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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a26c81 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64559 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64559) diff --git a/old/64559-0.txt b/old/64559-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3ed7ff4..0000000 --- a/old/64559-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7728 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Magic Cameo, by Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Magic Cameo - A Love Story - -Author: Mrs. Georgie Sheldon - -Release Date: February 14, 2021 [eBook #64559] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC CAMEO *** - - - - - - The Magic Cameo - A Love Story - - _By_ MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON - - AUTHOR OF - “The Churchyard Betrothal,” “Mona,” “Wedded - By Fate,” “A Hoiden’s Conquest,” “The - Lily of Mordaunt,” etc. - - [Illustration] - - A. L. BURT COMPANY - PUBLISHERS NEW YORK - - - - -Popular Books - -By MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON - -In Handsome Cloth Binding - -Price per Volume, 60 Cents - - Brownie’s Triumph - Earl Wayne’s Nobility - Churchyard Betrothal, The - Edrie’s Legacy - Faithful Shirley - For Love and Honor - Sequel to Geoffrey’s Victory - Forsaken Bride, The - Geoffrey’s Victory - Golden Key, The; or a Heart’s Silent Worship - Heatherford Fortune, The - Sequel to The Magic Cameo - He Loves Me For Myself - Helen’s Victory - Her Faith Rewarded - Sequel to Faithful Shirley - Her Heart’s Victory - Sequel to Max - Heritage of Love, A - Sequel to The Golden Key - Hoiden’s Conquest, A - How Will It End - Sequel to Marguerite’s Heritage - Lily of Mordaunt, The - Little Miss Whirlwind; or Lost for Twenty Years - Lost, A Pearle - Love’s Conquest - Sequel to Helen’s Victory - Love Victorious, A - Magic Cameo, The - Marguerite’s Heritage - Masked Bridal, The - Max, A Cradle Mystery - Mona - Nora, or The Missing Heir of Callonby - Sibyl’s Influence - Threads Gathered Up - Sequel to Virgie’s Inheritance - Thrice Wedded - Tina - Trixy, or The Shadow of a Crime - True Aristocrat, A - True Love’s Reward - Virgie’s Inheritance - Wedded By Fate - - For Sale by all Booksellers - or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price - - A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS - 52 Duane Street New York - - Copyright, 1898 and 1899 - BY STREET & SMITH - - THE MAGIC CAMEO - - - - -THE MAGIC CAMEO. - - - - -PRELUDE. - -THREE PICTURES. - - -Picture number one shows us a young man of about twenty-eight years -standing on the veranda of a fine country residence that rises out of the -midst of spacious and well-kept grounds, while stretching out and around -on every hand are many broad acres of carefully tilled fields of grain, -luxuriant waving grass, and, in the distance, a belt of woodland. - -Behind the mansion are roomy and substantial barns and outhouses for -various purposes, all in perfect repair and telling of comfortable -quarters for horses, cows, and other kinds of stock. It is, in fact, a -thrifty and ideal New England farm, and a home of which any man might -reasonably feel proud. - -But the young man standing upon the broad veranda has at this moment no -thought of his prospective inheritance. His form is as rigid as that of a -statue; his face is set and colorless; his eyes wide and staring and full -of hopeless wretchedness, as they scan the letter which he is holding in -his hand. The missive had been brought to him a few moments previous by -the hired man who had just returned from the village post-office, and -who had shot a sly glance and smile up at his young master, to indicate -that he had not been unmindful of the delicate and flowing handwriting in -which it had been addressed, that had caused such a glad light to leap -into the eyes of the recipient and made him blush like a girl as he tore -it eagerly open. - -Let us read the lines which occasioned such a sudden transformation, -blotting out the love-light from his eyes, burning to ashes all the -tenderness in his nature and writing hard and cruel lines upon his face: - - “ALFRED: I know that you can never forgive me the wrong I am - doing you, but, too late, I have learned that I love another - and not you. When you receive this I shall be the wife of that - other—you well know who. I wish I could have saved you this - blow, so near the day that was set for our wedding; but I - should have doubly wronged you had I remained and fulfilled my - pledge to you with my heart irrevocably given elsewhere. Forget - and forgive if you can. - - “T. A.” - -“My God! and she was to have been my wife one month from to-day!” bursts -from the white lips of the reader as he finishes perusing the above for -the second time. - -He sways dizzily, then staggers toward one of the massive pillars that -support the roof of the piazza, and leans against it, too weak from the -terrible shock he has received to stand alone; and there he remains, -staring sightlessly before him, oblivious to everything save his own -misery, until an elderly gentle-faced woman comes to the door and says: - -“Alfred, supper is ready.” - -The man starts, stands erect, his brows contracted, his lips set in a -white line of determination. He deliberately folds the letter, returns it -to its envelope, and slips it into an inner pocket. As he crushes it down -out of sight a look of hate sweeps over his face and blazes in his eyes. - -Then he turns and follows the woman into the house. - - * * * * * - -Picture number two was sketched more than two years later, and shows -a small, meagerly furnished room, in an humble tenement, located in a -narrow street of a great Western city. It has only one occupant—a young -and attractive woman, who is sitting before a fire in an open grate, for -it is a chill November night. - -Her face is stained with weeping; her eyes are red and swollen; great -heart-rending sobs burst from her every now and then, and she is -trembling from head to foot. - -As in the first picture, there is a letter. She holds it in her hands, -upon her lap, and she has crumpled it with her fingers, which are -twitching nervously, causing the paper to rattle in her grasp. - -“Merciful Heaven! can it be true?” she breathes, between her quivering -lips. “I cannot, will not believe a human being could be so heartless, so -lost to all honor and manliness.” - -She raises the missive, spreads it out before her, and reads it through -again, although every word was already seared, as with a hot iron, upon -her brain. It was brief, cold, and fiendishly cruel. It was addressed to -no one, and was also without signature. - - “I’m off,” it began. “There is no use in longer trying to - conceal the fact that I am tired of the continual grind of the - last two years. It was a great mistake that we ever married, - and I may as well confess what you have already surmised—that - I never really loved you. Why did I marry you, then? Well, you - know that I never could endure to be balked in anything, and as - I had made up my mind to cut a certain person out, I was bound - to carry my point. You know whom I mean, and that he and I were - always at cross-purposes. The best thing you can do will be - to go back to your own people—tell whatever story you choose - about me. I shall never take the trouble to refute it, neither - will I ever annoy you in any way. Get a divorce if you want - one. I will not oppose it; as I said before, I am tired of the - infernal grind and bound to get out of it. I’ll go my way, and - you may go yours; but don’t attempt to find or follow me, for I - won’t be hampered by any responsibilities in the future.” - -The woman fell into deep thought after this last perusal of the letter, -and she sat more than an hour gazing into the fire, scarcely moving -during that time. - -The cheap little clock on the mantel striking eight finally aroused her, -and, with a long-drawn sigh, she arose, walked deliberately to the grate, -laid the epistle on the coals and watched it while the flames devoured -it, reducing it to ashes, which were finally whirled in tiny particles up -the chimney by the draft. - -“So that dream has vanished,” she murmured; “now I will come down to the -practical realities of life. But, oh! what has the future for me?” - - * * * * * - -Picture number three is not unveiled until fourteen years later. - -In a palatial residence on Nob Hill, in San Francisco, a -distinguished-looking gentleman may be seen sitting in his luxurious -library. Its walls are hung with an exquisite shade of old rose, the -broad frieze representing garlands of flowers in old rose, gold, and -white. The furniture is of solid mahogany, richly carved, upholstered in -blue velvet and satins; costly draperies are at the windows; Turkish rugs -of almost priceless value are strewn about the inlaid and highly polished -floor, and statues, bric-a-brac, and fine pictures, gathered from many -countries, are artistically arranged about the room. - -The gentleman, who is in evening dress, excepting that he has on a -smoking-jacket of rich black velvet, is lazily reclining in an adjustable -chair, and engaged in cutting the leaves of one of the late magazines, -while he smokes a cigar. - -Presently the portieres of a doorway are swept aside, and a beautiful -woman enters. She is in full evening dress, and clad like a princess in -satin, of a deep shade of pink, brocaded with white. Diamonds encircle -her white neck, gleam in her ears, and amid her nut-brown hair. - -The gentleman turns to her, his face glowing with mingled pride and -pleasure. - -“Nell! what a vision of loveliness!” he exclaims, with an eager thrill in -his tones. - -She comes to him with a fond smile upon her lips, lays her fair arms -around his neck, and kisses him. - -“So much for your flattery,” she playfully responds. - -“Ah, I am tempted to try for the same reward again,” he returns, in the -same vein, as he captures one jeweled hand and lays it against his lips. - -“But, dear, do you know how late it is getting to be?” questions the -lady, as she glances at the gilded clock on the mantel. - -“Well, I am all ready, except getting into my coat. Run away for your -opera-cloak, and I will not be a minute behind you, though really, Nell, -I am too comfortable to move,” concludes the man, in a regretful tone. - -“Oh, you lazy, unappreciative fellow,” gaily retorts his companion. “Here -one of the leaders in society is about to tender a brilliant reception -to the distinguished mayor of the city, and he is so indifferent to the -honor that he prefers to sit and smoke at home to receive the homage -awaiting him. Come, sir; your wife is ambitious if you are not.” - -She administers a playful box on his ear as she ceases, then trips away, -while the gentleman watches her with a smile on his lips and his heart in -his eyes. - -He arises the instant she disappears, and is on the point of following -her when his glance falls upon a paper which, until that moment, has lain -unnoticed upon the table. He picks it up, and runs his eyes up and down -its columns. - -Suddenly a shock seems to go quivering through him, and every particle -of color fades out of his face. He stands up as if transfixed for a full -minute. Then the paper drops from his grasp. - -“At last!” he mutters; “at last!” - -He draws a long, deep breath, like one who, having been long oppressed, -suddenly feels a weight removed. Then he throws back his shoulders and -walks with a proudly uplifted head and elastic step from the room. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -AN ACT OF HEROISM. - - -A long and heavily laden passenger-train—the 3 o’clock limited express -from Boston to New York—and composed chiefly of parlor-cars, was almost -ready to pull out of the station. The engineer and fireman were in their -places, while the porters, standing beside their steps, were awaiting the -last signal from the gong. - -Midway of the train, and sitting at the open window of her section, a -young girl of perhaps fourteen or fifteen years, was sitting. She was a -veritable pink-and-white beauty, with golden hair lying in soft, fluffy -curls about her forehead, beneath which a pair of mischievous blue eyes—a -saucy light gleaming in their azure depths—looked out and down upon the -handsome face of a tall, well-formed youth, with an unmistakable air of -high breeding about him, who was standing on the platform outside with a -somewhat lugubrious expression on his countenance. - -He was evidently about eighteen years of age, and everything about him -indicated a scion of a wealthy aristocrat. - -“Remember, Mollie,” he was saying, “you have promised to write me every -week, and I shall expect you to tell me everything you hear, see, and -do—yes, and think. I don’t know how I’m going to stand it to have you -gone, for nobody knows how long, with the ocean between us and all our -good times at an end.” - -“Nonsense, Phil, you silly boy! You are going to be at Harvard, and, -absorbed in your studies and your various clubs and societies, you will -soon forget all about those ‘old times,’ and be bored beyond expression -if I should take you at your word and inflict a letter, filled with -foolish, girlish gossip, upon you every week,” the girl laughingly -retorted. - -Nevertheless, her saucy eyes grew a trifle sad while she was speaking, -and a deeper pink glowed upon her cheeks. - -“No, it is not ‘nonsense,’ and I shall never ‘forget,’ as you will prove -to your satisfaction, if you will only do your duty,” the young man -earnestly returned. “So send on your letters, and mind, Mollie, you don’t -let any one steal your heart away from me, for you know you are to marry -me just as soon as I am through college.” - -He had lowered his voice during this last sentence, while he regarded the -lovely face with a tender, admiring look that spoke volumes. The azure -eyes drooped and a scarlet wave leaped to the delicately blue-veined -temples; but she replied: - -“Marry you as soon as you are through college, indeed!—who said so, I -should like to know?” A tantalizing laugh revealed two rows of small -white teeth between the ruby lips. - -“Mollie! Mollie! don’t torment me,” the youthful lover returned, with a -note of earnest entreaty in his tone. “You know that we have planned it -all a hundred times, when you and I were playing ‘keep house’ together in -the tent under the old elms at your home on the Hudson.” - -“Oh, but that was only play, Phil. In another month you’ll be dancing -attendance on the pretty Cambridge girls, and, after four years of such -fun, you’ll cease to remember that such a being as Mollie Heatherford -exists, or that she ever played Joan to your Darby under the elms at -Sunnyhurst,” and two roguish eyes gleamed with mischief as they scanned -the clouded face beneath her. - -“You are cruel, Mollie. I shall always be faithful to you, and I wish -you would give me some pledge before you go; say,” as his glance fell -upon the small, white hand that rested upon the window-sill, and on which -there gleamed several costly rings, “give me that cameo you are wearing -to seal the compact. It really isn’t a lady’s ring, and would look far -better on my hand than yours, and I’ll send you something pretty and nice -in place of it. Now, Mollie, dear, be good to me—don’t go away and leave -me in suspense.” - -But Miss Mischief had no intention of being caught in the net so cleverly -spread for her. She laughed roguishly back into the handsome face -upturned to her, and saucily shook her head. - -“No, I can’t give you the cameo, Phil,” she said, “and I’m not going to -make any promises—now. Hark, there is the last bell. Good-by, and do -yourself credit at college.” - -The train began to move as she spoke. Phil clasped the hand outstretched -to him while he ran along beside the car. - -“Remember, it is mine. I shall claim it in four years, promise or no -promise. Now, write me every week; don’t forget me; good-by.” - -He had to relinquish the hand at last, but he took off his hat and waved -a farewell, while his fond eyes lingered upon the sweet, smiling face -looking back at him, until the train rolled out of the station. - -He knew it would be the last time he would see it for a long while, -for pretty Mollie Heatherford was soon to go abroad for an indefinite -period. She had been spending a week with the Temples in Brookline—Phil’s -home—making a farewell visit previous to her departure, and she was now -on her way to New York to rejoin her father and mother, and the trio were -to sail for Europe within a few days. - -“By Jove! I believe she is the prettiest girl I ever saw, and she’ll have -a pile of money some day. I’ll stick to Mollie and her pile, and the -Cambridge girls may hang their harps on the willows for all me. I’m going -to look out for number one.” - -Such were the mental comments of Philip Wentworth, whose mother—a -widow—had married a wealthy man by the name of Temple some four years -previous. And these comments were an index to the young man’s character, -which, summed up in a word, might be written selfish. - -The express-train steamed rapidly on its way, bearing the pretty heiress -of the Heatherford million toward her home. The day had been very hot -and sultry—it was late in July—and some three hours after leaving Boston -ominous clouds began to gather in the West. A little later the train ran -into a terrific electric-storm. - -Mollie Heatherford sat crouching in her section, white and trembling, and -dreading every instant a deadly bolt which would bring swift destruction -and annihilation to her, yet too proud and sensitive to confess her fear -and seek the reassuring companionship of some fellow traveler. - -The heavens were so thickly overcast, and the rain descended in such -torrents it seemed almost like night in the car, and the porter began to -light the lamps. - -He had only half-completed his task when there burst upon the affrighted -ears of the awe-stricken passengers within the train a startling, warning -whistle from the engine, then a sudden shock and crash, followed by -shrieks and cries of men, women, and children. - -On this same afternoon, while “the Limited” was speeding on its way -from Boston to New York, a youth of perhaps seventeen years might have -been seen toiling beneath the blazing sun in a hay-field, adjoining the -grounds surrounding a stately mansion, and which was located on the -outskirts of a beautiful country town not far from New Haven. - -Every now and then the young man would glance anxiously up at a small -cloud that was floating along the western horizon, and every time he -looked it seemed to have grown larger and larger. Then he would fall to -work again with fresh vigor, apparently unmindful of the broiling heat -and of the great beads of perspiration which rolled over his face and -dropped upon the ground. - -He was working alone, and it did not seem possible that he would be able -to get all the hay in the field into cocks and covered with caps before -the storm would be upon him. But there was a resolution in every glance -of his eye, determination in every vigorous movement of his body, and -he pressed on, while the cloud grew, mounting higher and higher in the -heavens, while vivid flashes of lightning, followed by the heavy roll of -thunder, gave warning that the storm was coming nearer and nearer. - -He had timed himself well; the task was completed; the last cap spread as -the first drops fell, when the youth shouldered his rake and turned his -steps toward the farmhouse. He had to run for it, for the storm was fast -overtaking him, but he reached the great barn just in season to escape -the deluge. - -Hanging his rake upon a beam, he removed his broad hat, wiped the -perspiration from his face, and heaved a long sigh of relief. - -“Well, I did it,” he observed, with a satisfied uplifting of his head, -“but small thanks I’ll get for my efforts. However, that is not my -affair. My part was to do as I’d be done by, thanks or no thanks. Great -Cæsar! how it rains! What lightning! What thunder!” he exclaimed, as -flash after flash swept athwart the murky sky and almost simultaneous -reports crashed like the continuous firing of mighty cannons, while the -rain came down in sheets and drenched the thirsty earth. - -He stood watching the conflict of elements for a few moments, then he -remarked again: - -“I am sure I have earned the right to rest a while, so I’m going in to -have a tussle with Tacitus for an hour or two. Ho! hum! I wonder if I -shall be able to pass the exams. and enter college this fall.” - -He tossed his hat upon a peg, then, passing through a side door, -traversed a short passage, then a shed, and finally entered the roomy, -pleasant kitchen of the farmhouse, where a tidy, good-natured looking -woman was mixing biscuit for supper. - -With a smile and a pleasant word to her, the young man crossed the room, -opened a door and mounted a flight of stairs to a small room on the back -of the house, and which overlooked a winding stream, and, a few rods -away, the railroad. Here he threw himself into a chair before a table, -upon which there were several books, and was soon absorbed in the “Annals -of Tacitus.” - -Suddenly there came a blinding flash of lightning, followed instantly by -a crash that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth. - -“That was very near,” muttered the youth, looking up from his book and -glancing out of the window. - -A startled cry burst from him as he did so, and he sprang to his feet. - -“Heavens! the old crooked maple has been struck and fallen directly -across the track!” he exclaimed. - -He snatched a cheap watch from his pocket and glanced at it, his face -growing white with a terrible fear. - -“The New York limited express will be due here in exactly half an hour. -Unless something is done, some warning given before it rounds the curve -there will be a horrible accident,” he soliloquized with pale lips. - -He rushed from the room, down the stairs, through the kitchen, and into -the shed, where, seizing an ax, he darted out of a back door unmindful -of the pouring rain, through a garden, and down a bank beyond, and, in -another moment, was on the railroad beside the great tree, whose trunk -was at least twelve inches in diameter, and whose branches spread out -over the track for many feet. - -This maple had stood there on the bank for many years, while storm -after storm had gradually undermined it, until it was held only by the -strength of its own roots. The roadmaster of that section had, for some -time, contemplated having it removed, as he felt that it was unsafe to -allow it to remain. But he had neglected it just a little too long, and -the present tempest had wrenched it from its place, causing it to fall -directly across both tracks. - -With quick and vigorous strokes the young man trimmed away some of the -branches, so that he could get at the trunk, and then he fell to work -with his ax as he had seldom worked before, forgetting that he had -already performed the labor of two men that day, and the tree was finally -severed just outside the rails nearest the roots. - -But another division must be made before it could be removed from its -dangerous position, and he sprang between the two tracks and fell to work -again, the elements still keeping high carnival around him. The chips -flew right and left, while with every blow of the ax the youth’s breath -was forced from him with a shrill, hissing sound, showing that he was -putting forth his strength to the utmost. But he had hewn only about -two-thirds of the log when the whistle of a locomotive fell upon his ear -and warned him that the train was only a mile away, speeding on toward -swift destruction. - -What should he do? He knew there would not be time to complete his task -and drag the tree from the track before the train would be upon him, -while there was a bridge over the road not fifty feet behind him, and -beneath it a foaming, rushing, thundering torrent, into which the engine -and coaches, if derailed, would doubtless plunge headlong. - -A wild look of fear shot into his eyes. An expression of horror was on -his pallid face as these thoughts flashed through his mind. The next -instant he snatched a red bandanna from his pocket and started on a swift -run down the track, tying the handkerchief to a branch of the maple as -he went. On, on, like a deer he ran. The curve was reached and rounded. -The train was in sight. Nearer and nearer it came thundering on; then the -short, sharp sound of the danger-whistle fell upon the boy’s ear, and -his heart bounded into his throat with a sudden sense of relief as he -realized that his signal had been seen and recognized. - -Then he dashed it to the ground, and, turning, sped back to the maple, -and fell to work again with his ax with all his might. - -The moment the engineer had espied the improvised flag he knew there was -danger ahead, and, blowing the signal to warn the brakemen, he reversed -his engine, and opened the valves, and it was this ready response to -the waving bandanna that had caused the crash and shock which had so -frightened and shaken up everybody on the train, although no real damage -had been done, and he finally brought his engine to a standstill within -three feet of the youth, and just in season to see the last blow from his -ax, which cleft the trunk of the maple asunder. - -Both he and the fireman sprang to the ground and ran toward him, reaching -him just as, with a faintly murmured “Thank God!” he fell forward -exhausted, and was caught in their strong arms before he could touch the -ground. He did not entirely lose consciousness; but he was too spent and -weak to move or even speak. - -Many of the passengers left the train and gathered around him in spite -of the rain, which continued to fall heavily, although it was gradually -abating. - -The conductor, comprehending at once what had occurred, and anxious -to lose no more time than was absolutely necessary, ordered the youth -to be put aboard the train and made as comfortable as possible until -they reached the next station. Then the brakemen, with the engineer and -fireman, removed the debris from the tracks, after which everybody was -ordered back into the coaches, and the train went steaming on its way -once more. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -A TOUCHING TRIBUTE. - - -The hero of the incident would have much preferred to have been left by -the side of the railroad with the mutilated maple until he could gather -sufficient strength to crawl back to the farmhouse, but he was too -exhausted to express his wishes, and thus he was obliged to go along with -the train. - -The next stopping-place was New Haven, the express being due there a -little after 7, and during the ride the youth, under the care of the -conductor and some of the passengers, recovered sufficiently to tell -who he was and where he belonged, as well as how he had discovered the -obstruction upon the road. His name, he said, was Clifford Faxon, and his -home was with a gentleman known as Squire Talford, who lived near the -village of Cedar Hill, or between that place and New Haven. - -He appeared to be rather reticent and sensitive about talking of himself, -but some gentlemen adroitly drew him out and learned that he was an -orphan, and had been bound to the Squire since he was thirteen, or for -the last four years, working for his “board and clothes”; that he had -attended the academy of the town from September to April of every year, -and was hoping to work his way through college when his time was out. - -As he came more fully to himself he gave his audience an account of how -the maple had fallen across the railroad; how he had realized what the -terrible consequences must be unless it was removed and the engineer of -the express warned of the danger; how he had been inspired to take his ax -and hurry to the scene and work diligently as long as he could to remove -the obstruction, and, when he found that would be impossible, he had run -forward and waved his red handkerchief to stop the train. - -His listeners were thrilled with admiration and gratitude in view of his -heroism and the incalculable debt which they owed him. Their sympathies -were also enlisted for him, for they saw that he was a fine, manly -fellow, and capable of far better things than serving a farmer, as a -bound boy, for a mere pittance. - -One gentleman, a resident of New Haven, said he knew something of his -history, having learned it through the principal of the academy in the -town where he lived, and he had never heard anything but good of him, -while he was sure he had been under a hard master during the last four -years. - -The result of this was a proposition to see what could be done in the way -of a testimonial to manifest the appreciation of the passengers, who had -been rescued from probable death. - -Two gentlemen were appointed in every car to see what they could raise -toward this end, and they worked so zealously and to such good purpose -that a handsome sum had been realized before the train steamed into the -New Haven station. - -Pretty Mollie Heatherford had listened to the thrilling story with bated -breath and gleaming eyes, her cheeks glowing with repressed excitement. - -“Why, he is a hero!” she cried, enthusiastically, as she emptied her -purse—after reserving simply a carriage-fare, in case no one should meet -her in New York—into the hat of the gentleman who told the tale in her -hearing. “I want to see him. I want to shake hands with him, and thank -him personally,” and she secretly determined that she would do so. When -the train stopped at New Haven she was the first one to alight from the -coach, eager to catch a glimpse of the young hero. - -She pushed her way toward the baggage-car, in which a couch had been -extemporized for the youth, and stood close beside the steps as young -Faxon came down. - -He was still very pale, but was fast recovering his strength, and the -girl thought his face—although his features were not as clear-cut or as -regular as Philip Wentworth’s—the finest, the manliest she had ever seen. - -He was deeply tanned from his summer’s work in the fields. He was clad -in a pair of overalls, without coat or vest or hat; and his feet were -encased in coarse and clumsy shoes, while, as may be surmised, he was -drenched and soiled from his rough work in the field and storm. - -But, to admiring little Miss Heatherford, this lack of “purple and fine -linen” and other accessories of high life to which she had always been -accustomed, made not the slightest difference. It was the spirit of the -youth, the character and nobility which were stamped upon his fine, open -face, and that alone of which she was conscious. - -And almost the first object that young Faxon’s great, dark eyes rested -upon as he made his way from the car was the fair, upturned face of the -beautiful girl with the eager light of hero-worship in her own blue eyes, -the quivering of intense emotion hovering about her red lips. - -She made her way close to his side, regardless of the crowd that was -gathering to get a look at him, and held out a dainty white hand upon -which sparkled rare and costly gems. - -“I want to thank you,” she began, with almost breathless eagerness. -“You have saved my life—you have saved all our lives, and it is such a -wonderful, such a grand thing to have done! I am very grateful to you, -for my life is very, very bright. I love to live. Oh, I cannot say half -there is in my heart, but I shall never forget you. I shall love you for -your heroism of this day always. Here, please take this to remind you -that I mean every word I have said. It seems small and mean, in view of -what you have done, but when you look at it I want you to remember that -there is one grateful heart in the world that will never forget you.” - -While she was speaking she had slipped from her finger the exquisitely -carved cameo ring which Philip Wentworth had begged her to give him only -a few hours previous, and, as she ceased, with tears in her eyes, she -thrust it into the brown hand of the youth, and, before he could protest -against accepting it, she had glided away, and was lost among the crowd. - -The next moment the throng parted, and a gentleman stood before him, -claiming his attention. - -In a few words of grateful acknowledgment he presented him with what he -termed “a slight testimonial” of the appreciation of the passengers for -his act of heroism that afternoon, and wished him all success in the -future. - -The testimonial was in the form of a good-sized wallet, well filled -with greenbacks and coins of various denominations. Then he took the -boy by the arm, led him down the platform to a carriage, and, putting a -five-dollar bill into the coachman’s hand, bade him take him to his home, -wherever that might be. - -Young Faxon, with tears of emotion in his eyes, sprang into the vehicle, -glad to escape from the curious crowd, and was driven away amid the -cheers of the grateful passengers of the “limited express,” which, a -moment later, was again thundering on its way toward its destination. - -The storm was over. The clouds were breaking up and dispersing, revealing -patches of cerulean sky between the rifts, while, in the west, brilliant -rays from the declining sun streamed in upon the hero of the day through -the carriage window as he was driven out of the city toward the home of -Squire Talford. - -Glancing through the opposite glass he saw a radiant rainbow spanning -the eastern sky, its vivid colors reflected in a second and almost as -perfect as an arch. His young heart was strangely thrilled by the sight. - -Was it a bow of promise to him he asked himself. Did it portend a future -that would be brighter than the last four years had been, of release from -a hard and cruel task-master, of a broader outlook and the opportunity -to indulge the aspirations of a heart that had long been hungering for -education, culture, and intellectual advancement? - -Yes, he was almost sure of it, for, clasped close in his brown hands, he -held the fat wallet which would at least be the stepping-stone toward -the achievement of the one great desire of his heart—a college course -at Harvard; and his eyes grew bright, the color came back to his cheeks -and lips, and his spirits were lighter than they had been for many a -long month. Then his eyes fell upon the beautiful cameo, which had been -presented to him by “the prettiest girl he had ever seen,” and which he -had mechanically slipped upon his little finger. But he laughed outright, -as the incongruity between the costly and exquisite jewel and the hard, -brown hand it graced, and the mean apparel in which he was clad, flashed -upon him. - -“I wish I knew her name,” he mused, as he studied the beautiful design. -“What lovely eyes she had! What wonderful hair—bright as the gold of this -ring. I shall always keep it. It shall be my talisman, my mascot, and -sometime, when I have won a worthy position for myself in the world, I -will try to find her and tell her what encouragement, what a spur both -her words and gift were to me. I shall never forget what she said. Ah! -if I might hope to win, by and by, the love of some one as beautiful as -she! But, of course, she did not mean anything like that,” he concluded, -with a sigh and deprecatory shrug of his shoulders. - -When the carriage drove to the door of Squire Talford’s stately mansion, -and the proud owner, who was sitting upon the veranda, saw his “bound -boy” alight from it, his brow contracted with displeasure, and an angry -gleam burned in his cold gray eyes. - -“Well, sir, where have you been, and how does it happen that you return -in such style?” he demanded, in sharp, curt tones. - -Clifford Faxon colored a vivid crimson, more at the sarcastic tone than -at the peremptory words. But in a respectful manner he related what had -occurred, although he made as light as possible of his own agency in the -matter, except in so far as it was necessary to explain that, after his -unusual exertions in the hay-field and his almost herculean efforts to -remove the fallen tree from the track before the arrival of the express, -he was so prostrated that he had to be taken aboard the train and carried -to New Haven, when some of the passengers had insisted upon sending him -home in the carriage. - -“Humph!” ejaculated the squire, as he concluded, and eying him sharply -from beneath his heavy brows, “and was that the extent of their -gratitude?” - -“No, sir,” replied the youth, flushing again and glancing at the wallet -in his hand. “They made up a purse for me.” - -“Ah-a! how much?” questioned the man eagerly. - -“I do not know, sir. I have not counted it yet.” - -“Give it to me. I’ll count it, and take care of it for you,” said the -squire peremptorily. - -“Excuse me, sir, but I prefer to take care of it myself,” said the youth -respectfully but firmly. - -“What! do you defy me?” roared his companion. “Give me that money -instantly! Do you forget that you are bound to me; that I am your master?” - -The boy’s eyes flashed, and he was silent for a moment. Then, meeting the -glance of the infuriated man with a look that never quailed, he replied -quietly, but with a reserve force that made itself felt: - -“No, sir; I do not forget that I am bound to you for just one month -longer. Until September 1st I shall acknowledge and serve you as my -‘master.’ At the expiration of that time my bondage will cease, and I -shall be free!” - -“You impudent whelp!” exclaimed Squire Talford, in a towering passion, as -he sprang to his feet and descended the steps of the driveway, where the -youth was standing. “Give me that money this instant, or I will thrash -you within an inch of your life; do you hear?” - -“Take care, sir!” Clifford returned with an emphasis that caused the man -to pause involuntarily, while his dark eyes flashed with a dangerous -light. - -He stepped back a pace or two and folded his arms tight across his chest, -as if to restrain the surging passion within him, which he feared might -get the better of him. - -“Take care, sir!” he repeated, “you have ‘thrashed me within an inch of -my life’ for the last time, and I mean what I say, Squire Talford. I have -been your bond-slave for four long, weary years; ever since my mother -who, when she was dying and thought she was making a wise provision for -me, signed a paper which made you my ‘master’ until I should be seventeen -years of age, which, thank God, will be just one month from to-day. I do -not need to rehearse to you what that bondage has been. You know as well -as I do that my lot has been that of a serf, that I have been made to do -the work of a man; yes, and in some instances, like to-day, for example, -that of two men, during most of that time. For this I have received -my board, lodging, and clothes—such as they are,” he interposed, his -scornful glance sweeping over his coarse garment. - -“I have served you faithfully, patiently, and you know it,” he resumed, -“not because of any personal regard or respect that I have entertained -for you, or of fear of your many unjust ‘thrashings,’ but”—his tone -softening and faltering slightly—“because my mother taught me to obey, -always, the golden rule, to suffer wrong rather than commit a wrong, -and, once having made a contract, to abide by it to the letter. This, -sir, is the reason why you see yonder hay-field as it is”—with a gesture -indicating the white-capped cocks at which he had labored so hard that -afternoon. “Much of that hay would have been soaked by the rain had not -duty bidden me to do unto my neighbor as I would be done by, and so I did -my utmost to save it. Now, sir, having done my best for you to-day and -always, I am in no mood to have you lay so much as your finger upon me -in anger.” - -The man and the youth stood looking straight into each other’s eyes for -one long, silent minute, the man noting the broad, square shoulders, -the muscular limbs, and dauntless air of the figure before him. Then he -stepped back a pace or two with an impatient shrug. - -“Well, have you done?” he questioned, with a sneer, but his face, even to -his lips, was white with repressed passion. - -“Yes, sir.” - -“Then be off and attend to your chores,” was the stern command. - -“Pat can do the chores to-night, sir. I think I have done enough for one -day,” was the quiet but decided response, and the young man turned coolly -away, walked around to a side door, entered the house, and mounted to his -room. - -Throwing himself into a chair he dropped his head upon his table with a -sense of weakness and weariness such as he had seldom experienced. The -reaction had come, and he realized that the excitement of the last few -hours, especially of the last few moments, had taken more out of him than -a week of ordinary work would have done. - -“The end is near,” he muttered, “and I hail its coming, for I am afraid -that I could not much longer keep my promise to my mother and remain in -the service of that tyrant.” - -He sat thus for, perhaps, fifteen minutes. Then, lighting a candle, he -opened the precious wallet and proceeded to count its contents. - -His face took on a look of wonder as he laid out, one by one, the -various bills and noted their denomination. He had not counted upon such -generosity, even though he had realized that the purse was crowded to its -utmost capacity. - -“Seven hundred and fifty-four dollars!” he exclaimed in astonishment, as -he laid the last coin upon the table. “Surely I must be dreaming! But no, -these crisp fives, tens, two twenties, three fifties, besides the gold -and silver, tell their own story. But oh! it does seem too good to be -true! And now my first act must be to put it where it will be safe. Give -it to Squire Talford, indeed! Never! It would be the last I should ever -see of it. I will take it to Professor Harding. He will advise me what to -do with it.” - -After replacing the money in an orderly manner in his wallet, he arose -and proceeded to change his clothes, dressing himself with great care. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -PRETTY HEIRESS PLEADS FOR CLIFFORD. - - -Clifford Faxon was really a striking-looking young man when arrayed in -his best, which is by no means saying very much for his clothes, which -were of the cheapest material. - -But with his gentlemanly bearing, his clear, honest brown eyes, and -frank, genial face, he was one who always attracted a second look from -those whom he met. - -One might have taken him for a son and heir of the squire, rather than a -menial in his employ, as he issued once more from the house. - -“Well, sir, where are you going now?” demanded Squire Talford, who was -still sitting upon the veranda, and whose musings regarding his relations -with his bound boy had not been of the most soothing nature during the -last half-hour. - -He well knew that, when Clifford’s time should expire, he would find it -no easy matter to fill his place with another so capable and faithful, -and he was irritated beyond measure over the probability of having to -hire another man and pay full wages for what he had been getting for -little or nothing during the last four years. - -“I have an engagement with Professor Harding—it is my evening for -reading Greek and Latin with him,” Clifford respectfully replied, and -then proceeded on his way, apparently unmindful of the customary “humph!” -to which his employer always gave vent whenever anything annoyed him. - -When Clifford was obliged to leave the academy in April, according to the -terms of his contract with Squire Talford, the principal had expressed -a great deal of disappointment, for he would have graduated with high -honors if he could have remained until the close of the school year, but -his hard master would not give him the two months to complete the course. -“The farm work must be done and Clifford could not be spared,” he coldly -told the professor, who had presumed to intercede for his promising -pupil. So the boy had been obliged to go into the field to plow, hoe, -and dig, while his more favored classmates went on in advance of him and -graduated. - -But Professor Harding was determined that the boy’s education should not -be interrupted, and told him that he would give him certain evenings in -every week during the summer, and, if he could complete the course before -fall, he should have his diploma, even though he could not acquire it in -the ordinary way. - -Clifford gladly availed himself of this opportunity, for his highest -ambition was to prepare himself for and obtain a college education. - -As he wended his way toward his teacher’s house his heart was beating -high with hope, in spite of the weariness of his body, for, since -counting the money in his possession, he had conceived the daring -purpose of taking the examinations for Harvard for the coming year. - -Professor Harding greeted him, as he always did, with a smile of -pleasure, for he liked the plucky, manly boy. - -“You are late to-night, Cliff,” he remarked, as he entered. Then, -observing, that he was a trifle pale, he inquired: “Is anything wrong, my -boy?” - -Tears sprang involuntarily to the boy’s eyes at the kindly tone and -smile; but, quickly repressing all signs of emotion, he seated himself -and gave his friend a brief account of what had occurred, and closed -by producing the munificent testimonial which he had received from the -passengers of the “limited express” for preventing a terrible accident. - -“I have brought this money to you, Professor Harding,” he observed, as he -laid it upon the table before his friend, “to ask if you will invest it -for me until I need it? It is my nest-egg for college, and I am going to -take the exams. this fall.” - -“Seven hundred and fifty dollars, Cliff!” the man exclaimed, in surprise; -“that is surely a handsome gift, but it is far too little for the service -you have rendered—that could never be estimated in dollars and cents. -Why, the corporation ought to give you a thousand more for saving their -property from being wrecked.” - -“I am more than satisfied,” said Clifford, with a smile. - -“But I am afraid you are a trifle presumptuous to contemplate entering -college on so small an amount,” said his friend gravely. “The expenses -will be heavy, you know. I feel sure you will pass the exams. all right, -but I am thinking of the draft upon your strength later on if you try to -work your own way.” - -“I am going to try it, all the same,” said Clifford, his face brightening -at the assurance of his teacher that he would “pass.” - -“This money will surely suffice for one year with economy, and that will -give me quite a start, while I am sure I do not need to tell you that I -shall make the most of my time.” - -“Indeed, you do not—you have always done that, ever since I have known -you, but I wish you had some friends who could give you a lift along -the way now and then. Have you no aunts or uncles? Do you remember -your father, Cliff, or know anything about his family?” the professor -thoughtfully inquired. - -“No, sir,” said the boy with a sigh, “my mother would never talk about my -father. Whenever I questioned her she would always put me off by saying, -‘Wait until you are older, my son, and then I shall have something to -tell you.’” - -“And did she leave no papers to explain what she meant?” - -“No; at least, none that I could ever find.” - -“Well, there will be some way provided for you, I am sure,” said the -professor. “I will gladly take charge of your little fortune until you -need it. I will see that it is safely invested for you to-morrow. Does -the squire know about it?” - -“Yes, and demanded it of me, because I am still under bonds,” replied -Clifford, with a flash in his eyes. - -“Demanded it!” repeated his companion, in surprise. - -“Yes,” and the young man repeated, word for word, what had passed between -himself and his task-master upon his return from New Haven. - -“Well, I must say he is a hard man, and I cannot understand how any one -as rich as Squire Talford is supposed to be can be so penurious and -indifferent to so promising a fellow as you are, my boy!” - -“Thank you,” responded Clifford, with a laugh, “I am certainly -fortunate in having so kind a friend as you have always been to me, and -now”—opening one of his books—“I am ready for my lesson.” - -He read for an hour, becoming so absorbed in his work that he forgot his -weariness and the trials of his young life, while his teacher followed -with a manifest interest, which betrayed how deeply his feelings were -enlisted in this pupil, who was so ambitious and such a credit to him. - -Before 10 o’clock Clifford was back in his own room, where, on his table, -he found an appetizing little lunch awaiting him. Until that moment he -had forgotten that he had had no supper. - -“Well,” he said, as he sat down to it, “I surely have one other good -friend besides the professor. Maria always looks out for me; I am sure I -should often go hungry but for her.” - -Maria was Squire Talford’s woman-of-all-work. Less than half an hour -later he was sleeping soundly and restfully, the consciousness of duty -well done and a more promising outlook for the future sweetening his -rest. - -“Papa—please papa, do as I ask you; you are very rich, are you not?” - -“Well, yes, Buttercup, I suppose I am what would be regarded as a rich -man, even here in New York.” - -“Then you can send this poor boy some money, just as well as not. Only -think, papa, but for his bravery and the awful work that he did in that -dreadful storm, there must have been a terrible accident, and I should -never have come back to you, to say nothing about all those other people.” - -“Hush, Goldenrod! I cannot bear that you should even hint at such a -calamity; the house—the world would be utterly desolate without you. What -would ten thousand fortunes be to me if I should lose you! Yes, Mollie, -I will send this lad a substantial token of my gratitude, if I find he -is worthy and likely to make a good use of money. I must be sure of that -first,” and Richard Heatherford gathered the slim, graceful form of his -only darling into his arms and held her close to his heart, while his -eyes rested with tearful fondness upon the fair, flushed face that was -lifted so earnestly to his. - -She was his idol—this sweet, golden-haired, azure-eyed maiden, whom he -had named Marie for his French mother, but whom he almost invariably -addressed by some other tender pet-name, expressive of his fondness for -her, while to her playmates and school friends she was known by the -familiar name of Mollie. - -She was sweet and lovable, always blithe and cheery, the life of the -house, and a favorite with all who knew her. - -Mr. Heatherford had met her in New York on her arrival on “the Limited,” -and, the train being, of course, a little late, he was in a state of -painful suspense until it rolled into the station, and he held his -darling safe in his arms. When the two were seated in their elegant -carriage behind a fine pair of bay horses, with driver and coachman in -cream-white livery, and on their way uptown, Mollie, sitting beside her -father with his arm enfolding her, had told the story of the thrilling -experience of the afternoon, while the man’s face had grown as white as -chalk, as he realized how very near he had come to losing his choicest -earthly treasure. - -Mollie had begged him then to send that brave boy “a lot of money,” -but, for the time being, he did not pay much heed to her request. He -could think of nothing, talk of nothing, but his thankfulness over her -wonderful escape from an appalling doom. But the following