The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1898-09-21
MISS ABIGAIL'S WILL


Lane. She's pretty and accomplished,
and better than all, she's Miss Abigail
Fiints heiress. The old lady's worth
half a million. Agnes is her niece and
only living relative, and she'll get it
all. a pretty girl with half a million
dover is not bad thing 10 take, ELI,
old fellow >"
Burke Norris stretched himself laziiy
as he propounded the query and stop
ped making cigar smoke rings long
enough to eye his companion for mo-
ment.
Claude Bentley's face was white, and
his dropping brown moustaehe did not
wholly conceal the qniver of his lips.
"Do you love her?i be asked, little
huskily
"Well-er-yes, suppose so. But
then, it's not a hard matter to love =
girl who viii bring you a fortune like
that. You see, its just this way with
me, Claude. The last deal in wheat
cramped the governor pretty badly. aud
he's cut down my allowance. But,
good bye. I'll see you later on the
boardwalk"
Burke Norris lazily arose, stretched
himself, and sauntered out on the park
of the Traymore, at which hotel he
was stopping a couple Of weeks during
those balmy, spring-like days peculiar
to Atlantic City in February.
His footsteps were still echoing down
the hotel ball when Claude Bentley
sprang 10 his feet aud began to pace
rapidly up and down the room.
''The selfish wretchr' he cried under
his breath. "a pretty husband he'll
make; and she thinks he loves her for
herself alone. I would lay down my
life for her; and, were she beggar,
would gladly take her to my heart aud
home and shower upon her the true
love of an honest man. But then, that
can never be. Her old Aunt is as proud
as Lucifer. She once told me to my
face that people in trade had no busi-
ness in society. Well, my two weeks
outing, on the whole, has been far from
enjoyable, for even the smiles that Ag
mes Lane hrs deigned to give me have
been torture, for she has been brought
up in the same aristoeratic school, and
[ now know how utterly conventional
they were. To her am only tlse son
Of the family grocer, and she probably
considers it great condeseension on her
part to notice me at all. think III go
back to Philadelphia.
He glanced at his watch, saw that he
had time to catch the limited express,
and walked away to pack his vallse.
Meanwhile Agnes Lane, coming up
from stroll along the boardwalk, met
o1e Of the hotel servants, who held in
his hand telegraphie envelope.
"The clerk said this was important,
and +" began the man, handing her
the message.
He stopped suddenly, for Agnes Lane
had torn open the envelope, glanced
hurrie-ily at the message it contained,
and a wailing moan issued from her
lips.
Your Aunt Abigail is dead"
That is what she read, and though
she tried to control herself, tears OF sin
cere, heartfelt griff sprang TO her eyes,
and all the sunshine aud brightness
SEEM blotted out Of her life, for the
o,d spinster, naughty though she was,
had had tender spot in her heart,
which Agnes bad filed completely.
When a few days later Miss Abigail
Fiint's will was admitted to probate it
was learned that the dead woman's en-
tire fortune would go TO noble charity
in which she had bten interested du-
ring her life. The old spinster had
always been eccentric, and the con-
Guiding paragraph Of her will read as
follows:
II give and beqgeath to my beloved
niece, Agnes Lane, my recipe for max
ing doughnOts, a copy OF which Is In
the hands Of my lawyer, and viii be
turned over to her by my executors"
Claude Bentley, believing that Ag-
nes' heart was another's, tried to forget
all about her, but be found that simply
impossible. Her memory was constant
~ present in his thoughts, and he
dreamed Of her sweet face continually.
One morning the junior partner Of
Bentley & Sons was in the Office, busy
looking over some accounts, when there
was tlmid knock at the door, and his
brusque invitation "come ing' caused
the door 10 open. When he looked uT,
Agnes Lane, dre-s a in deep mourning,
stood before him.
Miss Agnes p be cried, and spring
ing 10 his feet brought her chair,
thinking meanwhile that she had
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