Condon globe. (Condon, Gilliam Co., Or.) 189?-1919, 1904-05-19

Cd Mary; "hs cursed me, and left me
poor"
But
but have all the Fragments" add.
ed Mary, opening a purse heaped to the
clasp with small pieces Of paper; "see
there they are"
Sarah glanced at them, but did not
speak
''lt would be a specimen Of patchwork
that the law would hardly acknowledge"
said the widow, "but you would not dis
pute the win, Sarah, " ], by patient
study aud great care, render this testa-
nient complete agaIni"
"No." answered Sarah EastbeIl.
'Tn my husbands lifetime dared not
make him rich; and now, iD memory Of
much kindness, Of old trilst--of new con-
fdence. may I sayf--I have the courage
TO remain poor"
She held the open purse over the Gre,
and the fragments fell from Il into the
rcd Goals Reuben and saFsh started for
ward to arrest her hand, but Il was too
late.
''You should not have done this,
Mary" cried Reuben.
1T was not Just WILL" answered the
widow; Il told your father 80 when he
placed II In my hands, although did not
tell him that never In all my life should
! avail myself Of his munlhcence."
Gle had wronged your father In some
manner which we cannot even guess at
but which he owned himself. You told
me that" said Reuben. ..
"He was strange that day. 1t might
have been the raving Of a madman."
"As that" said Lucy, pointing to the
FIRE, "was the act Of madwoman."
II think not" answered Mary conf
dently; 1T is an act Of justice to the man
entitled TO his fathers money, and who
viii marry this br&*e young lady in pos
session"
"She has given me up," said Reuben
dryly; but Mary turned from one to an
other and read no doubt or distress on
either face. Here were two lives In the
sunshine at last
II believe 1t was always Simon Cul-
wick's wish that Reuben should have
this money" contisaed Mary; ''he did
not know Of my marriage, and | dared
not tell him for my homes sake, and 80
we went on from one complication to an
other. There were only two Wills; the
first left all to his sister, the second to
me--and the second ! could not, and did
not care TO prove. The answer to the
riddle came round In the way l thought
1t might do, IL were watchfuI and re-
served--for l knew In what high esti-
nation Sarah Eastbell held her cousin,
and how she had made up her mind to
give an obstinate man his rights. She
and / together planned more ways than
one-she very artless, very artful per-
haps-but the best and simplest and hap
piest way has come without our plotting" :"
But your said Sarah and Reuben
almost together.
"YOu two are not likely, to forget me,
or my little daughter hereto shut me
from your friendship.--to help me In the
world, should want help"
Help" echoed Reuben; why, II is all
yours"
"You can't prove that" said Mary en-
phatically, "and would prefer to be de-
pendent on your bounty. / viii not be too
proud to ask for a pension, when my lit
tie girl grows up and tires Of her moth
err"
'The future, for you and Tots, you
will leave to Sarah and me-" said Reu-
ben; you will trust in those whom you
have trusted 30 much already. ."ra
"As they viii trust in me now," said
the unselhsh woman, holding out her
hands to'them. E
1t Is a fair picture on which the cur
tain is rung down--on perfect confidence,
and true affection and prOsperity--o
life opening out before these three with
no shadows on the scenes beyond. Reu-
ben and Sarah will live happily forever
Afterwards young couples always
should in books-and Mary and her
daughter will be their faithful friends
and loving companions to the end Of life.
In the red glow of the sunset Of our
story, stands poor Lucy Jennings-grave
and stony as the Libyan sphinI--com-
mentlng but little upon the happiness
about her, and yet feeling that 1t reaches
to her heart, and makes her more like
other women.
| Reuben's brother-in-law, one Thomas
EastbeI, will not visit Worcestershire
again, and Reuben's wife will not learn
for years of his disappearance in the
Australian bush--where we can afford
to let the last OF our villains hide him.
self
In the bright early morning. gazing
| from the window Of her room at the fair
landscape beyond, with the silvery laugh
ter Of little children ringing upward from
the lawn. and with her husbands arm
linked within her own, Second-cOusin
Sarah will talk no longer of Sedge Hill
being an unlueky house.
CThe end)