morning, when, -after breakfast, she followed him to the library and renewed the subject, -he was more ready to listen to her, and finally yielded to her request to -do something handsome for the lad, provided he found, upon inquiry, that -he was worthy. - -“Oh, he is certainly worthy, papa,” Mollie asserted with enthusiasm, -“you never saw a nicer face than his. He isn’t handsome or stylish, like -Phil, you know”—with a little mocking laugh—“but he has a pair of great, -earnest brown eyes which make you feel good just to look into. His face -is as brown as a nut—all but his forehead, which is white and high and -nicely shaped like yours, papa dear,” and she emphasized her statement -with a fond little caress planted directly between his brows. “He had no -hat on,” she resumed; “he was in his shirt sleeves and wore overalls, -and his shoes were as coarse and clumsy as they could be; but I never -thought of his clothes after once looking into his face—it was so good, -so honest, and true.” - -“Really, sweetheart, you are very enthusiastic over this rustic hero of -yours,” said Mr. Heatherford, and smiling at her earnestness, “but I -cannot wonder, now that I begin to realize something of the feat that he -accomplished.” - -“And papa”—Mollie went on, now blushing and speaking with some -embarrassment, “when we reached New Haven I went to him and thanked -him for what he had done, and—I gave him that ring you let me buy last -spring.” - -“What! that cameo?” - -“Yes; you know I wanted to give it to Cousin Rex when he went to -California, but his mother had just given him a nice ring, and so I -bought him something else and kept the cameo. I have always liked it, for -it was so beautifully carved; so, even though it isn’t exactly a lady’s -ring, I have worn it, now and then, myself. I happened to have it on -yesterday.” - -Mr. Heatherford laughed aloud with amusement. - -“Well, well, Buttercup! So you gave it to this young Faxon—I believe you -said that is his name—as a souvenir! Of course, my darling, I do not care -anything about the ring, but what on earth will your rustic hero do with -it? He certainly will not want to wear it with overalls and brogans, and -if he has a particle of sentiment in his composition, he would never -think of realizing money on it when it was presented under such romantic -circumstances.” - -“Well, papa, I’m afraid it wasn’t the most appropriate gift in the -world,” said Mollie, a shadow falling over her bright face, “but I just -had to do something to show him how grateful I was, personally, and he -certainly looked as if he was glad to be appreciated.” - -“Never mind, dear,” said her father comfortingly. “I will write to-day -and make some inquiries, and if I find he is all right, I will do -something handsome for him. Let me see—you said that he told some of the -gentlemen aboard the train he wanted to go to college?” - -“Yes, he said that he had nearly finished his course in the academy -of the town where he lives, and was going to try to work his way -through college,” Mollie replied. “Just think of it, papa!” she went on -earnestly, “and it doesn’t seem fair, does it? There is Phil, who really -doesn’t care particularly about having a college course, only it is the -proper thing, and so he is going to Harvard in September, and he has -every wish gratified—plenty of money, fine clothes, and lots of good -times; and here is this poor boy, without any one but himself to depend -upon, and he is going to work his way through! It is a queer world, isn’t -it?” she concluded, with a sigh of perplexity. - -“There, there; don’t bother your pretty head about it, Goldenrod; it is a -problem you will never solve,” said her father, stroking her shining head -with a caressing touch; “go and do your reading for mama, while I write -my letter and get the matter off my mind.” - -“But to whom will you write?” queried Mollie. - -“I think I will address my letter to the principal of the academy; he -will probably be able to tell me more about this young seeker after -knowledge than any one else.” - -And the gentleman proceeded to put his plan into immediate execution. He -wrote a brief but comprehensive epistle, addressing it to the “Principal -of the Academy, Cedar Hill,” telling him that he wished to show his -appreciation of young Faxon’s heroic act in some practical way, and -asking his advice regarding the best method of doing this. - -He gave no name, as he said he preferred to remain incog, and not hamper -the lad with any sense of obligation, but that any communication sent -to a certain lock box in New York would reach him. He stated that an -immediate reply was desired, as he was on the eve of going abroad. - -Professor Harding’s face glowed with genuine pleasure when he received -the letter the next morning, for now he saw that it would perhaps be -practicable for his protégê to enter college. He replied immediately, -giving a brief history of Clifford Faxon’s life and circumstances, -speaking of him in the highest terms, and claiming that any assistance -rendered him in his efforts bestowed, and in behalf of the boy, in whom -he was deeply interested, he thanked his unknown correspondent most -heartily for his kind intentions. - -A day or two later there came to Clifford a cashier’s check for a -thousand dollars, made payable to himself, and with it a few sentences -of hearty appreciation of his recent act, and also of encouragement for -the future. - -But the donor and writer was anonymous. - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -CLIFFORD FAXON’S VOW. - - -Clifford regarded himself as the most fortunate fellow in the world when -this generous gift was received. - -“Was anybody ever so lucky before! I am sure an ax was never so -effectively wielded!” he exclaimed, his face radiant with happiness, -as he discussed the gift of his unknown benefactor with his teacher. -“Now, my education is assured, Professor Harding, and if I don’t win a -scholarship, now and then, to help me out, it will not be for lack of -energy and industry.” - -“Cliff! what an ambitious fellow you are!” said his friend, smiling at -his enthusiasm, “but if you set out to win a scholarship I feel pretty -sure that you will get it.” - -“Thank you. Now, another important point upon which I would like your -judgment—do you agree with me in my preference for Harvard?” - -“Yes, I think so,” replied the professor. “If I should consult my own -pleasure, however, I suppose I should say go to Yale; for then I could -see you frequently, and perhaps help you over a hard place now and then; -but as I am a Harvard man myself, and it is also your choice, I will be -loyal to my alma mater and say go there.” - -“Then Harvard it will be,” said Clifford, “and as for the rough places, -why, I can write you when I come to them.” - -Again Professor Harding smiled, for he knew the boy well enough to feel -sure that he would master all difficulties without any assistance from -him, for he had seldom known him to seek aid, if, by any means, he could -conquer by his own efforts. Thus the college question was settled. - -Meantime he was to work out his contract with Squire Talford—until -September 1st—when the professor said he must come to him and spend -the remainder of the time, before the beginning of the school year, in -preparing for his examinations, and he would not “thrash” but coach him -“within an inch of his life.” - -Our young hero was jubilant over the prospect before him. His daily tasks -seemed but play to him; he was up with the lark, and worked with a will -until sunset, and, after supper, improved every moment until bedtime -conning his books. - -“You are a born mathematician,” his teacher remarked to him one evening, -after giving him some intricate problems to test his knowledge, “and I -have not the slightest fear for you in mathematics; but you are still a -trifle behind in Greek and Latin, and so we will devote the most of our -time to those branches,” and at this hint of his deficiency Clifford -worked along those lines with redoubled diligence. - -He had found himself very popular after his heroic deed became known -to the public, but he bore his honors with exceeding modesty, and had -but little to say about the affair. Glowing accounts of it had been -published in both the New Haven and local papers. Professor Harding had -been interviewed, and had spoken in the highest terms of commendation -of his pupil, while, as Squire Talford and his peculiarities were well -known, there appeared more than one strong hint regarding the hard life -which the boy had led during the four years of his bondage with him. - -According to the conditions of the contract which the squire had made -with Mrs. Faxon, Clifford was to receive twenty-five dollars in money and -a suit of new clothes on the day when his time expired. The contemplation -of this approaching expenditure of money made the wretched miser—for -he was nothing else, when it came to putting out his dollars for other -people—cross and miserable, and he racked his brain for some excuse by -which he could evade his obligation. - -He broached the subject to Clifford one evening about a week previous to -the expiration of his time. - -“I suppose you’re bound to go the first of the month?” he remarked, with -evident embarrassment, for he had felt very uncomfortable in the lad’s -presence ever since he had so boldly faced him and freely spoken his mind. - -“Yes, sir; my time will be up one week from to-night.” - -“Couldn’t you be persuaded to sign for a couple of years longer, if I’d -agree to do better by you?” - -The youth flushed crimson, and a peculiar gleam leaped into his eyes at -the proposition; but, instantly putting a strong curb upon himself, he -quickly responded: - -“I think not, sir; I have made my plans to go to college, and I do not -care to change them.” - -“What good will a college education do you?” the man demanded, with an -ill-concealed sneer; “you won’t have a penny when you get through, and, -if you’re aspiring to a profession, there’ll have to be another four -years’ course atop of that.” - -“I am not looking beyond the college course just now, sir; when I have -accomplished that I feel sure that the way will be opened for me to -choose and fit myself for my future.” - -“Humph! perhaps you imagine you’re going to have windfalls all along the -route,” was the sarcastic rejoinder, “but, if you do, let me tell you, -you will find yourself mightily mistaken.” - -Clifford made no response to this thrust, and after an interval of -silence the squire abruptly resumed: - -“How about that twenty-five dollars that I was to pay you when your time -was up and the new suit?” - -“Why,” said Clifford, lifting a look of astonishment to the man’s -face, “of course, I expect that the conditions of the contract will be -fulfilled.” - -“Oh, you do! Why, money has been pouring in upon you so fast of late you -can afford to buy your own clothes,” said the squire, with an uneasy -hitch in his chair and a frown of displeasure. - -Clifford’s face flamed an indignant red, and it seemed to him as if he -must give vent to the scorn which sent the hot blood tingling through -every nerve in his body. - -“Squire Talford,” he said, after a moment spent in trying to control -himself, “I have no wish to say anything to you that I shall ever regret, -but, truly, I should suppose that your self-respect would prevent you -from suggesting anything so penurious and dishonest, after the four years -of faithful service that I have given you, especially when you take into -consideration the fact that I have never been decently clad during all -that time, nor had a dollar of spending-money, except what I have myself -earned by picking berries in their season, and doing odd jobs for other -people after my regular work was done. No, sir, I shall not purchase my -own suit. I feel that I am justly entitled to all that the contract calls -for, and I shall demand its fulfilment.” - -“Oh, you will, will you!” was the rasping retort, while the man was white -with rage. - -“Certainly, and it is little enough—far too meager for one of my age to -have to start out in life with. But I suppose my poor mother was too ill -to realize what scant provisions she was making for me, though I presume -she trusted to your humanity and honesty to at least provide suitably for -me during the four years I was to live with you.” - -“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed his companion viciously, and with peculiar -emphasis. “Your poor mother, perhaps, realized more than you seem to -imagine she did; she was glad enough to get you housed in a respectable -home, without being too particular about the conditions.” - -Clifford sprang erect, stung to the soul by the insinuating tone and -words of his companion. - -“What do you mean, sir?” he demanded, in a voice that shook with -suppressed anger. “What is it that you mean to imply in connection with -my mother, who was one of the purest and loveliest of women?” - -“Oh, nothing—nothing!” retired the squire, with a sinister smile, “only -it is pretty evident that she never told you much about her early life, -while—ahem!—if I’m not mistaken, you never saw your father, did you?” - -“No,” and now Clifford was deathly white and his eyes wore a hunted look, -as a terrible suspicion flashed into his mind. “Oh, what do you mean?” - -“Well, perhaps it will be just as well for your peace of mind, my -aspiring young man, if you don’t get too inquisitive,” the man retorted -maliciously. “I can tell you this much, however: Your mother, Belle -Abbott, as she was known in her younger days, was one of the handsomest -girls I ever saw; but she was a—coquette; she had more beaux than you -could shake a stick at, and she got her pay for it in the end.” - -“Did you know my mother when she was a girl?” queried Clifford, with a -look of astonishment. - -“I should say I did,” was the grim response. - -“And—my father also?” said the youth eagerly. - -“Ahem! I had that honor,” sneered the squire. “But about that suit of -clothes,” he added, rising and abruptly changing the subject. “If you -insist upon it, why, I suppose I shall have to get them. I’ll step in to -see Black, the tailor, to-morrow morning and talk the matter over with -him.” - -But Clifford had been too highly wrought up to care much about clothes -or anything else in connection with his contract. His curiosity had -been excited to the highest pitch, and he was determined to learn -something about the father whom he had never known—about whom his mother -would never talk—if it was possible—to wring any information from his -companion, who, he realized, was determined to torment him to the last -point of endurance. - -“Who was my father? Tell me what you know about him!” he exclaimed, also -springing to his feet and placing himself in the squire’s path. - -The man regarded him silently for a moment, an evil expression in his -cold, gray eyes; then a smile that made Clifford shiver relaxed his thin, -cruel lips. - -“Who was your father?” he repeated, with cold deliberativeness; “he was -a treacherous rascal, if there ever was one, and it is no credit to you -that he was your father; and if you were ten years older I should say -that he had come back to haunt me! Tell you about him!” he continued, in -a terrible tone. “I’ll tell you this much—I hated him; I still hate him -as few people have the power to hate, and if you are wise you will never -mention him in my presence again, for I might forget myself and wreck my -vengeance upon you.” - -He turned abruptly as he concluded and entered the house, without giving -Clifford time to protest or ask another question. The boy, left alone, -sank back into his chair, cold chills creeping over him, his heart -burdened with tantalizing fears and suspicions. The squire had called his -father a “treacherous rascal.” - -In what, he wondered, had he been treacherous and dishonorable? Why was -it no credit to him—his son—that he was his father? - -Surely, it seemed to him now, in the light of this interview, as if the -squire had been continually wreaking his hatred of his father upon him -during the four weary years that he had lived with him. But what had -caused this hatred? What did it mean? - -What was the reason that his mother had always been so reticent upon -the subject. She would never talk with him about his father or her -early life, and always appeared so distressed and excited whenever he -questioned her that he was forced to desist. - -Once, however, she had told him, and only a short time before she died, -that if she should be taken from him before he was eighteen years of age, -he might open a certain box, which she had always kept locked, and read -some letters and papers which he would find in it. - -But when that time came—when, after his wild grief over his irreparable -loss was somewhat spent, he went to look for these papers, they were -gone—the box was empty. - -Whether she had shrunk from having him see them and learn of some great -sorrow—perhaps shame—that had evidently preyed upon her mind for years, -and had destroyed them, or whether they had been stolen from her, he -could have no means of knowing. - -Evidently Squire Talford was, in a measure, posted upon certain facts -connected with the early life of both his father and mother, and it was -just as evident that he intended to keep him in the dark regarding them; -whether because they were of any real importance, or because he simply -wished to torment him because of his avowed hatred, he could not tell. - -What rankled most bitterly in his heart was the man’s taunt that it would -be better for his peace of mind if he was not too inquisitive. - -Clifford was extremely proud and sensitive, and it galled him almost -beyond endurance to have it insinuated that there might be some stigma -resting upon his birth and upon his dear mother’s honor. - -But no; he did not believe that could be possible, and he resented the -suspicion as soon as it took form in his thought, for he felt sure that -his pure, gentle, and refined mother had never knowingly done wrong. If -she had been deceived, the sin was not hers, but another’s. - -He sat in his room that night for a long time meditating upon these -things, but growing more wretched and perplexed the more he considered -them. - -“Well, I can help nothing,” he said, at last, throwing back his head with -an air of conscious rectitude; “I am what I am; I can gather nothing -definite from Squire Talford’s miserable insinuations. I may not even be -entitled to the name I bear, but I know that I will make it one that a -son of mine—if I should ever have one—will be proud to own.” - -And with that worthy determination he resolutely drove the subject from -his thoughts by burying himself in his books, and when he finally retired -to rest he fell into as sound and refreshing slumber as if he had not a -care in the world. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -A DARING TRICK. - - -The morning following the interview between Squire Talford and Clifford, -the former repaired to the establishment of the tailor, where he was -accustomed to have his clothing made, to have a talk with the man -regarding the “freedom suit” which the contract demanded for his “bound -boy.” - -He inquired Mr. Black’s price for making; then he asked to see the goods, -with the intention of selecting the very cheapest he had in stock. - -But Mr. Black informed him that he had worked up everything so close he -really hadn’t anything on hand suitable for a young man like Clifford, -but he was expecting a fresh invoice that very afternoon, and would send -him samples as soon as they came. - -“Very well,” said the squire; “and as I have to have a new suit for -myself this fall, send along something that will do for me also, and I -will give you both orders at once.” - -Mr. Black promised he would do as requested, and then the squire went -about other business; and about half an hour before tea-time that -afternoon a boy appeared at Squire Talford’s door, with the promised -samples. - -His ring was answered by the maid of all work, or perhaps the -housekeeper would be the more proper term, for Maria Kimberly had been -a member of the squire’s household for upward of fifteen years. She was -a widow, and her maiden name was Barnes. She had come there a girl in -her teens, about two years after the marriage of the squire, and for six -months had been under the training of his wife. Then she had married and -gone away to a home of her own; but, being left a widow before she had -been a wife a year, she had returned to the service of Mrs. Talford, whom -she loved and served most faithfully as long as she lived, and, being -competent in every respect, had acted as housekeeper for the squire ever -since her death, which had occurred about five years previous. - -She was a shrewd, practical, commonplace person, but possessing quick -sympathies and a kind heart, and from the day that Clifford had come into -the house she had befriended the bright, but lonely, boy, growing more -and more fond of him as the years went by, and she had slyly shown him -many a favor and made many a rough place smooth for him. - -Now, when she saw the tailor’s boy at the door with the package in his -hands, she instantly surmised the nature of his errand, for she had -overheard some of the conversation regarding the “freedom suit.” - -Always feeling herself a privileged person in the house, and being -especially interested in this matter, she calmly unfolded the parcel and -proceeded to examine its contents. - -“H’m,” she breathed, after adjusting her glasses and testing the quality -of the various samples, “some of ’em are fair to middlin’, and some of -’em you could shoot peas through; of course, he will buy the cheapest -suit for him; he won’t give the boy a decent suit if he can help it. I’ve -half a mind to show ’em to Cliff and see what’d be his choice.” - -She stood a moment considering the matter, then she deliberately slipped -the package into her pocket and returned to the kitchen, where she had -been busy getting supper when the bell had interrupted her operations. - -A few minutes later Clifford came in from the shed, bringing a huge -armful of wood, which he packed neatly in the wood-box behind the stove, -taking care to make no litter to offend Mrs. Kimberly’s keen eyes, for -the woman was neatness personified, and would not tolerate the slightest -disorder in her immaculate domains. - -“My, how good those biscuits smell!” the youth observed appreciatively, -as Maria opened the oven door to take a look at the snowy puffs inside. - -“Wait till you get a nibble at ’em,” said the woman, with a satisfied nod -of her head; “and I’ve got a turnover for you, too. I had some apple and -a little dough left over when I was makin’ the pies this mornin’,” she -added, lifting a kindly look to his face. - -“Then you should call it a leftover instead of a turnover,” said -Clifford, laughing. “You are always doing something nice for me, Maria. -I’m afraid you have spoiled me with your dainties, and I shall miss them -when I go to Cambridge, and have to be satisfied with what I can get in -some third-rate boarding-house.” - -“There ain’t no fear that anybody’ll ever spoil you,” returned Maria, -with significant emphasis; “but I own I am consarned about your digestion -bein’ spoiled by the poor cookin’ in them dreadful boardin’-houses. But -come here,” she continued, drawing him to a window and taking something -from her pocket with a mysterious air, “if you were goin’ to have a new -suit which o’ these pieces of cloth would you choose?” - -“Ah! some samples!” exclaimed the boy, an eager look on his face. “Did -the squire tell you to show them to me?” - -“Never you mind what the squire told me to do, I just want to see -what kind o’ judgment you will show in your selection,” Mrs. Kimberly -responded, with a knowing air. - -Clifford examined the various slips in silence for several moments, and -finally separated two from the others. - -“This is a pretty style of goods,” he remarked, holding up one of them, -“but rather light, perhaps, for fall and to be serviceable; the other -mixed goods I like almost as well.” - -“Yes, and it’s a better cloth, too—the best in the lot,” interposed his -companion; “it’s close and firm, and would do you good service.” - -“Well, then, if I am allowed to choose, I’ll take it,” said Clifford; -“and, yes, on the whole, I believe I shall like it better than the other.” - -“All right,” observed Maria, hastily gathering up the samples and -returning them to their wrapper as she caught the sound of a latch-key in -the front door. She slipped them back into her pocket. - -Later, when she was serving the squire at his solitary meal, she laid the -package from the tailor before him, curtly remarking: - -“Here’s somethin’ a boy brought for you this afternoon.” - -The squire removed the wrapper and examined its contents. Finally -separating two of the samples from the others, he laid them beside his -plate, and tossed the remainder into a waste-basket that stood under a -desk behind him, and the sharp eyes of Maria Kimberly observed that one -of the selected samples was the very piece which Clifford had chosen, -while the other was the coarsest, ugliest goods among the lot. - -“Goin’ to have a new suit, squire?” she briefly inquired, with a curious -gleam in her eyes. - -“Yes, I need a new fall suit, and Cliff has got to have one, too; how -will this do for him?” and the man passed the shoddy up to her. - -“Humph! you might shoot peas through it,” she said, with a scornful -sniff, and using the same expression as when she had examined the cloths -by herself. - -“Not as bad as that, I reckon; but it will have to do for him,” said the -man coldly. “This is better goods, and I think I’ll have my suit made -from it. What do you think of it?” and he held it out to her. - -There was a bright spot of red on the woman’s cheeks and a resentful -gleam in her eyes as she took it. - -“This is something like, but t’other ain’t worth the thread ’twould take -to make it up,” she said, with considerable asperity. - -“It will have to do,” was the curt response, and the man resumed his -interrupted supper, while the housekeeper vanished into the kitchen. - -She threw herself into a rocker and began swaying herself back and forth -with more energy than grace, muttering now and then, and nodding her head -angrily in the direction of the dining-room door. She continued this -until the squire rang his bell to signify that he had finished his meal, -when she returned to the other room and began to gather up the dishes. - -Suddenly she paused, as her glance fell upon the two samples, that still -lay beside the squire’s plate, he having forgotten to take them when he -arose from the table. - -“It’s a pesky shame!” she muttered indignantly. “He hain’t a soul in the -world but himself to spend his money on, and he’s got a tarnel sight -more’n he knows what to do with. I sh’d think he’d be ashamed to give the -boy a suit like that.” - -She picked up the samples and fingered them nervously. Then she noticed -that a tag bearing a printed number was pinned to each. These numbers -corresponded to those on the list that had been sent with the samples, -and against each of which the price of the goods was carried out, but -this list the squire had tossed into the waste-basket with the discarded -samples. - -“’Twould serve him right,” the woman thoughtfully muttered, with a -vicious gleam in her eyes and a backward glance over her shoulder toward -the veranda, where she knew the squire was sitting absorbed in his -evening paper. The next minute she had changed the tags on the goods! - -“Mebbe ’twon’t amount to anythiny, but I’ll resk it, and if I git caught -I’ll pay for it out o’ my own pocket,” she whispered; “that boy desarves -the best that can be had, and I only hope that fortune’ll favor the -trick.” - -Then she laid the samples on the squire’s desk, where she thought he -could not fail to see them when he sat down to it, after which she went -back to her work, a curious smile wreathing her thin lips. - -An hour later Squire Talford lighted the student-lamp and turned to the -table for his samples, for he was about to write his order to the tailor. - -Of course, he did not find them, and, going to the door leading into the -kitchen, he inquired: - -“Maria, where are those pieces of cloth I left on the table at -supper-time?” - -The woman was paring apples for the morrow’s baking. - -“I put ’em on your desk,” she replied, in a matter-of-fact tone, but with -her mouth full of apple and a very red face, too, if he could but have -seen it. - -“Oh!” said the squire, with an inflection which intimated that he might -have known where they were if he had stopped to think. He found them, -and, seating himself at his desk, he wrote his order to the tailor. - -The following is an exact copy of his letter when it was finished: - - “CEDAR HILL, August 24, 18—. - - “ABEL BLACK, ESQ. - - “DEAR SIR: Samples received and examined. You can make a suit - for me from goods numbered 324. Use 416 for a suit for Clifford - Faxon—will send him to be measured to-morrow afternoon. Make - his first and at once, as he must have it by September 1. My - measurements you already have. - - “Respectfully yours, - - “JOHN C. TALFORD.” - -After taking an impression of the above, as he did of every letter he -wrote, he sealed, addressed, and stamped it; then went out into the balmy -summer night for his habitual stroll and smoke before going to bed. - -A few minutes later Maria Kimberly, whose ears had been on the alert, -stole softly into the dining-room and approached the writing-desk. - -Her eyes gleamed with an exultant light as she saw the letter addressed -to the tailor and the pieces of cloth shoved one side as of no further -use. - -“Cliff, my boy, fortune favors you for once, and no mistake,” she said. -“If he’d sent them pieces o’ cloth along with his letter Mr. Black would -’a’ found out that they’d been meddled with, and you’d had to wear that -measly old shoddy. I’ll jest die a-laughin’, though, when the squire’s -suit comes home, but it’ll serve him right,” she concluded, with a -chuckle of malicious glee. - -Then with dexterous fingers she changed the tags on the samples back -to their original places, after which she put them carefully away in a -drawer of the desk, in case they should ever be wanted again, as she felt -sure they would. - -The following afternoon Clifford was sent to the tailor to be measured -for his suit, and as he was a favorite with Mr. Black—as, indeed, he was -with every one who knew him—that gentleman took great pains to have every -measurement exact, and secretly resolved that the boy should have a suit -of clothes that would do him credit, even among the stylish collegians at -Harvard. - -He was told that they would be ready for him the following Saturday -evening. - -Friday night ended Clifford’s four years’ servitude with Squire Talford, -and, after packing his few belongings, he had an interview with the man, -received the stipulated twenty-five dollars, and took a respectful leave -of him. - -His heart was light. He suddenly felt like a different being as he put -the money away in his pocket and realized that he was—free! - -The only regret he experienced was in the thought of leaving Maria, and -the woman broke down and cried heartily when he stepped into the kitchen -to say “good-by” to her. - -“Oh, Cliff!” she sobbed, as she grasped both his hands, “you’re the only -being I’ve really loved since Sam and Mrs. Talford died. I can’t bear to -have you go, for your bright face and cheery ways have helped me through -many a lonely day. But I’m glad for you—I’m downright glad, for I know -you’re goin’ among your equals, and that you’ll get to be a man to be -proud of. But I shall miss you—I’ll miss you more’n you’ll ever know,” -and the tears streamed like rain over her flushed cheeks. - -“Why, Maria!” exclaimed the boy, astonished and also deeply touched to -see her so overcome, “I had no idea you would care so much about my -going. I shall miss you, too, and your many kindnesses, to say nothing -about your fine doughnuts, fluffy biscuit, glorious pies, and the -‘leftover,’” he added, with a cheery laugh. “But I’m not going to forget -you by any means. I shall always come to see you when I have a vacation.” - -“Will you now—sure?” the woman exclaimed eagerly and in a grateful tone. - -“I certainly will, and”—with a roguish twinkle in his handsome eyes—“when -I get through college, if I am ever fortunate enough to have a home of -my own and you are at liberty, I will give you an invitation to come and -preside over my culinary department.” - -“Do you mean it, honor bright, Cliff?” demanded Maria, straightening -herself and looking him wistfully in the face. - -“Of course I mean it, and would consider myself mighty lucky to get you,” -he earnestly returned. - -“Then shake on it,” said the woman, holding out one hard, red hand, while -with the other she wiped away her tears, “and there ain’t the least -shadow of a doubt but I’ll be at liberty when you want me.” - -Clifford gave her a cordial grip; then, with a last good-by, he went away -to Professor Harding’s home, where he was to remain until college opened; -but he left a gleam of sunshine behind him that warmed and cheered Maria -Kimberly’s lonely heart for years. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -CLIFFORD GOES TO COLLEGE. - - -Upon his arrival at Professor Harding’s home Clifford received a most -cordial welcome, and was at once made to feel that he was one of the -family, and the atmosphere of peace and refinement of which he had always -been conscious in connection with this household was most congenial to -him. - -The next day was spent in discussing plans for the future, laying out -the work he was to do before the school year opened, and also in making -himself useful to Mrs. Harding in a way that won him an even warmer place -than he had yet occupied in her heart. - -Saturday evening the much anticipated new suit was sent to him, and was -duly admired by the whole family. - -“Really, Cliff, the squire for once has done the handsome thing,” -remarked the professor, as he critically examined the suit. “This is a -fine piece of cloth, and everything is first-class.” - -“Yes, sir, and I am very much pleased,” Clifford heartily responded, -little dreaming to what strategy he owed his fine feathers. - -The next morning he dressed himself with great care for church, feeling -an unusual pride in his linen, and a thrill of gratitude as well, for -Maria had made him some fine shirts and polished them to the last degree -with her own hands. - -When he came forth from his room he looked every inch the gentleman, and -many an eye rested admiringly upon him as he walked down the aisle with -the professor’s family and took his seat in their pew. - -Squire Talford, not being a church-going man, was not there to observe -the change which new linen and fashionably cut garments had made in his -bound boy, and he did not once dream of the practical joke that had been -played upon him until the following Tuesday, when his own suit came home. - -Accompanying it was a note from the tailor, which read thus: - - “DEAR SIR: I fear you have made a mistake in the selection - of cloth for your suit. I cannot quite understand it, - as heretofore you have ordered fine goods; but as your - instructions were explicit I have done the best I could and - hope you will be satisfied. - - “Respectfully yours, - - “ABEL BLACK.” - -The squire looked perplexed as he read the letter, which, with the bill, -had been enclosed in an envelope and slipped under the string which bound -the box that contained the suit. - -He, however, proceeded to inspect its contents, and the moment his glance -fell upon the coarse, rough cloth and he comprehended the situation a -furious exclamation burst from him. He snatched the garments from the box -and threw them angrily upon a chair. - -“The fool!” he snarled, “he has made the biggest blunder of his life—he -has made up for me the cloth I ordered for that boy, and, I suppose, has -given him a suit of that fine piece of goods. Blast the man! but he shall -pay dearly for it. He will never do another stitch of work for me. The -idea, to pretend to think that I would wear cloth like this! He must have -known better. And yet,” referring to the letter, “he says he is afraid -that ‘I made a mistake in my selections, but that my directions were -explicit.’ Oh, no, Abel, my friend, you can’t shove the blame off upon me -in any such way; I always keep a copy of my letters, and I’ll soon prove -to you that this is none of my doing.” - -He went to his letter-press, drew forth his book, and turned back to the -date on which he had ordered the two suits. After reading it through -he began to hunt about his desk for something. Failing to find what he -wanted he called out impatiently: - -“Maria, Maria Kimberly, where are you? Come here. I want you.” - -Presently the door leading into the kitchen was opened and the woman put -her head inside the room, curtly inquiring in tones which she always -assumed when the squire was out of sorts: - -“What’s wanted, squire?” - -Then her glance fell upon the new suit lying in a heap on a chair, -whereupon her face suddenly took on a more ruddy hue and her eyes began -to twinkle appreciatively. - -“Did you throw away those samples of cloth that I showed you a week or -more ago?” the man demanded. - -“I never throw away anything o’ yourn, squire. I leave that for you to -do,” said Mrs. Kimberly, somewhat loftily. - -“Then where are they?” he asked impatiently. - -“Oh, I reckon you’ll find ’em in one o’ the drawers or pigeonholes,” said -Maria, coming forward and taking another comprehensive squint at the suit -as she did so, the squire meanwhile pulling out and inspecting various -drawers with considerable show of irritation. - -“What’s that?” Maria inquired, after a moment, and pointing into a drawer -where some dark, frayed edges were protruding from beneath a couple of -letters. - -“Humph!” grunted the squire, as he drew forth the missing samples, and -Maria smiled complacently. - -Then, adjusting his glasses the man compared the numbers on the tags -with those in the copy of the letter which he had written to the tailor, -and in which he had given the order for the two suits of clothes. His -face was a study as he began to realize that Abel Black was in no way -responsible for the “blunder,” for there, in black and white, sure -enough, his “instructions were explicit.” - -“Thunder and lightning! I don’t understand it. I never did such a thing -before in my life!” he muttered, with a very red face, as he was forced -to admit to himself that he had blundered in writing the numbers. - -“Your new suit’s come, hain’t it, squire? Is there anything wrong about -it?” calmly inquired Maria, with the most innocent air imaginable. - -“Wrong!” shouted the infuriated man, “I should say there was. I got these -numbers misplaced someway in giving my order, and that dunce of a tailor, -instead of coming to find out whether I made a mistake or not, has made -up for me the cloth I meant Cliff should have, and vice versa.” - -“Good land! you don’t say so!” exclaimed Mrs. Kimberly, with every -appearance of being greatly astonished. “Sure enough, this is the -cloth”—bending to examine it and to hide the convulsive twitching of her -mouth—“that I said you could shoot peas through.” - -“Just so,” said the squire, bestowing a withering look upon the offensive -garments. - -“And Cliff’s suit was made off the other goods?” inquired Maria, trying -hard not to betray eager interest she experienced in the matter. - -“Of course—yes,” seizing the bill and tearing it open. “Here it is -charged to me—forty-five dollars! and I suppose that young upstart is -strutting around and feeling as fine as a turkeycock in a suit that cost -three times what I mean it should.” - -A spasmodic, but quickly repressed snort escaped Mrs. Kimberly at this -passionate outburst. - -“Ahem!” she supplemented, “’tis kind of a tough joke on you, ain’t it, -squire?” - -The man turned on her with a fierce imprecation. - -“Maria Kimberly,” he thundered, “if you ever give it away I’ll make you -sorry till your dying day. I should be the laughing-stock of the whole -town if it became known.” - -“Sure enough, so you would! But mum’s the word, if you say so, squire,” -Maria asserted, with another hysterical catch of her breath. Then, with -an effort at composure, she inquired: “Does it—the suit—fit you?” - -“Fit! Do you suppose I’d put it on—that mass of shoddy?” snapped the man, -with angry derision. - -“Oh, then, you don’t intend to wear it?” observed Maria, with -well-assumed surprise. - -“Of course not.” - -“But it’ll be almost like throwing away a lot of good money,” said the -woman, who rather enjoyed piling on the agony. - -The squire groaned, not so much for the loss of the sum which the shoddy -suit represented, but because his supposed blunder had resulted in such -good fortune for Clifford. - -“Perhaps,” Maria remarked, after a moment of reflection, “you can sell -it to Tom, the milk-driver; he’s about your build, and I heard him say a -while ago that he was goin’ to get him some new clo’s before long.” - -This proved to be a happy suggestion, and appealed at once to the -discomfited man. Suffice it to say that he made a bargain with the -milk-driver later, and so managed to get rid of the obnoxious garments; -but for years he was sore over the matter, and could never bear the -slightest reference to the subject. To the tailor he simply said that he -was disappointed in the suit and ordered another made. - -When Maria Kimberly left his presence after the above interview she -repaired at once to the kitchen garden, ostensibly to pick “a mess of -shell beans” for the morrow’s dinner; but could any one have seen her -crouching among the tall bean-poles, and laughing until the tears rained -over her face, and she was utterly exhausted with her mirth, he would -have thought that Squire Talford’s usually sedate housekeeper had taken -leave of her senses. - -The days slipped very quickly by to Clifford, who was bending all his -energies toward preparing for the ordeal before him. - -Professor Harding accompanied him to Cambridge a day or two before the -date set for his examinations, to show him about a little, get him -settled, and introduce him to some of his old acquaintances, and to give -him more confidence. - -The young man acquitted himself most creditably, and won honors in -mathematics, Greek and Latin, and his teacher felt justly proud of him, -and well repaid for his own efforts in his behalf. - -After seeing him located in a moderate-priced and homelike -boarding-place, with a good woman whom he had known during his own -college days, the professor wished him good luck and Godspeed and -returned to his own duties in Connecticut. - -Clifford set to work in good earnest—every moment of every hour was -improved to the utmost, and, to his surprise, he did not find his duties -nearly so arduous as he had anticipated. - -He had always been very systematic in whatever he had to do, and, -possessing a rare power of concentration, he was enabled to commit his -lessons with comparative ease. - -Thus he found that he would have considerable leisure time, and this he -resolved to turn to account to increase his limited resources, and so -began to look about for employment. But what to do was the question. - -This was answered for him within a week or two by overhearing some of the -juniors and seniors complaining of their blurred and unsightly windows, -and asserting that they could find no one to do satisfactory cleaning for -them. - -Acting upon the impulse of the moment, Clifford stepped up to them, and -remarked in a straightforward, manly way: - -“Gentlemen, I am looking for work to help me through my course—let me try -my hand upon your windows.” - -They stared at him with a supercilious air for a moment, but as he met -their glances with a front as unflinching as their own, and without -manifesting the slightest embarrassment on account of his request, one of -the number observed: - -“Say, let’s try him, boys, the janitors are so rushed they’re no good, -and we don’t want any woman prowling about,” and forthwith Clifford had -half a dozen orders, and set that very afternoon to begin operations. - -From that time he had all he could do at ten and fifteen cents per -window, according to size, and his work proved to be so satisfactory that -he was frequently offered a tip besides. But this he scorned to accept in -every instance. - -“Thanks. I have but one price,” he would invariably observe, and never -failed to give the exact change. - -Generally he was courteously treated by his patrons, but now and then he -would meet a snob whose sole aim appeared to be to make him feel the -immeasurable distance between a heavy purse and a light one. But even in -these cases he proved himself a match for such customers. He would fill -his order to the very best of his ability, but he would never take a -second one from the same party. - -“Very sorry,” he would say, with the utmost politeness, “but I am too -busy. I have all the orders I can fill at present. You had better speak -to one of the janitors.” - -One day he was passing along a corridor with his pail and brushes, when -some one, evidently in a hurry, passed him. The next moment the young man -paused, turned back and called out in an overbearing tone: - -“Say, here! you window-washer; I want to speak to you—I have some work -for you to do.” - -Clifford’s face flushed a sudden crimson, then grew as quickly white. He -set down his pail, and, turning, found himself face to face with a member -of his own class. He bowed politely to him. - -“My name is Faxon,” he quietly remarked. “You are Mr. Wentworth, and we -are classmates, I believe.” - -Philip Wentworth stared coldly at the speaker for a moment, and with an -air which plainly indicated that, although they might possibly be in the -same class, he regarded himself as composed of very much finer clay than -his impecunious brother collegian. - -“Oh, ah! really!” he remarked at length. “I simply wanted to tell you -that I have some cleaning for you to do.” - -“I hope it will be no disappointment to you, Mr. Wentworth, but I can -take no more orders at present,” Clifford calmly replied, and, picking up -his pail, he moved on, leaving his would-be patron with a disagreeable -sense of having been politely sat upon. - -“Insolent upstart!” he muttered angrily, and, turning impatiently on his -heel, he pursued his way in the opposite direction. - -And thus pretty Mollie Heatherford’s would-be lover, who had begged -so earnestly for the costly cameo which she had worn on that -never-to-be-forgotten day, when she so narrowly escaped a terrible doom, -and the hero, to whom she had presented the valuable gem, met for the -first time, and as classmates at Harvard. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -CLIFFORD ACQUITS HIMSELF WITH HONOR. - - -Clifford had been keenly stung by the manner in which Philip Wentworth -had saluted him. - -“Say—here! you window-washer!” rang continually in his ears, as he went -about his work. He felt very sure that the young man knew his name as -well as he knew his, for they had met every day in the class-room. -However, whether he knew him or not, there was no excuse for his assuming -the supercilious manner and tone that he had in addressing him. These -feelings continued to rankle in his heart for some time, and then -Clifford pulled himself up sharply. - -“How foolish I am!” he thought. “The fact that I am poor, and have to -wash windows to eke out my small resources will neither make nor mar my -life. What I myself am and what use I make of my opportunities will alone -count in the race between me and my classmates. At the same time, I am -not going to put myself in a way to be browbeaten by any man living. -I can find work enough to do for people who are civil, and I have no -intention of being tyrannized over by cads.” - -And he carried out his determination to the letter, always bearing -himself in a gentlemanly manner, and so for the most part winning the -respect of those with whom he came in contact. - -The weeks sped by, and nothing of special interest occurred during the -winter. Clifford moved on in the even tenor of his way, working with a -will until spring came, summer opened, and with it the all-important -examinations. - -They were over at last, and, to his great joy, he passed with honors, and -won the—scholarship. - -He was a proud and happy fellow, and, on class-day, while he was -dressing for the exercises, he brought forth the cameo ring which Mollie -Heatherford had given him a little less than a year previous, and viewed -it tenderly. - -“I do not even know her name,” he murmured regretfully, “but to me she -was, and still is, the loveliest girl that I have ever seen, and this -beautiful ring will always be a precious talisman to me—something to -incite me always to work for the best and highest results. I wonder if I -might venture to wear it to-day as a reward for my year’s work?” - -He slipped it upon the little finger of his left hand, and held it off to -note the effect, a thoughtful look on his fine face. - -“It is a lovely thing,” he continued, drawing it toward him again, -and studying it attentively for the thousandth time. “The carving is -particularly fine. Yes, I will wear it just for to-day.” - -A few hours later Clifford was standing beneath a great tree on the -campus conversing with one of his classmates. Almost unconsciously he -had lifted his left hand, and laid it against the trunk of the tree. It -was a firm, strong, shapely hand, and the costly circlet upon the fourth -finger stood out conspicuously upon it. - -He and his friend were absorbed in discussing some of the numerous events -of the week, and were unaware of the presence of any one else, until -they were startled by a voice close beside them, exclaiming with marked -emphasis: - -“By thunder!” - -Both young men turned to find Philip Wentworth standing beside them and -staring, with a look of blank astonishment and dismay on his face, at the -ring upon Clifford’s finger. - -“Well, Wentworth, what are you thundering about?” laughingly inquired -Clifford’s companion, who was known as Alf Rogers, and was a prime -favorite in the institution. - -Without appearing to heed his question, Wentworth bent a flashing look -upon Clifford. - -“Where did you get that ring?” he demanded sharply. - -Clifford flushed at his peremptory tone, and his hand involuntarily -dropped to his side. But he immediately lifted it again, and held it -before him, where all three could plainly see the gem he wore. - -“Oh, this cameo?” he observed, his face softening to sudden tenderness, -which did not escape his interlocutor, as he gazed upon it. - -“Yes,” curtly and emphatically replied Wentworth. - -Clifford was tempted to tell him that it was none of his business, but -refraining from so discourteous a retort, he quietly returned: - -“It was given to me.” - -“Who gave it to you?” and Wentworth’s lips twitched nervously as he put -the question, while there was a savage gleam of jealous anger in his eyes. - -Clifford’s ire began to get the better of him now. - -“Pardon me,” he said coldly, “if I tell you that is a matter which cannot -concern you in the least.” - -“Don’t be so sure, young man; it does concern me, and far more, perhaps, -than you have any idea of,” was the excited retort. “I could swear that -that is the only ring of its kind in the world, and I should recognize it -if I should see it in China.” - -“Possibly you may be correct, Mr. Wentworth, ‘that it is the only ring -of its kind in existence,’” calmly observed our hero. “I should not be -surprised if such were the case, for the carving is peculiarly fine, the -subject a rare and difficult one. Nevertheless, it was a gift to me, and -is one that I prize very highly.” - -“It can’t be possible!” cried Philip hotly, “that ring belongs to a young -lady who is now traveling in Europe.” - -“You are mistaken, Mr. Wentworth,” said Clifford with quiet emphasis. - -“I am not; I swear it, and—I can give you double proof of what I have -stated,” Wentworth asserted, glancing at a lady and gentleman who were -slowly approaching them. - -The former was a very handsome woman of about forty-five years, and there -was a strong resemblance between her and Philip Wentworth. She was very -elegantly dressed, and her diamonds were of the finest water, and she was -accompanied by the professor of Greek, with whom she was conversing in a -bright and animated way. - -But Clifford did not appear to connect her in any way with the subject of -his controversy with Wentworth, or realize that he had referred to her in -stating that he could give double proof of what he asserted. - -“I imagine that you will find it difficult to verify your declaration,” -he observed, with quiet dignity. - -“Do you dare me to do so?” demanded Philip aggressively. - -“Certainly not; this controversy is of your own seeking, and is of small -moment to me, excepting, of course, that it is somewhat annoying. You -have, however, aroused my curiosity to a certain extent, and since you -claim that you can prove that my ring belongs to another, I should like -to know upon what grounds you felt justified in making that statement,” -Clifford observed, with a composure which showed that he had no fear -regarding the result. - -“Mother!” said Philip, stepping forward a pace or two and speaking to the -lady who was approaching. - -“Ah, Phil!” she returned, with a bright, fond glance, “I was looking for -you; you know you promised to take me over the museum, and I have a great -desire to see those wonderful glass flowers.” - -“Wait a moment, please, mother,” the young man replied, “there is a ring -here that I would like you to see,” and, without even the courtesy of an -introduction, he pointed at the circlet upon Clifford’s finger. - -Although greatly embarrassed by the uncomfortable position in which he so -unexpectedly found himself, he politely lifted his hat to the lady and -extended his hand so that she might examine the contested jewel. - -“Mollie’s ring!” she exclaimed, in a tone of great surprise, while her -eyes flew to Clifford’s fine face, with a curious, searching look. “Why! -it surely is the ‘magic cameo’ about which we have had so much sport with -her!” - -“Now, are you satisfied that I knew what I was talking about?” demanded -Philip Wentworth in a tone intended only for Clifford’s ear. - -He made no reply to the taunt, and there was a moment of awkward silence, -when the professor, seeing that there was something amiss, yet not -comprehending what it was, although he realized that Wentworth had done a -rude thing, observed in a friendly tone: - -“It is surely a remarkably fine bit of work, Faxon; but allow me to -present you to Mr. Wentworth’s mother, Mrs. Temple, Mr. Faxon; also Mr. -Rogers.” - -Both gentlemen lifted their hats, and the lady acknowledged the -presentation with gracious courtesy, after which the professor inquired -of Mrs. Temple: - -“Is there a peculiar or remarkable history connected with Mr. Faxon’s -ring, which you appear to recognize?