The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1901-12-01

hear; so thought even the hard old
lawyer who heard him.
Going to leave your money to char
fty I suppose"
Charity. Wei, you may call it
that" and old ClybOurne lay back in
his chair. closed his eyes and seemed
to have forgotten the existence of JO-
siah Medford.
The lawyer waited with patience. He
had seen the workings of hatred in his
day and knew the malignant desire to
hurt sometimes forced to action IN
willing hands. This will, he under
stood. was to be reluctantly made, but
since it must be done, it was for the
purpose alone Of disappointing tina ex-
pectations of the rich mans relatives.
This much the lawyer guessed, as he
laid his writing materials out before
him on the table and prepared himself
to write, whenever the spirit should
move old CIybOurne to dictate.
Make it short and sure the old
man said at last. Short and sure.
I want to give and bequeath, devise,
convey and all that, you know-aH I
have in money, lands and personal
property-everythin I possess at the
time of my death, to my grand niece,
Louise Amberly. Now, you make it
all as tight as a drug with your ras-
cally phrasesl"
Louise Amberlyl" echoed the sur
prised lawyer. L didn't know you had
any such niece,"
You didn't have to know it till now,
did your" TetOrted the old man. And
now that you know it, do you just keep
it to yourself, please for no one else
knows it. 1 quarreled with Amberly
before he was married, and 1 don't be
lieve ne ever spoke Of me to his wife "
The lawyer bent over his writing and
said nothing. His client looked at him
now. almost apprOvingIy.
When the paper had been roughly
drawn up. corrected, and then re-
written, it was handed to old ely
bourne After looking it over care
fully he signed it, first calling in two
servants as witnesses.
Jack Amberly had been a black
sheep. He had died glorious death,
one not in keeping with his life, on the
field of battle in the civil war.
Amberly's poor little brOken-s spirited
wife had almost faded out Of memory
since the soldiers death. Old Ford
/ ham friends did not even burden their
minds to think whether she had child
or not But old Clybourne knew what
| he was about. Without doubt Louise
/ AmberIy was the widows daughter,
and the fact that her existence was
! entirely unknown to those who hoped
l to be heirs to the old mans fortune
had whetted- ClybOurne's relish for the
grim game he was playing with Death
/ for a partner.
So unused Josiah MedfOrd. as ne
walked, in the slanting rain, from his
office to the bare, uninviting bachelor
| quarters in which he lived.
He was ancient of days, this man Of
/ law. 1t was a tradition that he had
been married. and that his wife had
died, long, long ago and the tradition
was supported by certain ghostly
marble slab in the Fordham buryins
ground But no one had thought OF
/ Josiah Medford as a man of family
/ for. To- these many years.
| Now it strangely happened that upon
/ this very night in March upon which
/ the lawyer had drawn up old ely
1 bourne's will the dream of matrimonial
! bliss which visits. at times. the most
/ hardened devOtee Of single blessedness
/ enthralled the soul of Josiah Medford
/ The morrow saw him on his way tC
/ the city where. through yelled inqui-
ries ne had found some reason to be
ieve lived Louise Amberly and hel
widow ed mother. In that city he made
a short stay and then returned L
| Fordham
/ In May the old lawyer declared thai
/ ne stood in need -5t a vacation, ant
without more ado n locked his doors
and departed.
He took up a temporary residence IL
/ a hotel in Chicago. and was introduced
/ by an elderly clergyman with whom
] he had renewed a slight acquaintance
/ to Mrs. AmberIy and her daughter.
j Louise Amberly was a pretty rosy
/ checked girl. who worked for her OrcaC
and that Of her mother. She was {