Poppea of the Post-Office

by Mabel Osgood Wright

When quite ready for bed, he again changed his mind, and throwing on a dressing-gown, slid back the panel from the small square closet by the bed, and opening the safe, took from it the will, which, from its completion, had seemed to exercise a strange fascination over him. He would read it once more to be sure that all points were covered, and on the morrow, as he expected to go to town, he would place it once for all in the safety vault, for such a paper had no place in one's house, even if under lock and key.

As he turned for the twentieth time the half dozen pages he knew almost by heart, a voice seemed to be making a running commentary in his ear, and the pith of it all was: "What have you gained by trying to control others absolutely all your life? What are you gaining now by trying to control others absolutely after you are dead?"

The worst of it was that the critic seemed waiting for an answer, and he, having none ready, sat trying to frame one, but he could not, for there was none to give.

Suddenly the pain that was an agony ran through the arm and hand that grasped the will and then gripped his chest. It was one of his seizures, but more intense than usual. He felt himself realizing that it would pass off as others had before, but it did not. He could not reach the bell or little tablet vial on his dresser. He had known, of course, the end must come some day. Was that time now? The will, stirred by the tremor of his hand, fairly flaunted in his face.

Why had he made it? Why? "Why not destroy it now," the voice whispered, "and for once will for good?"

He tried to move, but the agony held him fast, he was suffocating and not even slowly.

"Try," whispered the voice; "the fire is almost at your feet, and it will help you."

Then inch by inch he worked himself forward, and unclasping his stiffening hand, dropped the paper on the hearth.

Would the blaze reach it? Would he live to know?

Yes, the eager flame caught hold; he saw the red seals melt, his signature disappear, and then—John Angus's greed for power was quenched by that last act.