—you spoke of it as ‘the magic -cameo.’” - -“Oh, no, it is only a little family joke,” the lady laughingly replied; -“we have a young friend who owns a cameo so exactly like this that -it seems as if it must be the same, and she has always claimed that -whenever she wore it something good never failed to happen to her. She -became so thoroughly imbued with the idea that we used to laugh at her -about her magic cameo. Of course, this cannot be the same, for I am -sure that Mollie would never have parted with it under any ordinary -circumstances. I am surprised, however, to find it duplicated; I did not -suppose there was another like it in existence. I hope, Mr. Faxon, it -will prove to be a mascot for you as well as for our little friend,” Mrs. -Temple concluded, and smiling brightly up into the manly face above her. - -“Mother, this is not a duplicate; this is Mollie’s ring,” Philip here -interposed with a frown and note of impatience in his tones. - -“Are you not a trifle rash, Phil, in making such an assertion?” his -mother questioned with a gentle reproof, a slight cloud of annoyance -sweeping over her face. - -“I am sure I can prove it,” he returned loftily. Then, addressing -Clifford, he inquired: “Have you any knowledge of a secret connected with -this ring?” - -“A secret!” our hero repeated wonderingly; “no, I do not know of any -secret,” and he eyed it curiously, flushing as he did so. - -Philip Wentworth’s eyes glowed with malicious triumph. - -“Well, I happen to know that there is one,” he declared. “Mother, you -shall disclose what peculiarities you know regarding Mollie’s ring.” - -“Really, Phil, I am afraid you are making a mistake,” Mrs. Temple -remarked, flushing and looking greatly disturbed, “but since you seem -determined to press the matter I will say that the secret is this—the -stone can be raised and underneath there is a plate on which there is -engraved a horseshoe, inclosing the words ‘For luck’ and the initials ‘M. -N. H.’” - -Clifford’s heart beat with great, heavy throbs as he listened to this. -He had never dreamed that his precious ring was going to create such an -excitement, and become the object of a romantic episode when he had put -it on that morning. He now heartily wished that he had left it locked -away in his trunk. - -“If your ring is like the one I have described,” Mrs. Temple continued, -“you can touch a tiny spring just under the double gold beading of the -setting, and the stone will open out on a hinge.” - -Clifford carefully examined the setting, found the tiny spring, pressed -it, when, lo! the stone slipped from its place, and with a great -heart-bound, he distinctly saw the small horseshoe, with the words “For -luck” and the initials “M. N. H.” engraved within the circle. - -Without a word he extended his hand to Mrs. Temple for her to see. One -glance was sufficient to assure her that her son’s assertions were -correct. The ring surely was the very same that she had seen in Mollie -Heatherford’s possession. - -“How very strange!” she murmured. “I had supposed Mollie so superstitious -regarding her ‘mascot’ that nothing would ever induce her to part with -it.” - -The professor also examined it with curious interest, and then glanced -wonderingly at the various members of the party. - -“Now, have I proved my position?” demanded Philip, turning with -ill-concealed exultation to Clifford. - -Our hero’s face had grown very pale; but it also wore a very determined -expression. - -“You have certainly proved that you have seen the ring before, but you -have by no means proved that it does not belong to me,” he calmly replied. - -“Will you explain how you came by it, then?” demanded Wentworth. “Knowing -what we do, and being intimately acquainted with the young lady in whose -possession it was, the last time we saw her, we naturally feel that we -are entitled to know how you came by it.” - -“Pardon me,” returned Clifford, with dignity, “that does not necessarily -follow. I have told you that the ring is mine, that it was a gift to me, -and I have told you only truth.” - -“Was it given to you by a lady?” - -“That question I must decline to answer,” Clifford coldly responded. “But -this much I will say,” he added, after a moment of thought, “the ring -came into my possession one year ago the thirtieth of next month—July.” - -“Mother! that was the very day that Mollie went to New York after her -visit with us! She wore the ring that day—it was on her finger when I -bade her good-by at the station!” Philip Wentworth exclaimed, flushing -crimson, as he recalled how he had begged it of Mollie and been refused, -while he now realized that there was a possibility that she had given it -to this “proud upstart,” but why or wherefore was beyond him to imagine. -He was galled almost beyond endurance and stung to the quick, and a -fierce hatred of his classmate took possession of him then and there. - -“Well, never mind, Phil,” said his mother gravely, “and I think you -should let the matter rest. Mr. Faxon has his own reasons, no doubt, for -not wishing to say more. Come, I am afraid it is too late, after all, -for me to go into the museum to-day,” she added, glancing at her watch. -“I think the carriage will be waiting for me, and I have a reception to -attend this evening.” - -With a gracious smile and bow to her recent companions she took her -son’s arm, thus forcing him to escort her to one of the entrances to the -college grounds, where she had ordered her coachman to await her. - -He did not accompany her with a very good grace, and there was a heavy -frown upon his face, which betrayed that he was greatly irritated over -his failure to extort Clifford’s secret from him. The professor stood -gravely regarding our hero for a moment, as if he also would have been -glad to learn more, and was not quite pleased over his reticence; then -he excused himself and went away; but both young men could see that the -recent occurrence had left an unpleasant impression on his mind. - -It certainly had been a very awkward interview, and the evidence was -rather against Clifford, for he had been proven ignorant of a most -interesting secret connected with the ring which he claimed as his own. - -“Well!” he observed, glancing at his friend, “this has been a queer -experience.” - -“I should say so indeed!” Rogers exclaimed, with an expression of -disgust, “but Wentworth is a purse-proud cad anyway, and if his mother -and the professor had not been here I should have been tempted to knock -him down for his insolence. You held yourself well in hand, Faxon, and I -admire you for it.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -AN INSOLENT DEMAND. - - -In spite of the court of inquiry and the mortification to which he had -been subjected, Clifford was by no means crushed, in view of his recent -encounter with Philip Wentworth, who, he had long been conscious, had -been nursing a grudge against him ever since the day of their first -meeting. On the whole, when he came to think the matter over by himself, -he was secretly pleased with the outcome of it, for he had at least -learned the secret of his precious ring and the initials of the fair -unknown who had been its donor.—“M. N. H.” He wondered what they stood -for. - -Mrs. Temple and Wentworth had both familiarly spoken of her as “Mollie,” -but he would have given a great deal to have learned her full name; yet -he was too proud to ask it, or to acknowledge to them that he was in -ignorance of it. - -“Mollie!” he found himself repeating over and over, until the homely name -rang like sweetest music in his heart. - -The ring was a thousand times more precious to him now than it had ever -been, with its hidden legend which would hereafter possess as great a -significance to him, almost as much as that of the fetish of the African -devotee. - -The face of the young girl was still as clear and distinct in his mind -as the carving of his cameo, and he still thrilled in every pulse of his -being whenever he recalled the beautiful azure eyes that had shone with -such intense earnestness as she watched for him to come forth from the -car at New Haven, the quiver of her red lips and the light of heartfelt -gratitude illumining her delicate, clear-cut features. - -How his heart leaped as he seemed to hear again the music of her fresh -young voice, as she gave utterance to those eager, impulsive words: “Life -is very bright to me; I love to live; I shall never forget you; I shall -love you for the heroism of this day—always.” - -He had said those last words over and over to himself many, many times, -until they had awakened in his own heart a love for that peerless girl -that would never wane—a love that meant a thousandfold more than she had -intended to imply, and which would never be satisfied with less than a -full requital from its object. - -This mood was on him now stronger than ever as he thought over that -never-to-be-forgotten scene. But how dare he dream of such a thing! It -surely seemed to him the height of presumption, and he flushed a guilty -crimson in view of his audacity. - -Then another train of thought was started, and his handsome brown eyes -were clouded with pain as he questioned within himself what this sweet, -golden-haired, blue-eyed “Mollie” could be to Philip Wentworth, that he -should so arbitrarily demand how he had become possessed of the ring that -had once been hers. - -When he had told him that it did not concern him, he had exclaimed with -repressed passion, “It does concern me, and more, perhaps, than you have -any idea.” - -What did he mean by that? he wondered. Could it be possible that there -had been a boy-and-girl love affair between those two, and that Philip -Wentworth had become madly jealous upon seeing the ring upon his hand and -failing to ascertain how it had come there? - -This was not a very pleasing thought to him, but he had at least learned -that the fair “Mollie” was at present traveling in Europe, while he -also reasoned that there could not have been any very confidential -missives exchanged, or the young man would not have been so in the dark -regarding the presentation of the cameo, and these facts afforded him -some consolation. Then his mind reverted to the beautiful woman whom the -professor had introduced as Mrs. Temple, and whom Wentworth had addressed -as “mother.” - -He felt sure that they were mother and son, in spite of the different -names they bore, for there was a strong resemblance between them, -although she had deported herself like a gracious and high-bred lady, -while he was a veritable snob. - -Probably, Clifford reasoned, she had been a widow, and had married a -second time a man by the name of Temple, and he wondered if there was -a Mr. Temple now living, and what he was like. But these people and -things soon slipped from his mind, for, early the next morning, he left -Cambridge for the White Mountains, where his ever-thoughtful friend, -Professor Harding, had secured for him a position as head porter in a -hotel, where he usually spent a portion of his summer with his family. -Clifford found his friends already there, and was welcomed most cordially -by them. - -He found that his duties would be somewhat heavy, although they were not, -on the whole, disagreeable, while they would give him a complete rest and -change from the close mental application of the last ten months. - -It is needless to say that he was most faithful in his new position, -for it was his nature to do well whatever he had to do, and, before a -fortnight had passed, the proprietor of the house, Mr. Hamilton, confided -to Professor Harding that he had never before secured so efficient and -gentlemanly a person for the place. - -The guests, also, all seemed to appreciate him, for he was always -courteous in his bearing, and attentive to their wants. He would never -allow any loud talking or rough handling of baggage from the men who -worked under him, while he managed to systematize everything connected -with his department so that there was no confusion and seldom a mistake. - -He had been there a little over a month, when one day, as he was -returning from the post-office with the afternoon mail, he met with an -adventure. - -He rode a large and valuable bay horse that belonged to Mr. Hamilton, -who, after he learned that Clifford knew how to handle horses, liked to -have him exercise the animal occasionally. The day had been unusually -warm, and Clifford was allowing his steed to make his own pace up a steep -incline, while he read a letter which he had received from his good -friend, Maria Kimberly, who was almost his only correspondent. - -Upon reaching a small plateau he checked his steaming horse to allow him -to rest before climbing the next ascent. He finished his letter, refolded -and tucked it away in a pocket, then, removing his hat, and wiping the -perspiration from his forehead, he turned in his saddle to look back upon -the valley behind and beneath him. - -“What a view!” he said aloud, and with kindling eyes; “it is worth a -great deal to have such a scene as this to look upon day after day, and -nature paints the loveliest pictures, after all.” Then, with a glance -above and beyond him, he continued: “And the hills! the everlasting -hills! how wonderful they are! I have read somewhere that ‘rocks and -mountains stand for the solid and grand ideas of Truth.’ It is a -beautiful thought, and makes them a hundredfold more lovely to me. I -believe I am receiving an inspiration this summer that will never leave -me——” - -“Ahem! you appear to be struck on the hills, Faxon,” a voice here -interposed with a mocking inflection, and, glancing toward the spot from -whence it seemed to proceed, Clifford saw to his astonishment the face -of Philip Wentworth peering at him over a boulder that lay almost on the -edge of the mountain road, and was half-concealed by a clump of sumac -that was growing beside it. - -He had been sitting behind the rock where, screened by it and the growth -of sumac, he had been idly gazing into the depths below, for the road -just there ran along the edge of an almost perpendicular precipice. - -He had seen Clifford approaching, although he was himself unseen, but -he had had no intention of making his presence known, until our hero’s -eloquent outburst fell upon his ears, whereupon he became irritated -beyond measure. He was dressed in the height of style—in an immaculate -suit of white linen, and he carried a cane having an elaborately carved -ivory head. - -He came around into the road and stood there looking up into Clifford’s -face with a derisive smile. Clifford colored vividly at his manner of -addressing him, but quickly recovering himself, he courteously returned: - -“Ah! good afternoon, Mr. Wentworth. Yes, I am in love with these grand -mountains, but I had no idea that I was rhapsodizing before an audience. -It has been a warm day,” he concluded, and drew up his bridle preparatory -to moving on, when his companion detained him. - -“Wait a minute, Faxon,” he said, “I’ve been wanting to see you ever since -class-day, but no one could tell me where to find you. It’s about that -ring, you know; I’m dying to know just how you came by it.” - -“It was a gift, Mr. Wentworth,” Clifford briefly replied. - -“So you said before, but who gave it to you?” demanded Philip, with a -frown. - -“I cannot tell you.” - -“Hang it all! don’t be so deucedly secretive,” was the impatient retort. -“Was it given to you by a lady?” - -“Pardon me, but I cannot tell you,” Clifford reiterated. - -“Will not, you mean,” Wentworth angrily rejoined. - -Clifford did not deign to answer this thrust, and his silence, which -stood for assent, was maddening to his companion. All his life he had -been the pampered idol of his mother, who had seldom denied him a wish, -and he had grown up selfish, arrogant, and almost lawless. - -During his own father’s life, he had been curbed to a certain extent, -for the man possessed good sense and judgment, and, had he lived, would -doubtless have brought out the best that was in his son; but the man had -been cut down just when the boy had needed him most, and so his mother -had spoiled him until he had become intolerant of all opposition to his -wishes. - -Thus Clifford’s calm indifference to his demand drove him into a white -heat of rage. - -“You do not need to tell me where it came from,” he burst forth, “for, as -I told you before, I know who had possession of it up to three o’clock of -the day when you claim that it was given to you—given, ha!” he concluded, -with an insulting significant laugh. - -All the blood in his body seemed to rush into Clifford’s face at this -cowardly insinuation. - -“Wentworth! do you mean to imply that I came by it through dishonorable -means?” he sternly demanded. - -“Well, that is a point upon which I have my own opinion,” Philip -retorted, “but I can swear to this that at the hour I have named on the -thirtieth of July, of last year, that ring was on the hand of a certain -lady of my acquaintance. She was on the point of starting for New York, -and as I was taking leave of her I asked her to give it to me as—as a -souvenir.” - -“Ah!” - -It was only an exclamation, and it had escaped Clifford almost -involuntarily, but it expressed a great deal, and his heart had given a -great throb of exultation over the knowledge that what his blue-eyed, -golden-haired divinity had refused to give the rich and aristocratic -Philip Wentworth, she had, freely, and even enthusiastically, bestowed -upon him, a poor bound boy, who had stood before her, hatless and -drenched to his skin in his shirt-sleeves and overalls and wearing a pair -of clumsy shoes, the like of which this petted son of fortune would have -scorned for his servant. - -Young Wentworth was excessively nettled by the monosyllable, and -instantly regretted having betrayed so much. - -“I am only telling you this,” he hastened to explain, “to prove how -preposterous it seems in you to claim that this lady should have given -you the ring, after having refused it to me, and I will also add, as a -clincher, that Miss—the lady is my fiancée.” - -For a moment Clifford felt as if he had been struck a blow in the face, -and the sense of a terrible loss settled upon his heart. Then, as he -recalled the youthful face that had been lifted so earnestly to him, and -also the fact that the girl had not discarded short dresses, a faint -smile of skepticism involuntarily curved the corners of his mouth. Philip -was quick to note it, and was exasperated by it. - -“You do not believe it,” he said sharply, “but it is true nevertheless; -the matter was arranged when we were mere children, and we have grown -up with the understanding that we are to be married when I am through -college. Faugh!” he interposed, with a shrug of impatience, “why do I -tell you this, I wonder? I am a fool to give it away to you; but, Faxon, -I want that ring! Do you hear?” - -Clifford gazed down upon the handsome, imperious face upturned to him -with an expression of amazement. The audacity of the demand almost -paralyzed him for the moment. - -“You want the ring!” he repeated, when he could find voice. - -“That’s what I said,” Philip returned consequentially. “I can’t have you -wearing a ring that belongs to my fiancée. Of course, I am willing to -pay you something handsome for it rather than have any words over the -affair—say, fifty dollars, and ask no further questions regarding how you -came by it.” - -Clifford was filled with indignation, both at the imputation flung at -him and the proposition to barter his gift for money. Sell his precious -ring—his “mascot,” with its magic legend and initials of its fair donor! -Never! He would almost as soon have parted with his right hand, and -he grew very white about the mouth at the thought. But he seldom gave -outward expression to anger, no matter how deeply moved he was, and, -after a moment spent in making an effort to speak calmly, he said, in a -low tone of quiet decision: - -“Mr. Wentworth, I could not, for a moment, think of surrendering my ring -to you.” - -“I’ll make it a hundred, if you like,” persisted Philip. - -“No, sir; I would not part with it at any price.” - -Philip Wentworth’s face grew livid with mingled rage and disappointment. - -“—— you, for an obstinate upstart!” he exclaimed furiously, and, lifting -his slender cane high above his head, he dealt Clifford’s horse a -fierce and stinging blow upon the thigh. It was a terrible shock to the -beautiful and spirited creature, who scarce ever had known the touch of a -lash. With a snort of fear he wheeled, sprang erect upon his hind legs, -and the next moment was pawing the air on the very edge of that almost -perpendicular precipice. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -PHILIP WENTWORTH FINDS AMUSEMENT. - - -Clifford was in fearful danger for one awful moment, as the horse hung -swaying on the brow of the precipice, and, seemingly, about to be dashed -over the edge and down upon the rocks below. - -To all appearance horse and rider were doomed—their fate sealed. But with -a dexterous movement the young man drew his bridle taut, his fingers -gripping it like claws of steel, his muscles unyielding as iron, and -thus he held the animal poised in the air for a brief instant, like a -statue, but for his frightened trembling; then, pulling sharply upon the -bit with his left hand, he swung him around and away from the frightful -chasm, and eased him down until one forefoot touched the ground, when -the intelligent creature helped himself farther away from his dangerous -position, though still snorting and quivering in every limb from fear. - -“Be quiet, Glory! it’s all right—whoa! stand still!” Clifford called -out in a reassuring voice, as he gathered the bridle into one hand, -and with the other stroked and patted the reeking neck with a gentle, -encouraging touch, and continued to talk soothingly to him, until he was -comparatively calm again. - -It had been a hairbreadth escape, and Clifford’s face was absolutely -colorless, but not so white or frozen with fear as that of Philip -Wentworth, who had become conscious that his ungovernable temper had -well-nigh made a murderer of him. - -The eyes of the two young men met for one moment, then Clifford spoke -quietly to his horse, bidding him go on, and went his way up the mountain -road. - -He was very thoughtful as he pursued his way back to the hotel, and was -deeply thankful. He was almost dazed, and could scarcely realize what -had happened. But for the reaction, the weakness almost amounting to -faintness, that had crept over him, it would have seemed more like a -dream—a horrible nightmare—than a reality. - -He drew in long, deep breaths and tried to brace himself up, and, -gradually, he began to feel the strength coming back to him; but the -strain upon him, both mentally and physically, had been something -terrible. - -Finally he forgot about himself in thinking of Philip, and wondering what -his sensations could have been while watching that desperate battle for -life. - -“What a frightful temper he has!” he mused, as he recalled the young -man’s distorted face when he struck that almost fatal blow. “I am -thankful that I am not so cursed, or rather that I was taught in my -boyhood to govern myself. If he has any conscience he must have suffered -more than I did during that moment of terrible suspense. - -“How ridiculous to tell me that he is engaged to that slip of a girl!” he -continued, with a skeptical smile, “and yet,” he added, more soberly, “I -know that such arrangements have been made by parents for their children, -and so what he said is not impossible. But I should be sorry, from the -depths of my heart, for her if she was doomed to spend her life with one -who possesses such a disposition. Still, I do not believe that she is -lacking in spirit, and I imagine it would not be an easy matter to drive -her to do anything regarding which she had conscientious scruples. I am -very sure that there is much strength of character behind those earnest -blue eyes. However, if she loves him she will probably marry him,” he -concluded, with a long sigh of regret and a look of pain in his eyes. - -He rode his horse directly to the stable upon his return to the hotel, -and gave orders to have him carefully groomed; then he returned to his -duties in the house, and kept his own counsel regarding his recent -adventure. - -It would have involved too many explanations to have talked about it, -and, since no harm had befallen the horse, he felt under no obligation to -speak of the affair to any one. - -That evening there were several new arrivals, and among them some people -who were registered as Judge and Mrs. Athol and Miss Gertrude Athol, -from Buffalo, New York. Miss Athol was a remarkably beautiful girl of -about eighteen years, and as Clifford saw her during the disposal of her -trunks in her rooms, he thought that, with one exception, he had never -met one more lovely. She also was a blonde of the purest type, tall and -willowy, and possessing an air of repose and refinement, together with -an unusually sunny smile, that made one feel as if he had come into a -different atmosphere when in her presence. - -There was one peculiarity about her that seemed to intensify her -beauty; she had great, soft, almond-shaped brown eyes, which contrasted -exquisitely with her delicate complexion and pale-gold hair, and which -gave marked character to her face. - -“She is a true lady,” Clifford said to himself, as he mentally compared -her with some other young people who were guests in the house, and -who appeared to regard every employee as their slave, whose sole duty -consisted in serving their lightest caprice. - -About the middle of the next afternoon an elegant equipage dashed up to -the door of the hotel and four people alighted and entered the house. -Clifford instantly recognized Philip Wentworth and his mother, and they -were followed by a stately, rather pompous, gentleman, with iron-gray -hair, a pair of keen, dark eyes, and a shrewd, clear-cut, intelligent -face, while he led by the hand a little girl of about five years, a -charming little fairy, who resembled both Philip and Mrs. Temple, and -who was most daintily clad, and with a great hat set on her sunny head, -framing her bright, laughing face in a most picturesque manner. - -The gentleman was William F. Temple, and the child was Miss Minnie -Temple, the pet and idol of the entire household. This quartet were shown -into a reception-room, whereupon they sent cards up to Judge and Mrs. -Athol, who, as it proved, were old friends of Mrs. Temple, Mrs. Athol -having been a chum of hers at Vassar during their school-days. From that -time the two families were also inseparable. - -They drove or went fishing and rowing on the lake, or made excursions -to various points of interest almost every morning; the afternoons were -devoted to bowling, golf, or tennis, while they alternated in dining each -other and attended card parties, hops, and receptions at various hotels -in the evening. - -During all this time Clifford and Philip Wentworth were continually -coming in contact with each other; but the latter never betrayed, by word -or look, that he had ever met him before, and ordered him around like any -ordinary porter. - -Clifford was often galled inexpressibly by his overbearing manner, -particularly so in the presence of Miss Athol, who was always gracious -toward him. - -Early one morning Mr. and Mrs. Temple, accompanied by the Judge and Mrs. -Athol, started out on a trip to the summit of Mount Washington, leaving -little Minnie Temple to spend the day with Miss Athol, to whom the child -had become very much attached. - -Philip Wentworth put in his appearance at the hotel after luncheon, and -about half an hour later, accompanied by Miss Athol and his young sister, -and armed with books, a lunch-basket, and a rug, started forth again, -evidently to spend the afternoon in the woods. - -He had been very devoted to Gertrude Athol ever since her appearance -upon the scene, and had constituted himself her escort upon almost every -occasion, while there were times when his manner toward her bordered -strongly upon that of a lover. - -Clifford had been quick to observe this, and was secretly indignant at -the growing intimacy, for he had by no means forgotten the statement -which Wentworth had made to him regarding his relations with a certain -little lady who was traveling in Europe. He watched them this afternoon -as they sauntered slowly down the road in the direction of a pretty -little nook, familiarly known as “The Glen,” Philip carrying Miss Athol’s -sun-umbrella with an air of proprietorship, while little Minnie skipped -on before them, bright and happy as a bird. - -“What a sweet little fairy that child is!” Clifford murmured, as his eyes -rested fondly upon her, for, strange as it may seem, a strong friendship -had sprung up between himself and Miss Minnie, who never came to the -hotel without seeking him out to have a social little chat with him. - -He continued to watch the trio until they disappeared around a bend in -the road, when he went back into the office, and resumed some clerical -work connected with his duties. - -“The Glen” referred to was, in fact, something of a misnomer, for it was -nothing more or less than a quiet nook on a small plateau, carpeted with -moss, almost entirely surrounded by a luxuriant growth of great pines, -and overlooking a picturesque valley and strong, rugged mountains beyond. - -It was almost on the edge of a precipice, and not far from the very point -where Clifford came so near losing his life only a short time before. - -Upon arriving at their destination, Philip spread the rug he carried -upon the ground, close by a big boulder, and the three sat down, removing -their hats and making themselves generally comfortable. Then Philip -opened one of the books he had brought—a new novel that was creating -quite a sensation—and began reading aloud to his companion. - -But Miss Minnie did not relish any such prosaic way of spending her -afternoon, and, becoming lonely and restless, began to wander about to -see what of interest she could find for herself. At first Philip tried -to keep her beside them, but, finding that she would not be quiet, and -fretted constantly at the restraint imposed upon her, finally gave her -permission to play about, provided she would not go beyond a certain -limit. - -She soon found amusement in gathering ferns, with here and there a bright -leaf from some sumac bushes growing near the road at a point where she -was perfectly safe, and the two young people returned to their book and -gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the hour. - -To Gertrude Athol the companionship of Philip Wentworth evidently meant -a great deal, if one could judge from the coming and going of her color, -the tender light within her eyes whenever they met those of the young -man, and the shy, happy smiles that hovered about her mouth. - -The story which they were reading, and pausing every now and then to -discuss, had for its heroine a young girl who had been sent into the -country one summer to recuperate after a long illness, and while there -had met a young man of the world, who, after becoming acquainted with -her, monopolized her time, and made love to her in an indefinite kind of -way, yet never committing himself beyond a certain point. He completely -won the girl’s heart, and she poured out all the wealth of her nature -upon this suppositious lover, only to awake from her blissful dream at -the end of the season, when he came to bid her a stereotyped farewell, -and then drifted out of her life forever. The blow was more than the -girl could bear in her delicate state of health, while the shame she -experienced upon realizing that she had been systematically fooled, just -for the amusement of an idler, who found no better entertainment at hand, -almost turned her brain. She could not rally from it, and quietly folding -her hands in submission to the inevitable she drooped and died before the -year was out. - -“Oh, what a sad, sad story!” Gertrude exclaimed, when Philip reached this -point, and her red lips quivered in sympathy with the unfortunate girl; -“and what a wicked thing it was for Gerald Frost to do! It is heartless -for any man to play with a woman’s affections in any such way.” - -“It was simply a summer idyl,” replied Philip, lifting his eyes from -the book and feasting them upon his companion’s beauty, “and there are -thousands of such incidents occurring every year.” - -“But it is atrocious—it is a crime!” retorted the girl spiritedly, “and -a man who will deliberately set himself at work to do such a deed is at -heart as bad as a murderer.” - -“Oh, Gertrude! Miss Athol! your language is very severe,” laughed Philip. - -“Yes, it sounds harsh, but it is true, all the same,” she persisted, “and -if Gerald Frost is a fair type of the summer male flirt, too much cannot -be said in condemnation of him.” - -“And what about the summer girl flirt?” questioned her companion -laughingly. - -“She is even worse, for one expects sincerity and sympathy from a -woman, and she shames and degrades her sex when she descends to such -ignoble pastime,” she gravely returned. “At the same time, a man has the -advantage over a woman in such a case, for it rests with him to put the -all-important question, and it is inhuman to win a young girl’s heart, -and then cast it from him as worthless. I am glad to think, however, that -there are comparatively few Amy Linders in the world. I would never have -finished the book like that—I think the author has spoiled it.” - -“How would you have finished it? What would you have done if you had -been in Amy Linder’s place?” Philip inquired, and shooting a glance of -curiosity at the flushed, earnest face beside him. - -“I certainly would not have drooped and died,” she returned, with a -scornful curl of her lips. “I never would have given the man who had so -wronged me the satisfaction of knowing how thoroughly he had fooled me.” - -“Ah, you tell what you would not have done; but, on the other hand, what -would have been your course of action?” - -Miss Athol drew her willowy figure proudly erect, and her fine eyes -blazed with the dauntless spirit within her. - -“I would have lived it down,” she said, her voice vibrating with intense -feeling. “I would have risen above it, and some day, later on, I would -have caused that man to wonder if he had not made the greatest mistake -of his life; he should have learned to despise himself for having so -belittled himself and dishonored his manhood by trying to wreck the -happiness of a defenseless girl simply for amusement.” - -She was glorious as she gave utterance to these animated sentences and -Philip was, for the moment, carried beyond himself by the magnetic -influence of her beauty and her spirit. He caught the white hand that lay -nearest him, and impulsively pressed it to his lips. - -“Ah! no one could ever meet, play the part of lover to you, and then -leave you,” he cried, with a thrill of passion in his tones. “I——” - -“Oh, I wonder where Minnie is!” Gertrude interposed, and withdrawing her -hand before he could complete what he was about to say. “Great heavens, -what was that?” - -Both sprang to their feet as a frightened scream at that instant fell -upon their ears, and turned their terrified faces toward the sound just -in season to see the flutter of white garments as they disappeared over -the edge of the plateau, not a dozen yards from where they stood. - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -A FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT. - - -The child had played contentedly enough with her ferns and leaves until -a brilliant butterfly had appeared upon the scene and attracted her -attention, when she began to chase it, and, unmindful of her promise to -her brother, ran too near the edge of the precipice, lost her balance, -and fell with a terrified shriek into space. - -Philip Wentworth rushed forward, an inarticulate cry of horror bursting -from his lips, threw himself upon his knees, grasped a young tree that -was growing there, and leaned over the chasm to see—he dare not think -what. - -“Oh, God!” he groaned, as he stared into the abyss below. - -“Mr. Wentworth!—oh!—is she—killed?” gasped Gertrude Athol, as she sprang -to his side, her face as white as the flannel of her outing dress. - -“I don’t know—I do not dare to hope that she is not,” the young man -returned, but still gazing as one mesmerized upon the scene beneath him. - -Gertrude stooped over, steadying herself by leaning upon his shoulder, -and she caught her breath sharply as she took in the situation. - -Down, down, at least a hundred feet, she caught sight of a mass of white -lying like a ball of cotton in the midst of the heavy foliage of a tree. - -Many years previous a tiny maple seed had found lodgment among the -rocks and earth of the mountain, which arose hundreds of feet, like a -perpendicular wall, and this had sprouted, taken root, and grown until -now quite a vigorous tree projected out at right angles from this wall, -and as the plateau above shelved outward at the top, the child had fallen -straight into the middle of the interlaced branches and heavy foliage, -and thus she had been almost miraculously saved from being dashed upon -the rocks in the ravine below. - -But there was not a movement, not a sound, to tell those breathless -watchers above whether the little one was still living; she certainly was -not conscious, or she surely would have made the fact known. - -“Oh! what can we do?—this is terrible!” cried Gertrude, with white lips -and shivering as from a chill. “But”—in an eager tone—“the child is safe, -I fancy! she could not have been badly hurt just dropping into the tree; -she is only breathless and faint from the fearful fall through space. Oh! -Mr. Wentworth, I am sure if some one will only go to her rescue before -she revives she can be saved.” - -“Saved!” gasped Philip, with a shudder of horror; “why, she is as dead to -us and the world at this moment as if she had already been dashed upon -those rocks so far beneath her; for no one would risk his life down that -precipice to attempt her rescue.” - -“Some one must! Some one shall!” cried the panting girl. “Oh! if we had -a rope and some one would lower me, I would go. Run—run to the hotel; -tell them to bring ropes—I know she can be saved—go! go!” she concluded -imperatively, while she tried to drag him to his feet. - -But he appeared to be paralyzed—rooted to the spot. - -“Run!” he repeated, regarding her with a dazed expression. “I could not -run to the hotel if my own life depended upon it. Oh, Minnie! my poor -darling!” he concluded, a sob of despair bursting from him. - -Without another word, but like a flash, Gertrude turned, shot past him, -and sped over the ground toward the hotel. Fast and faster she flew, -never once pausing, until, spent and breathless, she sank upon the steps -leading to the veranda. - -Clifford, from the office window, had seen her coming, and, realizing -that something was wrong, sprang forth to meet her. - -“Miss Athol!—tell me—has anything happened? What can I do for you?” he -exclaimed, as he reached her side. - -“Oh, Mr. Cliff!”—she had heard him called Cliff, and knew him by no other -name—“Minnie Temple has fallen over the cliff at the glen. A tree has -broken her fall; she is caught in the branches; I have come for men and -ropes to save her.” - -Clifford’s face had grown rigid, and his heart sank heavily in his bosom -as he listened. He had been growing to love the bright, pretty child, and -he felt personally bereft at the thought of losing her. But he paused to -ask no questions, although he feared the case was hopeless. He turned -abruptly on his heel, and darted into the house. - -“John!” he called to an assistant, who had just come up from the -basement, “go to the stable, and get the longest and strongest ropes you -can find; go quick! Then find Sam, come here, and wait for me.” - -The man knew the case was imperative from his looks and tones, and -hurried away to do his bidding, while Clifford sprang up two flights of -stairs two steps at a time to a side room, which was remote from any -of the fire-escapes on the building, and where a knotted rope had been -placed to be used in the event of an emergency. - -He snatched this from the strong hook to which it was attached, tore a -sheet from the bed, and then darted back down-stairs, where he found the -men, John and Sam, awaiting him. - -“Come,” he said briefly, and then hurried on down the road after Miss -Athol, who, having done her errand and caught her breath again, was -flying back along the way over which she had just come. - -As soon as they reached “The Glen,” where they found Philip still -crouching where Gertrude had left him, his face buried in his hands, -Clifford went straight to the edge of the plateau, and peered down into -the ravine. - -Instantly his eyes brightened, and a look of determination leaped into -them as they rested upon that little motionless form half-buried in the -dense foliage of the tree. - -Stepping back he threw off his light linen coat and vest, after which he -knotted the fire-escape rope firmly around the trunk of a young oak, and -threw the remainder of it over the cliff, and was glad to see that it was -plenty long enough for his purpose. - -Then he attached one end of a larger rope which John had brought to the -same tree, and secured the other around his own body. - -“Oh, Mr. Cliff! you are going down for her!” eagerly exclaimed Gertrude, -who had been breathlessly watching his movements, and her eyes met his -with a look of dawning hope in their brown depths. - -“Certainly; some one must go,” he said briefly. - -Involuntarily the girl’s glance wandered to Philip Wentworth, a slight -frown contracting her brow. He still sat upon the ground, his face -covered, and the very picture of despair. Clearly, he was wholly unfitted -to be of any special use in this fearful emergency. - -Clifford’s next move was to firmly knot the diagonal corners of the sheet -he had brought and slip it over his left shoulder and under his right arm. - -“What is that for?” questioned Miss Athol. - -“To put the child into. Do you not see? It makes a kind of pouch, and, -swung over my back, will leave my hands free to use in climbing.” - -“Oh, yes,” she breathed; “how thoughtful of you, and she will be safer so -than she could possibly have been in almost any other way.” - -“Yes,” he said simply, and smiled a look of encouragement into her white -face. - -“Now, John, Sam, and Wentworth, too, we shall need your help,” he -continued, turning sharply upon Philip to arouse him to action. “I am -going down that fire-escape. John, I want you to keep hold of this other -rope that is tied to me, and pay it out as I go—but not too fast, just -enough to feel my movements, and be sure you do not lose your head or -your grip, for in case the other rope should slip or I should need to -rest a moment a little tightening up upon it will be a great help to me, -and possibly avert a serious accident. When I start to come back pull -it up evenly and steadily—don’t let it slip, for I shall need to depend -a good deal upon its support. When I get back here to the edge of the -plateau you will—every one of you—need all your wits about you to help -me on to terra firma once more. Now, obey orders, and, God helping me, I -will do the rest.” - -He stepped calmly forward to where the rope hung over, laid hold upon -the trunk of the tree to help himself off, then, seizing the knotted -fire-escape, slipped slowly down into space. - -At this moment Philip Wentworth sprang to his feet and went forward, -his face still white as marble, but evidently doing his utmost to brace -himself up to assist in the rescue of his idolized little sister. - -Miss Athol, however, feeling that she could not trust herself to watch -that perilous descent, went back to the boulder and sat down, covered her -face with her trembling hands, and prayed for the hero who was risking so -much to save a human life. - -Other people, having learned that an accident of some kind had occurred, -had begun to gather about the place, though scarce a word was spoken, and -“The Glen” was almost as silent as if no one had been there. - -Hand over hand, calmly and steadily, Clifford descended the rope, -clinging to it with his feet—from which he had removed his shoes—as well -as with his hands, never once looking down, but always up, with never a -shade of fear in his brave brown eyes. - -Those above him, watching with breathless interest, grew dizzy and almost -faint, as they looked, to see him swaying backward and forward, and -from side to side, like some erratic pendulum ’twixt earth and sky, for -the rope, being loose at the lower end, he could not control it, and it -seemed as if he would never be able to stand the strain until he reached -his journey’s end. - -John McQueen, a strong and sturdy Scotchman, stood a resolute and -faithful sentinel at his post, and paid out the rope in his hands just -fast enough to make it a help and a support—and Clifford told him -afterward that he never could have accomplished his task but for the -trust he reposed in his brawny arms and cool head—until, at last, the -brave fellow touched the trunk of the maple, and so far, all was well. - -Here he paused to rest for a moment or two, for the strain had been -great, and his hands burned and stung from their contact with the rough -rope. - -His next act was to secure the loose end to the tree, making it as -taut as possible, and thus prevent the swaying, which had so annoyed -and hampered him in making his descent. His upward climb would be the -“tug-o’-war,” and he realized that he must neglect no measure that would -be of the slightest advantage to him. - -Then he began his perilous climb outward upon the trunk of the maple -toward that snowy mass lying among its dark-green foliage. - -A single slip or false movement would have sent him whirling through -space to the bottom of the ravine. Very cautiously he edged his way, -almost inch by inch, taking great care not to shake or disturb the -branches where the child lay, lest she be dislodged before he could reach -her. - -At last! - -His hand grasped the garments, and the long-drawn breath that heaved the -chest of every watcher above told how intense was the excitement, how -terrible had been the suspense of the last few moments. - -Gently, cautiously, Clifford drew the still, little form toward him until -he could encircle it with his strong arm, and then he slowly retraced his -way along that slender stem. - -It was a perilous task, but the ropes were reached at last, and again he -paused to rest, while he bent a tender, anxious face over the inanimate -burden now clasped close to his breast, and placed a hand over the little -heart. - -He detected slight pulsations there, and gave a reassuring nod to those -who were keeping such anxious vigil above. - -At last he placed the child within the pouch which he had made of the -sheet, swung it gently around upon his back, and secured the loose -corners about his waist to prevent his burden from swaying away from his -body, and then he was ready for the ascent. - -Full one hundred feet he must climb that perpendicular strand with that -precious little form upon his back. - -Would he be able to accomplish the task? He did not presume to answer the -question as it flashed through his brain; he put the thought quickly away -from him almost before it had taken form. - -But his brave heart never faltered in his purpose as he resolutely -grasped the rope and lifted himself from the supporting maple. - -But who shall describe the agony of suspense that tortured the hearts -of those who were lying, face downward, upon the edge of the cliff, and -watching the struggle for life. - -Philip Wentworth could not endure it, and knowing that there was now -plenty of help upon the ground, he retreated, faint and sick, from his -position by the oak to the boulder where Gertrude was sitting, and waited -in speechless anguish for the end. - -Faithful John McQueen, who had been a worshiper at young Faxon’s shrine -from the first day of his appearance at the hotel, never once took his -eyes or his thoughts from the rope in his hands, or for a moment forgot -the important part he was playing in the tragic scene. - -Up, up, Clifford came, nearer and nearer toward the goal, and with every -foot of advancement the sustaining rope was shortened just so much, with -a firm and steady pull that was a source of continual encouragement and -support to the valiant hero. - -At length his right hand, now almost purple from his exertions, grasped -the last knot just below the edge of the cliff. - -This was the most critical moment of all, for the plateau shelved -outward, and it hardly seemed possible that the young man and his burden -could be drawn safely up over the brink. - -But willing hands and strong arms reached down and grasped him, while -John held his rope with an iron grip, and in another moment he was lifted -out of space and onto solid ground once more. - -His face was almost as purple as his hands, the veins upon his forehead -stood out in knots, his breath came in shrill, quivering pants between -his livid lips, and the moment he was relieved of his burden he sank -exhausted, well-nigh unconscious, upon the rug which Gertrude had dragged -forward to receive him. