncle's capacious arm
chair drawn up in front of the blazing
fire had evidently just been vacated;
while upon an adjacent table stood a
japanned tin box, inscribed with the old
mans name in white letters. Gascoigne
| stood for a few moments on the hearth
rug, gazing impatiently around him and
| wondering what sort OF welcome he
would receive, when his attention was
attracted by the edge of piece OF paper
! which protruded from beneath the lid
| of the tin box. Absently, and acting
| upon a mere idle impulse, he stepped
forward and endeavored to force back
the paper into the box. Not succeeding
at his first attempt, he put out his other
hand in order to ease the pressure of the
lid, when, to his surprise, 1t yielded to
his touch, and he then perceived for the
| first time that the box was unlocked.
| Up to that moment nothing had been
further from his thoughts than to play
the spy; in fact, he had scarcely been
conscious of what he was doing. Nor,
indeed, even when the uplifted lid re-
yealed the contents of the box, which
| consisted of a number of documents
neatly docketed, did he experience the
| least sensation of curiosity. But, un-
| luckily, just as he was closing the lid
| again after releasing that fatal slip Of
paper his eye was caught by promi-
| nent inscriptions:
| WILL OF WILLIAM BARKER, ESQ,
| q. c.
| Without making excuses for the
| young mans next action, 1T should at
| least be recorded that it was entirely
unprecedented. There, to his hand,
| lay the solution of all his doubts and
difficulties. If he was his uncle's heir,
well and good his present negligent
mode of life need trouble him no more.
But if he had only been left an insigni-
| cant legacy, and his cousin-or some
| other person-was destined to inherit
| the fortune, then it behoOved him at
| once to set about making up for lost
| time by applying himself aSsiduously to
| his profession. This reflection passed
| like a flash through Gascoigne's mind,
and made the opportunity for enl1ghten-
ment so irresistible that he seemed to
rush upon temptation rather than yield
to it. One second Of anxious listening,
| during which the only sound he heard
was the tumultuous beating of his heart,
| and then he had seized the momentous
document and was eagerly scanning its
| contents.
| Though brief, it was, unluckily, in his
uncle's grabbed handwriting, and Gas
| coigne was compelled to carry 1T away
| from the box little nearer to the light.
| A hasty glance was sufficient to convey
| to his trained mind it's full purpOrt. A
paltry legacy to the long-Suffering valet,
a picture or two to himself, all the rest
| of the contents of the testator's cham