A Brother’s Will.

Western Star, Issue 987, 3 October 1885, Page 2 (Supplement)

A Brother’s Will.

‘ Miss Ashford, sir,’ said the servant who had just opened Mr Ashford’s chamber door— ‘ Miss Ashford is here, sir.’ ‘ Show her in at once,’ said the sick man.

Almost before he had uttered the words, a lady passed the servant and entered the room. She was a handsome woman of forty, with dark eyes and straight features, and a small, closely-shut mouth. Her face was naturally very cold, but it softened as she bent over her brother, saying—- ‘ I heard of your accident, Lemuel, and came at once. How are you—better?’

‘I shall never be better, Marcia,’ replied the man, ‘but I suffer less. So you cared enough tor me to come, after all.’

‘Yes, I always cared,’ said Miss Ashford. .

‘And you will stay until the last, Marcia ?’

‘ X will stay with you as long as you need me.’

She took off her hat and cloak, and bestirred hereeif to make the invalid more comfortable. Then she seated herself at her brother’s hide, and he spoke again saying; ‘ What horrid tempers we have always had.’ ‘Yes, responded the sister; ‘you and I have lived estranged from each other for five years, and it is I who came at last. s The men were the worst always. There, Ido not intend to reproach you, poor fellow. I’ll never allude to the subject again.’ The lady took her seat by the bedside, and kept her word. Soon the sick man slumbered. Then she rose, and stealing softly out into the hall, addressed the man-servant who lingered there—‘Andrew, can you tell me 'just how my brother wiis hurt ?’ ‘Thrown from his horse,’ replied Andrew,

* Yes, I understand,* sighed the sister. ‘ And my brother has had ,the best advice.; ‘ Yes, ma’am,’ said Andrew. ‘ The very best; everything was done for him that coaid be, but he knew- there was no chance, so he sent for the solicitors the next day, and made his will. £ Was a witness.’

‘ And you know what he has done with the money?’ asked Miss Ashford, eagerly. . f Yes, ma’am,’ replied Andrew. ‘I heard every word. On Miss Ashford, he hasn’t left you a shilling—not one shilling. The will is in the library, miss, locked in his desk, and the key about his heck as he lies in becL* Miss Ashford listened without rebut her heart was burning. She returned to her brother, and sat quietJy footing at his sleeping face, but over and over again she eaid to herself—‘lf he had died without a will ail would' have been mine. How cruel and wicked be. lias been 1’ < Softly she sfcaoped over her brother, and saw, tied about hia throat, a narrow black ribbon, from which hung suspended a curious keyi The temptation was strong. .She yielded -to it. Detaching the key; she crept into the library, opened his desk, and took out the crisp parchment that lay hidden inits recesses. . Opening it, she read the will, brief, but conclusive. Andrew was right. All went to chari-ties-Hshe' was-, hot even mentioned., She replaced it, locked the desk, and restored the key to its position on her brother’s bosom, not a momemt too soon, for the next he was awake clutching at it. Miss Ashford had come to her brother with ho thought of his fortune, but anxious to be reconciled, after years of ill-feeling, to one who might he dying. 5 She kept her promise, and. sat day after day by his bedside, but there was no Iqye in her heart. Once it became so difficult for her to hide her feelings that she left him, and went out into the fresh, cold air, and walked until she’was ready to drop. When she came back, Lemuel, brighter than it had seemed before, took both her bands and said, fondly—- ‘ Marcia, 1 have wearied you, but it will hht'be for long jdow — not long. That night Lemuel Ashford died, His death was very quiet. Only Marcia watched beside»Mm. Andrew slumbered in Ms own room. The brother’s last words had been—

, i ‘ Marcia I want ,to tell you about pay will—’ but there his voice had failed Mm. i '

Marcia wished that he had not spoken at all j for even while she watched death steal across his features the thought came to her mind—i«n» f am his heiress, his next of km. Were the will but destroyed, all would be mine.’ And then she said to herself—- * ft shall be so. No one can suspect me. What more natural than that he should forgive at the last, and destroy it himself i’ I will tell the lie, if need be.’ / . Then with trembling hands, she ohce more detached the key of the desk from its black ribbon, and crept into the library. It was quite dark, but she felt her way to the desk, turned, the key in the lock, and opened it. Her hands fumbled with the packet for a moment, then touched a ‘crisp and a crackling parchment. She had no need to read it. She knew it word for word, and hastening w the fire, placed it upon the burning

coals, crushing it down amongst them, and piling others upon it. ‘Safe,’ she cried, as she hurried back to the chamber of death, ‘ Safe from poverty, at least.’ Then she summoned Andrew. The man came hurriedly, and stood beside his dead master’s pillow. - 1 Gone,’ he sobbed. * Gone poor gentleman. He was a kind-hearted gentleman, and liked to do right. He told you about his will, didn’t he, ma’am ?’ - -

*Do not speak about the will at such a time,’ replied Miss Ashford. ‘ How should I know my brother’s plans? We have been strangers for years.’ > ' *Ah, poor gentleman,’ replied Andrew. ‘You’ll find he was better than you think —far better.’ But Miss Ashford only hid her face in her handkerchief.

* I don’t think you do know,’ said Andrew; ‘ you haven’t been told. That’s jplain to me, and I like to he the first to tell you. The day you were away he sent for his solicitor and altered his will, because you had been nursing him so kindly, he said. A copy of the one he made some time ago is in the solicitor’s hands. But that is no matter, he made another leaving everything to you. The attest date is everything in » will, you know, ma’am. Nothing can stand against that.’ Miss Ashford sank into a chair. The servant believed her grief for her brother overpowered her. * « # #

Miss Ashford kept her own counsel. When the funeral was over search was made for, the will, but it was not found. No one suspected the heiress of having destroyed a document which endowed her with wealth,, and many pitied her, but the trustees of the charities concerned insisted on their rights, and Marcia had no power to contest the will, despite the solicitor’s assurance that he could testify to haying made a later one in her favour, for she was poor, and, moreover, burdened with a guilty conscience.

She returned to her labours, and died poor, dependent on the charity of Andrew for shelter in her last days, and though the old man guessed her secret well, he’kept it to himself for the honour of the family.