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -CLIFFORD MEETS WILLIAM TEMPLE. - - -Gertrude then held out her arms for Minnie, and the child was surrendered -to her. She had begun to show signs of returning animation; there was -already a little color in her lips, the heart was beating, the chest -heaving slightly, and ere long she opened her eyes to find herself gazing -straight into the familiar faces of her brother and friend. - -Gertrude smiled reassuringly, and, bending, kissed her fondly. - -“Oh!” breathed the child, with a convulsive shudder, “was it a dreadful -dream! Oh, Phil, did I fall?” - -“Never mind the dream, Minnie, dear,” returned the young man evasively. -“You are awake now, and we will go back to the hotel.” - -“But I am so tired, and I feel so queer,” gasped the little one, settling -back limp and white again in Gertrude’s arms. - -“Give her to me!” said Philip, in a tone of alarm. “I will carry her to -the hotel, and we must have a doctor immediately.” - -He gathered her up tenderly, and hastened away, his whole thought -centered upon her. - -But Gertrude, keenly anxious for Clifford, lingered and went to the spot -where he lay, with a pile of coats under his head for a pillow and weak -as a child, his breath coming in great gasps. She knelt down beside him, -an expression of deep reverence in her beautiful eyes. - -“I hope you are better,” she said gently. - -He looked up and smiled. - -“Oh, yes; I shall soon—be—all right,” he panted, and she could see how -his heart still throbbed and shook him from head to foot with its every -pulsation. “Those—last few feet—were—rather more than—I—had calculated -upon,” he added, after a moment. - -A look of infinite pity swept over the fair girl’s face, and, drawing -her perfumed handkerchief from her belt, she wiped the moisture from his -forehead and about his lips, which were still frightfully livid. - -“Cannot one of you get some water for him?” she inquired, glancing up at -those who were gathered around and apparently paralyzed into inactivity. - -“Yes—I would like—a glass—of water,” said Clifford trying to moisten his -dry lips. - -“You shall have it,” said Gertrude, leaping to her feet. “Come with me, -somebody, and I will send back a bottle of water.” - -She sped out of “The Glen” as if her feet had been winged, and was -closely followed by one of the waiters at the hotel. - -They soon overtook Philip, who was toiling up the hill with his burden, -and, telling him of her errand, Gertrude swept on past him without -pausing. On reaching the hotel she saw that a carafe was filled with -cold, fresh water, and, giving this to the man, she begged him to hurry -back with it with all possible speed. - -Then she turned her attention to Minnie, who was borne directly to her -room and put to bed, while Philip hastened after a physician. - -After a careful examination of the child the doctor said that she was -all right, excepting that the shock of the terrible fall had, perhaps, -unsettled her somewhat, but that rest and quiet would soon restore her to -her normal condition. - -This assurance was very comforting to both of the young people, who had -been extremely anxious regarding the child’s condition. - -As soon as the proprietor, Mr. Hamilton, learned what had happened he -sent a carriage to convey Clifford home, who, upon his arrival, was borne -directly to his own room, and told to remain there until he should be -fully recovered from the terrible strain which he had sustained. - -The whole household had learned the story of his exploit by this time, -and great wonder and admiration were expressed by every one in view of -his heroism and power of endurance, as they gathered upon the veranda -while he was being carried into the house. - -He was very glad to avail himself of his employer’s command to keep -his room until he felt perfectly able to resume his duties, for he was -anxious to escape the crowd and notoriety, while, too, he was fearfully -spent from the efforts which he had been obliged to make during the last -half of the steep ascent. - -There had been moments when, if only his own life had been at stake, -he would have felt that it was scarcely worth the terrible struggle he -was making. But the consciousness that the life of another depended upon -him—the responsibility which the presence of that innocent and beautiful -child entailed upon him—was undoubtedly the one spur which proved to be -the salvation of both. - -He did not lack for kind attention, for Mr. Hamilton and faithful John -McQueen could not seem to do enough for him, while Professor Harding -and his wife insisted upon taking turns in watching with him during -the night, to administer nourishment at stated times, and prevent the -necessity of his making any exertion for himself. - -He slept considerably, and was much refreshed the next morning, although -still weak and unable to rise, and it was thought best that he should -keep his bed for a few days. - -Late in the evening of the day of the accident Mr. Temple and his party -returned from their excursion, and were greatly excited upon learning -what had occurred, while they were also unspeakably grateful over the -fact that a terrible tragedy had been averted, and the idol of the -household had been spared to them. - -Gertrude was most enthusiastic and vivid in her description of the event, -while her admiration of Clifford and the manner in which he had conducted -himself was expressed in the highest terms. - -“I knew the moment when I first saw that young man that he was no -ordinary porter,” she observed, with glowing eyes. “He carries himself -like a nobleman—he has a remarkably fine face and figure, and he is -invariably courteous and gentlemanly, while if ever any one showed -himself a hero in the face of seeming impossibilities, he has done so -to-day. Don’t you agree with me, Mr. Wentworth?” she concluded, appealing -to Philip for confirmation of her assertions. - -“Y—es, he has really done a—a brave thing,” that young man felt compelled -to admit, but he did so in a decidedly half-hearted and unappreciative -manner, and with a flush of irritation at Gertrude’s high praise of one -whom he had long cordially disliked and regarded with secret jealousy. - -Miss Athol turned upon him with a look of astonishment. Her lips curled -slightly, and parted as if she were about to retort in a spirited manner, -but before she could voice her rebuke—whatever it may have been—Mr. -Temple inquired: - -“But who is he? What is the young man’s name?” - -Philip preserved an obstinate silence, and Mrs. Temple, who had never -happened to meet Clifford face to face during her visits to the hotel, -did not realize who they were talking about. So Gertrude continued to be -spokesman. - -“I really do not know his name,” she said. “He seems to be a kind of -upper porter about the house, and you must have seen him. I have heard -him called Cliff, which I have supposed to be his given name abbreviated; -what his surname may be I have not the slightest idea.” - -“And he is a fine fellow, I am very sure,” Judge Athol here interposed. -“A young man evidently above his present position, although he is very -unassuming. I have sometimes imagined that he might be some college -student taking advantage of the summer vacation to earn his tuition and -expenses for next year.” - -Still, in the face of all this and the incalculable debt that he owed -him, Philip Wentworth remained silent. He was conscious that it was -mean and churlish to withhold what information he could give regarding -Clifford Faxon; not to acknowledge in a manly fashion, that he was his -classmate, and give him due honor, not only for having proved himself to -be a noble and worthy young man during his first year at Harvard, but -also for having that day risked his life to save that of his young sister. - -But some spirit of perverseness held him mute, and even though he was -thankful from the depths of his heart for the safety of Minnie, whose -advent in the family had aroused all that was best in his nature, he -almost resented the fact that Clifford had been her savior. - -A singular grudge against Clifford had taken possession of him from -the moment of their first meeting, when Clifford had plainly shown him -that, even though he was poor and struggling against great odds for an -education, he, at least, was no menial, and not lacking in independence -and self-respect. - -The discovery that he had in his possession the costly cameo, which -Mollie Heatherford had declined to give him, together with his refusal to -tell how he came by it, and also the fact that he had recently come very -near being accountable for his life, all served to stir his anger and -jealousy and increase his animosity. - -It spoke but very little for the manliness of this would-be aristocrat -that he did not now, in the face of his great obligations to Clifford, -make an effort to crush out these feelings from his heart, confess the -injustice he had done him, and accord him due gratitude. But obstinacy -was not the least of his many faults, and he resolutely turned away from -the still, small voice which was pointing out the path of duty to him. - -“Well, whoever he is, I must see him, and make acknowledgment of the -immense debt we owe him,” Mr. Temple observed in reply to Judge Athol, -and with a very perceptible break in his voice, as his glance wandered to -the little form lying upon the bed in the adjoining room, now wrapped in -restful slumber. - -But it was, of course, too late that night to see Clifford, and he was -forced to wait until the morrow, when he drove over to the hotel directly -after breakfast to ascertain how his darling was, and to interview the -hero of the previous day. - -Miss Minnie was up and none the worse for her tragic experience of the -day before, but Clifford excused himself when Mr. Temple sent up his card -and requested an audience. He was still considerably under the weather, -and said he did not feel like talking about the ordeal through which he -had passed just at present, and so the gentleman was forced to curb his -impatience. - -He came every day to inquire for him, and to bring him delicacies of -various kinds to tempt his appetite; but it was not until the fourth -morning after the accident that he achieved the object of his visits. - -As his carriage drove to the door of the hotel on this occasion, Clifford -was sitting upon the piazza, and almost himself again, although still a -trifle weak. Little Minnie was with her father, and waved her dimpled -hand to Clifford the moment she espied him. - -Clifford smiled a welcome to the pretty child, and, rising, went forward -to greet her. The moment her father lifted her from the carriage she -bounded up the steps and sprang toward Clifford, seizing with both her -little hands the one he extended to her, and a strange thrill went -tingling along the young man’s nerves at her touch. - -He told himself that it was on account of the fearful experience which -they had shared, and that, because of it, a bond had been established -between them that would forever unite their hearts in a mutual interest -in each other. - -Mr. Temple followed his little daughter, his lips quivering visibly. - -“I am sure you must be the young man to whom we all, as a family, owe so -much,” he said, as he extended a trembling hand to Clifford. “Words are -tame. I have no power to adequately express what I feel, but if there is -anything on earth that I can do for you, you have but to make it known, -if it is attainable, it shall be done.” - -Clifford gazed into the clear-cut face of the man before him, and -somehow, in spite of the genuine emotion which he betrayed, he was -instantly repelled by him. - -“Thank you,” he returned, as he released the hand that he had taken, and -with the frank, genial smile which won almost every one, “you are very -kind, but, pray, believe me, the knowledge that Miss Minnie is safe and -well is reward enough for me.” - -“I do not doubt that, young man,” responded Mr. Temple, while he gazed -as if fascinated into Clifford’s clear, earnest eyes; “but that fact in -nowise lightens my sense of personal obligation. Let me do something -for you, my young friend. I have wealth and influence—let me give you -something out of my abundance—at least enough to lift you out of your -present position and start you handsomely in life.” - -Clifford flushed from various emotions. He could well understand the -man’s feelings. He knew it was only natural he should wish to make some -return, or tangible expression of gratitude for the rescue of his little -daughter from a horrible fate; he knew he would have felt the same had -the situation been reversed; but an unaccountable repugnance against -accepting pecuniary aid from this man for having saved the life of his -child and Philip Wentworth’s sister took possession of him. Besides this, -the feeling of affection which had been aroused in his heart for the -little one made him shrink sensitively from anything of the kind. - -“Thank you,” he said again, “but I could not accept money for what I have -done.” - -He spoke gently and courteously, but with a note of firmness in his -tones that warned his companion it would be useless to press the matter -further. - -A cloud of disappointment settled over Mr. Temple’s countenance, and a -sense of irritation, in view of being denied the privilege of canceling a -heavy obligation, made him suddenly compress his lips and avert his eyes. -He was all the more galled because of the inequality of their positions. - -Had Clifford been his equal in wealth and station he could have waived -the matter gracefully; he would have considered it an insult to offer -money to a man on the same plane of life with himself for such a deed, -but, as it was, he now felt a twofold obligation, and chafed against it. - -“I am afraid you are unduly proud, young man,” he observed, after a -moment of awkward silence. “I am told that you are an employee in this -hotel, and the natural inference would be that you have your own way to -make in the world. As a rule, most young men would not be averse to a -little help upward—to a good start in some lucrative business, or a plump -little nest-egg for the future.” - -Again Clifford flushed and he straightened himself a trifle. - -“No, sir, I am not proud—at least, not more so than is right, I think,” -he gravely responded. “What I did for Miss Minnie I would have done -just as readily for the poorest child in the village, and so, you -perceive, I could not accept a pecuniary reward from you and preserve my -self-respect. It is true that I am poor; that I am an employee in this -hotel for the summer for the purpose of earning money to help me through -college——” - -“College!” interposed Mr. Temple, in surprise. - -“Yes, sir; I have just completed my freshman year.” - -“Where?” - -“At Harvard, and——” - -“At Harvard!” repeated the gentleman, with a shock of astonishment and -dismay; “then you must have been in the same class with my stepson.” - -“Yes, sir; Mr. Wentworth and I were classmates,” was the quiet reply. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -PHILIP WENTWORTH’S PROPOSAL. - - -This was something of a facer to the banker, as he recalled the events of -the evening following the rescue of Minnie, when Philip had remained so -persistently silent regarding any knowledge of the hero of the day. - -He colored and frowned with mingled perplexity and annoyance. He could -not quite understand why his stepson should have been so averse to -telling what he knew about him; still, he was not blind to his faults. -He knew that he was excessively proud; he knew, too, that in disposition -he was jealous, and he reasoned, possibly Miss Athol’s enthusiastic -praises had aroused his ire and obstinacy, and that was why he would -not acknowledge an acquaintance with him. It did not occur to him that -they might have quarreled at college. At the same time, even if they -had, he would have felt ashamed of such an ignoble spirit, in view of -the magnitude of the obligation they were all under, and the almost -unexampled exploit which Clifford had achieved, and which was worthy of -the highest honor that could be paid him. - -He knew, of course, that Philip must have recognized him, and there -was no excuse for the contemptible silence which he had maintained; -but, considering the relationship which they sustained to each other, -he could not with dignity pursue that point farther, and so he wisely -concluded to ignore it. - -“Well, well,” he said, assuming an approving tone, “you are certainly -very enterprising, and, really, I—it seems to me that you might at least -allow me to make the remainder of your course a trifle easier for you; in -fact, give me the privilege of putting you through college.” - -This offer was surely a temptation to Clifford, and for a moment the -vision of having no further care during the next three years except that -of acquitting himself creditably in his studies was very alluring. But -almost immediately there came a violent revulsion of feeling, and he -scorned himself for having entertained it even momentarily. He lifted -his head, which had been bowed in reflection, and looked his companion -frankly in the eye, and replied with quiet dignity, yet appreciatively: - -“Thank you, sir; you are very good to suggest it, but I am doing very -well. I have a scholarship for next year, and that will be a great help -to me. I also have some money in the bank, and with my summer earnings I -shall be able to meet all my expenses.” - -“You are incorrigible,” said Mr. Temple, smiling, although a frown at the -same time contracted his brow, for he was greatly nettled over not being -able to carry his point. “However, you will at least tell me your name, -for I shall watch your future career with no little interest.” - -“Thank you, sir; my name is Clifford Faxon.” - -“Clifford Faxon,” the man repeated, in a peculiar tone, and as if he was -trying to remember when and where he had heard the name before. - -Then he stooped suddenly and drew his little daughter, who was still -clinging to Clifford’s hand, toward him, and lifted her in his arm, -hugging her close against his heart with a movement that was almost -convulsive, while our hero observed that he had grown white as the -child’s dress. - -“Well, Mr. Faxon,” he said in a brisk tone the next moment, “you surely -have good courage, and I wish you all success in life. Are—may I -inquire—are your parents living?” - -“No, sir; my mother died nearly five years ago, and my father I never -saw,” Clifford returned, although he faltered slightly over the statement -regarding his father. - -He was extremely sensitive over the uncertain fate of his father, and -also in view of the uncertain relations that had existed between him and -his mother. - -Mrs. Faxon, while she would never talk about her husband, had never said -outright that he was dead, but what little she had said had led Clifford -to infer that such was the case. Ever since he had been old enough to -reason for himself he had surmised that there was some mystery connected -with him, and he had been sure of it after Squire Talford had flung at -him those exasperating hints and sarcasms. - -“Ah! that means, I suppose, that he died before you were born,” Mr. -Temple observed, with his eyes fastened upon the fair little face -resting upon his breast; “but”—as Clifford did not reply to the -observation—“have you no relatives? Pardon me if I seem inquisitive,” -he interposed, glancing curiously at the young man’s grave face, “but, -after what happened the other day, I cannot fail to experience a personal -interest in you.” - -Clifford hesitated a moment before replying. Then he said in a somewhat -reserved tone: - -“No—I have no relatives that I know of. My mother was alone in the world, -and supported herself and me by teaching as long as she was able to work.” - -“And have you been shifting for yourself ever since she died?” queried -his companion. - -“Yes, sir, in a way. I was bound to a man by the name of Talford, who -lives in Cedar Hill, Connecticut, for four years, until I went to -college.” - -“Ah-a! bound, were you? Who bound you to him?” - -“My mother,” Clifford replied, beginning to grow restive beneath this -catechising. - -The man might feel an interest in him, but he thought he was carrying it -rather too far in thus prying into his personal history, while he always -chafed when his mind reverted to that contract with the squire. - -He had never been disturbed in this way until the man had revealed to -him the bitter hatred which he had entertained for his father, and he -could never understand how his mother, if she had been conscious of this -enmity, could have consigned him to his care, or, rather, his tyranny; it -had been a blind problem to him for more than a year. - -“Was the man good to you?” Mr. Temple inquired, after a moment of -silence, during which he had been studying the young man’s face with a -strangely intent look. - -“No; he was a cruel tyrant,” Clifford returned, with tightly compressed -lips and clouded eyes, as his thoughts flashed back over those four -weary years. “He made a slave of me—he hated and abused me for some -unaccountable reason. But if I live I will yet show him that his hated -and despised bound boy was capable of becoming, at the very least, his -equal,” he concluded, with blazing eyes. - -Then he colored with mingled confusion and annoyance that he should -have given vent to such an outburst. He had very rarely lost control of -himself like this, and he mentally took himself to task very severely for -it. - -He looked up to find Mr. Temple regarding him steadfastly, and with an -expression that affected him strangely, it was so singularly penetrating -and intense. The man started as he met his eyes. Then he observed in a -preoccupied tone: - -“I am sure you will; I am sure you will. Well”—with a little shake, as -if recalling himself to the present—“as I have said before, I wish you -all success in life, and remember, if at any time you should need a—need -help in any way, you will not fail to get it if you will apply to me. My -business address is No. —— State street, Boston.” - -“Thank you, Mr. Temple,” Clifford replied, and then, as another carriage -drove to the door, he bowed and left the gentleman to attend to the new -arrivals. - -William Temple turned away and went slowly down the steps to his own -equipage, hugging his child to him with an intensity that was almost -fierce. - -“Minnie! Minnie! Oh, my darling!” he murmured, with quivering lips and a -look in his eyes that was positively wild. - -“Why, papa, what is the matter with you?” questioned the child in a -wondering tone, while she softly patted his cheek with one plump little -hand. - -“Nothing, dear,” he replied, capturing the hand and kissing it -passionately. “I was only thinking.” - -“What were you thinking, papa?” - -He bent a half-dazed look upon her sweet face. - -“Oh, I was thinking what if—what I should do without you,” he returned -unsteadily. - -“Oh!” said Minnie, with an air of perplexity; “but that needn’t make you -feel bad, for you don’t need to do without me—the nice gentleman brought -me back to you, you know.” - -The man folded her to him convulsively again with a suppressed groan. - -“No, thank Heaven! I have you still,” he murmured, with his lips against -her cheek; “and—and the world would be a blank to me without you.” - -He placed her tenderly upon the seat of the carriage; then, entering -himself, ordered the coachman to return to his hotel; but all the way -back he seemed to be absorbed in thought, and barely heeded the prattle -of the little one beside him. - -The following morning the family—all save Philip—left for Saratoga. -The young man did not seem disposed to accompany them. He said he did -not care for the races, and, besides, he had some notion of joining a -fishing-party to Maine. - -So he remained behind, but instead of accompanying the fishermen to Maine -he lingered, and continued to pay court to Gertrude Athol. - -Possibly he might not have been so persistent in his attentions to her -had he not been piqued by the young lady’s manner toward him of late. -Ever since the day of Minnie’s accident she had been decidedly cool, not -to say scornful, in her bearing when in his presence. His lack of courage -and his total inefficiency at “The Glen,” together with his ingratitude -and pretended ignorance of all knowledge of Clifford, had aroused her -contempt and indignation, and, even though she had secretly learned to -love him, and had been led to infer that he also loved her, she was so -bitterly disappointed in him, she found it very difficult to forgive and -treat him cordially. - -Several times when he called she excused herself from receiving him on -plea of being “engaged” which so galled the proud young gentleman that he -secretly vowed that he would yet gain her favor again, “just to conquer -her, if for no other reason.” - -Three successive days after his mother, stepfather, and sister left for -Saratoga, he called and received the same message in every instance. -Then he employed strategy to achieve his purpose; watched the house to -ascertain when she went out for a stroll, and followed her. - -Her resort was under the shadow of a great rock on the mountain, about -quarter of a mile back of the hotel, and when he came upon her, although -she appeared to be reading, he saw that there were traces of tears upon -her cheeks. She greeted him with studied coldness, and yet her heart had -given a great bound of mingled joy and pain at his appearance. - -“Ah! I have found you at last,” Philip observed, in a reproachful tone, -but with a gleam of triumph in his eyes. “You have been cruel to me, Miss -Athol. Please tell me wherein I have sinned, and allow me to atone, if -atonement is possible.” - -“I am not aware that Mr. Wentworth has been accused of any especial sin, -unless, indeed, his own conscience has turned accuser,” Gertrude replied, -with icy formality. - -Philip colored consciously. - -“You need not try to evade me in any such way,” he said; “you certainly -are cherishing something against me, for, even though you have not voiced -it, your looks and acts are more audible than words. Now tell me of what -I am guilty.” - -Gertrude regarded him steadily for a moment. - -“Well,” she said at last frankly, “I confess I have been wholly unable to -understand or account for your conduct of last Tuesday.” - -“Ah! please explain; how was I so unfortunate as to displease you on that -occasion? To what, especially, do you refer?” Philip gravely inquired, -while he ventured to seat himself beside her, although her manner was not -particularly inviting. - -“Why, to your utter indifference, apparently, to the heroism of Mr. -Faxon in saving the life of your sister. Your strange silence when Mr. -Temple was making inquiries regarding him, and the fact that you have -utterly ignored the young man ever since when you should be eager to show -him every possible honor for the unexampled deed of self-sacrifice which -he performed. Why, if it had been my sister whom he had saved, I should -have been eager to thank him on my knees and crown him for his wonderful -courage.” - -Philip Wentworth gave vent to a scornful laugh at this. - -“Fancy,” he said, with a sneer; “just fancy me going down on my knees to -Clifford Faxon, the drudge and window-washer of Beck Hall at Harvard!” - -“What!” exclaimed Gertrude, turning to him with a start, “you don’t mean -to say that you knew him before you came here!” - -Philip instantly regretted having committed himself to such an admission; -but he had spoken impulsively and under a sense of irritation. - -“I can’t say that I claim him as an acquaintance,” he sarcastically -returned, “even though we were in the same class last year.” - -“A classmate!” cried Gertrude, with significant emphasis and heightened -color. - -“Y-e-es,” her companion somewhat reluctantly admitted, “though why such -poverty-stricken devils as he will persist in going to college, I can’t -imagine.” - -“Can’t you, indeed?” retorted Miss Athol, with curling lips and flashing -eye. “Really, Mr. Wentworth, do you fondly imagine that all the good -things of earth are attainable only by those who happen to have been -born with the proverbial spoon in their mouths? And you have known this -young man all the time, and have pretended you did not!” she went on -indignantly. “You have turned your back upon him, so to speak, refusing -to accord him a single manifestation of gratitude for the incalculable -debt which you owe him, or even admit to others that he has done a -praiseworthy act.” - -“Jove! Miss Athol, but you are hard on a fellow!” Philip here burst -forth, and having changed color half a dozen times during her spirited -speech. - -“Hard! I? I should say that is a term that would better apply to -yourself,” she retorted. “Why, it seems to me that you are perfectly -callous. I admire Mr. Faxon. He is a gentleman, in spite of his poverty -and the menial position which he occupies, and certainly he is no coward. -I honor him for his determination to get an education, even though he is -willing to become a ‘drudge’ to obtain it, and I, for one, shall always -be proud to claim him as an acquaintance.” - -It would be difficulty to describe the conflict of emotions that raged -within Philip Wentworth’s breast as he listened to the above brave and -spirited defense of the man he hated; but it only acted as a spur to -goad him on to achieve his purpose, and make a complete conquest of the -fearless girl who had so nobly constituted herself Clifford Faxon’s -champion. - -He leaned suddenly forward, and boldly grasped her hands, which were -lying idly in her lap. - -“Miss Athol—Gertrude,” he began, in tones that shook with the passion -that possessed him, “after what you have just said, I suppose it would -better become me to slink out of your sight and hide my head, but I -cannot. In spite of all, I am going to tell you that I love you madly, -devotedly, and that I am even presumptuous enough to hope that I may -yet win you for my wife. Perhaps, my darling, I may be a ‘coward’; -no doubt Faxon, whom you so affect to admire, is worth a dozen such -useless fellows as I, who am, unfortunately, an heir to the ‘proverbial -spoon.’ But I can’t help it, though I am humiliated beyond expression -by your scorn, and I will do anything in reason to atone for my seeming -ingratitude, or whatever you may choose to call it, if only you will -forgive me; smile on me once more; tell me that you will try to love me, -and will some day marry me.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -A REVELATION. - - -Philip Wentworth, when he began his impulsive declaration, had no more -intention of making her a definite proposal of marriage than he had of -hanging himself. It had been, and still was, his one aim in life to marry -Mollie Heatherford, just as soon as his college course was completed. - -Mr. Heatherford was numbered among New York’s richest men, and, as Mollie -was his only child, Philip was looking forward to the handling of her -magnificent inheritance, “when the old man should pass in his checks,” as -he was wont to express it to himself. - -The moment he stood committed to Miss Athol he could almost have bitten -his tongue out with mingled anger and chagrin. He had simply been amusing -himself in seeking her society, and making love to her something after -the fashion of the story which they had read and discussed in “The -Glen” on the day of Minnie’s accident, but, even though he saw he was -winning the girl’s heart, he had never intended carrying the affair to a -point-blank offer of marriage. - -But egotism, vanity, and obstinacy were the strongest characteristics -of his nature, and when Gertrude had so dauntlessly turned upon him, -expressing her contempt for his conduct in no measured terms, and so -fearlessly manifesting her admiration for, and espousing the cause -of, Clifford Faxon, he had been goaded to jealous fury beyond all -self-control, and a rash determination to conquer her and make her -confess her love for him had taken possession of him. But instead of -entangling her helplessly in his net, he had unthinkingly fallen into his -own trap. - -Gertrude was startled, to say the least, with the turn the conversation -had taken. She had been conscious for some time that Philip Wentworth -held a very warm place in her heart. He was handsome and brilliant, and -had made himself attractive to her by those thousand and one flattering -little attentions which render men captivating in the eyes of women. - -But at heart she was a noble and most conscientious girl, and she had -been bitterly disappointed upon discovering such weak and despicable -traits in the character of her admirer as Philip had manifested, and the -suffering which this had caused had carried her beyond herself, and thus -she had given vent to the scorn that has been described. - -But a sudden revulsion of feeling had come when he confessed his -affection for her, and appealed so humbly, apparently, for her -forgiveness, and she began to feel that it would not be so very difficult -to pardon him and influence him to nobler sentiments, and, womanlike, she -at once began to reproach herself for her harsh judgment of him. - -“Why,” she exclaimed, with crimson cheeks and averted eyes when he paused -for her reply to his suit, “you have literally taken my breath away, Mr. -Wentworth.” - -“And what have you done to me, I should like to know?” he retorted, as he -shot her a roguish look, while he lifted one of her hands and imprinted a -deferential caress upon it. “You have just flayed me alive, figuratively -speaking.” - -“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I am afraid I have said more than I ought.” - -“Ah! but the sting lies in the fact that you could have thought such hard -things of me,” Philip replied, in a tone of tender reproach. “Still,” he -continued, drawing her gently toward him, “if you will only forgive the -sinner and try to help make him a better man in the future, all that will -be wiped out. Dearest, you can mold me to your own sweet will. I know -that I am full of faults, but I am also your willing slave, eager to be -led where you will. Gertrude, command me and love me, and no one was ever -more tractable than I will be.” - -Little by little he had drawn her toward him while he was speaking, until -he had slipped his arms around her unresisting form, and she lay upon his -breast, all her scorn, contempt, and indignation merged and swallowed up -in her all-absorbing love for him. - -It was very easy to forgive such an earnest pleader, and she told herself -that one so ready to confess his faults would be easily reformed, and she -was not averse to undertaking the task. - -“Darling, you do love me; you will be mine?” he pleaded, in a tender -whisper, with his lips close to her glowing cheek. - -“Yes, Phil, I am forced to confess that I do love you,” Gertrude replied, -in low, tremulous tones. - -“And you are mine—you give yourself to me,” he persisted. - -“Yes, dear, when the proper times comes—when you have completed your -college course and are ready for me.” - -A wave of triumph swept over the young man’s features. He had won his -cause, he had gained his point, and that was the most he cared for. - -It mattered little to him that he was desecrating holy ground in winning -the love of this pure and lofty-minded girl. His own future he had marked -out for himself, and if Mollie Heatherford returned safe and sound from -Europe, and with her fortune intact, he had not the remotest idea of -redeeming his troth to Gertrude Athol. He was simply fooling her to the -top of his bent, for the sake of conquest and the want of something more -to occupy his time. - -How he was to get out of the scrape he had so unwittingly got into he did -not know; but he did not trouble himself about that just then—he would -find a way when the right time came. Meanwhile he would enjoy the present -and let the future adjust itself. - -So, the two were pledged—at least, so Gertrude understood their -relations. But they agreed among themselves that they would preserve the -matter a secret until Phil should be through college. It was sufficient, -the fair girl said, with a trustfulness worthy of a better return, to -know that they belonged to each other, and there would be time enough for -their friends and the world to know it when their plans were more mature. - -That same day by the evening post there came to Philip Wentworth a dainty -missive from across the water, and it was full of entertaining incident -and charming descriptions, and bore at the end the signature of Mollie -Heatherford. - -“By Jove!” the young man exclaimed, with an amused laugh, after he -had read the epistle, “this is getting to be highly entertaining—one -lady-love in Europe whose thought centers upon me; another here who -firmly believes her life to be bound up in mine, and vice versa. Mollie, -however, is but a child as yet, and hardly the companion I crave just at -present. Gertrude is more to my mind for the time being. She is lovely, -bright, and charming, and delightful company, so I will enjoy her society -while I may.” - -Such were the spirit and reflections of this vain and pleasure-seeking -egotist, in whom selfishness was the mainspring of life. - -The Athols remained at the mountains only a few days longer, as they had -promised to visit some friends living upon the Hudson, while Philip, now -that his object had been accomplished, had consented to give up his trip -to Maine, and rejoin his mother at Saratoga. - -But before their separation Philip—to keep up the farce he was -playing—had slipped upon Gertrude’s finger a costly diamond. - -“I did not have it marked,” he explained, “because of our agreement to -keep our own counsel, but that can easily be done later,” and she, having -the utmost confidence in him, was content. - -Before her departure Gertrude sought an opportunity to have a little talk -with Clifford. She found him, on the morning of the day she was going to -leave, on the upper veranda of the hotel, where he was repairing a broken -blind. - -“You are always busy, Mr. Faxon,” she observed, with a cordial smile, as -she seated herself in a rocker near him. - -“Yes, Miss Athol,” the young man respectfully replied, as he removed his -hat and tossed it upon the floor; “to be busy is a condition inevitable -to my position, you know.” - -This was said without the slightest evidence of self-consciousness, or of -false pride because of the necessity which obliged him to occupy a humble -position. - -Gertrude watched him in silence for several minutes, admiring his fine, -stalwart figure, his easy bearing, and feeling an additional respect for -him because he did not pause in his work on account of her presence, and -the fact that she had opened a conversation with him. - -“I believe you love to work—you always appear to be absorbed in whatever -you are doing,” she remarked, at length. - -Clifford turned a smiling glance upon her, and she was impressed more -than she ever had been before with the frank and genial expression of his -face and the depth and earnestness of his clear brown eyes. - -“Thank you,” he said. “I am sure that is a tribute worth winning. Yes, I -do love to work—that is, I love to do well whatever I have to do.” - -“That is certainly a most commendable spirit,” replied the girl, a -slight shadow falling over her face as she thought of the aimless, -pleasure-loving life that her lover was in the habit of leading—drifting -with the tide, culling whatever was agreeable that was within his reach, -and seduously avoiding everything that required personal effort, or -anything of a self-sacrificing nature. “And I dare say,” she added, “you -do your studying with the same cheerfulness and energy. I understand you -are a Harvard student.” - -Clifford colored a trifle, and wondered why she should be so interested -in what concerned him. - -“Yes,” he replied, after a slight pause, and with a thrill of feeling -in his tones that betrayed more than his words, “I love to study; but, -perhaps”—with a light laugh—“my interest in my present occupation is not -prompted so much by a genuine love for it as for the privileges I expect -to secure by means of it during the coming year.” - -“I think you need not have qualified your previous statement, Mr. -Faxon,” Gertrude gravely remarked, as she watched the shapely hand that -was dexterously manipulating the screw-driver; “or, if it required any -qualification at all, I should say that something higher than a mere -liking or love for your work prompts you in whatever you do.” - -Again Clifford turned a smiling look to her, and the light in his eyes -thrilled her strangely. - -“Can one be actuated by a higher motive than love?” he questioned. - -“Well, I suppose not,” she thoughtfully responded, “and yet I have always -regarded duty, or a conscientious desire to do what is exactly right, as -a pretty high motive.” - -“But what governs conscience?” inquired Clifford. - -“God,” said Gertrude gravely. - -“Yes, and God is—love,” was the quick, earnest response. “So love -fulfills all law, moral as well as civil. Don’t you see that one must -have a love for truth and justice in order to obey the dictates of -conscience and feel a desire to do what is exactly right?” - -“But conscience might sometimes prompt one to do that which would be very -disagreeable. My duty to my neighbor or mankind in general might require -something of me that I would absolutely hate to do,” Miss Athol argued. -“Where would love come in in that case?” - -“Yet it would be the very highest type of love that would lead one to -obey such a demand of conscience or duty,” Clifford replied, his earnest -eyes meeting hers; “it would be love for the principle of right-doing.” - -“That seems almost paradoxical, doesn’t it, Mr. Faxon?” said Gertrude, -smiling, “that one could love to do what one absolutely hated to do?” - -“But the love of the principle that would incite one to adhere to that -which was right and just would bring results which would annihilate or -make one lose sight of the hatred, and so, after all, it would be love -alone that would be the mainspring of the act,” Clifford returned, in a -quiet, matter-of-fact tone, which plainly indicated that he was wont to -argue along this line, and had settled some knotty problems for himself -according to this rule. - -“Yes, you are right,” Gertrude remarked, after a moment of thoughtful -silence, while Clifford, having completed his work, gathered up his tools -and arose to go about other business. - -She arose, also, and went nearer to him. - -“I thank you, Mr. Faxon,” she continued, “for having revealed to me -what the highest type of love is; it is, indeed, as you have said, ‘a -principle,’ and not a mere sentiment, and if the world were governed by -it, according to your interpretation, we should make rapid strides toward -the millennium. But, really,” she interposed, with a silvery laugh, “I -had no idea we should have such a grave discussion. We have, almost -unconsciously, wandered quite deeply into a metaphysical argument, and I -have had something of a revelation.” - -“A revelation?” Clifford repeated inquiringly. - -“Yes; I have learned that love, according to the common acceptation of -the term, is a synonym for selfishness; that is, that human affection, -when actuated simply by personal attachment, is a selfish love. But, -according to your higher interpretation of the word, it is a divine -principle. Is not this a revelation?” - -“Yes, and you are very receptive to have grasped it so readily,” Clifford -replied, while he regarded her expressive face earnestly. - -“I am going away after lunch,” Gertrude continued, smiling up at him, -“but I shall not forget our little chat of this morning; it has done me -good, and, let me add, you have been very kind to us all since we have -been here. I am glad to have known you, and I hope we shall meet again -some time.” - -She frankly extended her jeweled hand to him as she concluded, and her -beautiful eyes held something like an expression of reverence in them as -they swept the fine face before her. He took her hand in the same spirit -of friendliness that it was offered. - -“Thank you, Miss Athol,” he said, “it will certainly give me great -pleasure if I am ever so fortunate as to have my path cross yours again -in the future.” - -He bowed courteously to her as he concluded, then turned and quietly left -the veranda. - -Gertrude Athol’s sweet face was very grave as she stood where he left -her, and thought over their recent conversation. - -“‘An upstart,’ the ‘window-washer and drudge of Beck Hall,’” she -repeated, under her breath and with clouded eyes. “Why, there is the -stamp of true royalty on every feature of his grand face! He is the -truest gentleman, in every sense of the word, that I have ever met. I am -sure he is a man with a wonderful career before him, and he is certainly -one of whose acquaintance I shall ever be proud. I wonder——” - -What she wondered she did not frame in words, but she lifted her left -hand and gazed at the ring which she had worn less than three days, with -a look which held in it something of anxiety and doubt. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER. - - -The Athols left the hotel that afternoon. Philip Wentworth disappeared -from the town the following morning, and no incidents of importance in -connection with Clifford occurred during the remainder of the season, -throughout which he continued to do honest and faithful work for his -employer, and thus commended himself to every guest of the house. - -Indeed, he proved himself so efficient, so courteous, and obliging under -all circumstances, that Mr. Hamilton, who had conceived a feeling of -friendship for him, made arrangements with him to return to him the -following year, and under much more favorable conditions. - -Meantime the Temples were well launched upon the topmost wave of social -popularity in Saratoga. They had taken one of the most luxurious suites -in the Grand Union Hotel, where Miss Minnie had her white-capped and -white-aproned nurse, Mrs. Temple her maid, and Mr. Temple his valet. - -No equipage was more stylish or elegant, no horses more spirited or -better bred, no coachman or footman in finer liveries than those of this -wealthy gentleman, who registered as a citizen of Boston, but who, it was -rumored, had made the bulk of his fortune in the mines of Colorado and -California, and who, it was also stated upon good authority, had twice -been mayor of San Francisco, and might have been governor of the State, -if he had chosen. What more did one need to become popular? - -His handsome and cultivated wife was no less conspicuous, for no one was -more charming in manner; no one wore richer or more tasteful costumes or -finer jewels than she. Her husband was very fond and proud of her, and -they were frequently referred to as “an ideal couple.” He loved to see -her arrayed in silks, satins, laces, and rare gems; he doted upon having -Minnie clad in the finest and daintiest of garments, and was never in a -happier frame of mind than when, seated in his carriage with these, his -two idols, he could roll about the country and note the admiring glances -bestowed upon them. - -He realized that it was a weak point; that it bordered upon vulgarity to -be so proud of his wealth, and to love display to such an extent; but -he had not been a millionaire so very long, and he had not yet outgrown -the sense of exultation which had attended the lucky find that had so -suddenly lifted him out of the depths of poverty to the very pinnacle of -luxury and success. - -Less than a score of years ago this distinguished gentleman, now figuring -as “William Temple, banker and broker,” had been a penniless adventurer, -although he fondly believed that this portion of his history was buried -in utter oblivion for all time. - -One chill, dreary night, in early spring, cold, hungry, and with scarce -clothing to cover him respectably, he had wandered into a small -mining-town of the far West. The proprietors of a rude hostelry had given -him a scant supper, and allowed him to sleep in the adjoining stable. The -next morning he had let himself to a carpenter, and for several weeks -followed this trade, earning a couple of dollars a day. - -Then one Sunday he, in company with another carpenter, made a trip to a -mining-camp higher up among the mountains. The following morning they -gave their notice to their employer, and, a week later, with picks, -shovels, and a few supplies, started out on a prospecting tour. - -Just one month from that time the hungry, destitute man, who a few -short weeks previous had been wandering aimlessly about eking out an -insufficient existence, stuck “pay-gravel” and—his fortune was made. - -Two years afterward he made another lucky find in a California mine, and -gold poured in upon him in a perfect flood. - -Four years later, upon an imposing building in a busy street of San -Francisco, might have been seen in heavy gilt letters, the legend: -“William Temple, Banker,” while behind the glass doors of his private -office the man sat for a few hours of every day to keep an eye upon the -corps of efficient workers who managed his princely business. - -There was little resemblance in the stately, distinguished, richly clad -gentleman to the hungry, poverty-stricken carpenter and miner of a few -years previous. - -During the early years of his life he had acquired a good education, -and thus, when wealth turned her tide upon him, it was no difficult -matter, with careful reading, attention to the rules of etiquette and the -accessories of broadcloth and fine linen, to make a good appearance and -gain a foothold in society. - -Not very long after establishing himself in San Francisco and attaining -a position among the élite, he met the beautiful and accomplished widow, -Mrs. Wentworth, from New York, who, with her son, a lad of about ten -years, was visiting some friends in the city. - -They were mutually attracted toward each other from the first, and, -after a brief courtship of three months, they were married and set up a -magnificent establishment on “Nob Hill,” and became at once prominent -among the leaders of society. - -The following year Mr. Temple, having become interested in politics, and -ambitious to attain to even greater heights, was elected mayor of the -city, and served in that capacity for two years. - -Then Mrs. Temple, becoming anxious to have her boy fitted for Harvard, -where his own father had been educated, and also beginning to yearn for -the East, which had always been her home, entreated her husband to retire -from business, rest upon the laurels he had won, cross the continent, and -locate in some convenient suburb of Boston, where Philip could have the -advantages which she craved for him. - -At first he appeared somewhat reluctant to do this, for he had been -interviewed and asked if he would accept a nomination for governor of -the State; but he had become very fond of his stepson, for whom he -also desired the best privileges the country afforded, and he finally -yielded the point, and a few months later found the family located upon a -beautiful estate in Brookline, Massachusetts, where—glowing accounts of -their wealth and prestige having preceded them—they were warmly received -among the élite of that aristocratic town, and also of cultured Boston. - -Mrs. Temple’s first husband had been a classmate and close friend of Mr. -Heatherford, of New York, and the families had always been in the habit -of exchanging frequent visits previous to Mr. Wentworth’s death, and Mrs. -Wentworth’s going West. But the intimacy, thus for a time interrupted, -was resumed when they returned East, and located in Brookline, and then -Philip and Mollie Heatherford had renewed the friendship of their early -childhood, when they had played “keep house” together in a picturesque -tent which Mr. Heatherford had caused to be erected beneath the shadows -of two magnificent elms, that grew upon the lawn of his fine estate -on the banks of the Hudson, and where they—the one thoughtlessly, the -other with something of avarice and intrigue manifesting itself even -then—agreed that when they should grow up they would “marry each other -and really keep house together.” - -Two years after the Temples located in Brookline, and when Philip was -fourteen years of age, Minnie Temple came like a sunbeam into their home, -and from the hour of her birth, the entire household, the servants not -excepted, worshiped at her shrine. - -Philip Wentworth had always been a selfish, exacting boy, but now the -one redeeming trait of his nature showed itself in the tender love which -he manifested for his little sister. - -She was Mr. Temple’s idol, and he was in the habit of spending more -hours in the nursery than in any other portion of the house. It was -an oft-repeated joke of his wife’s to tell him that it was useless -extravagance to keep a nurse, since he was more devoted and reliable, and -achieved better results than any incumbent of the position they had ever -had. - -Before going in town to his business in the morning he would invariably -visit the nursery to take a reluctant farewell of his darling, while his -first act upon his return was to personally ascertain how she was and how -she had fared during his absence. - -He was extremely fond of Phil, also; was always kind to him, and lavish -in everything where money was necessary, even though the young man had -inherited a handsome fortune from his own father, but the sweet little -girl was part and parcel of his very existence. - -He had seemed like one suddenly stricken with mortal illness when he had -first learned of the terrible fate that had menaced her, the day she had -fallen over the cliff, at the mountains. For many hours he had seemed -stripped of all strength, and his face was of the hue of death, while for -days afterward he would not allow her out of his sight—scarcely out of -his arms. - -“What should I have done!