Now the old woman's address would never be of
any use, and her wish that Elizabeth should travel alone was fulfilled.
There was a faint perfume from the envelope like Weldwood flowers. She
breathed it in, and wondered at it. Was it perfume from something he
carried in his pocket, some flower his lady had once given him? But this
was not a pleasant thought. She put the envelope into her bosom after
studying it again carefully until she knew the words by heart.
Then she drew forth the papers of her mother's that she had brought from
home, and for the first time read them over.
The first was the marriage certificate. That she had seen before, and had
studied with awe; but the others had been kept in a box that was never
opened by the children. The mother kept them sacredly, always with the
certificate on the top.
The largest paper she could not understand. It was something about a
mine. There were a great many "herebys" and "whereases" and "agreements"
in it. She put it back into the wrapper as of little account, probably
something belonging to her father, which her mother had treasured for old
time's sake.
Then came a paper which related to the claim where their little log home
had stood, and upon the extreme edge of which the graves were. That, too,
she laid reverently within its wrapper.
Next came a bit of pasteboard whereon was inscribed, "Mrs. Merrill Wilton
Bailey, Rittenhouse Square, Tuesdays.
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