The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-10-19

when my uncle oHdS uieu e ieAI III
Ao,r N his very considerable fortune. We
- always been the best of friends. He
as a merchant at Calcutta, and as soon
= nv school and college days were over
: had come out to join him, and / had been
uith him ever since.
ue was a Jolly, sporting old man, fonder
81 and pIuekfer at, big game shooting than
onvone I've ever met, and he was always
ready TO enjoy a good joke. Indeed, /
had grown to look upon him as being
rearIy as young as I was nyself-the idea
that the years were treating him less
Kindly than they were treating me never
FOR a moment entered my thoughtless
had. Occasionally he would complain of
a oueer feeling in the region OF his heart,
and he was at times subject to fainting
fits. but 1 shut my eyes to the fact that
anything was wrong. and when at last he
was taken seriously i'll il was a horrible
shock TO me
About my family 1 knew very little. My
parents both died when 1 was a youngster,
and I had only a dim recollection of them.
or other uncles. and cousins and aunts /
had none. Indeed. we had no relations. I
think we-my uncle and I-were the most
destitute two in the world, as far as fam
ily connections went. 1t had never been
my uncle's habit to talk very much about
the old days before he left England, nor
about the few relatives or friends he had
ever possessed. There was only a dim
third cousin of whom he would sometimes
speak, after dinner, when the lamps were
lighted in our comfortable bachelor bunga-
low and we were quite alone, putting at our
cigars in the still air, after the intense
heat Of the day; but I always noticed a
suspicious moisture in his eyes and a culver
round his lips when he mentioned Janet
Fortescue's name. From the little he told
me, 1 gathered that they had once been
sweethearts. but they had had a tiff and
parted.
Well. to go back to the day when Uncle
silas was taken III. 1t was horrible to see
his dear old face ashy pale, the kind eyes
drawn with pain. and his tall, soldierly-
looking form laid low. graphing with
death. 1t seemed impossible to realize the
end was so near.
He fingered on for a few days, until one
morning, when the faint light of the sum-
mer dawn had just begun to steal through
the blinds. as I sat BY his bedside watch
ing his labored breathing. with a lonely
feeling at my heart, he opened his eyes and
mOtioned TO me.
We'll. uncle" I said. in the most CHEEKY
voice l could muster, how do you feel!
You have had a good long Sleep"
he raised himself on his arm for a mo.
ment and looked at me with a dull hope
lessness in his eyes. then he fell back
among the pillows again.
Dick" he gasped, those rubiesi
haven't told ~you-they are in the oak box In
my her photo-Janet's-hnc
her. find her. Dick" and he grasped m,
arm as his breath failed him. ''Give hel
the r~ubies-don't rest day or night unit
you find her-promise, swear it."
With one last effort his fingers closed OF
my arm.
Il swear IL, uncle" I said: ST will no
rest until L find her." Then. with a great
sigh of relief. which shook his poor wasted
frame. his head fell back. and I knew tina
my dear old uncle. and dearer chum, hac
gone to his last rest.
The lonely feeling grew bigger, and 6
choky sensation rose in my throat. as
realized that now I was alone, without kill
or kin, and the CHEEKY, bright presence haC
gone out of my life forever. L kissed hin
more than 1 can ever tell any one.
For the next few days after his dealt
/ had much to consider and think about
and no moment for my own thoughts; bu
when / had attended to all the last sa,
rites. and my uncl had been laid in hi
grave. 1 sat down to ponder over thing,
a bit.
His last words had puzzled me sorely
What did he mean about the rubies? L ha,
not had the faintest idea that he had an,
jewels in his possession. Had he beer
rambling?
1 hated the thought Of searching anon,
his private papers. 1t was an unpleasant
duty. and 1 put 1t off as long as I could
However, it had to be done, and SO on
night 1 set myself 10 the task. / took hi
keys and opened the bureau. There. sur
enough, was the oak box, just as he ha,
said. At first / thought none of the key
would fit, as one after another I trie,
them, but at last one of them slipped Il
and turned in the lock easily. AS raise,
the lid IL seemed TO contain nothing bu
two packets of letters, carefully tied u
and sealed. The papers looked old and vel
low and worn. as IL they had been carrie,
about in somebody's pocket for a lon
time. 1 lifted them out carefully and Low
ingiy-it seemed a dissertation to distur
th~em-those treasures OF my uncle's. Un
derneath them lay a small blue velvet case
and next TO il a larger one of leather. Firs
l took up the velvet one. and with a pres
OF my thumb the lid flew up. Inside la
an ivory miniature. exquisitely painted
The face was beautiful. more beautifu
than any that I had ever seen; but it wa
none OF your Reynolds or Gainsboroug
beauties, with eyes round with sentimen
tality and the sweet smile OF a delicat
imbecility on the stupid little mouths. Nc
this vsoman's was an intellectual type; tn
forehead was low and broad. the skin deli
cately, exquisitely fair and shell-like. an
great dreamy. soft gray eyes, Swallowed b
their long black lashes. looked back at m,
The mouth was not a rosebud one by an
means; there were r~esolute and determine
curves about IL. although the whole expires
sion Of the face was sad, almost mournfu
Her hair, piled high on her shapely hea
In the fashion OF the early thirties. was
most glorious chestnut, with strong re
lights in it.
The picture was set in a little filagre
gold frame and across one corner OF IL 4