Elizabeth sat with her hands clasped on the table in front of her, neither hearing nor seeing more. She was unaware that she was the object of everybody’s attention and that all eyes were turned on her. The merely material items contained in that instrument were of little moment to her just then; to every one else, except perhaps Luther, they were all that there was of importance. Sadie Hansen looked at her young neighbour, overcome by the fact that she was to have several thousand dollars all her own; Luther’s gray eyes dwelt upon her affectionately, glad that this last evidence of Hugh Noland’s sacrifice was hers; Doctor Morgan thought of the power it would give her to control the financial side of her life, and John Hunter was glad that at least the money was to remain in the business, and ready to forget the supposed plot.
Elizabeth was aroused by Doctor Morgan placing a sealed envelope in her hand and saying:
“This seems to be for you, Mrs. Hunter. It was in this big envelope with the will, and I didn’t see it till just now.”
The girl was so surprised that she turned the envelope over two or three times and read her name carefully to realize that the letter was for her, and from Hugh’s own hand. When at last it was clear to her, her face flushed with confusion, and the first tears which had dimmed her eyes since the hour of his death came to her relief. But the tears did not fall. Realizing that the eyes of all present were upon her, she controlled herself, and rising said:
“Excuse me one moment, till I have read it,” and passed into her own bedroom, where, with the sense of his presence, she clasped it to her tenderly an instant, and still standing, broke the seal.
It was simple, sincere, and so formal that all the world might have read it, and yet, it said all that she would have wanted him to say.
My Dear Elizabeth [it began]: When this reaches your hand, my heart will have ceased to trouble either of us. I will have fought my little fight; I will have kept the faith—which I started out too late to keep. The little I leave you will be small recompense for all I have cost you, but it is all I have, and will, I hope, help toward emancipating you from care. My one earnest bit of advice to you is, keep it free from debts.
I wish I might have spared you these last few days and their various burdens, but I am sure they will be less heavy than if I chose to wait.
Hugh.