Frontier and pioneer life -- Indiana -- Fiction; Historical fiction
She did not consult with her daughter before taking this irrevocable
step. She put it beyond her daughter's power to shake the resolution
she had made on the eve of Kenneth's departure; she knew that
Viola would cry out against the sacrifice and she was sorely afraid
of her own strength in the presence of her daughter's anguish. "I
shall put it all in the paper," she said, regarding the distressed,
perspiring face of the lawyer with a grim, almost taunting smile,
as if she actually relished his consternation. "What I want you
to do, first off, Andrew, is to prepare some sort of affidavit,
setting forth the facts, which I will sign and swear to. It needn't
be a long document. The shorter the better, just so it makes
everything clear."
"But, my dear Mrs. Gwyn, this--this may dispossess you of everything,"
remonstrated the agitated man of law. "The fact that you were never
the wife of Robert--"
"Your memory needs refreshing," she interrupted. "If you will
consult Robert Gwyn's will you will discover that he leaves half
of his estate, et cetera, to 'my beloved and faithful companion
and helpmate, Rachel, who, with me, has assumed the name of Gwyn
for the rest of her life in view of certain circumstances which
render the change in the spelling of my name advisable, notwithstanding
the fact that in signing this, my last will and testament, I recognize
the necessity of affixing my true and legal name.' You and I know
the sentence by heart, Andrew. No one can or will dispute my claim
to the property. I have thought this all out, you may be sure,--just
as he thought it all out when he drew up the paper. I imagine he
must have spent a great deal of time and thought over that sentence,
and I doubt if you or any other lawyer could have worded it better."
"Of course, if the will reads as you say,--er,--ahem! Yes, yes,--I
remember now that it was a--er--somewhat ambiguous. Ahem! But it
has just occurred to me, Mrs. Gwyn, that you are going a little
farther than is really necessary in the matter. May I suggest that
you are not--er--obliged to reveal the fact that you were never
married to him? That, it seems to me, is quite unnecessary. If,
as you say, your object is merely to set matters straight so that
your daughter and Mr. Gwynne may be free to marry, being in no
sense related either by blood or by law,--such as would have been
the case if you had married Kenneth's father,--why, it seems to me
you can avoid a great deal of unpleasant notoriety by--er--leaving
out that particular admission."
"No," she said firmly. "Thank you for your kind advice,--but, if
you will reflect, it is out of the question. You forget what you
have just said. For a lawyer, my dear friend, you are surprisingly
simple to-day."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account