Not My Will and The Light in My Window Read Free Page B

the last paragraph of the will surprised her.
    “This sum of money is to be kept in trust by the said administrator of the estate, and the income given to Eleanor Stewart only until her twenty-fifth birthday, at which time the entire principal shall be turned over to her with no restrictions. If, however, at any time prior to her twenty-fifth birthday, Eleanor contracts a marriage, she shall forfeit all claim to the estate, and the entire sum shall be paid to the Xenia Laboratories to be used in medical research.”
    The old lawyer glanced with troubled expression at pretty Eleanor, but she hastened to reassure him. “Don’t let that worry you, Mr. Hastings. Auntie and I understood each other. I have a great work to do and shall never think of marriage, I assure you.”

T he next two years flew happily by. Eleanor might have been lonely had she stopped working long enough to think about it, for she made no friends and few acquaintances. No place on earth offers such seclusion as a great city. In a small town, everyone knows everyone else’s private life and feels free to question and discuss at will. But among the millions of tiny atoms composing the population of a large city, one atom can easily escape notice altogether.
    Eleanor chose a university in just such a city. Having been out of school for several years, she was older than most of the students and had little sympathy with the lighthearted frivolity of the average youth about her. Her purpose in life was so compelling, her absorption in her work so complete, that she did not feel at all the currents of campus activities flowing and eddying about her. She was a good student and gave careful and diligentpreparation to all her studies. English, psychology, and math, however, were to her only necessary and uninteresting tasks that must be done as a part of her preparation for her life work. But in the biological laboratory she was in her element and utterly happy.
    Old Professor Nichols, world-renowned scientist, author, and teacher, took an unusual interest in her. Professor Thorne, Eleanor’s high school teacher, was a favorite former pupil of Professor Nichols and wrote enthusiastically of Eleanor’s abilities and interest. And the professor, who had long ago abandoned hope of making any real impression on the hundreds of young folks who filled his lecture rooms each day—at night they appeared in his dreams as conglomerate masses of saddle shoes, lurid neckties, and sloppy sweaters—found in her just the assistant he needed to aid him in the great task to which his remaining years were dedicated. He hoped to publish a textbook that would give to future generations the truths he had so painstakingly acquired during his years of study and research. He had longed to find someone to help him—someone who could catch his vision and materialize his dreams. Eleanor, with her skill with microscope and camera, and with her quick understanding, seemed to have been sent to him for that specific purpose. Together they labored in the laboratory or darkroom, often far into the night. He rejoiced over her patience and persistence and was thankful to the kind Providence who had sent him such an invaluable helper.
    Still Eleanor puzzled him. “Miss Eleanor, why
do
you work so hard?” he asked one day, watching her flushed face and too-bright eyes bent over the specimen beforeher. “Don’t you ever go to any of the—er—functions most of the young people are so enamored of attending?”
    “Never,” replied Eleanor promptly.
    “I am overjoyed to have you evince such an interest in our work, especially since my own eyesight is growing less reliable all the time. But—er—even if I am half-blind, I am aware that anyone as attractive as you should spend some time in the company of gentlemen somewhat younger than I. Don’t you know any?”
    Professor Nichols was surprised by the earnestness with which Eleanor answered.
    “No, I don’t know any and, frankly, am not