England -- Fiction; Strikes and lockouts -- Fiction
He nodded acquiescence, and the servant led the way to the death
chamber. It had been put straight, so to remain until all that was left
of its many years' occupant should be removed. She lay on the bed in
placid stillness; her eyes closed, her pale face calm, a smile upon it;
the calm of a spirit at peace with heaven. Austin leaned over her,
losing himself in solemn thoughts. Whither had the spirit flown? to what
bright unknown world? Had it found the company of sister spirits? had it
seen, face to face, its loving Saviour? Oh! what mattered now the few
fleeting trials of this life that had passed over her! how worse than
unimportant did they seem by the side of death! A little, more or less,
of care; a lot, where shade or sunshine shall have predominated; a few
friends gained or lost; struggle, toil, hope--all must merge in the last
rest. It was over; earth, with its troubles and its petty cares, with
its joys and sorrows, and its 'goods stored up for many years;' as
completely over for Mary Thornimett, as though it had never, been. In
the higher realms whither her spirit had hastened----
'I told Mrs. Dubbs to knock up the undertaker, and desire him to come
here at once and take the measure for the coffin.'
Sarah's interruption recalled Austin to the world. It is impossible,
even in a death-chamber, to run away from the ordinary duties of daily
life.
CHAPTER III.
TWO THOUSAND POUNDS.
'You will stay for the funeral, Mr. Clay?'
'It is my intention to do so.'
'Good. Being interested in the will, it may be agreeable to you to hear
it read.'
'Am I interested?' inquired Austin, in some surprise.
'Why, of course you are,' replied Mr. Knapley, the legal gentleman with
whom Austin was speaking, and who had the conduct of Mrs. Thornimett's
affairs. 'Did you never know that you were a considerable legatee?'
'I did not,' said Austin. 'Some years ago--it was at the death of Mr.
Thornimett--Mrs. Thornimett hinted to me that I might be the better some
time for a trifle from her. But she has never alluded to it since: and I
have not reckoned upon it.'
'Then I can tell you--though it is revealing secrets beforehand--that
you are the better to the tune of two thousand pounds.'
'Two thousand pounds!' uttered Austin, in sheer amazement. 'How came she
to leave me so much as that?'
'Do you quarrel with it, young sir?'
'No, indeed: I feel all possible gratitude. But I am surprised,
nevertheless.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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