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Page 7
"He sleeps," whispered the wife, as she softly raised herself from
her reclining position on the bed. "And dear Fanny sleeps also," was
added, as her eyes rested upon the unconscious form of her child.
Two hours later, and the last record was made in Ruben Elder's Book of
Life.
For half an hour before the closing scene, his mind was clear, and
he then spoke calmly of what he had done for those who were to remain
behind.
"To Leonard Jasper, my old friend," said he to his wife, "I have left
the management of my affairs. He will see that every thing is done
for the best. There is not much property, yet enough to insure a small
income; and, when you follow me to the better land, sufficient for the
support and education of our child."
Peacefully, after this, he sank away, and, like a weary child falling
into slumber, slept that sleep from which the awakening is in another
world.
How Leonard Jasper received the announcement of his executorship has
been seen. The dying man had referred to him as an old friend; but, as
the reader has already concluded, there was little room in his sordid
heart for so pure a sentiment as that of friendship. He, however, lost
no time in ascertaining the amount of property left by Elder, which
consisted of two small houses in the city, and a barren tract of about
sixty acres of land, somewhere in Pennsylvania, which had been taken
for a debt of five hundred dollars. In view of his death, Elder had
wound up his business some months before, paid off what he owed, and
collected in nearly all outstanding accounts; so that little work
remained for his executor, except to dispose of the unprofitable tract
of land 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."
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