Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 6, 2025
Henry took up a copy of the East Westland Gazette. The first thing he saw was the list of deaths, and he seemed to see, quite plainly, Abrahama White's among them, although she was still quick, and he loathed himself. He turned the paper with a rattling jerk to an account of a crime in New York, and the difficulty the police had experienced in taking the guilty man in safety to the police station.
The room was wainscoted in white, and the panel-work around the great chimney was beautiful. A Franklin stove with a pattern of grape-vines was built into the chimney under the high mantel. Sylvia regarded this dubiously. "I don't think much of that old-fashioned Franklin stove," she told Henry. "Why Abrahama had it left in, after she had her nice furnace, beats me.
"Why, Aunt Sylvia!" said she. "All these things belonged to your aunt Abrahama, and now they belong to you," said Sylvia, in a triumphant tone. "Why, but these are perfectly beautiful things!" "Yes; I don't believe anybody in East Westland ever knew she had them. I don't believe she could have worn them, even when she was a girl, or I should have heard of them.
It was as follows: "I, Abrahama White, being in sound mind and understanding, and moved thereunto by a desire to make my peace with God for my sins before I give up this mortal flesh, declare this to be my last will and testament. I give and bequeath to my niece, Rose Fletcher, the daughter of my beloved sister, deceased, my entire property, real and personal, to her and her heirs forever.
"What about Rose Fletcher, Abrahama's sister Susy's daughter?" asked Sylvia, presently. "She is her own niece." "You know Abrahama never had anything to do with Susy after she married John Fletcher," replied the lawyer. "She made her will soon afterward, and cut her off." "I remember what they said at the time," returned Sylvia.
Sylvia leaned over her and wept; Henry's face worked. Nobody except himself had ever known it, but he, although much younger, had had his dreams about the beautiful Abrahama White. He remembered them as he looked at her, old and dead and majestic, with something like the light of her lost beauty in her still face.
She wasn't that kind of woman. It was what she wanted or nothing with her, always was. Guess that was why I felt the way I did about her." "She was a handsome girl." "Handsome! This girl you've got is pretty enough, but there never was such a beauty as Abrahama.
Wallace says Abrahama can't live more than a day or two, and she has made a will and left you all her property." There was another silence. The husband and wife were pale, with mouths agape like fishes. So little prosperity had come into their lives that they were rendered almost idiotic by its approach. "Us?" said Sylvia, at length, with a gasp. "Us?" said Henry. "Yes, you," said Sidney Meeks.
She stood gazing at Rose for a long moment before she spoke. "Well," said she, "you look like a whole jewelry shop. I don't see, for my part, how your aunt came to have so many why she wanted them." "Maybe they were given to her," said Rose. A tender thought of the dead woman who had gone from the house of her fathers, and left her jewels behind, softened her face. "Poor Aunt Abrahama!" said she.
"I wish," sobbed Sylvia, "that Abrahama White had left her property where it belonged. I wish we'd never had a cent of it. She didn't do right, and she laid the burden of her wrong-doing onto us when she left us the property." "Is that what's troubling you, Sylvia?" said Henry, slowly. "If that's all," he continued, "why " But Sylvia interrupted him.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking