True Riches | Page 7

and invest the proceeds.

On the day following the opening of our story, Jasper, who still felt
annoyed at the prospect of more trouble than profit in the matter of his
executorship, made a formal call upon the widow of his old friend.
The servant, to whom he gave his name, stated that Mrs. Elder was so
ill as not to be able to leave her room.
"I will call again, then, in a few days," said he. "Be sure you give her
my name correctly. Mr. Jasper--Leonard Jasper."
The face of the servant wore a troubled aspect.
"She is very sick, sir," said she, in a worried, hesitating manner. "Won't
you take a seat, for a moment, until I go up and tell her that you are
here? Maybe she would like to see you. I think I heard her mention
your name a little while ago."
Jasper sat down, and the domestic left the room. She was gone but a
short time, when she returned and said that Mrs. Elder wished to see
him. Jasper arose and followed her up-stairs. There were some strange
misgivings in his heart--some vague, troubled anticipations, that
oppressed his feelings. But he had little time for thought ere he was
ushered into the chamber of his friend's widow.
A single glance sufficed to tell him the whole sad truth of the case.
There was no room for mistake. The bright, glazed eyes, the rigid,
colourless lips, the ashen countenance, all testified that the hour of her
departure drew nigh. How strong, we had almost said, how beautiful,
was the contrasted form and features of her lovely child, whose face, so
full of life and rosy health, pressed the same pillow that supported her
weary head.
Feebly the dying woman extended her hand, as Mr. Jasper came in,
saying, as she did so--
"I am glad you have come; I was about sending for you."
A slight tremor of the lips accompanied her words, and it was plain that

the presence of Jasper, whose relation to her and her child she
understood, caused a wave of emotion to sweep over her heart.
"I am sorry, Mrs. Elder, to find you so very ill," said Jasper, with as
much of sympathy in his voice as he could command. "Has your
physician been here to-day?"
"It is past that, sir--past that," was replied. "There is no further any
hope for me in the physician's art."
A sob choked all further utterance.
How oppressed was the cold-hearted, selfish man of the world! His
thoughts were all clouded, and his lips for a time sealed. As the dying
woman said, so he felt that it was. The time of her departure had come.
An instinct of self-protection--protection for his feelings--caused him,
after a few moments, to say, and he turned partly from the bed as he
spoke--
"Some of your friends should be with you, madam, at this time. Let me
go for them. Have you a sister or near relative in the city?"
The words and movement of Mr. Jasper restored at once the conscious
self-possession of the dying mother, and she raised herself partly up
with a quick motion, and a gleam of light in her countenance.
"Oh, sir," she said eagerly, "do not go yet. I have no sister, no near
relative; none but you to whom I can speak my last words and give my
last injunction. You were my husband's friend while he lived, and to
you has he committed the care of his widow and orphan. I am called,
alas, too soon! to follow him; and now, in the sight of God, and in the
presence of his spirit--for I feel that he is near us now--I commit to you
the care of this dear child. Oh, sir! be to her as a father. Love her
tenderly, and care for her as if she were your own. Her heart is rich
with affection, and upon you will its treasures be poured out. Take her!
take her as your own! Here I give to you, in this the solemn hour of my
departure, that which to me is above all price."

And as she said this, with a suddenly renewed strength, she lifted the
child, and, ere Jasper could check the movement, placed her in his arms.
Then, with one long, eager, clinging kiss pressed upon the lips of that
child, she sank backward on the bed; and life, which had flashed up
brightly for a moment, went out in this world for ever.


CHAPTER III.
Leonard Jasper would have been less than human had he borne such an
assault upon his feelings without emotion; less than human had his
heart instantly and spontaneously rejected the dying mother's wildly
eloquent appeal. He was bewildered,