—I could not live without her,” he had said, -with pale lips and tones that quavered, like those of an old man with -the intensity of his emotions. - -“Will, I shall certainly be jealous of my own child if you go on like -this,” his wife had said in playful reproof, but secretly startled to -see him so completely unnerved. - -“But, dear,” he had smilingly returned, and making an effort at -self-control, “life would be a blank to me without either of you.” - -But, even as he said it, he had hugged his child convulsively to his -breast, and the almost involuntary act was more significant than words. - -But as time passed the horror of that experience wore off, life resumed -its rosy hue, and seemed to promise only harmonious conditions for the -future, with his wealth and position assured as he firmly believed, and -thus he flourished, spent his money with lavish hand, lived only in the -present, and—worshiped his idols. - -They had been in Saratoga only a short time when business of an urgent -nature demanded Mr. Temple’s presence in New York City. He was quite -disturbed by the call, and tried to persuade his wife to take Minnie and -her nurse and accompany him, even though he was going to be gone only a -couple of days at the longest. - -Mrs. Temple regarded him with astonishment at the request. - -“Positively, Will, I cannot,” she objected. “You know the ball at -Congress Hall—the finest affair of the season, I am told it will be—is to -come off Thursday night, and if I should go with you and try to get back -for that I should be fagged out; besides, you know, there is some change -which must be made in my costume before I can wear it, and the dressmaker -is coming to-morrow morning.” - -“True, I did not think of the ball when I spoke,” Mr. Temple admitted, -but with a look of disappointment sweeping over his face. - -He could not for a moment think of having her give up the ball, and he -was equally anxious to attend it, for he had insisted upon having her -order a magnificent costume, and had also had some jewels reset for her -to wear upon the occasion. After all this lavish preparation, he knew it -would be foolish to miss the affair, and simply to gratify a mere whim of -his own. - -Consequently he was obliged to go alone, although he made his -arrangements for his trip with an unaccountable sense of reluctance and -uneasiness. - -He made the trip to New York in safety, transacted his business in a most -satisfactory manner, and set out upon his return highly elated—several -hours earlier than he had anticipated, his traveling-bag stuffed with -toys and goodies for Minnie, some dainty and expensive trifles for his -wife, and a set of diamond studs and sleeve-buttons which Phil had long -coveted, and which he knew would be most acceptable, in view of the -coming ball. - -As soon as the train started he settled himself comfortably in his -compartment, donned his traveling-cap, and was soon absorbed in his -newspaper. - -He read for an hour or more, and then started for the smoking-car. As he -stepped inside of it and was in the act of closing the door behind him, -he observed a man in the second seat on the left half-start to his feet -and regard him with scowling intentness. - -For a moment it seemed to William Temple that a hundred-pound -sledge-hammer had crushed down upon his heart and brain. His strength -suddenly forsook him, and it seemed as if he could not move another inch -if his life depended upon it, while a blur came before his eyes. - -But it was only for an instant. The next, his glance shot ahead, as if he -was intent only upon finding a seat for himself, and he moved on, to all -appearance, utterly oblivious of the fact that he had attracted special -attention, or had himself observed any one whom he had ever known. - -But he had not taken three steps when a brawny hand gripped his arm. He -drew himself haughtily erect at the familiar act, and, turning, faced, -with a stare of well-assumed surprise, the man who had presumed thus to -detain him. - -“Well, sir; what is it? What can I do for you?” he coldly inquired, but -with an air of high-bred courtesy which had become habitual with him -since he had known “better days.” - -“Ha! ha!” ejaculated the individual whom he had addressed, and with an -air of scornful amusement, “you do the high-and-mighty very well, but do -you imagine for a moment that I don’t know you, Bill——” - -But a hand was laid over his mouth before he could pronounce the name -he was about to voice, and it was instantly smothered in indistinct -muttering that made it unintelligible. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -A LIFELONG ENEMY. - - -“Hush! for God’s sake, don’t air your knowledge before all the world.” - -William Temple fairly hissed these words as he stooped and brought -his lips on a level with the ear of his companion, while his face was -absolutely colorless. - -“Humph!” observed the other, as he roughly put away the hand from his -mouth, “then it seems that I have at last jogged your memory sufficiently -to make you willing to acknowledge a previous acquaintance.” - -“I should have supposed that you would not be very anxious to renew an -acquaintance with one whom you once bitterly repudiated,” Mr. Temple -retorted acrimoniously, while a spot of angry red settled upon either -cheek. - -“Humph! it is one thing to repudiate—it is another to be ignored,” was -the grim response. “Where have you been all these years? What are you -doing now? Come, sit down here and give an account of yourself,” and the -man moved along, making room for him in the seat he was occupying, for he -had no companion. - -“Really, sir, I am not aware that I am accountable to you for my -movements, either in the past or present,” haughtily returned Mr. -Temple, and regarding the face before him with a malignant look, while -he mentally cursed himself in no measured terms for having come into the -smoker. - -“No—possibly you are not accountable to me,” was the sarcastic rejoinder; -“at the same time, you might find it to your interest not to carry too -high a head with me.” - -William Temple shot a swift, searching glance into the steely eyes -regarding him, and grew white again with mingled anger and fear. The -other, observing it, smiled knowingly. - -“Sit down! Sit down!” he said authoritatively, and patting the cushion -with his strong, brawny hand; and, as if powerless to disobey, the -haughty banker sank down beside him. - -“Light a cigar if you want to smoke,” the man continued, as he glanced -at the costly case in his companion’s hand, “it may serve to quiet your -nerves after the start they’ve had. I have my pipe here.” - -“Thank you; but I will smoke later,” said the banker, as he slipped his -case into a pocket, while he waited with a set and rigid face for what -might follow. - -His companion smiled again, and coolly looked him over, from the silk -traveling-cap upon his head to the fine, highly polished shoes upon his -feet. - -“Ahem! you look as if the world had used you pretty well,” he remarked -laconically, at length. - -“Yes, I have made some money during the last few years,” was the brief -but rather complacent reply, while a gleam of evil triumph leaped into -his eyes as he now observed, for the first time, the rather shabby duster -that lay over the back of the seat in front of him, and the well-worn -grip underneath it. - -“Where did you make your money?” - -“Some of it in Colorado—some in California.” - -“Humph! Been quite a traveler, haven’t you? Been in the mining business, -I suppose.” - -“Yes; part of the time.” - -“And the rest?” - -“Taking my ease.” - -“Really! You must have struck it rich?” - -“Rather.” - -“What have you on the docket at the present time?” - -“I’ve just come from New York. I’m going to——” - -“Saratoga, perhaps, for the races,” supplemented the stranger, as Mr. -Temple suddenly cut himself short, and he caught the startled flash in -his eyes. - -“To Albany,” Mr. Temple added, as he began to revolve a certain plan in -his mind, in case he found the man by his side was going beyond there. - -“Well, you at least haven’t forgotten how to keep your own counsel, -Bill,” his companion remarked, with a note of irritation in his tone. -Then he added with a malicious leer: “Any interest to hear about the old -folks and——” - -“No!” emphatically interposed Mr. Temple, with an impatient frown. - -“All dead—every one.” - -“I know it.” - -“Oh, you do! Who’s been keeping you posted?” - -“I’ve read the papers.” - -“Then you know, perhaps, how the property was left; but you couldn’t have -expected anything else, taking all things into consideration,” and the -stranger searched the banker’s face with keen, avaricious eyes. - -“Oh, you need not be disturbed. I shall never put in any claim. You are -welcome to every penny of it, as far as I am concerned,” responded Mr. -Temple, with galling contempt. - -“Well, now, prosperity seems to have made you surprisingly generous; but -your magnanimity is all lost, for everything was made so tight that you -couldn’t get a penny if you should try,” snapped the man, but his face -had cleared at the other’s assurance, nevertheless. “Pity,” he continued -tauntingly, “you couldn’t have been a little more square in the old days -about some other matters.” - -Mr. Temple turned upon him with a fierce though low-toned imprecation. - -“You’d better let sleeping dogs lie,” he continued between his tightly -closed teeth, and his eyes glowed with a savage light. His companion -appeared to rather enjoy the effect which his words had produced, for he -chuckled audibly. - -“Well, Bill, wherever you may have been and whatever you may have been up -to all these years, one thing is sure—you haven’t lost your hot temper. -But where are you living now? Are you married, and have you a family?” - -“Those are matters which do not concern you in the least,” was the cold -reply. “Our paths diverged years ago, and I hoped at that time that they -would never cross again. Let me advise you to go your own way, and I will -go mine; mind your own affairs, and don’t presume to pry into mine—if you -do, I swear I will spare nothing to crush you. I am rich and powerful, -and I can do it. I will, too, I tell you, if you meddle with me.” - -He had risen from his seat while speaking, and, as he concluded, he -turned abruptly and swung himself out of the car without even a backward -look. - -He carried himself proudly erect until he was out of the sight of his -enemy; then his haughty head dropped, his step faltered, and he groped -his way back to his section like one who had suddenly been stricken -partially blind, and with an overwhelming sense of weakness. - -“Heavens!” he breathed, as he sank into his seat and wiped the moisture -from his white face, “to think, of all the people in the world, I should -have happened to run across him. Where on earth can he be going? Not to -Saratoga, I most devoutly hope. Ha!” with a violent start, “he used to be -tremendously fond of horses, and perhaps he is bound to Saratoga for the -races. I don’t know of anything else that would be likely to take him so -far from home. Oh! if I had not been in such a hurry to get back! If I -had only waited for the next train!” he concluded, with a despairing sigh. - -While he was absorbed in these painful thoughts the train stopped at a -station. At first he paid no attention to the circumstances, but after a -minute he glanced from the window, and saw his enemy walking the platform -outside. - -“Ah-a! he is watching for me—watching to see where I get off,” he -muttered angrily. “But”—with sudden animation as some novel thought -seemed to strike him—“I’ll lead him a dance that he will not soon forget. -The next station is Albany. I will get off there. He will doubtless -follow me to ascertain what my next move will be; but, by a little -maneuvering, I can easily outwit him, and then catch the next express for -Saratoga, which will leave Albany in about two hours.” - -Accordingly, as the train drew near Albany, he began to gather up his -belongings, and as the train pulled into Albany station he was standing -on the steps ready to alight. - -At the same moment his enemy hove in sight. Without appearing to pay the -slightest attention to him, Mr. Temple deliberately walked inside the -station. He was closely followed, and aware of the fact. Passing through -and out upon the other side, he signaled a carriage. - -“I wish to go to 257 —— Street,” he informed the cabman, who instantly -responded to his call. - -“Yes, sir; take you there in less than twenty minutes, sir,” and the next -moment he was rolling along toward the street he had named. - -Arriving at 257 —— Street, which proved to be the office of a prominent -Albany lawyer, with whom Mr. Temple had some acquaintance, he ordered the -cabman to wait, and, entering the building, inquired for the gentleman. - -He was told he was out, and might not be in for some time. Mr. Temple -said he would wait, and, seating himself, took up a newspaper to pass the -time away. - -More than an hour elapsed before the lawyer came, when his visitor -informed him that, as he was passing through the city and had a little -time to spare, he thought he would improve it by making him a friendly -call. - -They chatted socially for half an hour or so, when Mr. Temple bade him -good day and returned to the station. - -Five minutes later he met his pursuer face to face on the platform. The -Saratoga train was due to start in about ten minutes. Fifteen minutes -after that a train was scheduled to return to New York. - -Presently Mr. Temple repaired to the ticket-office. He was immediately -followed thither by the one who was shadowing him. - -“A ticket for New York, please,” he said to the agent. - -A minute later the bit of pasteboard and the change were in his hands, -when he turned abruptly to find a blank look of disappointment had -overspread the face of the man at his elbow. - -“Well, is your—curiosity satisfied at last?” he demanded, with a sneer. -“I told you I was coming to Albany. I have transacted my business here, -and now I have bought my ticket back to New York. Come on, if you want -to keep this thing up, and I’ll give you a good time at that kind of -racket.” - -The stranger flushed crimson, and his eyes blazed with anger at the -taunting tone of his enemy. - -“Do you live in New York?” he demanded. - -“That is a matter which I will leave you to ascertain for yourself, Mr. -Paul Pry,” said Mr. Temple, with a contemptuous laugh, as he turned his -back on the man with an insolent air. - -The stranger darted to his side. - -“You and I will have a long account to settle one of these days,” he said -menacingly, and then, putting his lips close to his ears, he whispered -something that instantly blanched Mr. Temple’s face. - -“I don’t believe it,” he said, with stiffening lips and a look of horror -in his eyes. - -“It is the truth—I swear it—I can prove it,” was the fierce retort, and -then, without waiting for a reply, he strode for the Saratoga train that -was waiting and almost ready to start. - -“I thought so,” muttered Mr. Temple, as he watched him board it. “He is -going to Saratoga for the races, and the very devil will be to pay if he -should see me there with Nell and Minnie. What am I going to do to avoid -such a catastrophe?” - -At first he thought he would not rejoin his family at all, so great was -his dread of again encountering the man from whom he had just parted. - -He was tempted to telegraph his wife that he was unavoidably detained; -that unforeseen business would not permit him to return to Saratoga, and -it would be necessary for them all to go home at once; that she must -come on immediately after the ball. - -Then he feared that his telegram might alarm her, and cause her to worry -and fear something had gone wrong with him; this would spoil the ball for -her; he would miss seeing her in her new gown and jewels—an event which -he had looked forward to with almost as much interest as she herself; -while his heart yearned mightily for his child, and the thought of not -being able to see her for several days longer was unbearable. - -While he was standing there disconsolate and revolving these things in -his mind, and feeling that he could not endure to see the train move on -its way, his restless glance settled upon a placard that had been placed -upon the wall near the ticket-office. - -With a start and a thrill of exultation he read the board, which had the -following notice upon it: - -“A special car will leave Albany for Saratoga at 6:30 P. M.” - -He went immediately to the ticket-office and inquired more particularly -regarding the matter. The agent informed him that “the extra” had been -put on for the superintendent and some other high officials of the -road, who were going to Saratoga to attend a ball that was to be given -at Congress Hall that evening; that the notice had been posted so that -others, if they wished, might avail themselves of the arrangement. - -Mr. Temple grasped at the chance like the drowning man at the proverbial -straw, and, finding that his ticket would be good for the special, at -once felt as if a mountain had been removed from his heart. - -Fearing, however, that his wife might be anxious over his non-appearance -on the regular train, he sought the telegraph-office, and sent her the -following message: - - “Am unavoidably detained here. Will leave on special two hours - later. Have maids pack for Boston—must return to-morrow. - - “W. F. T.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -CLIFFORD VISITS AN OLD FRIEND. - - -It was quite late in the evening when Mr. Temple arrived in Saratoga -and rejoined his wife. She was already arrayed for the ball, and was -certainly a magnificent-looking woman. - -Her costume was composed of white satin, combined with garnet velvet and -rare point-lace. A tiara of diamonds flashed its dazzling gleams above -the coils of her rich brown hair. A necklace of the same gems encircled -her white neck, while other ornaments of unique designs and great value -adorned her corsage. - -“Well, Nell, you are a stunner!” was her husband’s admiring comment, -after exchanging greetings with her. “You usually do ‘take the -cake’—excuse the slang—but to-night you really outshine everything in the -past.” - -“Thank you, Will, I’m glad you are pleased; but, dear, don’t stop to -compliment me—dress as quickly as you can or we shall be late for the -opening march,” Mrs. Temple responded, with an appreciative smile, but -with a note of impatience in her tones. - -“I wish you would let me off, Nell—I really do,” said Mr. Temple -appealingly. “I am tired and dusty after my long ride, and haven’t an -atom of enthusiasm for the affair. Let Phil act as your escort, and I -will have a bath, a quiet smoke, then go to bed, for we must get away as -early as possible to-morrow.” - -His wife turned and regarded him curiously, observing for the first time -the worried expression in his eyes. - -“What detained you so to-night?” she inquired; “and why this hurried -flitting?—why must we return to Boston to-morrow?” - -“Oh, business, of course,” said her husband, as he turned away from her -searching gaze, ostensibly to unstrap his grip, but in reality to conceal -the pallor which he felt was creeping into his face; “an affair that -has been hanging fire for some time, and has now, unfortunately for our -outing here, reached a climax.” - -“Can’t you go and settle it, and then return for us? Will it take long?” -queried his wife thoughtfully. - -“So long, dear, that I could not think of being separated from either you -or Minnie,” returned Mr. Temple, as he came again to her side and took -her tenderly into his arms. “Of course,” he continued regretfully, “I am -awfully sorry to take you away while you are enjoying yourself so much, -but really it seems unavoidable as things stand.” - -“Oh, never mind, Will,” she responded cheerfully, and meeting his lips -with an answering caress; “my enjoyment here would be spoiled without -you, and the trunks are already half-packed. I set the girls about it as -soon as I received your telegram; and, of course, I know it must also be -a disappointment to you to miss the races.” - -“Nell, you are a jewel,” said the man appreciatively, and greatly -relieved by the readiness with which she yielded to his plans; “and now -are you going to let me off for this evening?” - -“Let you off, indeed!” she retorted, with pretended indignation. “Why, -Will, I never heard of anything so absurd. Here you have spent no end -of money—to say nothing of my own efforts—to get me up in this superb -style, and now you do not care to come with me to see how I will shine -among other brilliant social stars at this most magnificent affair of the -season. Phil is well enough and a most attentive escort, but I shall not -appear at Congress Hall to-night without my husband. Come, Will,” she -added, laying her white arms around his neck with a coaxing air, “I know -you are tired, but you really must come—at least, to take me in and dance -once or twice with me; then, if you want to come back and go to bed I -shall not mind so much.” - -The man sighed, but made no further objection. But he was oppressed with -a terrible fear that he might run against his enemy if he should leave -his hotel, and he would rather lose half his fortune than that he should -ever set eyes on his beautiful wife or learn anything in connection with -his domestic affairs, and he inwardly cursed the luck that had caused -their paths to cross that day. - -He knew that, to a certain extent, he was in this man’s power—that he -could ruin his whole future if he chose, and he had not the slightest -doubt that he would choose if the opportunity offered; hence his eager -desire to get his family away from Saratoga before he could gain any -information regarding them. - -But, of course, all this involved secrets of the past which he could not -explain to his wife, and he was consequently obliged to resign himself to -the inevitable and yield the point under discussion. - -Accordingly, less than an hour later the wealthy banker and his -resplendent wife made their appearance at Congress Hall, where they -were by no means the least conspicuous among the brilliant company that -thronged its spacious ballroom. - -But a heavier heart could not have been found beating in the breast of -any human being than that of William Temple, in spite of his millions, -and the seemingly enviable position which he occupied in the world. - -He found himself anxiously watching every face, in search of the one he -so much dreaded, and yet he well knew that the man was not likely to -frequent fashionable assemblages like the present. He would be far more -likely to be found in the smoking-room at a third-rate hotel, discussing -the pros and cons of the various noted horses that were booked for the -forthcoming races. - -Yet one could never tell what might happen, for curiosity, pure and -simple, might prompt him to look in upon that brilliant scene, and the -bare possibility of being seen by him with his wife upon his arm gave him -a chill that actually set his teeth chattering; for in such a case he -knew it would be a very easy matter for him to make inquiries, learn the -name he was now living under, where he was stopping, and the place of his -residence. - -But he managed to conceal his uneasiness from his wife and Phil, and -was, as usual, punctiliously observant of all the demands of etiquette -until it was proper for Mrs. Temple to release him and accept the -attentions of others. - -Then he heaved a long sigh of relief, and drifted into an obscure corner -of the ballroom, whence he only emerged whenever it became absolutely -necessary for him to do so. - -Shortly after supper, however, Mrs. Temple, who realized that her husband -was not himself, though she attributed his condition wholly to excessive -weariness, considerately signified her readiness to retire, and they -returned to their hotel. - -The next morning found all, save Phil, on their way to Boston, and that -same evening back in their own palatial home in Brookline. - -But it was some weeks before William Temple could breathe with his -accustomed freedom, and he still found himself watching faces in the -street with a vague fear in his heart that the one which he dreaded most -of any in the world would suddenly confront him with the malicious leer -which it had worn when the man had whispered those few blighting words in -his ear as they stood together in the station at Albany. - -This nervousness wore away after a time, however, and he gradually -resumed his usual pursuits with his accustomed vigor and enthusiasm. - -Nothing of special interest occurred in connection with the various -characters of our story during the three succeeding years, unless we -mention the fact that Clifford never abated one iota of his zeal during -this time, and won a scholarship every year, acquitting himself in such -a manly fashion in every department, and bearing himself so genially -toward every one, that he thereby gained the admiration and friendship of -classmates and professors alike. - -Each summer vacation found him at the same mountain-house, where he -earned a snug little sum, which was a great help to him in pursuing his -college course. - -The Christmas holidays and other recesses were spent with his friend, -Professor Harding, and his family, who had removed to Springfield, -Massachusetts, where the professor had secured the position of -superintendent of schools. - -Once every year Clifford had paid a flying visit to Cedar Hill, and -called upon his old friend, Maria Kimberly, who was still housekeeper -for Squire Talford. He was in no wise disappointed upon these occasions -because he did not meet the squire, who, if he happened to be in the -house, never showed himself; but Maria invariably greeted him with a -beaming face and eyes full of happy tears. - -“What a gentleman you have grown, to be sure!” she remarked admiringly -during one of those calls after their greetings were over. - -“Thank you, Maria,” Clifford retorted, with a gleam of mischief in his -handsome brown eyes, “but, really, I am in some doubt whether to accept -that as a compliment or not, for I always tried to be a gentleman.” - -“Oh, get out! You know I didn’t mean that, Clifford,” the woman returned, -and flushed. “Of course, you were always a gentleman. With such a mother -as you had you couldn’t have been anything else. I only meant that you’ve -got a spruce look about you that you didn’t have when you lived here—how -could you, when you wasn’t allowed a decent thing to wear!” - -“I understand,” said Clifford, reassuringly; “but”—willing to do the -squire justice—“my freedom suit was a pretty good one.” - -“Yes—it was,” Maria laconically observed, with an audible chuckle, while -her square shoulders shook with suppressed mirth. - -The squire had never quite gotten over the mistake (?) about Clifford’s -freedom suit, and never saw Tom, the milk-driver, wearing the shoddy -clothes that had been made for himself without becoming secretly enraged -and giving expression to muttered remarks that were more emphatic than -elegant. - -At the time of this last call of Clifford’s, which occurred during -a short recess of his senior year, the man had gone to New Haven on -business, and Maria kept him talking so busily that she did not realize -how rapidly the time was passing until a glance at the clock made her -start and suddenly cut herself short. - -“My!” she exclaimed, “here it is most five o’clock, and you must have -some supper before you go.” - -She was bound that he should partake of her hospitality, and yet she did -not want the two to meet, for she was sure the squire would make the -young man uncomfortable. - -Clifford urged her not to trouble herself, saying he would get his -supper in New Haven before returning to Springfield. - -“Well, I guess not!” she returned, with considerable spirit. “If Maria -Kimberly can’t give her friends a bite now and then when they take the -pains to come to see her, she’ll clear out and let somebody else keep -house here.” - -Clifford saw that she would be hurt if he refused, therefore he allowed -her to have her way. She tied a spotless apron around her ample waist and -flew about the kitchen, mixing some of her delicious, old-time biscuit, -but keeping up a stream of conversation all the while, and in less than -half an hour had a dainty supper, of everything that she knew Clifford -liked best, laid out in the most tempting manner before her guest. - -“I have never enjoyed a meal like this since I went away from the shadow -of your hospitable wing, Maria,” he told her, as he finished his second -cup of tea, “and I haven’t forgotten that you have promised to come to -live with me when I am able to set up an establishment of my own.” - -The woman shot him a delightful look in return for his praise and his -reference to that “promise,” though she said, with an independent toss of -her head: - -“I can assure you you wouldn’t have been allowed to forget it, and I’m -comin’ just as sure as my name is Maria Kimberly.” - -“What!” cried Clifford, in mock consternation, but with a merry twinkle -in his eyes, “is there any danger of your changing it?” - -“Get along, you rogue! You know there isn’t,” she retorted, with a -giggle, and growing crimson at the imputation; “but I don’t care how -soon you get somebody to change her name for yours and set up that -establishment.” - -“You don’t mean that you are ready to desert the squire, do you?” the -young man inquired. - -“Well, the squire don’t grow amiable as he grows older—he’s been -crosser’n usual the last two years, and he hain’t never found a boy to -suit him since you went away,” said Maria confidentially. - -Clifford did not care to discuss the man’s disposition with her, and he -adroitly turned the subject by inquiring: - -“Maria, how would you like to come to Cambridge when I take my degree -next June?” - -“Do you mean it?” she demanded eagerly. - -“I should not invite you if I did not mean it,” he gravely replied. - -“Of course you wouldn’t—you never was a hypocrite, I’ll say that for you, -and—and I’d just love to come,” the woman observed, with tears in her -eyes. “I declare! I should just be too proud for anything!” - -“Well, then, I will see that you have your invitation in good season,” -said Clifford, deeply touched by her appreciation of the small attention. - -Maria thanked him, and then, rising, he said he must go. He left a -courteous message for Squire Talford; then, bidding her good-by, went -away, but leaving a ray of sunshine in the lonely woman’s heart which -warmed and cheered her for many a long month. - -The squire merely grunted when, upon his return, she informed him of -Clifford’s visit, but she could see that he was deeply interested in her -account of him—what he had said, and how he had looked. - -The remaining months of the year sped very swiftly for Clifford, many -days seeming all too short, for he was working very diligently and -perseveringly. - -But the examinations were over at last, and he found that he had won the -second honor in his class. - -It was a proud moment for him when he was informed that the salutatory -oration would be expected from him, while many of his classmates rejoiced -with him. - -“He has earned it, if anybody ever earned anything,” his friend Rogers -observed when the honors were awarded; “he is a splendid fellow, and I am -downright glad for him.” - -Philip Wentworth just managed to pull through, and probably would have -been perfectly satisfied with the knowledge that he would receive his -degree had not all his old hatred been aroused and his jealousy stirred -upon learning of Clifford’s achievement, and the interest which the whole -class was manifesting in him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -THE SQUIRE RECEIVES A SHOCK. - - -Maria Kimberly was made very proud and happy one morning upon Squire -Talford’s return from the post-office by the reception of the -long-promised invitation to attend the commencement exercises at Harvard. - -With a beaming face she read it through several times, handling it with -great care lest she should mar the satin-smooth paper by a single wrinkle -or blemish. - -Then with an air of pride, as if some great personal honor had been -conferred upon her—as, indeed, she felt there had been—she carried it to -the squire, who was in his customary seat upon the veranda reading his -morning paper. - -“There!” she exclaimed triumphantly, “I always knew that boy’d come out -at the top of the heap!” - -“What boy?” inquired the man, without a suspicion that she was referring -to Clifford, while he held out his hand for the heavy cream-tinted sheet -which she was regarding so fondly. - -“Read and see for yourself,” said Maria, with a satisfied smile, as she -left it with him and went back to her work in the kitchen, while she -began to con over in her mind the necessary preparations she would have -to make for the important event. - -“If I’m goin’, I’m goin’ in shipshape,” she asserted, with an air of -decision. “For one thing, I’ll have that new black silk that I’ve be’n -savin’ up for, for the last five years, and I’ll just ask Alice Eldridge -to tell me how to have it made, and what I need to go with it.” - -Alice Eldridge, by the way, was the minister’s daughter, a pretty, -refined girl, and noted in Cedar Hill for her excellent taste. - -While Maria was planning for this most important event, Squire Talford, -having carefully read the communication which she had handed to him, -sat with bowed head and clouded brow, absorbed in thought, while it was -evident that his reflections were not of a very pleasing nature. - -“Humph!” he finally ejaculated, “that proud-spirited youngster has proved -himself smart, and no mistake! So he has won the salutatory! I never -believed he’d get through—and he has worked his own way mostly! I confess -I’m a trifle curious to know how he’ll acquit himself as an orator. I’ve -half a mind to drop down to Cambridge on the sly and see what he can do; -he’d never be able to pick me out in the crowd.” - -He was somewhat taken aback, however, when, upon handing back the -invitation and inquiring, with a sarcastic inflection, if she intended to -“honor the occasion with her presence,” Maria spiritedly informed him: - -“Of course I’m goin’. You don’t suppose I’d stay away, much as I think -of that boy, and ’specially when he hasn’t either kith or kin to show a -bit of interest in him on the proudest day of his life. And, squire”—with -a little settling of her determined chin—“I’m goin’ to New Haven to do -some shoppin’, and I’d like to be paid up to date, if you please.” - -“Very well,” said the man shortly, and with a frown, for it always hurt -him sorely to pay out any of his money unless it was for his own needs or -gratification. - -And Maria did go to New Haven the following week, carrying a well-filled -purse with her, and accompanied by Alice Eldridge, who was to assist in -the selection of the gown and other fixings that were to do honor to the -“proudest day of Clifford’s life.” - -And the result of this expedition was most gratifying, for, when the -kind-hearted and happy woman presented her at Cambridge on the morning -of Commencement Day, and which was almost as great an event to her as -to Clifford, she astonished the young man by a most genteel and quietly -fashionable appearance. - -Her really nice black silk was made in the prevailing style, fitted her -nicely, and, with some “real lace” ruffles at the neck and wrists, was -very becoming. - -Her black lace bonnet, with its nice ties and a few modest sprays of -mignonette, had been made by a New Haven milliner, who evidently knew -her business and studied effects, while a pretty handkerchief of linen -lawn, also bordered with “real lace,” and a pair of well-fitting, -pearl-gray kid gloves—all selected under the careful supervision of Miss -Eldridge—completed a tout ensemble that was very gratifying. - -“Why, Maria, how very, very nice you look!” Clifford exclaimed, with -beaming eyes, as he warmly grasped her hand, after assisting her to -alight from the carriage which he had sent to her lodging-house to convey -her to the college. - -“I’m glad you like it,” she quietly returned, but bestowing a shy glance -of satisfaction upon the lustrous folds of her gown as she spoke. - -“Like it! why, I am proud of you!” Clifford responded, with a sincerity -that sent a warm thrill through the woman’s heart and a bright spot of -color to either cheek. - -Mrs. Kimberly, being conscious, in a measure, of shortcomings in her use -of the English language, preserved a discreet silence for the most part, -except when she was alone with Clifford, and thus did not once offend his -sensitive ears in the presence of his friends. - -He found her a good seat where she could both hear and see well, and was -then obliged to leave her by herself until the exercises should be over. - -A few moments later a tall, spare, gray-haired man might have been seen -slipping into the auditorium, where he sought an obscure corner, and -appeared as if he was desirous of escaping observation. He was Squire -Talford. - -Maria had left New Haven on the two-forty-five train for Boston, the day -previous, and he had followed her on the five o’clock express. - -It was his intention to steal in just in season to hear Clifford’s -oration, then out again as soon as it was delivered, so that no one might -know of his surreptitious trip. He missed his calculations, although -he was not aware of the fact, for Clifford’s keen eyes had espied -him, almost immediately after he took his own seat upon the platform, -and instantly he knew that the man, actuated by curiosity, had come to -ascertain how he would acquit himself in the trying ordeal before him. - -It was really the best thing that could have happened for Clifford, for -it at once inspired him with a sense of absolute self-possession and the -determination to do himself honor. - -“He has come to criticize me,” was his mental comment, “and now I will -prove what I once told him—that I would some time win honor and respect -for the name I bear.” - -A great calm settled over him, although until that moment he had been -conscious of a feeling of nervousness in view of facing that great -audience, and when he at length arose and went forward, there was not a -quiver of even a muscle—he lost all thought of fear in the determination -to prove to the man who had once expressed the utmost contempt for him, -that he had conquered every obstacle, and attained the goal he had sought. - -And even this motive was soon swallowed up in his all-absorbing theme, -which he handled with remarkable skill and originality. His production -not only showed careful research and a thorough knowledge of his subject, -but sound logic, clear and brilliant reasoning, and the power to gain and -hold the attention of his audience by his graceful diction, and a fluency -that was absolutely irresistible. - -His presence also was a great point in his favor, for he certainly -was a fine appearing young man. He had grown some inches during the -last four years; his figure had developed, and he was now strong and -stalwart; broad-shouldered and straight as an arrow, while one could not -look into his frank, honest, intelligent face without at once becoming -conscious that the character of the young orator was as manly, clean, and -attractive as his person. - -When the exercises were over nothing was to be seen of the squire, and -Clifford made no attempt to find him. He judged that the man did not -care to meet him, or he would not have sought so obscure a place in the -auditorium. He felt sure that he had been impelled to come to Harvard -only by motives of curiosity and criticism, therefore he immediately -sought Maria, as soon as he was at liberty, and devoted himself -exclusively to her entertainment. - -He conducted her over the beautiful grounds, and through some of the -dormitories, to let her see how college students lived, and finally took -her to the University Museum to see the wonderful “glass flowers” and the -valuable geological and zoological collections. - -There was not time to show her all that he would have liked her to see, -for she insisted that she must return on a certain train, for the next -day was “churning day, and the cream must not be neglected.” - -Clifford accompanied her to the station, and saw her comfortably settled -in a parlor-car—for Maria, who had determined to do nothing by halves on -this great occasion, already had the ticket for her seat—then sat and -chatted with her for the little time that remained before the train would -start. - -“What are you goin’ to do now you’re through college?” Maria inquired, -after she had thanked him for the pleasure he had given her, and told him -how proud she was of the distinction he had won. - -“Oh, I have not made up my mind yet what I shall settle down to for a -permanent business,” Clifford thoughtfully responded. “You know I have my -own way to make in the world, the same as I have had to do in order to -get through my course; and, as yet, there has seemed to be no promising -opening for me, although I have had my eye out for some time. I have done -pretty well, however, during the last three summers, with Mr. Hamilton at -his mountain hotel.” - -“Yes, I know; but—I hope you ain’t goin’ to settle down to keep a hotel -after spendin’ four long years gettin’ your education, and comin’ out at -the top of the heap,” said Maria, with visible anxiety. - -Clifford laughed at the characteristic speech. - -“I assure you, Maria, there are some well-educated men who have made a -great success at keeping hotel,” he said. “But I do not think that I -should be quite satisfied with that kind of a life. At the same time, I -am going back to Mr. Hamilton for this summer also, since nothing better -has offered. He is contemplating opening a fine new house in Washington -in the fall, and I have agreed to go with him and act as clerk until I -can find something more to my mind. I must do something, you know, to -keep even with the world until the right thing offers.” - -“Well,” said Maria gravely, after a minute of thoughtful silence, “I’ve -saved up some money, and if ever you need a few hundred to give you a -lift, you’re more’n welcome to them.” - -Clifford was deeply touched by this evidence of her regard for him. He -flushed, and a suspicious moisture gathered in his eyes as he returned a -trifle huskily: - -“You were always good to me, Maria, during my boyhood, and I have always -felt more grateful to you than I could ever express, and now this kind -offer is in keeping with all your previous kindness. But, my friend, I am -not in need of any financial help just at present.” - -“Well, but if you ever should—I haven’t a soul in the world to care for, -or who feels any special interest in me—if ever you do need it you’ll -take it, won’t you, Clifford?” said the woman eagerly. - -“Yes, Maria,” he answered gently, and seeing she would be deeply wounded -if he refused, “if I ever find myself in a strait where it becomes -necessary for me to borrow, I will come to you for help, and, believe me, -I shall never forget your goodness in offering it. But there is the bell, -and I must go, or I shall soon find myself on the way to New Haven with -you,” he smilingly concluded, as he arose to leave. - -“I’m sure ’twouldn’t be the worst cross I’ve ever had to bear if you -did,” said the woman, trying to speak lightly, but with an unmistakable -quaver in her tones. - -“I can’t inflict it upon you this time,” the young man returned in the -same strain, as he extended his hand to her in farewell, and, after -promising that he would write her from time to time regarding his -movements, he hurried from the train. - -It was nearly midnight when Maria Kimberly reached home, where she -found the squire still up and quietly reading his evening paper by the -student-lamp in the dining-room. - -He had arrived from his stolen trip only about an hour previous. He -merely glanced up as Maria came in and expressed her surprise at finding -him up so late; but he asked no questions regarding her journey, and she -was determined to volunteer no information. - -She had not a suspicion that he, also, had attended the commencement at -Harvard, for Clifford, surmising that she knew nothing of his presence, -and feeling sure that the man did not wish it known, had kept his own -counsel. - -But Squire Talford, although he imagined that he had been so shrewd -in his movements that neither Clifford nor his housekeeper would ever -learn where he had been that day, had, nevertheless, had an unexpected -experience which had given him quite a shaking up in a way. - -As he was hurrying away from the college grounds to catch an electric-car -to take him to the railway-station, he suddenly came upon a group of -people standing upon the sidewalk beside an elegant carriage to which a -magnificent pair of black horses in silver-mounted harness were attached, -and attended by a driver and coachman in handsome livery. - -The group comprised a middle-aged gentleman of distinguished appearance, -a beautiful woman richly clad, a lovely child of eight or nine years, and -a young man of about twenty-two or twenty-three. - -“Oh, papa, please take me to see the birds,” the squire heard the child -say in a pleading tone. “You know, you promised me that you would.” - -“Yes, Minnie, darling, I did; but mama says there will not be time -to-day. You know we are expecting guests, and she must get home to -receive them,” the gentleman replied, while he fondly patted the small -hand that rested upon his arm. - -“But I want to see them so much,” said the child, with quivering lips. - -“And you shall, dear. I will come again with you to-morrow morning, and -that is the very best that I can do,” her father returned. - -“Ah! pardon me,” he added politely, as he found he was standing in the -way of some one who wished to pass. “Ha——!” - -The startled exclamation burst from him, and was echoed by Squire Talford -as the two men found themselves face to face and recognized each other. - -They stood for a full minute and gazed, as if fascinated, into each -other’s eyes, the squire’s face growing gray and rigid as he looked, his -lips twitching convulsively from some violent, inward emotion. - -“Pardon me,” he finally observed, and pulling himself together with a -visible effort. Then, with a sweeping glance at the other faces of the -group, he lifted his hat and walked briskly away down the street. