Her eyes
looked less tired, less hopeless.
"A trust? That would make life worth living."
He took up the packet on the table and gave it to her.
"That is my will. I made it afresh last night. It was witnessed this
morning. In it I have made you my executrix, with half my estate. The
other half I have left to Lois."
"Now you must leave it all to her," she said.
"No, I wish it to remain as it is. Besides--" He broke off hurriedly,
as though seeking to avoid an unpleasant train of thought. "Beatrice,
the world won't understand that will. Lois won't, and I pray, for the
sake of her happiness, that she may never have to--but if the time
comes when this must be put into action, I want you to give her a
message from me. Will you?"
"Of course I will. But"--she faced him with a sudden inspired
appeal--"must you wait until you are dead to speak to her? Would it
not be better to go to her now with your message? I do not know what
has come between you both, but I know this much--all forms of pretense
are fatal--"
He stopped her with a gesture of decision.
"No," he said. "The secret must remain secret. It has overshadowed my
life. It has laden me with a burden of responsibility and shame which
I have determined to share with no one. I have taken it upon my
shoulders, and I shall carry it to the end. Tell Lois that I have
never once swerved in my love for her. Ask her to trust me and think
kindly of me.
Pages:
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289