“Rich! Ah, thee talks like a simple child! What will thee do with thy health and strength and three hundred dollars!”
“O, much,” replied Florence. “With two hundred I can hire a neat little house—with the other I can furnish it comfortably, and with my health and strength I can teach music and painting; and, if you please, dear Mrs. Hicks, you shall live with me, and so shall poor Effie Day.”
“Child, thee knows nothing of life,” cried the good woman, wiping her eyes. “Verily, it makes my heart sad to see thee blindly throwing from thee the fortune that good old Abel May did give thee! Child, thee does not act in accordance with the wishes of that good man; for, truly, he did beseech thee to marry, that thee might retain the good gifts of the world!”
Florence threw her arms around the neck of the old lady.
“I thank you, dear Mrs. Hicks, for I know you mean all you have said for my good; but not to possess millions could I be tempted to barter my affections; and even if I loved, I would not marry within the prescribed year, when by remaining a widow, I can give to the relations of that excellent man, the fortune to which I have no claim, save in his kindness for one unfortunate. Could I have done so, I would long since have yielded up my rights.”
“Thee is a noble, good girl; and so long as these hands can work, they shall work for thee; but I am sorry, nevertheless, to see thee giving up to the lovers of Mammon what they have so long coveted. Verily it grieves me, too, that young Abel May does not return! Ah, child, child, I hope thee may never be sorry!” and affectionately kissing her young lady, Mrs. Hicks went back to her work, half pleased, half angry with the determination of Florence.
In the meantime, slowly, slowly, slowly, to the kindred of old Abel May, circled the twelve months, dating from the day of his death; suspiciously, anxiously, uneasily watching every movement of the young widow.
But joy, joy! The long looked-for morning at length dawned. To their eager gaze the sun seemed like a huge golden guinea, as he smiled from the eastern sky upon their hopes, and soft and silky as bank-note paper appeared the thin, vapory clouds floating o’er his path.
Again from marble-columned squares and by-lanes, from suburban cottages and distant villages they came, flocking in like vultures, all ready to pounce down upon the innocent little lamb whom old Abel May had sheltered in his bosom.
Nor were their torments ended here; even then a new fear seized upon them. Who knows what desperation might effect; the widow that very day might take it into her head to marry—they had no doubt she would.