Drusilla with a Million | Page 4

so tightly clenched in her lap.
"No, Miss Doane, you don't need to worry about the county house. You're not going to it yet."
Drusilla drew a deep breath of relief, and the frightened look died from her eyes. She leaned back in her chair.
"Then I don't know what you've got to tell me. It can't be that some one I know is dead, because all of my friends died long ago."
Mr. Gale said, "Tell her, so she'll understand. You're worrying the poor soul."
Mr. Thornton took a legal looking document from his pocket and a letter.
"Miss Doane," he said, "did you ever hear of Elias Doane?"
"Elias Doane? No, I don't believe I ever did."
"Well, he was a distant relation of yours; another branch of the family. He thought he was the last one of the Doane name, as he never married. A few weeks before his death, hearing about this home he sent me up here to learn the particulars regarding it, and I found you here. I reported that there was an inmate by the name of Doane still living, and we investigated and found that you belonged to the family that we thought was represented by only one man, the late Elias Doane."
"He's dead, then. Was he a relation of mine, did you say?"
"Yes, very distantly related."
"Well, I'm glad I've had some relations, even if I didn't know it."
"Now, we will come to the business, Miss Doane. Our client, the late Elias Doane, was a very wealthy man, very wealthy indeed. His estate amounts to many millions, and he has left a very curious will."
The lawyer opened a paper in his hand and commenced to read, but Mr. Gale interrupted.
"Don't bother her with the will, Robert; she won't understand. Tell her about it and give her the letter."
"Perhaps that is better, as the legal terms might be confusing. The gist of the matter is this, Miss Doane. Our client, the late Elias Doane, left the bulk of his money to the many charities in which he is interested, but he left you his home at Brookvale, near New York City, to be kept up fittingly out of the estate, and he gave you outright, to use as you may see fit, one million dollars."
Drusilla stared at him. Then her faded old face turned as white as the soft hair above it, and without a word she fell forward. For the first time in her life Drusilla Doane had fainted.
Mr. Thornton caught her in his arms and Mr. Gale sprang for the bell. Water and restoratives were brought, and within a few moments Drusilla opened her eyes--and soon she remembered. She brushed back her disarranged hair and laughed a soft, sweet little laugh.
"Well, I'm beginnin' well. All real ladies in story books faint when they hear good news."
When she was again seated in her chair and curious Mrs. Smith had been politely expelled from the room, Mr. Thornton cleared his throat and was again the precise man of business.
"As I was saying, Miss Doane, when you interrupted me, our late client, Mr. Elias Doane, left this very remarkable will and also a letter which we were to deliver to you." He handed her the letter.
Drusilla looked at it a moment as she held it in her hand. She seemed unwilling to break its seal. But the watching men opposite her caused her at last carefully, if not a little tremblingly, to tear the covering which was to reveal to her the wishes of a man, who evidently had thought of her and her happiness in his last hours. She unfolded the two pages covered with scrawling handwriting, but her faded eyes could make nothing of the strange hieroglyphics traced upon them, and she handed the letter to Mr. Thornton, saying:
"I guess it can't be nothin' private. You read it; I left my glasses in my work-basket."
Mr. Thornton adjusted his pince-nez and read:
MY DEAR DRUSILLA:
You will allow me to call you that, as it is the first and will be the last time that I will so address you; consequently you will pardon the seeming undue familiarity.
I first want to say that I regret that I did not know of your existence earlier, when perhaps I could have made life easier for you --although quite likely I would have added to its perplexities. We are the last of a good family: you, Drusilla Doane, an inmate of a charitable institution, and I, Elias Doane, millionaire, philanthropist, and rare old humbug. You have passed your life in toil, trying to earn your daily bread, and have found yourself nearing the end of this footless journey that we call life, alone and friendless. I have passed my days in toil also, and find myself, at the end, as much alone and friendless as is