“Why should you thank me? Well, because I drove that woman and her brat away.”
“But she had no right to stay, Aunt Polly, after father died. Of course she had no moral right before, but it was his house, and he could keep her there if he chose. But after his death she surely had no right.”
“Perhaps not so surely as you think—if she had not been a negro. Had she been white, there might have been a difference. When I told her to go, she said”—
“What did she say, Aunt Polly,” demanded Olivia eagerly.
It seemed for a moment as though Mrs. Ochiltree would speak no further: but her once strong will, now weakened by her bodily infirmities, yielded to the influence of her niece’s imperious demand.
“I’ll tell you the whole story,” she said, “and then you’ll know what I did for you and yours.” Mrs. Ochiltree’s eyes assumed an introspective expression, and her story, as it advanced, became as keenly dramatic as though memory had thrown aside the veil of intervening years and carried her back directly to the events which she now described.
“Your father,” she said, “while living with that woman, left home one morning the picture of health. Five minutes later he tottered into the house groaning with pain, stricken unto death by the hand of a just God, as a punishment for his sins.”
Olivia gave a start of indignation, but restrained herself.
“I was at once informed of what had happened, for I had means of knowing all that took place in the household. Old Jane—she was younger then—had come with you to my house; but her daughter remained, and through her I learned all that went on.
“I hastened immediately to the house, entered without knocking, and approached Mr. Merkell’s bedroom, which was on the lower floor and opened into the hall. The door was ajar, and as I stood there for a moment I heard your father’s voice.
“ ‘Listen, Julia,’ he was saying. ‘I shall not live until the doctor comes. But I wish you to know, dear Julia!’—he called her ‘dear Julia!’—‘before I die, that I have kept my promise. You did me one great service, Julia—you saved me from Polly Ochiltree!’ Yes, Olivia, that is what he said! ‘You have served me faithfully and well, and I owe you a great deal, which I have tried to pay.’
“ ‘Oh, Mr. Merkell, dear Mr. Merkell,’ cried the hypocritical hussy, falling to her knees by his bedside, and shedding her crocodile tears, ‘you owe me nothing. You have done more for me than I could ever repay. You will not die and leave me—no, no, it cannot be!’
“ ‘Yes, I am going to die—I am dying now, Julia. But listen—compose yourself and listen, for this is a more important matter. Take the keys from under my pillow, open the desk in the next room, look in the second drawer on the right, and you will find an envelope containing three papers: one of them is yours, one is the paper I promised to make, and the third is a letter which I wrote last night. As soon as the breath has left my body, deliver the envelope to the address endorsed upon it. Do not delay one moment, or you may live to regret it. Say nothing until you have delivered the package, and then be guided by the advice which you receive—it will come from a friend of mine who will not see you wronged.’
“I slipped away from the door without making my presence known and entered, by a door from the hall, the room adjoining the one where Mr. Merkell lay. A moment later there was a loud scream. Returning quickly to the hall, I entered Mr. Merkell’s room as though just arrived.
“ ‘How is Mr. Merkell?’ I demanded, as I crossed the threshold.
“ ‘He is dead,’ sobbed the woman, without lifting her head—she had fallen on her knees by the bedside. She had good cause to weep, for my time had come.
“ ‘Get up,’ I said. ‘You have no right here. You pollute Mr. Merkell’s dead body by your touch. Leave the house immediately—your day is over!’
“ ‘I will not!’ she cried, rising to her feet and facing me with brazen-faced impudence. ‘I have a right to stay—he has given me the right!’
“ ‘Ha, ha!’ I laughed. ‘Mr. Merkell is dead, and I am mistress here henceforth. Go, and go at once—do you hear?’
“ ‘I hear, but I shall not heed. I can prove my rights! I shall not leave!’
“ ‘Very well,’ I replied, ‘we shall see. The law will decide.’
“I left the room, but did not leave the house. On the contrary, I concealed myself where I could see what took place in the room adjoining the death-chamber.
“She entered the room a moment later, with her child on one arm and the keys in the other hand. Placing the child on the floor, she put the key in the lock, and seemed surprised to find the desk already unfastened. She opened the desk, picked up a roll of money and a ladies’ watch, which first caught her eye, and was reaching toward the drawer upon the right, when I interrupted her:—
“ ‘Well, thief, are you trying to strip the house before you leave it?’
“She gave an involuntary cry, clasped one hand to her bosom and with the other caught up her child, and stood like a wild beast at bay.
“ ‘I am not a thief,’ she panted. ‘The things are mine!’
“ ‘You lie,’ I replied. ‘You have no right to them—no more right than you have to remain in this house!’
“ ‘I have a right,’ she persisted, ‘and I can prove it!’
“She turned toward the desk, seized the drawer, and drew it open. Never shall I forget her look—never shall I forget that moment; it was the happiest of my life. The drawer was empty!
“Pale as death she turned and faced me.
“ ‘The papers!’ she shrieked, ‘the papers! You have stolen them!’
“ ‘Papers?’ I laughed, ‘what papers? Do you take me for a