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -MOLLIE HEATHERFORD RETURNS. - - -“Why, Will! who was that man?” inquired Mrs. Temple in a tone of -surprise, as she turned to observe the retreating form of Squire Talford -after the encounter described in the last chapter. - -“I cannot tell you, dear,” replied her husband, in the quietest and -calmest of tones. - -“But how strangely he appeared! He acted as if he knew you!” persisted -the lady, and still gazing after the man. - -“Yes, he did,” her husband admitted, with apparently the utmost -composure; “he evidently mistook me for some one else. Now, shall we -go?” he concluded, turning toward the carriage, but gnawing his under -lip nervously, for it had required all the force of his will to control -himself during the recent encounter with one whom, in his youth, he had -deeply wronged, and whom, as a natural consequence, he had most cordially -hated ever since. He assisted his wife into the carriage with the same -loverlike attention which he had always shown her, then lightly swung his -little daughter in after her. - -“You are not coming with us, you said, Phil,” he observed, as with one -foot on the step he turned to address the young man. - -“No, I cannot. I have an engagement which will detain me for a couple of -hours; but I will try to get home in time for dinner,” Philip replied. - -“Yes, do, Phil,” said his mother earnestly, “it would seem very remiss -if you should be absent on the first evening of the Heatherfords’ visit; -it almost seems as if you ought to come with us and be there to welcome -them.” - -“But I really cannot,” Philip responded, with a slight frown; “they have -chosen an unfortunate day for their arrival, and I am sure they will -excuse it if I am not there to greet them. You can explain, and I will -certainly be in season for dinner.” - -Mrs. Temple appeared to be satisfied with this assurance, and the -carriage drove away, while Philip slowly wended his way back into the -college grounds, and with a very thoughtful air. He had never for a -moment wavered in his determination to marry Mollie Heatherford and her -“magnificent fortune”; but, through his selfish love of pleasure and his -constant pursuit of amusement, he now found himself disagreeably hampered -in some ways, which might, if they should become known, interfere with -his interests and plans in connection with Miss Heatherford. He had kept -up a correspondence with her during her absence abroad, although Mollie’s -letters had been tantalizingly irregular, and far from being of as tender -a nature as he desired; nevertheless, he had, from time to time, referred -to their old-time betrothal with an assurance which indicated that he, at -least, regarded it as binding and definite. - -At the same time he had not scrupled to keep up a desperate flirtation -with several other pretty girls, to say nothing about his entanglement -with Gertrude Athol, to whom he was still practically pledged. Indeed, -Miss Athol was at that moment awaiting him to attend her to a spread that -was to be given by one of his classmates in Beck Hall. - -She had come on from Buffalo to spend a week with some friends in -Cambridge, and attend the commencement exercises in which she was, -of course, more than usually interested this year, because of Phil’s -participation in them. - -Now that the time was approaching when he knew that Gertrude would expect -him to redeem his pledge to her, ask her hand of her father, and declare -his intentions to the world, Phil began to experience not a little -uneasiness regarding his precarious situation and how he was going to -escape from it. Therefore, he was in no enviable frame of mind as he -re-entered the college grounds, after his mother’s departure, to seek -Gertrude by appointment. He found her with a group of young people, all -of whom were invited to the “spread,” and she bestowed a bright smile of -welcome upon him as he came to her side. - -She was even lovelier than when we saw her at the mountains three years -previous. She seemed taller, her form had developed to more perfect -proportions, and her expressive face bespoke growth of character, -earnestness, and purity of purpose. - -She was clad all in white, even to her hat, which was trimmed with -graceful, nodding ostrich-plumes. It was an exceedingly dainty costume, -stylish as well, and, with her queenly bearing, her sweet, pure face, her -clear brown eyes, and wealth of golden hair, she did not fail to attract -attention wherever she went, and Philip was really proud of her, and also -fond of her, in a way. - -The party turned their steps in the direction of Beck Hall as soon as -he joined it, while Gertrude looked as if she needed nothing more to -complete her happiness. - -“Everything has passed off lovely,” she whispered, as they followed their -friends, then added shyly, “but, of course, you know in whom my chief -interest centered.” - -“And did I acquit myself to your satisfaction?” queried Philip, with a -smiling and admiring glance, which plainly indicated where his present -interest centered. - -“That goes without saying,” Gertrude replied, though she flushed slightly. - -Then she seemed as if about to add something, but suddenly checked -herself, while a look of thoughtfulness settled over her countenance, and -her companion observed that she scanned every face they met, as if in -search of some one. - -An hour and a half later, when the party broke up and they were on their -way out of the building, they encountered in one of the halls some -students who were just coming in. Clifford was among them. - -Gertrude espied him instantly, and her eyes lighted with pleasure, for -she had been hoping to meet him, and his was the face she had been -watching for. She turned away from her companion and went directly to -him, her white-gloved hand cordially outstretched to greet him. - -“Mr. Faxon,” she began, in her bright, vivacious way, “I am so glad -of this opportunity. I hoped I should meet you to-day, and I want to -congratulate you—your oration was positively grand.” - -Clifford smiled as he doffed his hat and took the proffered hand. - -“It certainly is a great pleasure to me to meet you again, Miss Athol,” -he heartily responded, then added modestly, “and thank you for your -commendation, but I fear you dignify my effort beyond its worth.” - -“Indeed I do not, and, I assure you, I am only one out of many who have -voiced the same opinion,” Gertrude earnestly replied. Then, as she saw he -was averse to being made conspicuous, she inquired: “Are you glad to get -through with your course?” - -“Yes, glad on some accounts, although I have thoroughly enjoyed my four -years’ work. One always is glad to attain a goal he has been seeking, you -know. But now I have to begin the real battle of life.” - -“And you will win the victory, I am sure, just as you have won in -everything else you have ever attempted,” said the beautiful girl, with -shining eyes. “I wish you all success, and the next time we meet I shall -expect to find you far on the road to fame.” - -“Thanks,” said Clifford, flushing at her words. Then, with a mischievous -gleam in his eyes, he questioned: “But are you contemplating leaving the -country for an indefinite sojourn?” - -“No, indeed; why?” - -“Why, you know it takes many years to win fame, and it would be a matter -of sincere regret to me if I thought our paths would not cross meantime.” - -Gertrude laughed musically. - -“It certainly will not take a great while for you, if you go on as you -have begun, and are governed by the same principle and earnestness of -purpose as when I last saw you,” she observed, with a look which told him -that she still remembered their conversation on the piazza of the hotel -in the mountains. “At all events, I hope it will not be years before -we meet again. But au revoir, I must run away now, for my friends are -waiting for me,” and with a charming smile and bow she was gone. - -Philip Wentworth had withdrawn a short distance when Gertrude greeted his -rival, whom he never recognized if he could avoid doing so, and his face -was sullen and overcast when she rejoined him. - -“Are you annoyed over having to wait for me?” she inquired, keenly -sensitive to the change in his manner. - -“I should not be annoyed to wait your pleasure any length of time under -ordinary circumstances,” said Philip, with studied coldness. - -Gertrude swept his face with a searching look. - -“Under ordinary circumstances,” she repeated. “I think I do not quite -understand you.” - -“Well, then, to be plain, it rather tries my temper to have you waste -your time and breath on that upstart,” he replied, with some irritation. - -The girl turned upon him sharply. - -“Do you still cherish that old-time animosity against him?” she gravely -inquired. - -“Well, I certainly do not love him,” was the moody response. - -Gertrude drew herself up proudly, and her eyes flashed. - -“I am ashamed of you, Phil—I really am, for nursing such a spirit all -these years. I cannot understand it when you owe him so much. But if Mr. -Faxon is an ‘upstart,’ I only wish that the world was full of just such -people.” - -“Which, I might infer, would shove me out entirely. Thanks, awfully,” -sneered her companion. - -“You are entirely welcome,” the girl shot back spiritedly; “that is, if -you are so narrow-minded as to take offense at my courtesy toward Mr. -Faxon. I have known him to be a fine young man; he bids fair to make his -mark in the world, and his oration to-day was positively grand.” - -“So I heard you observe to him,” Philip sarcastically rejoined. - -There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Gertrude’s natural -sweetness conquered her momentary anger. She turned to her lover with a -frank and sunny smile. - -“Don’t let us quarrel, Phil, and you haven’t the slightest cause to be -jealous of Mr. Faxon, for, although I respect him very highly, I do not -love him, and I do love somebody else. But, dear, you must not think -that because I have promised to be your wife I have pledged away my -individuality or my independence. I have my opinions, I have a right to -express them, and I shall expect that they will receive just the same -deference that I shall pay to yours. Is not that fair and right, Phil?” - -But the young man looked straight ahead and preserved a sulky silence. -Gertrude studied his face for a moment; then she resumed with heightened -color, but with a little prouder poise of her pretty head: - -“It has been conceded by every one whom I have heard speak of it, that -Mr. Faxon’s oration was the finest effort of the day. Why should not -you, as well as others of your class, candidly admit it, and give him -the honor due him? But we will not talk about it any more, if the matter -disturbs you. There are Guy and Emelie beckoning us, and wondering, no -doubt, why we are loitering. Now, Phil”—bending forward and looking -archly into his eyes—“smile on me just once, clouds are not in order -to-day.” - -She looked so sweet and sunny, she was so bewitchingly pretty that no one -could have resisted her, and Philip’s face relaxed in spite of himself. -They rejoined their friends, and Gertrude was her own charming self once -more, and appeared to have forgotten all about her tiff with her lover. - -Philip, however, secretly nursed his wrath and resolved that, when the -right time came to serve his purpose, the “quarrel” should be renewed. - -Gertrude was beautiful and always faultlessly clad, and he was proud of -her; she was delightful company, and he never failed to enjoy himself -wherever he went with her, while she visited among people in Cambridge -whose acquaintance and good opinion he was desirous of preserving; -consequently, he did not feel quite ready to break with her—at least, not -until he was sure of capturing Mollie Heatherford and her fortune. - -When he reached home that evening he found that the Heatherfords had -arrived—at least, Mollie and her father; Mrs. Heatherford had died abroad -more than a year previous. - -There were several other guests invited to dinner, and the company were -all in the drawing-room when he entered. - -He drew a long, deep breath when he espied Mollie standing beside his -mother, who was introducing her to some of her friends, for she was -lovely beyond description. She was still in half-mourning for her mother, -and wore a black gown of some thin, gauzy material, the lining to the -corsage cut low, and none in the sleeves, thus revealing the outlines of -her beautiful arms and neck. - -It was elaborately trimmed with white, and the contrast of this effective -costume with her flawless complexion and wealth of golden hair was -marked. She was now in her nineteenth year, tall and slim, yet perfectly -formed, with a proud poise to her small head that gave her a regal air. -Her face was delicate and clear-cut as a cameo, with dainty color in her -cheeks that ebbed and flowed with every varying emotion, while her blue -eyes were just as bright and mischievous, grave or gay, as she was moved, -as in the old days when she had played with her boy-lover beneath the -elms on the bank of the Hudson. - -Philip Wentworth had flirted with many beautiful girls during the last -four years, but he now declared to himself that he had never seen any one -as lovely as Mollie, or “Miss Marie Heatherford,” as she was known to the -world, only a favored few being allowed to address her by the pet-name -that had been bestowed upon her during her childhood. - -Her every movement gave evidence of the refinement which foreign travel -and culture bestows. Philip’s heart leaped as he stood and watched her, -himself, for the moment, unseen. - -“Mollie is the girl for me!” he mentally exclaimed. “She is perfectly -stunning. Any man might be proud to call her wife for herself alone, but, -taken with her prospective fortune—ah!” - -He made his way toward the group where she stood at the other end of the -room. - -“Ah! here comes Phil at last,” said Mrs. Temple, with a note of pride in -her tones, as he presented himself before them. “I am sure I do not need -to introduce two old playfellows.” - -The fair girl turned with a smile of pleasure on her lips and put out her -hand to greet him, while a lovely blush deepened the color in her cheeks. - -As Phil clasped the slim hand and bent upon her a look of undisguised -admiration while he murmured the joy he experienced at her home-coming, -her beautiful blue eyes were searching his face with a grave and steady -gaze. - -What did she find there to make the blush fade slowly out of her -cheeks—to cause her to release the hand he had taken, after the briefest -possible clasp, and the shadow of disappointment to creep into the -earnest azure eyes? - -“This is a long looked-for moment, Mollie, and I hope that you are glad -to be with us again,” Phil observed, throwing a note of tenderness into -his words that spoke volumes. - -“Yes, thank you. I am glad to be at home once more,” Mollie returned in -calm, even tones. “I did not quite realize how delightful it would be -until we sailed into New York harbor and I began to see so much that was -familiar all around us. Truly, I believe there is no place like America -to an American. And so you have finished your college course to-day,” she -continued, drawing herself up a little haughtily at his persistent stare -of admiration. “No doubt you are very proud of your degree, and now your -friends will expect great things of you in the future.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -THE HEATHERFORD FORTUNE GONE. - - -“What do you mean by ‘great things’?” Philip smilingly questioned. - -“Oh, that in return for the advantages you have enjoyed you will choose -some business or profession and turn your knowledge to good account.” - -“Do you think it the duty of every man to devote himself to some business -or profession?” - -“Yes, I do,” returned Miss Heatherford, with emphasis. - -“Even if he possesses an independent fortune?” - -“Yes,” she persisted, “I feel that, no matter how rich a man may be, he -should have some definite object in life.” - -“How about a woman?” queried Philip, with a mischievous glance into her -thoughtful blue eyes. - -“Oh, I intended to make no distinction. I should have said everybody,” -the girl replied. - -“Have you marked out your future career, Mollie?” inquired the young man -in the same spirit as before. “I suppose you have been pursuing your -studies during your absence.” - -“Well, I have been doing some honest work in that line during the last -four years,” she gravely returned; “but, as to my future, I have not -quite made up my mind what I am best fitted for. I want to do something. -I could teach elocution and rhetoric, both of which, you know, I have -always enjoyed very much, and perhaps some other thing,” she added -modestly. - -“Such as what?” queried Phil, who was curious to learn in what she -excelled. - -“Oh, please do not make me particularize regarding my acquirements,” -Mollie replied, the color coming again to her cheeks, “and, besides, you -have not yet told me what you are going to do—are you going to study a -profession?” - -He wanted to tell her that the most definite object he had in view just -then was to try to win the hand and heart which he had so long coveted, -but he hardly dared venture that far so soon after her return. - -There was a certain air about her that seemed to warn him against being -too familiar or precipitate, or of assuming too much upon the ground of -their early friendship; and, although all his old love revived and his -pulse thrilled under the influence of her beauty and the tones of her -magic voice, he resolved to approach her very carefully and delicately. - -“Well, as you have already said regarding yourself, I have not yet -decided upon anything,” he observed. - -“But surely you have a decided penchant for some particular business or -profession!” she remarked, while she regarded him earnestly and with some -surprise. - -“No, I cannot say that I have,” he answered, with a doubtful shake of -his head, yet feeling strangely embarrassed and uncomfortable under the -searching look in her dark-blue eyes. “But there is time enough yet for -that,” he added, to change the topic, and making an effort to throw off -the sensation. “Now, suppose you tell me something about your impressions -of European life and travel.” - -But dinner was announced just at that moment, and their conversation was -interrupted. - -Mrs. Temple had arranged to have Philip escort Mollie to the dining-room, -and he exerted himself to be attentive and agreeable to her. - -But one of the professors at Harvard, to whom Mollie had been introduced, -was seated on her left, and, having previously discovered that she was an -unusually intelligent girl, adroitly drew her into conversation, which -finally drifted into an animated discussion upon the geological formation -of different countries. - -Several times Mollie appealed to Phil, hoping thus to draw him into the -debate, for she did not wish to appear to neglect him, neither could -she ignore the professor without being rude. But Phil did not appear to -advantage in the opinions he offered or the remarks he made, and was -entirely distanced in the race. He was greatly relieved when dinner was -over and he succeeded in whisking Mollie away to the drawing-room, where -he proceeded to monopolize her, for a while, at least. - -The remainder of the evening was passed most enjoyably, there being -several musical people present, and who contributed a delightful program; -while Mollie, who was noted for her powers of elocution, gave two or -three spirited selections, which were rendered with such artistic effect -that she won much applause. - -Philip had observed, while he was exchanging greetings with Mr. -Heatherford, that the man appeared greatly worn and aged; but he had -attributed this depression and change to the loss of his wife. He also -noticed, from time to time during the evening, that he avoided the -company and seemed to want to get away into a corner by himself, where he -would fall into a fit of abstraction from which he was only aroused when -Mollie went to him and after chatting with him a few minutes would draw -him out among people again. - -She was tenderly watchful of him, Phil could see, even while she appeared -to be the most brilliant and entertaining, while occasionally an anxious -expression would sweep over her face and a gentle sigh escape her as her -glance rested upon his face. - -The young man wondered what it all could mean, but did not give the -matter much thought, and it probably would never have entered his mind -afterward if he had not overheard Mr. Temple tell his mother after lunch -the next day, while Mollie and her father were out making a call, that -Mr. Heatherford had confided to him the fact that he had been continually -losing money at a disastrous rate during the last two years, until the -bulk of his fortune had melted away. He did not add, however, that he had -conducted some of these losing negotiations. - -“Heavens!” exclaimed Mrs. Temple, aghast, “how did he ever lose it?” - -“I expect he has spread himself too much—got tied up in too many -enterprises, and when the pinch came he was unable to turn himself,” her -husband explained. “A railroad in which he was largely represented has -collapsed; a bank of which he was a director and a heavy shareholder has -failed; a Western syndicate of immense proportions has gone to pieces—he -says there was fraud at the bottom of it—while a rascally agent, in whom -he had implicit confidence and to whom he gave power of attorney during -his absence, has played him false and skipped to parts unknown with a -large amount of money.” - -“Well, surely, that is a series of misfortunes,” Mrs. Temple observed; -“but, in spite of all, I should suppose he must have a competence left—he -was accounted a very rich man before he went away.” - -“Yes, but he has been sending good money after bad all the time until, he -tells me, he is reduced to a very few thousands.” - -“Whew!” ejaculated Phil, under his breath, as, concealed behind a pair -of heavy curtains of a bay window, he listened to the above chapter of -accidents. “So Miss Mollie’s ‘magnificent inheritance’ has dwindled -to almost nothing! What a shame, for she is very beautiful; but a man -doesn’t want a penniless wife, especially when his own bank-account will -not more than meet his own needs.” - -“I am amazed—it is absolutely shocking!” sighed Mrs. Temple, “and it will -be a great detriment to Mollie, too; she is a beautiful girl, she has -been tenderly and delicately reared, and ought to make a brilliant match.” - -“I thought it wise to tell you something of this,” Mr. Temple observed, -while he covertly watched his wife’s face. “I imagined that perhaps you -might not be quite so eager to have Phil make advances in that direction -now.” - -“I am sure I could not desire a more lovely wife for Phil,” the lady -thoughtfully responded; “but, really, his fortune is hardly sufficient to -warrant his marrying a poor girl. I am truly sorry for the Heatherfords; -but if I had known of this I should not have thought it wise to invite -them here at this time. Since they are here, however, we must make the -best of it, but I shall not be sorry when their visit is over.” - -“It is rather an awkward position, especially as there has always been a -tacit understanding that Phil and Mollie would marry when they attained a -suitable age,” Mr. Temple remarked. - -“Oh, that must now be regarded only as children’s play—which it really -was, after all,” Mrs. Temple hastily interposed, but flushing as she -remembered how eager she had always been to help on the “children’s -play.” “Of course, I should have been willing to have had such a marriage -consummated if things had remained as they were. Perhaps—do you think -there is any possibility that Mr. Heatherford will ever retrieve his -fortune?” - -“I should say that is very doubtful,” said the man, suddenly averting his -eyes beneath his wife’s earnest look. “Having told you so much, I may as -well tell you that a very short time will settle his fate, either one way -or the other, for he has risked all he has upon one throw.” - -“Heavens! Will, you don’t mean it is as bad as that with them!” gasped -Mrs. Temple, in dismay. - -“Yes, Heatherford told me all about his affairs this morning, while -we were out driving, and if he loses in this last venture he will be -absolutely penniless.” - -“That seems dreadful. Is he speculating in stocks?” - -“I—I really feel that I should not say what he is doing,” returned -Mr. Temple, with some embarrassment. “All this has been strictly -confidential, you understand.” - -“Does Mollie know of her father’s misfortunes?” - -“Yes, and her father says that she has been the greatest comfort to him -throughout all his trouble—especially when Mrs. Heatherford sickened -and died; and now she tells him that, if worse comes to worst, she can -teach and take care of them both. He says she is an exceptionally bright -scholar—that in the school at Heidelberg, where she graduated, she was -offered a fine salary to remain and teach elocution and rhetoric; she -also speaks four languages fluently.” - -“Yes, any one can see that she is very smart and talented,” said Mrs. -Temple, reflectively; then added: “Did you observe her talking with -Professor Hubbard at dinner last evening?” - -“Indeed, I did, and wondered not a little,” returned Mr. Temple, -laughing, “for the professor does not often condescend to converse with -young people—he shuns them, especially girls.” - -“Well, he certainly exerted himself to be agreeable to Mollie and draw -her out. He found his match, too, or I am much mistaken,” said Mrs. -Temple, in a tone of amusement. “Oh, dear!” she continued, with a -sigh, “I am terribly disappointed, for I have always been fond of the -girl, and she is just the one I would have chosen for Phil; but it will -never do for him to marry a poor girl. I must tell him of the change -in the Heatherfords’ circumstances, and caution him to govern himself -accordingly.” - -This she did later in the day, and was gratified and intensely relieved -to see how coolly he accepted the situation, for, knowing that he had -been really fond of Mollie in the old days, and also that they had -corresponded during the last four years, she feared that he might have -committed himself, and might now find it difficult to extricate himself -from an entanglement, if, indeed, he did not really love the girl too -well to be willing to give her up. But Philip listened without comment -through the story, and, upon its conclusion, simply remarked, with a wise -nod: - -“I understand the situation, mother, and you may safely trust me. Mollie -is lovely, as everybody must admit, but, with my expensive tastes, I am -fully conscious that it would never do for me to marry a poor girl.” - -He spoke with the utmost assurance; nevertheless, before a week had -passed, he found himself becoming more and more enthralled by Mollie -Heatherford’s witching loveliness, both of person and mind. - -Of course, as she was a guest of the family, it became his duty to act -as her escort and take her about to see the various improvements that -had been made in the city during her absence, although he was obliged to -intersperse these duties with frequent visits to Gertrude Athol, who -was still with her friends in Cambridge, and thus he was kept very busy -during these days dancing attendance upon two divinities. - -But he was not so eager now as he had thought he might be to resume his -“quarrel” with Gertrude; for, although Mr. Athol was by no means as -wealthy a man as Mr. Heatherford was once supposed to be, he possessed -a tempting share of this world’s goods, and Philip reasoned that, if he -could not find a more alluring bait, he might eventually think best to -keep his pledge to his fair daughter. - -He fondly imagined that he could control his affections and be governed -by his judgment and by policy—in fact, play “fast and loose” with both -girls, and enjoy the present to the utmost without experiencing any -disastrous effects when he came to make a final decision. But he very -soon grew to realize that Cupid is a god who cannot be tampered with with -impunity, and that he was fast learning to love Mollie Heatherford with a -strength and fervency which would either demand utter self-renunciation -on his part, or ruin his life for all time. - -On her part, Mollie frankly accepted his attentions, and appeared to -enjoy his society, and yet Philip was vaguely conscious at times that she -was adroitly sounding him and studying his character. She, like Gertrude, -was an independent thinker, and never hesitated to express her opinions, -and she frequently led him into spirited discussions upon topics where he -often found himself beyond his depth, and was thus made conscious that -in what pertained to character, honesty, and morality he fell far short -of the ideals that she cherished. - -One afternoon he invited her to go with him to Riverside, a beautiful -spot a few miles out of Boston, where the silvery Charles winds its -alluring way among green meadows and picturesque hills and woodlands, and -which has long been a noted and favorite resort for parties who delight -in boating. - -Philip was the owner of a fine canoe, and, being an expert in the -management of such craft, the young couple spent several hours skimming -over the smoothly flowing river, dipping in and out of shady, romantic -nooks and gathering the fragrant golden-hearted lilies that grew in -abundance all along the banks of the stream. - -It seemed to Phil as he sat opposite his lovely vis-a-vis, who—in her -white flannel outing-suit, her jaunty sailor-hat, and shaded by a white -sun-umbrella lined with pale green—seemed like a fair, pure lily herself, -that the world and wealth were well lost for such a wife as he knew -she would make, and he found himself hungering and thirsting for the -priceless and ennobling love which he knew it was in her power to bestow -upon the man whom she would choose to be her life-companion. - -They had been conversing upon various subjects, some grave, some gay, -when suddenly Philip started slightly as his glance fell upon one of -Mollie’s slim, perfect hands, which was resting upon the edge of the -boat. - -“Mollie,” he observed, resting upon his oars and leaning toward her, “do -you remember the day you left for home after your last visit with us, -just previous to going abroad?” - -“Of course I remember it,” she returned, a delicate flush suffusing her -face as she recalled some things that he had said to her on that day; -“it was only four years ago, you know,” she added, smiling and quickly -recovering her self-possession. - -“And do you also remember that your humble servant asked you to give him -a certain ring which you were wearing that day?” - -“Oh, the cameo? Yes,” and now the color deepened, while her eyes wavered -and fell beneath his gaze, for she feared he was about to ask her a -question which she knew she was not yet ready to answer. - -“Why did you refuse to give it to me, Mollie?” queried the young man, in -a low, eager tone. - -There was a moment of absolute silence; then Mollie said in a voice that -was not quite steady: - -“Because—I did not think it best.” - -Philip laughed. - -“Perhaps the form of my request may have been the cause of your refusal,” -he said; “if I had worded it differently, would you have given it to me?” - -“Possibly—I cannot tell,” she gravely returned, with a far-away look in -her eyes. - -“If I should beg for it now, as a gift of friendship, would you bestow -it?” he persisted, determined to find out how Clifford Faxon had come by -it. - -“No, I could not.” - -“Why?” - -“Because I have already given it away,” Mollie replied, a little -smile flitting over her red lips as she recalled that scene at the -railway-station in New Haven. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -MOLLIE MAKES A DISCOVERY. - - -Phil studied the fair face opposite him closely for a moment, a gleam of -jealous fire burning in his eyes. - -“‘Given it away!’” he repeated, throwing a note of reproach into his -tones. Then, a harsh laugh breaking from his lips, he added: “Really, -Mollie, in view of the past, I am very much inclined to be jealous.” - -“Are you?” she questioned, with seeming nonchalance. - -“Don’t you think it was rather hard on me—that you might be accused of -partiality?” Phil inquired. - -“I do not think that term at all applicable to the case,” Mollie quietly -replied. - -“Well, not knowing to what ‘case’ you refer, of course I am not capable -of judging either for or against,” Philip observed in a somewhat injured -tone. - -Mollie laughed outright, and her eyes danced with mischief. - -“Mr. Curiosity,” she retorted saucily, “if you want to know why I gave -away the ring and to whom, why do you not ask?” - -“You might regard me as unduly inquisitive,” said the young man demurely. - -“So you are,” she flashed back at him. “I am sure you are just dying to -know, and, as there is really no reason why you should not, I will tell -you.” - -She then proceeded to relate all that had occurred during her journey to -New York on that sultry July afternoon four years ago, describing the -terrible storm, her loneliness and fear, the sudden shock and stopping -of the train, the falling of the maple-tree across the track, and -Clifford Faxon’s heroic efforts to remove the dangerous obstruction, thus -preventing a shocking accident. - -As she talked she seemed to live over again the whole of that thrilling -experience. She shrank visibly as she described the vivid flashes -of lightning and the deafening crashes that seemed to be almost -simultaneous. She caught her breath sharply as she told of those piercing -whistles, which bespoke imminent danger to every quaking heart, and of -the shrieks and cries, the white faces and trembling forms of men, women, -and children as they expected every instant to be hurled into eternity. - -Then came her description of the youthful hero as he appeared working for -dear life, without a thought of self, while the conflict of elements and -the deluge swept over and raged around him. - -She waxed eloquent as she spoke of his poverty, how he had been clad -in the coarsest and meanest of garments, with old and clumsy shoes on -his feet, without hat, coat, or vest, or anything to commend him to the -fastidious eye, except his frank, noble face, his honest, fearless eyes -and his manly bearing. - -“One did not mind his lack of suitable clothing,” she went on earnestly, -“as one looked into his countenance and read there the truth and -integrity of his character, and he had the finest eyes I ever saw. I am -sure, though, that he had had a hard life, for he said he had been bound -out to a man on a farm when he was thirteen years old for four years, -but that his time was almost up, and then he was going to try to get a -college education. Some gentlemen on the train took up a collection to -give him a start. There was quite a generous sum raised—I don’t know just -how much, but almost everybody was glad to do something to manifest their -gratitude, and when we reached New Haven the money was presented to him, -and he was then sent home in a hack.” - -“Really! Then the young rustic rode in state for once in his life,” Phil -here interposed, with an ill-concealed sneer, and Mollie wondered at the -malice in his tone and what could have made his face grow so startlingly -pale. - -“Yes, and why shouldn’t he?” she demanded spiritedly, for his words and -manner grated upon her. “Just think what he had done—prevented a terrible -accident, saved thousands of dollars’ worth of property and the lives, -doubtless, of many people; and, besides, he was completely exhausted by -his efforts, and it would have been a shame to have allowed him to get -back to his home in the country as best he could. Why, if a fortune had -been raised for him there on the spot, it would not have been an adequate -return. He was a hero, he had done a deed to be proud of, and for which -he should be honored all his life; and he was so modest about it, too—as -if he had only been chopping wood to make a fire! Why, Phil, I’d rather -do a deed like that than have all the wealth and social honors of the -world heaped upon me!” Mollie concluded, with gleaming eyes and glowing -cheeks. - -“Well, but about the ring; was it to this—‘hero’ that you gave it?” -questioned Philip, in a peculiar tone. - -“Oh!” Mollie exclaimed, a silvery laugh rippling over her lips. “I had -become so interested in telling the story that I had forgotten all about -the ring. Yes. I was so grateful that I wanted to make it manifest -personally, and I went to him, when we arrived in New Haven, thanked him, -and asked him to accept the cameo as a memento of my gratitude.” - -“Did you learn the name of this most wonderful of heroes?” queried Philip -sarcastically. - -Mollie sat suddenly erect, stung to the quick and flushing indignantly at -the satirical fling. - -“Why do you speak so slightingly about him, Philip?” she cried; “don’t -you love to hear about brave deeds? Aren’t you glad to know that there -are such noble and heroic souls in the world?” - -“Oh, yes, of course. Did I speak slightingly? You must pardon me, but, -truly, Mollie, I was somewhat amused, in view of your enthusiasm over -this valorous backwoodsman,” Philip replied, with a laugh that had -something of mockery in it. - -“I think I have reason to be enthusiastic,” the fair girl coldly -responded. “Yes,” she added, “I did learn the young man’s name—Clifford -Faxon, he gave it, and I wish——” - -“Well, what do you wish?” her companion demanded, and finding it -difficult to control himself as she had pronounced the name he so hated, -notwithstanding he had been prepared to hear it. - -“I wish that I might meet him again. I would like to know if he attempted -to go through college, and, if so, what success he is having,” said -Mollie, with an earnest look on her face. “I am sure he will ultimately -succeed in whatever he undertakes, for there was strength of purpose -written on every line of his handsome face.” - -Philip Wentworth gnawed his lip until the blood started, and a cruel, -steellike glitter flashed into his eyes at this. He was furious, in view -of the girl’s interest in the young man whom he had hated for years. -It galled him almost beyond endurance to hear Clifford Faxon’s praises -sounded by every one who knew him, but Mollie’s encomiums drove him -almost to the verge of madness, and he was determined that she should -never learn that Faxon had been a classmate of his—she should never meet -her hero again if he could help it. - -To be sure, he had said that he could never marry a poor girl; but -there was a bare possibility that Mr. Heatherford might retrieve his -fallen fortunes, and, in such an event, he would be only too eager to -make Mollie his wife. He was beginning to feel that life would be very -blank to him without her. Her beauty, her brilliant accomplishments, her -amiable, yet spirited disposition, her high standard of life and its -pursuits all made him realize that she was a woman to be worshiped, -and that she had won a place in his heart which could never be given to -another. - -These feelings were intensified and his fiercest jealousy aroused by her -openly acknowledged admiration for Clifford Faxon. He had been stung by -Gertrude Athol’s praise of and friendliness for him; but that had been as -nothing when compared with his present feelings upon hearing his name so -reverently spoken by Mollie, and with that indescribable look on her fair -face. He was, however, obliged to conceal his ire from her, and presently -turning his canoe and changing the topic at the same time, they drifted -slowly down the stream with the current toward the landing, and ere long -were on the train back to town. - -Another week slipped swiftly by, and as Miss Athol had returned to -Buffalo, Phil had more time to devote to Mollie, of whom he became more -and more enamored with every passing day; and as she always drew out -all that was best in him, she little dreamed what grave defects there -were in his character, and appeared to enjoy his society and gratefully -appreciated his efforts to make her visit pleasant. - -Mrs. Temple watched the couple with ever-increasing anxiety, and wished -from her heart that something would occur to cut the Heatherfords’ visit -short before irreparable mischief resulted. One morning she sought her -son, and gravely cautioned him. - -“Phil, you really must not do anything rash,” she said. “Mollie is the -nicest girl in the world, I am willing to admit, but you can’t be saddled -with a poor wife. Your income, though fair, will not admit of it, with -your tastes, and Mollie’s are expensive, too. If this last venture of Mr. -Heatherford’s should fall through, he will be utterly ruined and the girl -a beggar; so take care!” - -“I suppose that is good advice from a worldly point of view,” the young -man responded, “but she is, as you have said, the very nicest girl in -the world, and it is a deuced shame that the old man has lost his money; -confound it!” - -Mrs. Temple looked startled at this outburst, and well she might, for she -could plainly read in Phil’s pale, pain-drawn face the story of his life, -and knew that he had given his whole heart into Mollie Heatherford’s -keeping. - -“Phil!” she cried regretfully. “I am sorry I ever asked them here. I -never would have had them come if I had known, and I shall be glad when -they go. But you must not make a fatal mistake. Suppose you make some -excuses to go away; take a trip to the Adirondacks, or go West for a -while?” - -Phil gave vent to a hollow laugh. - -“Suppose, on the other hand, that, mothlike, I prefer to flutter around -the candle and get singed?” he recklessly returned, as he saw that his -mother had read his secret. “Or suppose that I should be inclined to turn -over a new leaf, settle down to some business, and be willing to work for -the girl I love?” - -“Phil!” gasped Mrs. Temple again, and growing pale herself at his strange -mood. “Are you really so far gone as that? I believe I shall insist upon -your going away, for I never will consent to let you marry a beggar, -though I’ll own I’m very fond of Mollie myself, and should be proud of -her as a daughter if she only had money enough to sustain the style she -has always been accustomed to. Where is your pride, Philip Wentworth, -that you are willing to spoil your whole life?” - -If she could but have known it, she was missing the grandest, most -precious opportunity of her life, for the scales that held her son’s -future in the balance were on the point of tipping toward a better and -nobler manhood, and had she wisely and tenderly dropped a few words of -sympathy and encouragement into the love-laden heart laid bare before -her, she might have wrought a marvelous change, and saved both herself -and him much suffering and remorse. - -But those last, arrogant words did their work. The young man sprang to -his feet and shook himself as if just awakening from a dream. - -“Never you fear, mother,” he said, with a careless toss of his head, -“the Wentworth name shall never suffer in that way through any fault of -mine. I reckon I can look out for myself; but I’m not going away—the -Heatherfords would think it very strange, and I have a curiosity to see -how the old gentleman’s venture turns out—if he should make a corner, -why, I should be on hand to improve my opportunity.” - -Mrs. Temple was not quite satisfied that he could “look out for himself” -in the way she desired; but she felt that she had said enough for the -present, and so allowed the matter to drop. - -A day or two later there came a drenching rain, when, of course, there -could be no excursion or sightseeing, and everybody was shut within -doors; at least, after luncheon no one ventured out. - -Mr. Temple and Mr. Heatherford were playing billiards up-stairs, and Mrs. -Temple was in her own room reading to Minnie, who had been indisposed for -a day or two. - -Mollie and Phil were alone in the library, where, for a time, they amused -themselves by looking over a collection of views and photographs, among -which were many of Phil’s classmates and college friends. While they were -thus engaged one of the programs of the recent commencement exercises at -Harvard was found among them. Mollie picked it up and began to look it -over. - -At first Phil did not notice what she had, for he was searching for the -likeness of a friend of whom they had been talking, and which he wished -her to see. He found it at last, and turned to her with the picture in -his hand, when, as he caught sight of the program, his heart gave a -great, startled bound, and he grew cold as ice. - -He knew that if Mollie should look it carefully through she would find -Clifford Faxon’s name there, learn that he had been a classmate of his, -how he had distinguished himself, and, worse than all, how he—Phil—had -wilfully concealed these facts from her. - -What should he do? How get it away from her before the mischief was done? - -“What have you there, Mollie?” he inquired, assuming an indifferent -tone. “Oh, it is the commencement program,” he added. “Come, don’t get -absorbed in that just now, there will be time enough by and by to look it -over, and I want you, who are so clever at reading faces, to tell me what -you think of this.” - -He playfully laid hold of the booklet in her hands and attempted to -withdraw it from her. - -She tightened her grasp upon it, for almost at that instant she had -caught sight of the name which he was so anxious to keep from her. - -She started slightly as she comprehended the situation; then her -beautiful eyes flashed up to her companion’s face, and he shrank back -from the scorn in them as if from a blow. - -Mollie was as pale as marble, but there was a haughty poise to her small -head, and a sudden stiffening of her whole form that actually made him -cringe before her. - -“Why did you not tell me that Clifford Faxon was a classmate of yours?” -she demanded in icy tones. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -PHILIP WENTWORTH PUT ON PROBATION. - - -Philip Wentworth had never felt meaner in all his life than at that -moment, when he realized that his duplicity was exposed, and that the -girl whose esteem, of all others, he cared most to preserve had found him -out, if not exactly as a liar, as having been wilfully and contemptibly -deceptive. He flushed crimson, and then grew as pale as Mollie herself, -but he was dumb before her for the moment, and could find no voice to -answer her imperative demand. - -“Why did you keep it from me?” she questioned again. “What object could -you have had in wishing to keep me in ignorance of that which you knew -would give me great pleasure to learn? Why could you not be generous to -your classmate, and give a hard-working, worthy young man the honor which -belongs to him? - -“So,” she continued, as he still sat mute before her, and dropping her -eyes again upon the program, “Clifford Faxon has completed his college -course and distinguished himself, as I knew he would. I was sure that -there was power, determination, and perseverance above the average in his -character. Oh, I wish I could have come to Boston a day earlier, attended -commencement, and heard his oration.” - -She sat lost in thought for a moment or two, a look of keen -disappointment on her beautiful face. Then turning suddenly to her -companion again, she briefly inquired: - -“Where is Mr. Faxon now?” - -“I don’t know; he left town the day after commencement,” Philip returned -in a tone of constraint. - -“Is his picture among these?” eagerly questioned Mollie, and touching the -pile of photographs between them. - -Philip started as if he had been stung, and his lips curled like an angry -dog’s. - -“Assuredly not,” he loftily responded. - -“I am sorry; I should like to see him as he looks to-day, though I am -sure he cannot have changed enough to prevent me from recognizing him if -I should meet him anywhere,” Mollie observed, and her every word cut her -listener like a lash. “But you have not told me, Phil, why you kept from -me the fact that he was at Harvard with you. Have you a grudge against -him? I wondered why you appeared so strangely the other day when I was -telling you about him; wondered how you could listen so indifferently to -the story of his wonderful heroism and speak so sneeringly of him; and -then, when you knew all the time of whom I was talking, and how glad I -would have been to learn more about him, to pretend ignorance and deceive -me! I am inclined to be very angry with you.” - -Her words, her tone, her looks, were simply maddening to him, and he -turned to her with a gesture of passionate appeal. - -“Mollie! Mollie! Don’t speak to me in that tone; don’t condemn me -utterly; don’t annihilate me quite with your scornful eyes,” he pleaded -in a voice that was almost shrill from mingled rage and wounded feeling. -“I did not tell you that I knew Clifford Faxon—I withheld all information -regarding him because I—I was jealous of him.” - -“Jealous! Why, Phil!” exclaimed the startled girl, her look of scorn and -indignation merged into one of undisguised amazement. - -“Yes; furiously, madly jealous of him,” Philip hotly returned, every -pulse in his body beating like trip-hammers, while he recklessly -threw all discretion to the winds, “for, Mollie, I love you, and it -drove me wild to have to listen to your enthusiastic praises of that -low-born fellow; to be told that you had given him the ring which I had -coveted—which I had begged of you, and you had refused to bestow upon me. - -“Darling, have you not suspected this,” he went on, forgetting for the -moment everything save the fact that he loved her with all the passion -of his nature, and must win some response from her or go mad, “have you -not seen that you are more to me than all the world? Do you not know that -I have always loved you? Have you forgotten how, when we were children -playing together under the elms on the banks of the Hudson, I vowed that -I should always love you, and that when we grew up I should claim you? - -“Forgive me for deceiving you about Faxon,” he went on, with assumed -humility, for he realized that he must eat humble pie before she would -pardon his duplicity; “of course I knew, when you were telling me about -that railway accident, of whom you were speaking; but some perverse -little devil held me silent, and now I am found out and punished for -it. Dearest, tell me that you forgive me, and that you return my love; -for, Mollie, from the moment we met, after your return, all the old-time -affection revived with a hundredfold intensity, and—and I just cannot -live without you.” - -He had gradually drawn nearer her while speaking, and now, seizing her -hands, drew them to his breast and held them there, while he searched the -sweet, down-cast, but very grave, face before him. - -She had flushed crimson when he began to pour forth his torrent of love; -then the color had gradually receded, leaving her pale and with an -expression of mingled pain and perplexity on her face. - -For a moment they sat thus, and not a word was spoken. Then Mollie lifted -her head and looked her lover full in the eye, her own seeming to search -his very soul. - -“Sweetheart, tell me you forgive me,” Phil whispered passionately, and -unable to endure that penetrating look; “remember my love for you made me -sin.” - -Mollie smiled slightly, and the color began to creep toward her temples -again, for what woman can listen unmoved to such a confession of love for -her?