Part 1 (2/2)
A cry of admiration arose as Alison lifted it from the last swathings and held it up to view. The letter from Aunt Justina was tied to one side, and she unfastened it with fingers that shook a little. It was a message from the dead. It was so strange that that old lady, so far away, should have thought of her and sent her this beautiful thing, and written her a letter with her own trembling hand. With an odd feeling of unreality she unfolded the letter and read it aloud to her excited family.
”My dear great-niece, Alison,” it began, ”You have never seen me, perhaps you have never heard of me, until you will read this, after my death; and you will think it strange, perhaps, that I should take enough interest in you to send you my favorite lamp. Your father was my favorite nephew, and I had intended to make him my heir; but he displeased me by taking his own way in life, instead of the one I had planned for him. He had a right, I suppose, to do as he thought best, and I was wrong to try to force him to do as I wished. Whether he was wise or not, time will show. I am a lonely old woman with none of my own near me in my last years.
”I declared I would leave his name out of my will, and I must keep my word; but I have followed his career closely enough to know something of his family and circ.u.mstances.
And so, though I am leaving him nothing, I want to leave to his eldest daughter a small token of my interest and affection. Take it, my dear, as an old woman's freak. I bought it long ago in a quaint old shop in Venice. It is not an heirloom, and if you should some day wish to sell it, you may do so. On one condition, however: That is, that you keep it, _as it is_, until you are in some strait when no other help is available. Then, if you have exhausted all other resources, fill the lamp and light it. It may cast a light on your perplexities.
”Until then, keep it bright in remembrance of
”Your affectionate aunt,
”Justina Laurence.”
A chorus of exclamations broke forth as Alison ceased reading. ”What a strange old lady! Father, was she really angry with you for not doing as she wanted? And what was it?”
”She wanted me to go into politics, backed by her money; but I had no fancy for a politician's career, and I refused. Poor Aunt Justina! She was a very ambitious woman, and would have liked to see me President.
Well, I am glad she felt more kindly at the last. I never wanted her money; but I am glad she has remembered you, daughter,” said Mr. Fair, examining Alison's legacy with interest.
”Keep it bright! Why, you can see your face in it now,” cried Floss, peering into its s.h.i.+ning sides. ”Sister, I don't see how you can wait to 'fill and light it.' I would like to see it lighted right away.”
”But she says, 'Keep it as it is until you are in some strait,'” said Alison thoughtfully. ”I would rather do just as she wished.”
”So it will be just an ornament to stand on your table,” said Billy disgustedly. ”What a cranky old lady! What good will it do you?”
But Alison was not listening to him. A thought had flashed into her mind, and glancing at her mother she read the same thought in her eyes.
Quietly she lifted her ”wonderful lamp” and placed it in the center of the table for all to admire.
Then she went away to her own room to think it over. Was she ever likely to be in a much greater strait than she was now? And would not Aunt Justina want her to go to college? If the lamp was to shed light on her perplexities, surely now was the time it was needed.
A tap at the door heralded her mother. ”What is my daughter thinking of?” she asked, smiling.
”Of the same thing you are, mother. I see it in your face. Would it be against Aunt Justina's wishes, to light the lamp now? She must have meant _something_. And--if there is nothing more, after all--if it does not 'shed light on my perplexities,' at any rate, it is valuable in itself. But--I could hardly need its help more than I do now.”
”I thought of that, too, Alison, and I think it could not be wrong to investigate. Shall we fill it now, and wait until dark to light it?”
The question settled, they all gathered round while Alison unscrewed the old-fas.h.i.+oned burner of the lamp. ”Maybe there is some magic about it,”
she said, laughing nervously. ”I feel like Aladdin. Shall I try rubbing it first? But it doesn't need any rubbing to brighten it.”
The screw was a little stiff, but presently it turned. She removed it and peered curiously in the top.
”It is stuffed full of paper,” she said. ”More packing, I suppose. Wait till I pull it out.”
”Careful,” her father said, as she drew out a folded paper. He took it from her, and waited while she drew out another and another of the thin folded slips, until he had a handful. The bowl was large, and held a good many of those folded papers. When Alison had drawn out the last one, and turned to him, quite pale with excitement, he placed the packet in her hand.
<script>