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Reading books fiction Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself.



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Read books online » Fiction » Only an Irish Boy; Or, Andy Burke's Fortunes by Jr. Horatio Alger (romantic books to read .txt) 📖

Book online «Only an Irish Boy; Or, Andy Burke's Fortunes by Jr. Horatio Alger (romantic books to read .txt) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger



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That was not the worst of it, however. He extorted from his mother a large allowance, which he spent at bars and billiard saloons, and one day was brought home drunk by a schoolfellow.

"Oh, Godfrey, how can you do so?" exclaimed the selfish woman, for once fairly alarmed on another's account.

"Hush up, old woman!" hiccoughed Godfrey.

Mrs. Preston was mortified to think this should be said to her before Godfrey's schoolmate.

"He does not know what he is saying," she said, apologetically.

"Yes, I do," persisted Godfrey. "I'm a—a gen'leman's son. I don't want you to interfere with gen'leman's son."

He was put to bed, and awoke the next morning with a splitting headache. It was the morning of the day which the doctor and Mr. Graves had chosen to call on Mrs. Preston. She was preparing to go out, when a servant came upstairs to announce that two gentlemen were in the parlor, and wanted to see her.

"Two gentlemen! What do they look like, Nancy?"

"One of 'em looks like he was from the country, mum."

This referred to Mr. Graves, who did have a rustic look. The doctor would readily have passed for a Bostonian.

"Did they give their names?"

"No, mum."

"I will go down directly. I suppose they won't stay long."

Mrs. Preston sailed into the parlor with the air of a city lady, as she proudly imagined, but stopped short in some surprise when she recognized her visitors. Of course, she did not suspect the nature of their business.

Dr. Townley arose as she entered.

"Good-morning, Mrs. Preston," he said. "I hope I find you well?"

"I am quite well," said Mrs. Preston, coldly, for she had never liked the doctor. She had an unpleasant feeling that he understood her, and was not among her admirers. "Good-morning, Mr. Graves. You come to the city occasionally?"

"I don't often get time to come up, but the doctor thought I ought to come."

"Indeed! I am sorry to say that I am just going out."

"I must ask you to defer going till we have communicated our business," said the doctor.

"Business?" repeated Mrs. Preston, seating herself in some surprise.

"Yes—business of importance. In short, your husband's will has come to light."

"My husband's will!" exclaimed Mrs. Preston. "I thought——"

She checked herself suddenly. She was about to say, "I thought I had destroyed it," and that would have let the cat out of the bag with a vengeance.

"You thought that he left no will," said the doctor, finishing the sentence for her. "He really left two——"

"Two!"

"That's it—he executed two—exactly alike. One he left in my hands."

"That is a likely story!" said Mrs. Preston, excitedly. "If that is the case, why, I ask, have we heard nothing of this before?"

"Because it was contained in an envelope, which I was requested not to open for six months after his decease. The time having expired——"

"May I ask what are the provisions of this pretended will?" demanded Mrs. Preston, in visible excitement.

"Mrs. Preston," said the doctor, with dignity, "you appear to forget that you are addressing a gentleman. I am above fabricating a will, as you seem to insinuate. As to the provisions, it leaves five thousand dollars to the town for the establishment of a public library, and five thousand dollars to Andy Burke, besides the small house in which she used to live to the widow Burke."

The worst had come. In spite of her criminal act, she must lose the ten thousand dollars; and, worst of all, those whom she hated and despised were to profit by her loss.

"This is simply outrageous, Dr. Townley," she said.

"You are speaking of your husband's will, Mrs. Preston."

"I don't believe he made it."

"There can be no doubt of it. Mr. Graves has examined it, and he and myself are so familiar with the handwriting of your husband that we have no hesitation in pronouncing the will genuine."

"Colonel Preston must have been insane if he really made such a will."

"I was his medical adviser," said Dr. Townley, quietly, "and I never detected the least sign of an unsound mind."

"The fact of robbing his wife and child to enrich an Irishwoman and her son is proof enough of his insanity."

"Pardon me, madam, but such bequests are made every day. Outside of their legacies your husband left ample fortune, and there is no danger of your being impoverished."

"Did you bring the will with you?"

"No. I did not feel like incurring the risk."

"I shall contest the will," said Mrs. Preston, passionately.

"I would not advise you to. The proof of its genuineness is overwhelming. I suppose you never saw the other will?"

Mrs. Preston, at this unexpected question, in spite of her strong nerves, turned pale, and faltered:

"Of course not," she said, after a slight pause.

"Your husband asserts positively in a note to me that he made one," said the doctor, bending his eyes searchingly upon her, for he suspected the truth, and that it was distrust of his wife that led Colonel Preston to take the precaution he had done. "Its disappearance is mysterious."

"What do you mean?" cried Mrs. Preston, sharply, and not altogether without alarm.

"I meant only to express my surprise."

"If your business is over, I will go out."

"I have only this to say, that, being named in the will as executor, I shall take immediate measures to have the will admitted to probate. Should you make up your mind to contest it, you can give me due notice through your legal adviser. In that case," he added, significantly, "the question of the disappearance of the other will will come up."

"I will consult my lawyer," said Mrs. Preston.

Though she said this, her determination was already made. "Conscience makes cowards of us all," and the doctor's last hint alarmed her so much that she decided to make no opposition to the setting up of the will. But it was a bitter pill to swallow.

"Graves," said Dr. Townley, as he left the house, "that woman destroyed the other will."

"Do you think so?"

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