—but she still studied his face, and appeared to be thinking deeply. - -“You do forgive—you do love me, Mollie!” Phil burst forth eagerly, as he -noted the smile and blush. - -He stretched forth his arms, and would have gathered her into them, but -she gently repulsed him and moved a little away from him. - -“Yes, Phil, I forgive you as far as any wrong against me is concerned; at -the same time, I must say that I think you have been very unfair to Mr. -Faxon.” - -Phil ground his heels into the carpet at this reference to Clifford, -while he secretly wished that they had been planted upon his enemy’s -handsome face. - -“As for the other matter,” Mollie continued reflectively, “I—I cannot say -just now whether I love you or not.” - -“Mollie!” - -“Nay, do not be so impatient, Phil,” she interposed with smiling reproof, -her color deepening again; “but wait and let me be perfectly frank with -you. When I returned I confess I looked forward very eagerly to meeting -you; our earthly friendship and our correspondence have, of course, -governed my thought of you during my absence, and I have often found -myself wondering just how we would resume our—acquaintance. You have -been very nice to me, Phil, during my visit. I find you”—flashing him an -arch look—“very attractive personally, delightfully entertaining, and -well versed in all those little attentions and observances of etiquette -that usually make men attractive to women; but—I wish you had not spoken -just yet, for I am not prepared to define my own feelings toward you. I -want to know you—the real you, your inner self, a little better before I -can be sure where I stand, or make you any promises. And, Phil, you must -never attempt to deceive me again,” she interposed, a shadow falling -over her face; “I—I cannot bear anything of the kind, and nothing would -sooner establish an impassable barrier between us.” - -“I will not, dear—I promise I will not,” Philip murmured, with -well-assumed humility. “But, oh, Mollie! this uncertainty seems cruel and -unendurable. How long must I wait before you will tell me what I want to -know?” - -“I cannot say, Phil,” Mollie kindly but thoughtfully replied. “I like -you right well in many ways, though what has just occurred has been like -a dash of cold water over me; but liking is not love, you know, and you -will have to be patient until I know my own heart.” - -He snatched one of her hands again and kissed it passionately. Her -reticence and the uncertainty of his suit only served to make him so much -the more determined to win a confession of love from her, even though he -knew that he was liable to change his mind later and break her heart; -though, to his credit be it said, there were times when better impulses -moved him, and he vowed that he would marry her in spite of his mother—in -spite of his own pride and love of worldly wealth, prestige, and ease. - -“I will try to be patient,” he said, “but do not make the test too hard.” - -He devoted himself to her more assiduously than ever after that, and was -so guarded in his behavior and so congenial in every way during the few -remaining days of Mollie’s visit that she began to tell herself that she -did love him, and was sometimes tempted to speak a word of encouragement -to him. - -But something held her back—she never went beyond a certain limit, -although she was as kind and sweet and charming as ever. - -Mr. and Mrs. Temple also showed their guests all due courtesy and -attention while they remained with them; but they experienced a feeling -of intense relief when they announced the day of their departure, for -both realized the danger of Phil’s infatuation. They were somewhat -chagrined, however, when Mr. Heatherford informed them that they would -remain in Boston for the present—until some matters of business were -settled, he said, with a quick, anxious glance at Mr. Temple which caused -that gentleman to change color a trifle—and would make their home at the -Adams House. - -As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Temple persuaded Phil, though evidently -against his will, to accompany her and her husband to Newport for the -month of August. She then tried to entice him to the Adirondacks for -another four weeks, but this he refused to do, and returned immediately -to Boston, where he at once began to dance attendance upon Mollie again, -though he constantly fretted and fumed within himself because he appeared -to make no progress in his suit. - -He sometimes wondered why he allowed himself to be so absorbed in -his pursuit of her, when there were plenty of girls with large -expectations—Gertrude among others—who would have said “Yes” without -presuming to impose probation upon him. - -But Mollie’s rare beauty intoxicated him; her brilliancy and versatility -dazzled him, while her persistent reticence, more than all else, made -him her slave. She would not allow him to make love to her. Whenever he -approached the forbidden topic she would invariably interrupt him with -some irrelevant remark, or with a reproving smile and shake of her head. - -“For Heaven’s sake, Mollie! how long is this to go on?” he burst forth -one day, after a repulse like this, and for the moment losing all -self-control. - -“I cannot tell, Phil—until I know,” she gently returned. “Or,” she added, -with a grave look into his clouded eyes, “if I weary you with this -uncertainty, do not hesitate to tell me so, and we will part—friends.” - -“Mollie! Mollie! How you torture me!” he cried at this. “Life to me would -not be worth the living apart from you.” And he believed that he really -meant it. - -She sighed regretfully, and a shade of sadness stole over her face. She -realized that she was trying him severely, but she was not “sure” even -yet, and she would not be untrue to herself or wrong him by professing an -affection which she did not feel, although there were times when she was -almost on the point of yielding. - -“I am very sure I have never met any young man whom I like as well as -Phil,” she would sometimes admit, when discussing the subject with -herself, “but I do not feel, as he says,’that I cannot live without -him.’ In fact, I am sure I could be happier without him than without my -father, and I know”—a queer little smile flitting over her lips—“that is -not the right attitude for a girl to maintain toward the man she expects -to marry. Besides, I cannot get at Phil—he eludes, he evades me, he does -not reveal his real self to me.” - -Mr. Heatherford and his daughter were most comfortably located in -pleasant rooms in the Adams House, and they were very happy together, -although there were times when Mollie was conscious that her father was -weighted with a load of anxiety that was well-nigh crushing him. - -But she did everything in her power to cheer and amuse him when he was -with her, coaxing him into the country while the bright October days -lasted as often as she could, and playing cribbage and other games when -they were alone evenings. - -During business hours, when he was absent, she employed the time in -earnest and faithful study to perfect herself in certain branches which -she surmised might be useful to her in the near future. - -After Mr. and Mrs. Temple’s return from the Adirondacks, Mollie became -conscious of a decided coolness in their manner toward herself and her -father, although they were always courteous whenever they chanced to meet. - -Mrs. Temple seldom called—she was “so busy with club engagements, -receptions, etc.,” she gave as an excuse, and so, of course, Mollie -scarcely ever went out to Brookline. - -She thought it strange that Mrs. Temple never asked her to drive, or -offered to introduce her to, or chaperon her in, society; but she tried -to think that these omissions were caused by thoughtlessness rather than -by intentional neglect. - -Her father seldom mentioned Mr. Temple’s name during those days, but grew -more and more grave and silent, losing both flesh and appetite, while she -could hear him tossing restlessly at night, and then he would rise in the -morning, pale, haggard, and with heavy eyes. - -Of course, these things made Mollie anxious and miserable, and she could -not account for them; but she did not like to question her father, -knowing well enough that he would confide in her when the right time -arrived, and she strove to be patient and cheerful whenever she was in -his presence. - -But there came a day when she understood it all, and the shock which came -with the revelation was a rude and cruel one to the sweet and trusting -girl. - -She went out one morning to do some shopping—but, oh! how glad she was -afterward that she had been unable to find what she wanted, and so had -brought back unbroken the crisp bills which her father had given her—and -on her return found her father sitting in a rigid attitude by a window -and looking dazed and strange. - -“Why, papa! it is unusual for you to come home at this hour!” she -observed as she went to him and kissed him on the forehead, while she -strove to conceal the nervous trembling which had seized her. “Are you -ill, dear?” she concluded, and tenderly smoothed his hair, which had -whitened rapidly of late. - -He turned his white, haggard face to her, and tried to smile -reassuringly; but it was an effort that nearly broke her heart. - -“No, my darling, I am not ill; but I am—ruined; we are beggars!” he said -in a voice that shook and quivered like that of a man ninety years old. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -MR. HEATHERFORD RUINED. - - -“Beggars! Ruined!” repeated Mollie, with a wondering intonation, as if -she could not really comprehend the meaning of the words. - -She had known that her father had lost a great deal of money; that -he had been greatly distressed over business complications; but, -notwithstanding, their every want had been supplied—every comfort and -luxury had been theirs up to this time, and she had no more conception -of the meaning of the word poverty, from a practical standpoint, than an -unreasoning child. - -“Yes, dear,” Mr. Heatherford responded to her exclamation; “my last -venture has failed—collapsed—and I am, so to speak, ruined. Oh, my -darling, I could bear it for myself, but to have your life blighted -at the time when it should be the brightest—to have all your future -prospects blasted—crushes me to the earth.” - -Mollie lifted one white hand and laid it caressingly against her father’s -cheek. - -“Hush, dearie! Do not talk like that,” she said in a tone of gentle -reproof; “you make me feel ashamed, to be regarded as such a tender -exotic.” Then she inquired gravely: “What was this ‘last venture’ to -which you refer?” - -The man glanced curiously up at her; then, taking her hand from his -cheek, he drew it around to his lips and kissed it. - -“Never mind, Goldenrod, what it was; you would not understand it if I -should tell you,” he said evasively. - -“All the same, I want you to tell me, if you please, papa, and I will try -to understand,” Mollie returned, with quiet decision, adding: “I have -heard you speak of it to Mr. Temple, and I have a curiosity to know more -about it.” - -“Well, it was connected with—stocks,” Mr. Heatherford reluctantly -admitted, and changing color slightly. - -“Oh! was it ‘trading in futures,’ as I heard Phil express it one day, -when you were all discussing stocks?” questioned Mollie. - -Her companion bent a glance of surprise upon her. - -“Well, yes; something of that kind,” he said, while a bitter smile curled -his lips. - -“Did—did you lose very much that way, papa?” - -“Several thousands, although three years ago I should have regarded the -amount as but a drop out of the bucket; but now, since it has taken -almost my last dollar, it seems a great deal,” the unhappy man replied, -with a sigh. - -“Papa, excuse me,” and the girl flushed vividly as she spoke, “but isn’t -‘dealing in futures’ a—one way of gambling? Of course, I do not know much -about such things, but I listened quite attentively one day when you were -talking with Mr. Temple—I think he was explaining some method in which he -was interested—and it seemed to me very much like a game of chance.” - -“It is, my darling,” said Mr. Heatherford, with a flush of shame, “and I -have always said that it is a disreputable business, and thousands of men -are annually ruined by it, homes are made desolate, while half the cases -of suicide in the world result from the despair which just such ruin as -now stares me in the face entails.” - -“Oh, papa!” sharply cried the fair girl, and growing deathly pale, while -she searched his face with a look of horror in her eyes. The man drew her -arm around his neck and held it there with a grip which seemed to her -startled heart to indicate that he was clinging to her for salvation from -the very despair of which he had spoken. But he did not appear to heed -her cry and continued with the same hopeless note in his tone, and with -something of scorn, also: - -“I would never have believed, even a year ago, that I could ever sink to -such a level; for I had only contempt for such measures and for men who -have made their fortunes in that way; but when I found everything going -against me and my resources fast dwindling to nothing, I grew wild to -retrieve myself, chiefly for your sake, however. I could not endure the -thought that you, who had always had every wish gratified—who had known -nothing but luxury, and floated upon the topmost wave of prosperity—you -who are so fitted to shine in society, should be reduced to poverty, and -so, at Mr. Temple’s suggestion, I ventured my last dollar on one throw, -and—have lost.” - -“Papa, did Mr. Temple advise you to do this?” questioned Mollie, with a -start of surprise. - -“Yes, and that is not the worst of it, either,” the man bitterly -returned. “However, that fact does not excuse me for having yielded to -such advice.” - -“What do you mean by saying, ‘that is not the worst of it?’” queried -Mollie, who had caught the peculiar flash that leaped into his eyes as he -said it. - -“Don’t ask me, dear,” he returned, with a sudden compression of his lips. -“I should not have said that—it escaped me unawares.” - -“Never mind; tell me everything, papa,” the girl persisted, and -determined to get to the bottom of the matter, “even if you have lost all -your money, you haven’t lost me, and I am egotistical enough to fancy -that I am more to you than fortune.” - -“Indeed, you are, my darling; more than many fortunes!” Richard -Heatherford cried as he snatched her to his breast and covered her face -with kisses. “Oh, Goldenrod, my life would not be worth living without -you!” - -“And it will be worth living with me, papa—oh, papa!” Mollie murmured as -she clung to him, her eyes fastened upon his face with a nameless fear in -their blue depths that smote him to the soul. - -“Mollie!” he gasped as her meaning flashed upon him, “surely you did -not think I would be guilty of that! No, no, Buttercup—my one priceless -treasure, as long as God wills, my life will be very precious to me for -your sake. When I said that half the suicides in the world were caused by -just such despair as mine, I had no thought of anything like that. Do not -fear, love, I could never be such a coward.” - -The beautiful girl stood up tall and straight, her face now shining with -love and happiness. - -“Then, since we are all in all to each other, why should we be -discouraged—why grieve for what you have lost?” she cried in a voice -that had a strange, exultant thrill in its sweetness. “Who cares for -luxury, for society’s smile or frown, or to ride upon the topmost wave -of prosperity? I do not, papa, truly, and, to be frank with you, I have -long dreaded the time when you would expect me to take a prominent place -in society. It all seems very hollow and unsatisfying to me, and, during -the last four years, while I have been studying so hard, I have dreamed -fond dreams of some time putting my knowledge to some practical use. -Now, dearest, do not let us look back with a single regret—you are in -the prime of life; I am young and strong. I have a good education and -I know I can turn it to some account, so let us begin life together, -find some cozy nook in which to make a simple home. I will apply at once -for a position to teach—I have some fine vouchers from those Heidelberg -professors, you know—and, after you have had time to pull yourself -together a little, perhaps something in the way of business will commend -itself to you.” - -Mr. Heatherford had listened to his daughter with ever-increasing wonder, -and when she concluded he regarded her with undisguised astonishment, -mingled with admiration. It was a revelation and an inspiration to him to -find the beautiful and delicately reared girl so thoroughly practical, -so brave and unselfish, in view of what had seemed a most appalling -situation, and he was also deeply moved. - -“Mollie!” he tremulously exclaimed as he held out both hands to her, -“what a dear little comforter you are! You are a veritable staff of -pure and solid gold, and you have lifted a load from my heart that was -well-nigh crushing me. I thought it would break your heart to give up -our beautiful home in New York, our summer place in Newport, the horses -and carriages, rich dresses, and the thousand and one pretty things -which you have always been accustomed to. But you have proved yourself -a noble-hearted heroine, and I am prouder of you than if you had been -crowned a queen. Mollie, it seems incredible, but my heart has not been -so light for many months. I am happy, in spite of all,” and the proud, -long-tried man dropped his head upon his daughter’s shoulder, while a sob -of infinite relief burst from his surcharged and grateful heart. - -Mollie’s lovely eyes were swimming in tears, but she bravely blinked them -away, while a clear and silvery laugh rippled over her red lips. - -“Papa,” she said, while she softly smoothed the hair away from his -temple, “do you remember that boy who saved the train from being wrecked -near New Haven, four years ago, to whom you sent the check?” - -“Yes, dear; but what makes you think of him at this time?” inquired Mr. -Heatherford, and, looking up with sudden interest, for he had not thought -of the incident for a long while. - -Mollie flushed brightly as she replied: - -“He does seem rather irrelevant to the subject, I know; but I remember -that I thought he must have been the happiest fellow in the world to have -been such a hero at that time. You know I have always been something of -a worshiper of brave and noble deeds, and to be regarded as a ‘hero’ has -been to set one on a pinnacle, in my estimation. And now you have called -me a ‘heroine,’ and I am proud and happy, even though I have done nothing -to deserve the praise except to speak a few comforting words to my own -dear father.” - -“A few comforting words!” repeated Mr. Heatherford, in unsteady tones. -“My child, do you so underestimate what you have done? You have shown -to-day that spirit of utter self-abnegation which alone animates all -heroes, and you can never realize how much it means to me, for you have -inspired me with new life and fresh courage. God bless you, my precious -daughter!” - -He kissed her tenderly, almost reverently, on the lips, and truly felt -that God had indeed been good to him—even though he had been stripped of -every dollar in the world—in leaving him this brave, pure, and loving -girl to live for. - -Both were too deeply moved for speech for a few moments; but Mollie -finally disengaged herself from her father’s embrace, and, forcing him -back into his chair, drew another for herself to his side. - -“Now, papa, let us get down to the practical again,” she observed, with a -smile, “for I want you to explain this business a little more fully to -me. Will there be any debts?” - -Mr. Heatherford’s eyes actually gleamed with amusement at the question, -for he could scarcely believe that Mollie realized the import of the word. - -“No, dear,” he returned; “I think not. Of course, I shall give up -everything, and my real estate, though heavily mortgaged, together with -what personal property I hold, will, I am sure, be sufficient to meet all -my obligations.” - -“That is lovely!” said Mollie, with animation, “for a lot of debts -would have made our burdens so much heavier for the future; besides, -no opprobrium will rest upon our name if you do not have to fail. You -needn’t laugh, papa”—as she caught his smile—“for I really am not such an -ignoramus as you might think. But I suppose it will be best for us to get -away from this expensive hotel as soon as possible.” - -“Yes, and we must go back to New York immediately, for it will be -necessary to notify my creditors and make arrangements to settle with -them.” - -“All right, dearie; I can be ready to leave this very evening, if you -wish,” said Mollie briskly, and her father wondered more and more as the -reserve force of this tenderly nurtured girl was made manifest to him. - -“I think we will wait until to-morrow night, and go by boat, for I have -to see Mr. Temple again before I leave,” Mr. Heatherford replied, and his -face hardened suddenly as he spoke the man’s name. - -“Ah!” said Mollie, who was quickly observant of the change in him, “and -that reminds me that you have not yet told me what you meant by ‘the -worst,’ in connection with Mr. Temple.” - -“Sweetheart, I should never have spoken as I did—that was an unfortunate -slip,” her father replied, and feeling that, if Mollie was ever to assume -closer relations with the Temple family, it were better that she did not -know too much. - -“But, having made the ‘slip,’ papa, and aroused my curiosity, it leaves -me to imagine all sorts of dreadful things if I am kept in the dark,” -she persisted, adding: “Besides, I have realized of late that something -was wrong in connection with the Temples, and wondered what could have -occasioned the change in their manner toward us.” - -“Well, then, perhaps it will be best, having said so much, to tell you -that the money which I have recently lost has all gone into Mr. Temple’s -pockets.” - -“Papa! Are you sure? And he advised you to make this venture!” cried -Mollie, aghast at such apparent treachery. - -“Yes, there can be no doubt about it, though I learned the fact only this -morning, and that was what hurt me most.” - -“I should think so, indeed. And he has pretended to be your friend—has -even entertained you in his own home while leading you on!” exclaimed the -indignant girl, with blazing eyes, her face and tone expressing infinite -scorn. “Truly it has been the tragedy of the ‘spider and the fly’ enacted -in real life!” - -“Do not forget, dear, that the unwary ‘fly’ deserves his share of -condemnation for having allowed himself to be so hoodwinked,” said -Mr. Heatherford, with a bitterness which betrayed how keen was his -mortification at having become entangled in the net which had ruined him. - -“Oh! but one would never dream of being so ‘wounded in the house of one’s -friends,’” retorted Mollie, with supreme contempt. - -“And yet a great deal of Mr. Temple’s money, I am told, has been acquired -by these doubtful methods. It is said that he got a fine start in some -Western mines, after which he went to San Francisco, where he established -himself as a banker. After he came to Boston he also put out his sign as -a ‘banker,’ but I learned to-day that he has another office in the city -where he operates in the dark in a different business, and that many a -man is stripped of his last dollar by him.” - -“How dreadful!” said Mollie, with an expression of disgust. - -“It was to this office that I was taken and introduced to a gentleman -with whom, Mr. Temple informed me, he had long had successful dealings. -He spoke only truth, however, for it turns out that the man is his own -agent.” - -“Oh, papa! that is worse and worse!” cried his listener, aghast. “I never -would have dreamed of anything so dishonorable of him—he has always -seemed a perfect gentleman.” - -“Yes, and yet there have been times when I have observed a cruel look in -his eyes and about his mouth,” said Mr. Heatherford. “Of course, I have -never known anything about the man until within the last few years, but -I supposed him to be at least a gentleman. However, the lesson he has -taught me, though dearly paid for, has, I trust, been salutary, while it -has also revealed to me the fact that I possess a hundredfold richer mine -of wealth and heart of gold in you, my darling, than I ever dreamed was -mine.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -AFFLICTION OVERTAKES MOLLIE. - - -Mr. Heatherford sought an interview with Mr. Temple the morning following -his revelations to Mollie, when he did not hesitate to inform that -gentleman, much to his surprise, that he had discovered by whom, and by -what methods, he had been fleeced of his last dollar. - -Mr. Temple attempted to deny the impeachment; but there was so much -of embarrassment and of conscious guilt in his manner that he stood -self-convicted. He had been wholly unprepared for such a disclosure, and, -consequently, was taken off his guard, while he was evidently deeply -chagrined to learn that the secret of his blind operations had been -discovered. - -Mr. Heatherford had his say out in a quiet, dignified, but impressive -manner, after which he bade the man good day, and left him to chew the -cud of reflection, which he did in no enviable frame of mind. - -Of course, Mrs. Temple and Philip were in ignorance of Mr. Temple’s -agency in Mr. Heatherford’s misfortune—indeed, they knew nothing of his -methods of doing business—and, upon learning that Mollie and her father -were to leave for New York that evening, Mollie having sent a messenger -with a brief explanatory note to Brookline, to get a box that had been -stored there, they drove in town to pay them a farewell visit. - -Mr. Heatherford was out, but Mollie received them courteously and -strove to entertain them graciously, and yet the visit was formal and -constrained; for the power of thought is mightier than the tongue, -and Mrs. Temple’s mental attitude, in spite of her surface smiles and -volubility, made itself felt. - -Phil threw something of the lover into his manner, notwithstanding the -warning glance from his mother, at parting, and gave Mollie’s hand a -lingering pressure that was intended to speak volumes, while he observed, -as he loitered a moment after Mrs. Temple passed from the room: - -“Mollie, I cannot bear to have you go like this; tell me where to address -you, and I will write.” - -“At the old home on Fifth Avenue, for the next week or two; more than -that I cannot tell you at present,” she replied. - -“All right; you will hear from me very soon, and you must write me an -explanation of this sudden flitting—I do not understand it at all,” Phil -observed as, with another hand-clasp, he hurried away at his mother’s -call from the hall. - -To do him justice, he was somewhat in the dark regarding the unexpected -departure of the Heatherfords. He had attended Mollie to a concert -the night but one before, and, as she had known nothing of what was -before her, of course nothing was said about any change, and the first -intimation Phil had received was when her note had come announcing her -return to New York that evening, and requesting that the “box” be sent -to the railway-station for a certain train. - -When he questioned his mother, she could tell him nothing beyond the -fact that she knew that Mr. Heatherford’s “venture” had failed, and -she supposed he had got to get home and settle up his affairs as -best he could. Mrs. Temple would gladly have escaped the ordeal of a -leave-taking, but she knew she could not do so without violating all -rules of courtesy and decency; so, calling upon Phil to attend her, and -thus prevent a “private interview and all nonsense” between the young -couple, she made her farewell call. - -Mollie and her father left on one of the Sound boats that same evening, -arriving in New York the following morning, when they repaired at once -to their palatial home on Fifth Avenue, and which they immediately -proceeded to dismantle and make over, with most of its treasures, to Mr. -Heatherford’s creditors. - -Three days later all the world knew that the man had lost his all, but -that he would meet every dollar of his liabilities, and thus leave a -clean record and an untarnished name behind him when he should drop out -of the social world, where he had so long held a prominent position. - -Philip Wentworth wrote Mollie, as he had promised to do, a few days -after her departure; but there was very little of the lover manifest -in the studied sentences which he indited, and Mollie’s lips curled -involuntarily with scorn, as, reading between the lines, she realized -that she had been wiser than she knew when she had refused to commit -herself by either confession or promise, to one who could not stand -faithful under the frowns of misfortune. - -She wrote a kind and friendly letter in reply, telling him frankly just -how she and her father were situated—that they had lost everything, and -were both about to learn from practical experience what it meant to have -to work for a living. - -“But”—and there was an undercurrent of reserve force and triumph in every -line—“even though the future seemed to point to a far humbler sphere in -life than they had ever known, she was by no means unhappy in view of the -prospect, for she hoped now to learn just what she was best fitted for, -and to prove the mettle of which she was made.” - -There was no word or even hint of any tenderer sentiment in her letter, -and Philip Wentworth heaved a sigh of relief as he read it, while he -“thanked his lucky stars” that she had reserved her answer to his rash -and impulsive proposal that day when they floated down the sunlit -Charles, and thus he had escaped an entanglement that would have been -exceedingly awkward for him to have broken away from. - -Nevertheless, such is the perversity of human nature, he chafed in secret -because he had failed to subjugate the heart he had coveted most of all, -and so add another to the many victories of that kind which he flattered -himself he had won. - -He sent her a note of regret and condolence, and intimated that he should -expect to hear from her often, and to be kept posted regarding any change -of location, and hoped the time was not far distant when he should see -her again. - -But it was a long time after that before he heard from her again, and -henceforth his letters to Gertrude Athol took on a tenderer tone, -although he did not definitely refer to any consummation of their hopes, -yet mentioned casually that he was contemplating getting settled in some -business as soon as he could find a favorable opening. - -Mollie Heatherford, however, realized that her old-time lover had proved -recreant, even though he was too cowardly to confess it. But she did -not grieve for him; she was far too busy, even if she had been inclined -to do so, during those trying days when she was assisting her father in -the settlement of his affairs and superintending the packing of their -household-furnishings and treasures, which were to be sent to various -places to be sold. - -Not a murmur escaped her, not a sigh nor a tear, as one after another of -the dear and beautiful things were removed from their accustomed places. -She was cheerful, sunny, and intensely practical through it all, and -chased many a gloomy cloud from her father’s brow by a merry laugh, a -sparkling jest, and now and then by a mock reproof because he “didn’t -obey orders from his superior any better.” - -At last these sad duties were completed, and Mr. Heatherford, having -obtained through the influence of a friend a situation in the post-office -department at Washington, they removed to that city, where, taking a tiny -house in a quiet but respectable locality, Mollie became mistress of the -very modest home which their means would allow. - -The enterprising girl wanted to put in an immediate application for a -position as teacher in the public schools, but her father would not -listen to the project, and appeared so sensitive upon the subject that -she finally yielded, though reluctantly, and tried to be content with -doing all in her power to make home pleasant and attractive for him. - -And they were very happy, in spite of the great change in their -circumstances and manner of living. They had only five rooms, but they -were prettily, if cheaply, furnished, with odd pieces which they had been -unable to dispose of when breaking up in New York. Mollie proved herself -a very thrifty and efficient little housekeeper, and carefully followed -the instructions of an experienced colored woman who came to help her for -a few hours every day. - -Mollie Heatherford, untrained in domestic economy as she was, cheerfully -faced the changed conditions of her life with a brave heart. The former -heiress to millions, the carefully nurtured idol of a loving father, -brought up from infancy in the lap of luxury, carefully shielded from -the rough side of the world, now faced the stern battle of life as the -daughter of a government clerk with a true womanly spirit of independence -and determination. - -Mr. Heatherford’s salary proved to be ample for all their needs, and they -were even able to save something from it every month. - -Mollie had begged a monthly allowance for household expenses, as soon as -they were settled, and her father had given her sixty dollars, reserving -the remainder of his income for rent and incidentals, and the girl was -jubilant at the end of the month when she showed him a balance in her -favor of fifteen dollars. - -“I will do even better than that next month, papa,” she said with shining -eyes, after she had made him go over her neatly kept accounts with -her, “for, of course, I have made some mistakes during the last four -weeks, but Ellen knows how to make every penny count, and I am learning -something new every day.” - -But, as the winter passed and the sunny days of an early spring warned -them that summer would soon be upon them, Mollie could see that, -notwithstanding his apparent cheerfulness, her father’s health was -suffering from the unaccustomed confinement of the winter. He said he -was well, but she knew that he was not, and she watched him with jealous -eyes. He rallied somewhat during the month of his vacation, which they -spent in a quiet New England town by the sea. This improvement, however, -proved to be only temporary, for, late in October, he was suddenly -prostrated by some affection of the brain which, from the outset, baffled -the physician who had been called to attend him. - -Another doctor was called, but the change brought no better results -and Mollie grew wild with anxiety, as she realized that, in spite of -everything, her dear one’s mind was rapidly failing, like a candle that -has nearly burned out, for there were times when he did not seem to know -her; then he would rally for a day or two, only to lose ground faster -than ever. - -Finally Doctor Partridge, the attending physician, requested that a -consultation of specialists might be called, as he did not wish to assume -the responsibilities of the case any longer without advice. - -Mollie grasped eagerly at this straw, and two noted physicians were -sent for to confer with Doctor Partridge. It was not a long conference, -fortunately for the poor girl to whom the suspense of that one hour was -torturing beyond description. - -It was over at last, and the physician came to her, his face very grave -and pitiful. Mollie sprang to her feet at his approach, and stood rigid -and snow-white before him, awaiting the verdict. - -“Miss Heatherford,” he said very gently, “it is my painful duty to tell -you that there is absolutely no help for your father. We are all agreed -that materia medica has been exhausted in his case, and it is only a -question of time when he will entirely lose his mind and become utterly -helpless. The specialists advised me not to tell you the worst, but I had -given you my word that I would not keep anything back from you, therefore -I could not feel justified in deceiving you.” - -Mollie listened to this cruel ultimatum like one petrified and feeling as -if she also were losing her mind. Then the strong curb which she had put -upon herself suddenly gave way and she burst forth in wildly rebellious -tones: - -“I do not believe it! It cannot be true! I will not believe it! Oh, God -is good—surely He will not leave me utterly desolate! Doctor Partridge, -there must be help somewhere—is there not some one else to whom we can -appeal? I cannot live without my father!” - -The physician was almost sorry that he had not listened to the advice -of his colleagues and kept the blighting truth from her. But she had -been so calm and self-possessed through all that he had overestimated -her strength. Still she had insisted upon being told and he had pledged -himself to withhold nothing, and he believed he was doing his duty. -He was a kind-hearted and conscientious man, and had been almost an -enthusiast in his profession, but there had been times when he was -sorely perplexed—when he was led to doubt the virtue of drugs and -the conflicting and inefficient methods of his profession, and these -seasons of doubt he found becoming more and more frequent as disease and -experiences like the present were multiplied. - -Doctor Partridge spent a long time with the sorely afflicted girl, trying -to comfort and quiet her and advising her regarding the future care of -her father. He told her that the most that could be done now would be -to make him physically comfortable, and in order to do this she must -have some strong, reliable woman come to relieve her of household cares -and assist in the nursing. He said he knew of just the right person—a -faithful negress, who had had large experience in sickness, was an -excellent cook and who would be glad of a comfortable home and small -wages. - -Mollie wondered vaguely where the money was coming from to defray all -these extra expenses, but she did not demur; she told the doctor to send -the woman at once, and when she came, the following day, the weary and -sorrowful girl found her a tower of strength, not only in the care of her -father, but to her aching heart as well. - -“Don’t yo’ take on so, honey,” said the sympathetic creature, when -Mollie, with a wild burst of grief, told her of her father’s hopeless -case. “De doctors don’t know eberyt’ing, spite of der pertenshuns; yo’ -jest trust de Lord, honey, an’ He’ll brung it out all right.” - -“Oh, where is God, Eliza?” cried Mollie helplessly, while sobs shook her -slight form like a reed. - -“I ’spects He am ebrywhere, honey,” returned the woman, with humble -faith, and then she brought her young mistress a steaming cup of tea, -which she made her drink, firmly believing it a panacea for an aching -heart as well as an empty stomach. - -But Mollie was no weakling. When the first fierce rebellion was over -she began to consider the situation in a practical way. What was to be -done for the future? How was her helpless charge, to say nothing about -herself, to be provided for? Nearly all of the money which both she and -her father had saved had been swallowed up by the physicians and other -expenses of his illness, and some provision must now be made for their -daily needs. - -She could teach, if she could obtain a position; but she had no -influential friends in the city to whom to apply for aid to secure a -school. She studied the papers every day, with the hope of finding some -want or advertisement that would come within her capabilities; but -it was late in the season—the public schools were all supplied with -teachers, and nothing else seemed to offer without requiring her to be -absent from home too many hours during the day, and the outlook seemed -dark. - -One morning she had an errand to do at a bank on Pennsylvania Avenue, -and, after attending to it and making one or two necessary purchases, she -walked swiftly to a corner, to wait for a car to take her home. A pretty -French maid, who was trundling in an elegant perambulator a lovely child -of about three years, was standing talking with a young man, evidently of -her own nationality. - -They became so absorbed in each other that they appeared to be wholly -unmindful of the child, who, however, seemed to be safe enough, for all -Mollie could see, although she felt that the girl was neglectful of duty. - -Presently an ice-cart drove to the curb and stopped. Almost at the same -instant a strong gust of wind swept around the corner, catching the -perambulator and sending it rolling to the very edge of the sidewalk, -and within three feet of where Mollie was standing. But before she could -stretch forth her hand to save it, it went off, was overturned, and the -child, with a shriek of fear, rolled to the ground, directly in front of -the powerful gray horse that was attached to the wagon. - -The animal tossed its head with a startled snort, and reared upon his -hind legs. The driver, a powerful man, with great presence of mind -snatched at his reins and, by sheer muscular strength, held the animal -back upon his haunches, with his forefeet madly pawing the air. - -“For God’s sake, grab that young one, somebody!” he shouted wildly. - -The French maid and her companion both appeared to be paralyzed with -fear. Neither seemed able to move from the spot where they stood, -although the girl filled the air with her shrieks. - -Mollie, without a thought of anything save the precious life of the -little one, bounded forward, and crouching low under the formidable -hoofs, seized the tiny form by its clothing and sprang back upon the -sidewalk, just in season to escape being crushed to death as the -ponderous animal, now beyond the driver’s control, came down upon its -forefeet. - -It was a close shave, and had Mollie hesitated an instant, the child -would have been beyond the reach of human aid. As it was, the fright -and the fall had rendered it unconscious, and a slight abrasion on one -plump little cheek, where the iron shoe had just grazed it, showed how -very narrow had been the escape. Mollie’s skirt was badly torn where the -descending hoof had caught and taken a piece out of it. - -The nurse was almost beside herself with mingled joy and fear, and would -have snatched her little charge from Mollie’s arms, but she gently -repulsed her, and said in French—the language in which the girl had been -conversing with her friend: “Be quiet, the baby is not hurt, and I am -sure she will soon be quite herself. I will take her into this drug-store -and have her cared for—secure the carriage and then follow me.” - -The maid mechanically obeyed her, and appeared greatly relieved to have -some one assume the responsibility of attending to her charge. - -The proprietor of the store had once been a practising physician, and -into his care Mollie gave the little one. She had already begun to -revive, and now manifested considerable fear at finding herself in the -arms of a strange gentleman, who, after looking her over carefully, said -that she was uninjured. - -Mollie was very sweet and gentle with her, and she was more than -half-reassured before the familiar face of her nurse appeared, when she -lapsed from tears to smiles, and was soon chatting like a magpie, in -French, with them both. - -The perambulator also had escaped serious injury, greatly to the surprise -of every one, and little Lucille, as the child was named, was ere long -comfortably settled among her pillows and being trundled homeward by the -thankful Nannette. - -Mollie walked a short distance with them, for she saw that the girl was -still greatly overcome from the shock which she had sustained, and she -kindly strove to reassure her, but cautioned her never to let go the -handle of the perambulator when she was on the street with the little one. - -She left them at the next corner, where they were to turn, having -persuaded Lucille to kiss her and given her address to Nannette, who -begged to know where she lived, so that she might come to thank her -again when she was more herself; then she hailed an approaching car, and -returned to her own cares and responsibilities. - -The further experiences of the personages in this story will be related -in the sequel to this story entitled “The Heatherford Fortune,” published -in style and price uniform with this volume. - -THE END. - - - - -Popular Copyright Books - -AT MODERATE PRICES - -Any of the following titles can be bought of your bookseller at the price -you paid for this volume - - - =Alternative, The.= By George Barr McCutcheon. - =Angel of Forgiveness, The.= By Rosa N. Carey. - =Angel of Pain, The.= By E. F. Benson. - =Annals of Ann, The.= By Kate Trimble Sharber. - =Battle Ground, The.= By Ellen Glasgow. - =Beau Brocade.= By Baroness Orczy. - =Beechy.= By Bettina Von Hutten. - =Bella Donna.= By Robert Hichens. - =Betrayal, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. - =Bill Toppers, The.= By Andre Castaigne. - =Butterfly Man, The.= By George Barr McCutcheon. - =Cab No. 44.= By R. F. Foster. - =Calling of Dan Matthews, The.= By Harold Bell Wright. - =Cape Cod Stories.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. - =Challoners, The.= By E. F. Benson. - =City of Six, The.= By C. L. Canfield. - =Conspirators, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. - =Dan Merrithew.= By Lawrence Perry. - =Day of the Dog, The.= By George Barr McCutcheon. - =Depot Master, The.= By Joseph C. Lincoln. - =Derelicts.= By William J. Locke. - =Diamonds Cut Paste.= By Agnes & Egerton Castle. - =Early Bird, The.= By George Randolph Chester. - =Eleventh Hour, The.= By David Potter. - =Elizabeth in Rugen.= By the author of Elizabeth and Her German Garden. - =Flying Mercury, The.= By Eleanor M. Ingram. - =Gentleman, The.= By Alfred Ollivant. - =Girl Who Won, The.= By Beth Ellis. - =Going Some.= By Rex Beach. - =Hidden Water.= By Dane Coolidge. - =Honor of the Big Snows, The.= By James Oliver Curwood. - =Hopalong Cassidy.= By Clarence E. Mulford. - =House of the Whispering Pines, The.= By Anna Katherine Green. - =Imprudence of Prue, The.= By Sophie Fisher. - =In the Service of the Princess.= By Henry C. Rowland. - =Island of Regeneration, The.= By Cyrus Townsend Brady. - =Lady of Big Shanty, The.= By Berkeley F. Smith. - =Lady Merton, Colonist.= By Mrs. Humphrey Ward. - =Lord Loveland Discovers America.= By C. N. & A. M. Williamson. - =Love the Judge.= By Wymond Carey. - =Man Outside, The.= By Wyndham Martyn. - =Marriage of Theodora, The.= By Molly Elliott Seawell. - =My Brother’s Keeper.= By Charles Tenny Jackson. - =My Lady of the South.= By Randall Parrish. - =Paternoster Ruby, The.= By Charles Edmonds Walk. - =Politician, The.= By Edith Huntington Mason. - =Pool of Flame, The.= By Louis Joseph Vance. - =Poppy.= By Cynthia Stockley. - =Redemption of Kenneth Galt, The.= By Will N. Harben. - =Rejuvenation of Aunt Mary, The.= By Anna Warner. - =Road to Providence, The.= By Maria Thompson Davies. - =Romance of a Plain Man, The.= By Ellen Glasgow. - =Running Fight, The.= By Wm. Hamilton Osborne. - =Septimus.= By William J. Locke. - =Silver Horde, The.= By Rex Beach. - =Spirit Trail, The.= By Kate & Virgil D. Boyles. - =Stanton Wins.= By Eleanor M. Ingram. - =Stolen Singer, The.= By Martha Bellinger. - =Three Brothers, The.= By Eden Phillpotts. - =Thurston of Orchard Valley.= By Harold Bindloss. - =Title Market, The.= By Emily Post. - =Vigilante Girl, A.= By Jerome Hart. - =Village of Vagabonds, A.= By F. Berkeley Smith. - =Wanted—A Chaperon.= By Paul Leicester Ford. - =Wanted: A Matchmaker.= By Paul Leicester Ford. - =Watchers of the Plains, The.= By Ridgwell Cullum. - =White Sister, The.= By Marion Crawford. - =Window at the White Cat, The.= By Mary Roberts Rhinehart. - =Woman in Question, The.= By John Reed Scott. - - =Anna the Adventuress.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. - =Ann Boyd.= By Will N. Harben. - =At The Moorings.= By Rosa N. Carey. - =By Right of Purchase.= By Harold Bindloss. - =Carlton Case, The.= By Ellery H. Clark. - =Chase of the Golden Plate.= By Jacques Futrelle. - =Cash Intrigue, The.= By George Randolph Chester. - =Delafield Affair, The.= By Florence Finch Kelly. - =Dominant Dollar, The.= By Will Lillibridge. - =Elusive Pimpernel, The.= By Baroness Orczy. - =Ganton & Co.= By Arthur J. Eddy. - =Gilbert Neal.= By Will N. Harben. - =Girl and the Bill, The.= By Bannister Merwin. - =Girl from His Town, The.= By Marie Van Vorst. - =Glass House, The.= By Florence Morse Kingsley. - =Highway of Fate, The.= By Rosa N. Carey. - =Homesteaders, The.= By Kate and Virgil D. Boyles. - =Husbands of Edith, The.= George Barr McCutcheon. - =Inez.= (Illustrated Ed.) By Augusta J. Evans. - =Into the Primitive.= By Robert Ames Bennet. - =Jack Spurlock, Prodigal.= By Horace Lorimer. - =Jude the Obscure.= By Thomas Hardy. - =King Spruce.= By Holman Day. - =Kingsmead.= By Bettina Von Hutten. - =Ladder of Swords, A.= By Gilbert Parker. - =Lorimer of the Northwest.= By Harold Bindloss. - =Lorraine.= By Robert W. Chambers. - =Loves of Miss Anne, The.= By S. R. Crockett. - =Marcaria.= By Augusta J. Evans. - =Mam’ Linda.= By Will N. Harben. - =Maids of Paradise, The.= By Robert W. Chambers. - =Man in the Corner, The.= By Baroness Orczy. - =Marriage A La Mode.= By Mrs. Humphry Ward. - =Master Mummer, The.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. - =Much Ado About Peter.= By Jean Webster. - =Old, Old Story, The.= By Rosa N. Carey. - =Pardners.= By Rex Beach. - =Patience of John Moreland, The.= By Mary Dillon. - =Paul Anthony, Christian.= By Hiram W. Hays. - =Prince of Sinners, A.= By E. Phillips Oppenheim. - =Prodigious Hickey, The.= By Owen Johnson. - =Red Mouse, The.= By William Hamilton Osborne. - =Refugees, The.= By A. Conan Doyle. - =Round the Corner in Gay Street.= Grace S. Richmond. - =Rue: With a Difference.= By Rosa N. Carey. - =Set in Silver.= By C. N. and A. M. Williamson. - =St. Elmo.= By Augusta J. Evans. - =Silver Blade, The.= By Charles E. Walk. - =Spirit in Prison, A.= By Robert Hichens. - =Strawberry Handkerchief, The.= By Amelia E. Barr. - =Tess of the D’Urbervilles.= By Thomas Hardy. - =Uncle William.= By Jennette Lee. - =Way of a Man, The.= By Emerson Hough. - =Whirl, The.= By Foxcroft Davis. - =With Juliet in England.= By Grace S. Richmond. - =Yellow Circle, The.= By Charles E. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<table style='min-width:0; padding:0; margin-left:0; border-collapse:collapse'> - <tr><td>Title:</td><td>The Magic Cameo</td></tr> - <tr><td></td><td>A Love Story</td></tr> -</table> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: February 14, 2021 [eBook #64559]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC CAMEO ***</div> - -<div class="box-outer"> - -<div class="box-inner"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> - -<p class="center larger">The Magic Cameo<br /> -A Love Story</p> - -</div> - -<div class="box-inner middle"> - -<p class="titlepage"><i>By</i> MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON</p> - -<p class="titlepage smaller"><span class="smaller">AUTHOR OF</span><br /> -“The Churchyard Betrothal,” “Mona,” “Wedded<br /> -By Fate,” “A Hoiden’s Conquest,” “The<br /> -Lily of Mordaunt,” etc.