But, like Bishop Hatto, of Mouse-Tower memory, Frank Tracy never
knew real peace of mind from the day he deliberately sold himself to the
Evil One for filthy lucre, until the day, years after, when full
restitution was made, and, with the sin confessed, he held his head up
again, free from the shadow which he did not leave in the sleigh, but
which followed him day and night, walking by him when he walked, sitting
by him when he sat, and watching by him when he slept, so as to be ready
when he woke with the specious argument that he was acting justly and
even generously by the little waif, who was like a sunbeam in the
cottage in the lane, whom many people went to see, marvelling at her
beauty and wondering in vain whose likeness they sometimes saw in her as
she frolicked around the house, full of life, and fun, and laughter.
Frank made his will, as he promised his shadow he would, but he went to
Springfield to have it drawn up, for he knew that Colvin, or any lawyer
whom he might employ in Shannondale, would wonder at it. He also wrote
out himself what he called his dying request to his children, in case he
should die before his brother. In this he stated emphatically his wish
that Jerry should have her share of whatever might come to them from the
Tracy estate, the same as if she were his own child.
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