The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1904-03-31

and his aunt, with his second-cousin Ike
fate, shadowy and still and vigilant'
There was q small table drawn close TO
! the bedhead, with writing materials upon
| it, and little reading lamp. Sarah was |
right. At a strange hour, and in a
strange fashion, which his coming mad
suggested, the old woman lying there
had thought Of her last duty to the liv-
ing, and was now In eager haste to COM
plete it.
"You have not shaken hands with me, |
Reuben" she said, and the shriveled hand
stole forth with the old difficulty from the |
bed, and he took it in his own, and felt |
1t cling to his own and detain lie. IF |
have robbed you of your birthright, Reu-
ben--and Sally says have-I hope you
bear me no i'll will"
Heaven forbid" was the quick an
swer.
"Your fathers money has not done me |
any good-and this big, cold place is as
dark and duh and empty as the old aims
house was-only not so warm, and Sally |
not always at my side now. Sally never
slighted me at St. Oswald's, mind you,
that's the curious part of it. / don't see |
what Ia to become of her, exactly, when |
| am not here to look after her." said the |
blind woman quantity. ''I'm as unset
tied about her as / was when you came |
to me at Worcester, for she's an unset
tied kind of child, and does strange |
things / did not want her to meet you,
but she would run away at last. You |
know my grandson Tom has come to see
meT
"Oh, yes"
Il have Tom to think of, too. He's a
good lad. He hasn't forgotten mel |
hate people to forget me, Reuben. Still, !
Sally's right, and neither she nor I-nor
Tom, for that materials any business
with your fathers money didn't see 1t |
quite so clearly a little while ago-half |
an hour since-as | do now"
But"
"There you CO." said the old woman,
querulously; whats the use Of interrupt |
ing people while they are talking2 When |
got rich, Reuben, grew greedy, some
how-as If riches, after all, were any |
good to me! Wasn't happy woman at |
St. Oswald's? haven't been happy SINCE |
then. When my foolish brother left me
HlOnty, ne ltlL IRE lEUuUit, LOO, anu L WAS
too old for trouble. Now about my Sally
"a willful girl enough, but true as steel,
Reuben"
What of herT said Reuben, looking
across at Sarah, who sat with her arms
crossed, and her face bent very low, like a
woman asleep.
II think that l can trust you to see
after my family, If leave you all my
money, as she wishes You are not likely |
to turn your back upon Sarah or Tom.
because it is Sarahs wish that l give up
every penny of my own free will"
Sarah is rash" muttered Reuben Cul-
wick, very rash"
II think it Is overriding it myself" said
the old lady very calmly; but what peace
shall l have until it's done? Has my
maid put pens, and ink, and paper on
that table? You are scholar--writa out
my will, Reuben, in half dozen lines.
Put it all down to yourself-freehold,
leasehold, money, pictures, plate--the old
woman gives it all"
"At her granddaughter wishT
"And at her Own--in common fairness,
Reu, to my dead brothers. son. There,
write, and let me sign it."
Reuben looked across at Sarah again.
From the shadowy background she made
a gesture of assent, earnest, imperative,
and supplicatory.
"And this strange idea is my second
cousin'sp Reuben said, still looking at
her. "She trusts me so much, knowing
so little of me- in foggy dream of resti-
tuition. She thinks of my wrongs, at a
time when am learning to forget them.
She accepts dependence, she risks pov-
erty and privation, and puts herself en-
tirely in my power"
Entirely" replied the old woman;
isn't It safeT'
ut is romance, not reality. A wild
folly, and not the common prudence that
should regulate all lives. | win have
nothing to do with 1t. Besides, he who
writes a will in which he is interested,
and by which he is to profit, does it at lis
own risk-a very great one in tie eyes
of the law, aunt" continued Reuben,
"and after all the document may not be
worth the paper on which it is written.
Hence your will would get into Chancery,
Mrs Eastbell depend upon it, I'll give
you my idea, if you'll keep quiet for FIVE
minutes"
II don't think much of your IDEAS"
said Mrs. Eastbell, candidly, 'but 20 on
Reuben tOk up pen, dipped it into the
ink, and commenced writing very rapidly.
The old woman lay back and listened to
the scratching of his pen upon the paper
and Sarah Eastbell. intensely curious,
advanced on tOptoe toward him, and r'-
garded him deiantly as he curved his
hand before his work and looked hard at
her, with his mouth twitching at the cor
ners, as If his old aggravating smile
we're difficult to repress. When he had
finished writing, he said;
Now, listen. 4. Sarah Eastbell, of |
Sedge Hill, In the County of Worcester
shire, relict Of"
Never mind that rubbish" interrupted
Mrs. Eastbell; what does it mean when
you have got through it all?"
This" replied her nephew, looking at
his second-cousin again, that you leave
all your property to your granddaughter
Sarah"
"No--now cried Sarah, taken off her
guard. and coming into the foreground,
rebellious and angry; Il will not have
have this done"
Good graciousr' cried the old lady,
ARE you here, tool Why don't you
shrek a little louder, or fire a blunder-
buss off in my ears, or something, Sally? |
or all the aggravating people In the
world think you are the worst, playing
at shuttlecock with my money, and not
letting me have a word to say about it for
myself. I'll die without a will now--see
II don't! And here goes, toor'
Mrs. Eastbell Topped wildly over in
bed, and turned her back upon them.
"See what your obstinacy has doue!"
said Sarah angrily to her cousin.
zone moment" said Reuben; this is
an idea, Mrs. Eastbell, by which large
amount of legacy duty is saved. You cen
trust Sarah-so can l."
"Yes, but how's 1t to end2" said Mrs.
Eastbell.
only In one way, and that l submit to
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