</p> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> -<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="200" height="150" alt="" /> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class="box-inner"> - -<p class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY<br /> -<span class="smcap">Publishers</span> <span class="smcap spacer">New York</span></p> - -</div> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="box-outer"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span></p> - -<p class="center larger">Popular Books</p> - -<p class="center">By MRS. GEORGIE SHELDON</p> - -<p class="center">In Handsome Cloth Binding</p> - -<p class="center">Price per Volume, <span class="spacer">60 Cents</span></p> - -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<ul> -<li>Brownie’s Triumph</li> -<li>Earl Wayne’s Nobility</li> -<li>Churchyard Betrothal, The</li> -<li>Edrie’s Legacy</li> -<li>Faithful Shirley</li> -<li>For Love and Honor</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to Geoffrey’s Victory</li> -<li>Forsaken Bride, The</li> -<li>Geoffrey’s Victory</li> -<li>Golden Key, The; or a Heart’s Silent Worship</li> -<li>Heatherford Fortune, The</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to The Magic Cameo</li> -<li>He Loves Me For Myself</li> -<li>Helen’s Victory</li> -<li>Her Faith Rewarded</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to Faithful Shirley</li> -<li>Her Heart’s Victory</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to Max</li> -<li>Heritage of Love, A</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to The Golden Key</li> -<li>Hoiden’s Conquest, A</li> -<li>How Will It End</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to Marguerite’s Heritage</li> -<li>Lily of Mordaunt, The</li> -<li>Little Miss Whirlwind; or Lost for Twenty Years</li> -<li>Lost, A Pearle</li> -<li>Love’s Conquest</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to Helen’s Victory</li> -<li>Love Victorious, A</li> -<li>Magic Cameo, The</li> -<li>Marguerite’s Heritage</li> -<li>Masked Bridal, The</li> -<li>Max, A Cradle Mystery</li> -<li>Mona</li> -<li>Nora, or The Missing Heir of Callonby</li> -<li>Sibyl’s Influence</li> -<li>Threads Gathered Up</li> - <li class="sequel">Sequel to Virgie’s Inheritance</li> -<li>Thrice Wedded</li> -<li>Tina</li> -<li>Trixy, or The Shadow of a Crime</li> -<li>True Aristocrat, A</li> -<li>True Love’s Reward</li> -<li>Virgie’s Inheritance</li> -<li>Wedded By Fate</li> -</ul> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center">For Sale by all Booksellers<br /> -or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price</p> - -<p class="center">A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS<br /> -52 Duane Street <span class="spacer">New York</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class="center smaller">Copyright, 1898 and 1899<br /> -<span class="smcap">By Street & Smith</span></p> - -<p class="center smaller">THE MAGIC CAMEO</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span></p> - -<h1>THE MAGIC CAMEO.</h1> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PRELUDE">PRELUDE.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THREE PICTURES.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Picture number one shows us a young man of about -twenty-eight years standing on the veranda of a fine -country residence that rises out of the midst of spacious -and well-kept grounds, while stretching out and around -on every hand are many broad acres of carefully tilled -fields of grain, luxuriant waving grass, and, in the distance, -a belt of woodland.</p> - -<p>Behind the mansion are roomy and substantial barns -and outhouses for various purposes, all in perfect repair -and telling of comfortable quarters for horses, cows, -and other kinds of stock. It is, in fact, a thrifty and -ideal New England farm, and a home of which any -man might reasonably feel proud.</p> - -<p>But the young man standing upon the broad veranda -has at this moment no thought of his prospective inheritance. -His form is as rigid as that of a statue; -his face is set and colorless; his eyes wide and staring -and full of hopeless wretchedness, as they scan the -letter which he is holding in his hand. The missive -had been brought to him a few moments previous by<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -the hired man who had just returned from the village -post-office, and who had shot a sly glance and smile up -at his young master, to indicate that he had not been -unmindful of the delicate and flowing handwriting in -which it had been addressed, that had caused such a -glad light to leap into the eyes of the recipient and -made him blush like a girl as he tore it eagerly open.</p> - -<p>Let us read the lines which occasioned such a sudden -transformation, blotting out the love-light from his -eyes, burning to ashes all the tenderness in his nature -and writing hard and cruel lines upon his face:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Alfred</span>: I know that you can never forgive me the -wrong I am doing you, but, too late, I have learned -that I love another and not you. When you receive -this I shall be the wife of that other—you well know -who. I wish I could have saved you this blow, so -near the day that was set for our wedding; but I should -have doubly wronged you had I remained and fulfilled -my pledge to you with my heart irrevocably -given elsewhere. Forget and forgive if you can.</p> - -<p class="right">“T. A.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>“My God! and she was to have been my wife one -month from to-day!” bursts from the white lips of the -reader as he finishes perusing the above for the second -time.</p> - -<p>He sways dizzily, then staggers toward one of the -massive pillars that support the roof of the piazza, and -leans against it, too weak from the terrible shock he has -received to stand alone; and there he remains, staring -sightlessly before him, oblivious to everything save his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -own misery, until an elderly gentle-faced woman comes -to the door and says:</p> - -<p>“Alfred, supper is ready.”</p> - -<p>The man starts, stands erect, his brows contracted, -his lips set in a white line of determination. He deliberately -folds the letter, returns it to its envelope, and -slips it into an inner pocket. As he crushes it down -out of sight a look of hate sweeps over his face and -blazes in his eyes.</p> - -<p>Then he turns and follows the woman into the house.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Picture number two was sketched more than two -years later, and shows a small, meagerly furnished -room, in an humble tenement, located in a narrow -street of a great Western city. It has only one occupant—a -young and attractive woman, who is sitting -before a fire in an open grate, for it is a chill November -night.</p> - -<p>Her face is stained with weeping; her eyes are red -and swollen; great heart-rending sobs burst from her -every now and then, and she is trembling from head to -foot.</p> - -<p>As in the first picture, there is a letter. She holds -it in her hands, upon her lap, and she has crumpled it -with her fingers, which are twitching nervously, causing -the paper to rattle in her grasp.</p> - -<p>“Merciful Heaven! can it be true?” she breathes, between -her quivering lips. “I cannot, will not believe -a human being could be so heartless, so lost to all honor -and manliness.”</p> - -<p>She raises the missive, spreads it out before her, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span> -reads it through again, although every word was already -seared, as with a hot iron, upon her brain. It -was brief, cold, and fiendishly cruel. It was addressed -to no one, and was also without signature.</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“I’m off,” it began. “There is no use in longer -trying to conceal the fact that I am tired of the continual -grind of the last two years. It was a great -mistake that we ever married, and I may as well confess -what you have already surmised—that I never -really loved you. Why did I marry you, then? Well, -you know that I never could endure to be balked in -anything, and as I had made up my mind to cut a certain -person out, I was bound to carry my point. You -know whom I mean, and that he and I were always -at cross-purposes. The best thing you can do will be -to go back to your own people—tell whatever story -you choose about me. I shall never take the trouble -to refute it, neither will I ever annoy you in any way. -Get a divorce if you want one. I will not oppose it; as -I said before, I am tired of the infernal grind and -bound to get out of it. I’ll go my way, and you may -go yours; but don’t attempt to find or follow me, for -I won’t be hampered by any responsibilities in the -future.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The woman fell into deep thought after this last perusal -of the letter, and she sat more than an hour gazing -into the fire, scarcely moving during that time.</p> - -<p>The cheap little clock on the mantel striking eight -finally aroused her, and, with a long-drawn sigh, she -arose, walked deliberately to the grate, laid the epistle -on the coals and watched it while the flames devoured<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> -it, reducing it to ashes, which were finally whirled in -tiny particles up the chimney by the draft.</p> - -<p>“So that dream has vanished,” she murmured; “now -I will come down to the practical realities of life. But, -oh! what has the future for me?”</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Picture number three is not unveiled until fourteen -years later.</p> - -<p>In a palatial residence on Nob Hill, in San Francisco, -a distinguished-looking gentleman may be seen sitting -in his luxurious library. Its walls are hung with an -exquisite shade of old rose, the broad frieze representing -garlands of flowers in old rose, gold, and white. -The furniture is of solid mahogany, richly carved, upholstered -in blue velvet and satins; costly draperies are -at the windows; Turkish rugs of almost priceless value -are strewn about the inlaid and highly polished floor, -and statues, bric-a-brac, and fine pictures, gathered -from many countries, are artistically arranged about -the room.</p> - -<p>The gentleman, who is in evening dress, excepting -that he has on a smoking-jacket of rich black velvet, is -lazily reclining in an adjustable chair, and engaged in -cutting the leaves of one of the late magazines, while -he smokes a cigar.</p> - -<p>Presently the portieres of a doorway are swept aside, -and a beautiful woman enters. She is in full evening -dress, and clad like a princess in satin, of a deep shade -of pink, brocaded with white. Diamonds encircle her -white neck, gleam in her ears, and amid her nut-brown -hair.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<p>The gentleman turns to her, his face glowing with -mingled pride and pleasure.</p> - -<p>“Nell! what a vision of loveliness!” he exclaims, -with an eager thrill in his tones.</p> - -<p>She comes to him with a fond smile upon her lips, -lays her fair arms around his neck, and kisses him.</p> - -<p>“So much for your flattery,” she playfully responds.</p> - -<p>“Ah, I am tempted to try for the same reward -again,” he returns, in the same vein, as he captures one -jeweled hand and lays it against his lips.</p> - -<p>“But, dear, do you know how late it is getting to -be?” questions the lady, as she glances at the gilded -clock on the mantel.</p> - -<p>“Well, I am all ready, except getting into my coat. -Run away for your opera-cloak, and I will not be a -minute behind you, though really, Nell, I am too comfortable -to move,” concludes the man, in a regretful -tone.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you lazy, unappreciative fellow,” gaily retorts -his companion. “Here one of the leaders in society is -about to tender a brilliant reception to the distinguished -mayor of the city, and he is so indifferent to the honor -that he prefers to sit and smoke at home to receive the -homage awaiting him. Come, sir; your wife is ambitious -if you are not.”</p> - -<p>She administers a playful box on his ear as she -ceases, then trips away, while the gentleman watches -her with a smile on his lips and his heart in his eyes.</p> - -<p>He arises the instant she disappears, and is on the -point of following her when his glance falls upon a -paper which, until that moment, has lain unnoticed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -upon the table. He picks it up, and runs his eyes up -and down its columns.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a shock seems to go quivering through -him, and every particle of color fades out of his face. -He stands up as if transfixed for a full minute. Then -the paper drops from his grasp.</p> - -<p>“At last!” he mutters; “at last!”</p> - -<p>He draws a long, deep breath, like one who, having -been long oppressed, suddenly feels a weight removed. -Then he throws back his shoulders and walks with a -proudly uplifted head and elastic step from the room.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.<br /> -<span class="smaller">AN ACT OF HEROISM.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>A long and heavily laden passenger-train—the 3 -o’clock limited express from Boston to New York—and -composed chiefly of parlor-cars, was almost ready -to pull out of the station. The engineer and fireman -were in their places, while the porters, standing beside -their steps, were awaiting the last signal from the -gong.</p> - -<p>Midway of the train, and sitting at the open window -of her section, a young girl of perhaps fourteen or fifteen -years, was sitting. She was a veritable pink-and-white -beauty, with golden hair lying in soft, fluffy curls -about her forehead, beneath which a pair of mischievous -blue eyes—a saucy light gleaming in their azure -depths—looked out and down upon the handsome face -of a tall, well-formed youth, with an unmistakable air -of high breeding about him, who was standing on the -platform outside with a somewhat lugubrious expression -on his countenance.</p> - -<p>He was evidently about eighteen years of age, and -everything about him indicated a scion of a wealthy -aristocrat.</p> - -<p>“Remember, Mollie,” he was saying, “you have -promised to write me every week, and I shall expect -you to tell me everything you hear, see, and do—yes,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span> -and think. I don’t know how I’m going to stand it to -have you gone, for nobody knows how long, with the -ocean between us and all our good times at an end.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense, Phil, you silly boy! You are going to be -at Harvard, and, absorbed in your studies and your various -clubs and societies, you will soon forget all about -those ‘old times,’ and be bored beyond expression if I -should take you at your word and inflict a letter, filled -with foolish, girlish gossip, upon you every week,” the -girl laughingly retorted.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, her saucy eyes grew a trifle sad while -she was speaking, and a deeper pink glowed upon her -cheeks.</p> - -<p>“No, it is not ‘nonsense,’ and I shall never ‘forget,’ as -you will prove to your satisfaction, if you will only do -your duty,” the young man earnestly returned. “So -send on your letters, and mind, Mollie, you don’t let -any one steal your heart away from me, for you know -you are to marry me just as soon as I am through -college.”</p> - -<p>He had lowered his voice during this last sentence, -while he regarded the lovely face with a tender, admiring -look that spoke volumes. The azure eyes drooped -and a scarlet wave leaped to the delicately blue-veined -temples; but she replied:</p> - -<p>“Marry you as soon as you are through college, indeed!—who -said so, I should like to know?” A tantalizing -laugh revealed two rows of small white teeth between -the ruby lips.</p> - -<p>“Mollie! Mollie! don’t torment me,” the youthful -lover returned, with a note of earnest entreaty in his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -tone. “You know that we have planned it all a hundred -times, when you and I were playing ‘keep house’ -together in the tent under the old elms at your home -on the Hudson.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but that was only play, Phil. In another -month you’ll be dancing attendance on the pretty Cambridge -girls, and, after four years of such fun, you’ll -cease to remember that such a being as Mollie Heatherford -exists, or that she ever played Joan to your Darby -under the elms at Sunnyhurst,” and two roguish eyes -gleamed with mischief as they scanned the clouded -face beneath her.</p> - -<p>“You are cruel, Mollie. I shall always be faithful -to you, and I wish you would give me some pledge before -you go; say,” as his glance fell upon the small, -white hand that rested upon the window-sill, and on -which there gleamed several costly rings, “give me -that cameo you are wearing to seal the compact. It -really isn’t a lady’s ring, and would look far better on -my hand than yours, and I’ll send you something pretty -and nice in place of it. Now, Mollie, dear, be good to -me—don’t go away and leave me in suspense.”</p> - -<p>But Miss Mischief had no intention of being caught -in the net so cleverly spread for her. She laughed -roguishly back into the handsome face upturned to -her, and saucily shook her head.</p> - -<p>“No, I can’t give you the cameo, Phil,” she said, -“and I’m not going to make any promises—now. Hark, -there is the last bell. Good-by, and do yourself credit -at college.”</p> - -<p>The train began to move as she spoke. Phil clasped<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -the hand outstretched to him while he ran along beside -the car.</p> - -<p>“Remember, it is mine. I shall claim it in four -years, promise or no promise. Now, write me every -week; don’t forget me; good-by.”</p> - -<p>He had to relinquish the hand at last, but he took off -his hat and waved a farewell, while his fond eyes -lingered upon the sweet, smiling face looking back at -him, until the train rolled out of the station.</p> - -<p>He knew it would be the last time he would see it -for a long while, for pretty Mollie Heatherford was -soon to go abroad for an indefinite period. She had -been spending a week with the Temples in Brookline—Phil’s -home—making a farewell visit previous to her -departure, and she was now on her way to New York -to rejoin her father and mother, and the trio were to -sail for Europe within a few days.</p> - -<p>“By Jove! I believe she is the prettiest girl I ever -saw, and she’ll have a pile of money some day. I’ll -stick to Mollie and her pile, and the Cambridge girls -may hang their harps on the willows for all me. I’m -going to look out for number one.”</p> - -<p>Such were the mental comments of Philip Wentworth, -whose mother—a widow—had married a -wealthy man by the name of Temple some four years -previous. And these comments were an index to the -young man’s character, which, summed up in a word, -might be written selfish.</p> - -<p>The express-train steamed rapidly on its way, bearing -the pretty heiress of the Heatherford million -toward her home. The day had been very hot and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> -sultry—it was late in July—and some three hours after -leaving Boston ominous clouds began to gather in the -West. A little later the train ran into a terrific -electric-storm.</p> - -<p>Mollie Heatherford sat crouching in her section, -white and trembling, and dreading every instant a -deadly bolt which would bring swift destruction and -annihilation to her, yet too proud and sensitive to confess -her fear and seek the reassuring companionship of -some fellow traveler.</p> - -<p>The heavens were so thickly overcast, and the rain -descended in such torrents it seemed almost like night -in the car, and the porter began to light the lamps.</p> - -<p>He had only half-completed his task when there -burst upon the affrighted ears of the awe-stricken passengers -within the train a startling, warning whistle -from the engine, then a sudden shock and crash, followed -by shrieks and cries of men, women, and children.</p> - -<p>On this same afternoon, while “the Limited” was -speeding on its way from Boston to New York, a -youth of perhaps seventeen years might have been seen -toiling beneath the blazing sun in a hay-field, adjoining -the grounds surrounding a stately mansion, and which -was located on the outskirts of a beautiful country town -not far from New Haven.</p> - -<p>Every now and then the young man would glance -anxiously up at a small cloud that was floating along -the western horizon, and every time he looked it seemed -to have grown larger and larger. Then he would fall -to work again with fresh vigor, apparently unmindful<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -of the broiling heat and of the great beads of perspiration -which rolled over his face and dropped upon the -ground.</p> - -<p>He was working alone, and it did not seem possible -that he would be able to get all the hay in the field into -cocks and covered with caps before the storm would be -upon him. But there was a resolution in every glance -of his eye, determination in every vigorous movement -of his body, and he pressed on, while the cloud grew, -mounting higher and higher in the heavens, while vivid -flashes of lightning, followed by the heavy roll of -thunder, gave warning that the storm was coming -nearer and nearer.</p> - -<p>He had timed himself well; the task was completed; -the last cap spread as the first drops fell, when the -youth shouldered his rake and turned his steps toward -the farmhouse. He had to run for it, for the storm -was fast overtaking him, but he reached the great barn -just in season to escape the deluge.</p> - -<p>Hanging his rake upon a beam, he removed his -broad hat, wiped the perspiration from his face, and -heaved a long sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>“Well, I did it,” he observed, with a satisfied uplifting -of his head, “but small thanks I’ll get for my efforts. -However, that is not my affair. My part was to -do as I’d be done by, thanks or no thanks. Great -Cæsar! how it rains! What lightning! What -thunder!” he exclaimed, as flash after flash swept -athwart the murky sky and almost simultaneous reports -crashed like the continuous firing of mighty cannons,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -while the rain came down in sheets and drenched -the thirsty earth.</p> - -<p>He stood watching the conflict of elements for a few -moments, then he remarked again:</p> - -<p>“I am sure I have earned the right to rest a while, so -I’m going in to have a tussle with Tacitus for an hour -or two. Ho! hum! I wonder if I shall be able to pass -the exams. and enter college this fall.”</p> - -<p>He tossed his hat upon a peg, then, passing through -a side door, traversed a short passage, then a shed, and -finally entered the roomy, pleasant kitchen of the farmhouse, -where a tidy, good-natured looking woman was -mixing biscuit for supper.</p> - -<p>With a smile and a pleasant word to her, the young -man crossed the room, opened a door and mounted a -flight of stairs to a small room on the back of the house, -and which overlooked a winding stream, and, a few -rods away, the railroad. Here he threw himself into a -chair before a table, upon which there were several -books, and was soon absorbed in the “Annals of -Tacitus.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly there came a blinding flash of lightning, -followed instantly by a crash that seemed to shake the -very foundation of the earth.</p> - -<p>“That was very near,” muttered the youth, looking -up from his book and glancing out of the window.</p> - -<p>A startled cry burst from him as he did so, and he -sprang to his feet.</p> - -<p>“Heavens! the old crooked maple has been struck -and fallen directly across the track!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>He snatched a cheap watch from his pocket and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -glanced at it, his face growing white with a terrible -fear.</p> - -<p>“The New York limited express will be due here in -exactly half an hour. Unless something is done, some -warning given before it rounds the curve there will be -a horrible accident,” he soliloquized with pale lips.</p> - -<p>He rushed from the room, down the stairs, through -the kitchen, and into the shed, where, seizing an ax, -he darted out of a back door unmindful of the pouring -rain, through a garden, and down a bank beyond, and, -in another moment, was on the railroad beside the great -tree, whose trunk was at least twelve inches in -diameter, and whose branches spread out over the track -for many feet.</p> - -<p>This maple had stood there on the bank for many -years, while storm after storm had gradually undermined -it, until it was held only by the strength of its -own roots. The roadmaster of that section had, for -some time, contemplated having it removed, as he felt -that it was unsafe to allow it to remain. But he had -neglected it just a little too long, and the present -tempest had wrenched it from its place, causing it to -fall directly across both tracks.</p> - -<p>With quick and vigorous strokes the young man -trimmed away some of the branches, so that he could -get at the trunk, and then he fell to work with his ax -as he had seldom worked before, forgetting that he had -already performed the labor of two men that day, and -the tree was finally severed just outside the rails nearest -the roots.</p> - -<p>But another division must be made before it could<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span> -be removed from its dangerous position, and he sprang -between the two tracks and fell to work again, the elements -still keeping high carnival around him. The -chips flew right and left, while with every blow of the -ax the youth’s breath was forced from him with a -shrill, hissing sound, showing that he was putting forth -his strength to the utmost. But he had hewn only -about two-thirds of the log when the whistle of a locomotive -fell upon his ear and warned him that the train -was only a mile away, speeding on toward swift -destruction.</p> - -<p>What should he do? He knew there would not be -time to complete his task and drag the tree from the -track before the train would be upon him, while there -was a bridge over the road not fifty feet behind him, -and beneath it a foaming, rushing, thundering torrent, -into which the engine and coaches, if derailed, would -doubtless plunge headlong.</p> - -<p>A wild look of fear shot into his eyes. An expression -of horror was on his pallid face as these thoughts -flashed through his mind. The next instant he snatched -a red bandanna from his pocket and started on a swift -run down the track, tying the handkerchief to a branch -of the maple as he went. On, on, like a deer he ran. -The curve was reached and rounded. The train was in -sight. Nearer and nearer it came thundering on; then -the short, sharp sound of the danger-whistle fell upon -the boy’s ear, and his heart bounded into his throat -with a sudden sense of relief as he realized that his -signal had been seen and recognized.</p> - -<p>Then he dashed it to the ground, and, turning, sped<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span> -back to the maple, and fell to work again with his ax -with all his might.</p> - -<p>The moment the engineer had espied the improvised -flag he knew there was danger ahead, and, blowing the -signal to warn the brakemen, he reversed his engine, -and opened the valves, and it was this ready response -to the waving bandanna that had caused the crash and -shock which had so frightened and shaken up everybody -on the train, although no real damage had been -done, and he finally brought his engine to a standstill -within three feet of the youth, and just in season to -see the last blow from his ax, which cleft the trunk of -the maple asunder.</p> - -<p>Both he and the fireman sprang to the ground and -ran toward him, reaching him just as, with a faintly -murmured “Thank God!” he fell forward exhausted, -and was caught in their strong arms before he could -touch the ground. He did not entirely lose consciousness; -but he was too spent and weak to move or even speak.</p> - -<p>Many of the passengers left the train and gathered -around him in spite of the rain, which continued to fall -heavily, although it was gradually abating.</p> - -<p>The conductor, comprehending at once what had -occurred, and anxious to lose no more time than was -absolutely necessary, ordered the youth to be put -aboard the train and made as comfortable as possible -until they reached the next station. Then the brakemen, -with the engineer and fireman, removed the debris -from the tracks, after which everybody was ordered -back into the coaches, and the train went steaming -on its way once more.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.<br /> -<span class="smaller">A TOUCHING TRIBUTE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The hero of the incident would have much preferred -to have been left by the side of the railroad with the -mutilated maple until he could gather sufficient -strength to crawl back to the farmhouse, but he was -too exhausted to express his wishes, and thus he was -obliged to go along with the train.</p> - -<p>The next stopping-place was New Haven, the express -being due there a little after 7, and during the -ride the youth, under the care of the conductor and -some of the passengers, recovered sufficiently to tell -who he was and where he belonged, as well as how he -had discovered the obstruction upon the road. His -name, he said, was Clifford Faxon, and his home was -with a gentleman known as Squire Talford, who lived -near the village of Cedar Hill, or between that place -and New Haven.</p> - -<p>He appeared to be rather reticent and sensitive -about talking of himself, but some gentlemen adroitly -drew him out and learned that he was an orphan, and -had been bound to the Squire since he was thirteen, -or for the last four years, working for his “board and -clothes”; that he had attended the academy of the -town from September to April of every year, and was -hoping to work his way through college when his -time was out.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span></p> - -<p>As he came more fully to himself he gave his audience -an account of how the maple had fallen across the -railroad; how he had realized what the terrible consequences -must be unless it was removed and the engineer -of the express warned of the danger; how he -had been inspired to take his ax and hurry to the -scene and work diligently as long as he could to remove -the obstruction, and, when he found that would -be impossible, he had run forward and waved his red -handkerchief to stop the train.</p> - -<p>His listeners were thrilled with admiration and -gratitude in view of his heroism and the incalculable -debt which they owed him. Their sympathies were -also enlisted for him, for they saw that he was a fine, -manly fellow, and capable of far better things than -serving a farmer, as a bound boy, for a mere pittance.</p> - -<p>One gentleman, a resident of New Haven, said he -knew something of his history, having learned it -through the principal of the academy in the town where -he lived, and he had never heard anything but good -of him, while he was sure he had been under a hard -master during the last four years.</p> - -<p>The result of this was a proposition to see what -could be done in the way of a testimonial to manifest -the appreciation of the passengers, who had been -rescued from probable death.</p> - -<p>Two gentlemen were appointed in every car to see -what they could raise toward this end, and they worked -so zealously and to such good purpose that a handsome -sum had been realized before the train steamed into the -New Haven station.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span></p> - -<p>Pretty Mollie Heatherford had listened to the thrilling -story with bated breath and gleaming eyes, her -cheeks glowing with repressed excitement.</p> - -<p>“Why, he is a hero!” she cried, enthusiastically, as -she emptied her purse—after reserving simply a carriage-fare, -in case no one should meet her in New -York—into the hat of the gentleman who told the tale -in her hearing. “I want to see him. I want to shake -hands with him, and thank him personally,” and she -secretly determined that she would do so. When the -train stopped at New Haven she was the first one to -alight from the coach, eager to catch a glimpse of the -young hero.</p> - -<p>She pushed her way toward the baggage-car, in -which a couch had been extemporized for the youth, -and stood close beside the steps as young Faxon came -down.</p> - -<p>He was still very pale, but was fast recovering his -strength, and the girl thought his face—although his -features were not as clear-cut or as regular as Philip -Wentworth’s—the finest, the manliest she had ever -seen.</p> - -<p>He was deeply tanned from his summer’s work in -the fields. He was clad in a pair of overalls, without -coat or vest or hat; and his feet were encased in coarse -and clumsy shoes, while, as may be surmised, he was -drenched and soiled from his rough work in the field -and storm.</p> - -<p>But, to admiring little Miss Heatherford, this lack of -“purple and fine linen” and other accessories of high -life to which she had always been accustomed, made not<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span> -the slightest difference. It was the spirit of the youth, -the character and nobility which were stamped upon -his fine, open face, and that alone of which she was conscious.</p> - -<p>And almost the first object that young Faxon’s -great, dark eyes rested upon as he made his way from -the car was the fair, upturned face of the beautiful girl -with the eager light of hero-worship in her own blue -eyes, the quivering of intense emotion hovering about -her red lips.</p> - -<p>She made her way close to his side, regardless of the -crowd that was gathering to get a look at him, and held -out a dainty white hand upon which sparkled rare and -costly gems.</p> - -<p>“I want to thank you,” she began, with almost -breathless eagerness. “You have saved my life—you -have saved all our lives, and it is such a wonderful, -such a grand thing to have done! I am very grateful -to you, for my life is very, very bright. I love to live. -Oh, I cannot say half there is in my heart, but I shall -never forget you. I shall love you for your heroism -of this day always. Here, please take this to remind -you that I mean every word I have said. It seems -small and mean, in view of what you have done, but -when you look at it I want you to remember that there -is one grateful heart in the world that will never forget -you.”</p> - -<p>While she was speaking she had slipped from her -finger the exquisitely carved cameo ring which Philip -Wentworth had begged her to give him only a few -hours previous, and, as she ceased, with tears in her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -eyes, she thrust it into the brown hand of the youth, -and, before he could protest against accepting it, she -had glided away, and was lost among the crowd.</p> - -<p>The next moment the throng parted, and a gentleman -stood before him, claiming his attention.</p> - -<p>In a few words of grateful acknowledgment he presented -him with what he termed “a slight testimonial” -of the appreciation of the passengers for his act of heroism -that afternoon, and wished him all success in the -future.</p> - -<p>The testimonial was in the form of a good-sized wallet, -well filled with greenbacks and coins of various denominations. -Then he took the boy by the arm, led -him down the platform to a carriage, and, putting a -five-dollar bill into the coachman’s hand, bade him take -him to his home, wherever that might be.</p> - -<p>Young Faxon, with tears of emotion in his eyes, -sprang into the vehicle, glad to escape from the curious -crowd, and was driven away amid the cheers of the -grateful passengers of the “limited express,” which, a -moment later, was again thundering on its way toward -its destination.</p> - -<p>The storm was over. The clouds were breaking up -and dispersing, revealing patches of cerulean sky between -the rifts, while, in the west, brilliant rays from -the declining sun streamed in upon the hero of the day -through the carriage window as he was driven out of -the city toward the home of Squire Talford.</p> - -<p>Glancing through the opposite glass he saw a radiant -rainbow spanning the eastern sky, its vivid colors<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -reflected in a second and almost as perfect as an arch. -His young heart was strangely thrilled by the sight.</p> - -<p>Was it a bow of promise to him he asked himself. -Did it portend a future that would be brighter than the -last four years had been, of release from a hard and -cruel task-master, of a broader outlook and the opportunity -to indulge the aspirations of a heart that had -long been hungering for education, culture, and intellectual -advancement?</p> - -<p>Yes, he was almost sure of it, for, clasped close in -his brown hands, he held the fat wallet which would at -least be the stepping-stone toward the achievement of -the one great desire of his heart—a college course at -Harvard; and his eyes grew bright, the color came back -to his cheeks and lips, and his spirits were lighter than -they had been for many a long month. Then his eyes -fell upon the beautiful cameo, which had been presented -to him by “the prettiest girl he had ever seen,” and -which he had mechanically slipped upon his little -finger. But he laughed outright, as the incongruity -between the costly and exquisite jewel and the hard, -brown hand it graced, and the mean apparel in which -he was clad, flashed upon him.</p> - -<p>“I wish I knew her name,” he mused, as he studied -the beautiful design. “What lovely eyes she had! -What wonderful hair—bright as the gold of this ring. -I shall always keep it. It shall be my talisman, my -mascot, and sometime, when I have won a worthy -position for myself in the world, I will try to find her -and tell her what encouragement, what a spur both her -words and gift were to me. I shall never forget what<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -she said. Ah! if I might hope to win, by and by, the -love of some one as beautiful as she! But, of course, -she did not mean anything like that,” he concluded, -with a sigh and deprecatory shrug of his shoulders.</p> - -<p>When the carriage drove to the door of Squire Talford’s -stately mansion, and the proud owner, who was -sitting upon the veranda, saw his “bound boy” alight -from it, his brow contracted with displeasure, and an -angry gleam burned in his cold gray eyes.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, where have you been, and how does -it happen that you return in such style?” he demanded, -in sharp, curt tones.</p> - -<p>Clifford Faxon colored a vivid crimson, more at the -sarcastic tone than at the peremptory words. But in a -respectful manner he related what had occurred, although -he made as light as possible of his own agency -in the matter, except in so far as it was necessary to -explain that, after his unusual exertions in the hay-field -and his almost herculean efforts to remove the -fallen tree from the track before the arrival of the express, -he was so prostrated that he had to be taken -aboard the train and carried to New Haven, when some -of the passengers had insisted upon sending him home -in the carriage.</p> - -<p>“Humph!” ejaculated the squire, as he concluded, -and eying him sharply from beneath his heavy brows, -“and was that the extent of their gratitude?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” replied the youth, flushing again and -glancing at the wallet in his hand. “They made up a -purse for me.”</p> - -<p>“Ah-a! how much?” questioned the man eagerly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span></p> - -<p>“I do not know, sir. I have not counted it yet.”</p> - -<p>“Give it to me. I’ll count it, and take care of it for -you,” said the squire peremptorily.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, sir, but I prefer to take care of it myself,” -said the youth respectfully but firmly.</p> - -<p>“What! do you defy me?” roared his companion. -“Give me that money instantly! Do you forget that -you are bound to me; that I am your master?”</p> - -<p>The boy’s eyes flashed, and he was silent for a moment. -Then, meeting the glance of the infuriated man -with a look that never quailed, he replied quietly, but -with a reserve force that made itself felt:</p> - -<p>“No, sir; I do not forget that I am bound to you for -just one month longer. Until September 1st I shall -acknowledge and serve you as my ‘master.’ At the -expiration of that time my bondage will cease, and I -shall be free!”</p> - -<p>“You impudent whelp!” exclaimed Squire Talford, -in a towering passion, as he sprang to his feet and descended -the steps of the driveway, where the youth -was standing. “Give me that money this instant, or I -will thrash you within an inch of your life; do you -hear?”</p> - -<p>“Take care, sir!” Clifford returned with an emphasis -that caused the man to pause involuntarily, while his -dark eyes flashed with a dangerous light.</p> - -<p>He stepped back a pace or two and folded his arms -tight across his chest, as if to restrain the surging passion -within him, which he feared might get the better -of him.</p> - -<p>“Take care, sir!” he repeated, “you have ‘thrashed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -me within an inch of my life’ for the last time, and I -mean what I say, Squire Talford. I have been your -bond-slave for four long, weary years; ever since my -mother who, when she was dying and thought she was -making a wise provision for me, signed a paper which -made you my ‘master’ until I should be seventeen years -of age, which, thank God, will be just one month from -to-day. I do not need to rehearse to you what that -bondage has been. You know as well as I do that my -lot has been that of a serf, that I have been made to do -the work of a man; yes, and in some instances, like -to-day, for example, that of two men, during most of -that time. For this I have received my board, lodging, -and clothes—such as they are,” he interposed, his -scornful glance sweeping over his coarse garment.</p> - -<p>“I have served you faithfully, patiently, and you -know it,” he resumed, “not because of any personal -regard or respect that I have entertained for you, or of -fear of your many unjust ‘thrashings,’ but”—his tone -softening and faltering slightly—“because my mother -taught me to obey, always, the golden rule, to suffer -wrong rather than commit a wrong, and, once having -made a contract, to abide by it to the letter. This, sir, -is the reason why you see yonder hay-field as it is”—with -a gesture indicating the white-capped cocks at -which he had labored so hard that afternoon. “Much -of that hay would have been soaked by the rain had -not duty bidden me to do unto my neighbor as I would -be done by, and so I did my utmost to save it. Now, -sir, having done my best for you to-day and always, I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -am in no mood to have you lay so much as your finger -upon me in anger.”</p> - -<p>The man and the youth stood looking straight into -each other’s eyes for one long, silent minute, the man -noting the broad, square shoulders, the muscular limbs, -and dauntless air of the figure before him. Then he -stepped back a pace or two with an impatient shrug.</p> - -<p>“Well, have you done?” he questioned, with a sneer, -but his face, even to his lips, was white with repressed -passion.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Then be off and attend to your chores,” was the -stern command.</p> - -<p>“Pat can do the chores to-night, sir. I think I have -done enough for one day,” was the quiet but decided -response, and the young man turned coolly away, -walked around to a side door, entered the house, and -mounted to his room.</p> - -<p>Throwing himself into a chair he dropped his head -upon his table with a sense of weakness and weariness -such as he had seldom experienced. The reaction had -come, and he realized that the excitement of the last -few hours, especially of the last few moments, had -taken more out of him than a week of ordinary work -would have done.</p> - -<p>“The end is near,” he muttered, “and I hail its coming, -for I am afraid that I could not much longer keep -my promise to my mother and remain in the service of -that tyrant.”</p> - -<p>He sat thus for, perhaps, fifteen minutes. Then,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -lighting a candle, he opened the precious wallet and -proceeded to count its contents.</p> - -<p>His face took on a look of wonder as he laid out, -one by one, the various bills and noted their denomination. -He had not counted upon such generosity, even -though he had realized that the purse was crowded to -its utmost capacity.</p> - -<p>“Seven hundred and fifty-four dollars!” he exclaimed -in astonishment, as he laid the last coin upon -the table. “Surely I must be dreaming! But no, these -crisp fives, tens, two twenties, three fifties, besides the -gold and silver, tell their own story. But oh! it does -seem too good to be true! And now my first act must -be to put it where it will be safe. Give it to Squire -Talford, indeed! Never! It would be the last I should -ever see of it. I will take it to Professor Harding. He -will advise me what to do with it.”</p> - -<p>After replacing the money in an orderly manner in -his wallet, he arose and proceeded to change his -clothes, dressing himself with great care.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.<br /> -<span class="smaller">PRETTY HEIRESS PLEADS FOR CLIFFORD.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Clifford Faxon was really a striking-looking young -man when arrayed in his best, which is by no means -saying very much for his clothes, which were of the -cheapest material.</p> - -<p>But with his gentlemanly bearing, his clear, honest -brown eyes, and frank, genial face, he was one who -always attracted a second look from those whom he -met.</p> - -<p>One might have taken him for a son and heir of the -squire, rather than a menial in his employ, as he issued -once more from the house.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir, where are you going now?” demanded -Squire Talford, who was still sitting upon the veranda, -and whose musings regarding his relations with his -bound boy had not been of the most soothing nature -during the last half-hour.</p> - -<p>He well knew that, when Clifford’s time should expire, -he would find it no easy matter to fill his place -with another so capable and faithful, and he was irritated -beyond measure over the probability of having to -hire another man and pay full wages for what he had -been getting for little or nothing during the last four -years.</p> - -<p>“I have an engagement with Professor Harding—it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -is my evening for reading Greek and Latin with -him,” Clifford respectfully replied, and then proceeded -on his way, apparently unmindful of the customary -“humph!” to which his employer always gave vent -whenever anything annoyed him.</p> - -<p>When Clifford was obliged to leave the academy in -April, according to the terms of his contract with -Squire Talford, the principal had expressed a great -deal of disappointment, for he would have graduated -with high honors if he could have remained until the -close of the school year, but his hard master would -not give him the two months to complete the course. -“The farm work must be done and Clifford could not -be spared,” he coldly told the professor, who had presumed -to intercede for his promising pupil. So the -boy had been obliged to go into the field to plow, hoe, -and dig, while his more favored classmates went on in -advance of him and graduated.</p> - -<p>But Professor Harding was determined that the -boy’s education should not be interrupted, and told him -that he would give him certain evenings in every week -during the summer, and, if he could complete the course -before fall, he should have his diploma, even though -he could not acquire it in the ordinary way.</p> - -<p>Clifford gladly availed himself of this opportunity, -for his highest ambition was to prepare himself for -and obtain a college education.</p> - -<p>As he wended his way toward his teacher’s house -his heart was beating high with hope, in spite of the -weariness of his body, for, since counting the money -in his possession, he had conceived the daring purpose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -of taking the examinations for Harvard for the coming -year.</p> - -<p>Professor Harding greeted him, as he always did, -with a smile of pleasure, for he liked the plucky, manly -boy.</p> - -<p>“You are late to-night, Cliff,” he remarked, as he -entered. Then, observing, that he was a trifle pale, -he inquired: “Is anything wrong, my boy?”</p> - -<p>Tears sprang involuntarily to the boy’s eyes at the -kindly tone and smile; but, quickly repressing all signs -of emotion, he seated himself and gave his friend a -brief account of what had occurred, and closed by -producing the munificent testimonial which he had received -from the passengers of the “limited express” for -preventing a terrible accident.</p> - -<p>“I have brought this money to you, Professor Harding,” -he observed, as he laid it upon the table before -his friend, “to ask if you will invest it for me until I -need it? It is my nest-egg for college, and I am going -to take the exams. this fall.”</p> - -<p>“Seven hundred and fifty dollars, Cliff!” the man -exclaimed, in surprise; “that is surely a handsome gift, -but it is far too little for the service you have rendered—that -could never be estimated in dollars and cents. -Why, the corporation ought to give you a thousand -more for saving their property from being wrecked.”</p> - -<p>“I am more than satisfied,” said Clifford, with a -smile.</p> - -<p>“But I am afraid you are a trifle presumptuous to -contemplate entering college on so small an amount,” -said his friend gravely. “The expenses will be heavy,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span> -you know. I feel sure you will pass the exams. all -right, but I am thinking of the draft upon your -strength later on if you try to work your own way.”</p> - -<p>“I am going to try it, all the same,” said Clifford, -his face brightening at the assurance of his teacher -that he would “pass.”</p> - -<p>“This money will surely suffice for one year with -economy, and that will give me quite a start, while I am -sure I do not need to tell you that I shall make the -most of my time.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, you do not—you have always done that, -ever since I have known you, but I wish you had some -friends who could give you a lift along the way now -and then. Have you no aunts or uncles? Do you remember -your father, Cliff, or know anything about his -family?” the professor thoughtfully inquired.</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” said the boy with a sigh, “my mother -would never talk about my father. Whenever I questioned -her she would always put me off by saying, -‘Wait until you are older, my son, and then I shall have -something to tell you.’”</p> - -<p>“And did she leave no papers to explain what she -meant?”</p> - -<p>“No; at least, none that I could ever find.”</p> - -<p>“Well, there will be some way provided for you, I -am sure,” said the professor. “I will gladly take -charge of your little fortune until you need it. I will -see that it is safely invested for you to-morrow. Does -the squire know about it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and demanded it of me, because I am still under -bonds,” replied Clifford, with a flash in his eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span></p> - -<p>“Demanded it!” repeated his companion, in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” and the young man repeated, word for word, -what had passed between himself and his task-master -upon his return from New Haven.</p> - -<p>“Well, I must say he is a hard man, and I cannot -understand how any one as rich as Squire Talford is -supposed to be can be so penurious and indifferent to -so promising a fellow as you are, my boy!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” responded Clifford, with a laugh, “I -am certainly fortunate in having so kind a friend as -you have always been to me, and now”—opening one -of his books—“I am ready for my lesson.”</p> - -<p>He read for an hour, becoming so absorbed in his -work that he forgot his weariness and the trials of his -young life, while his teacher followed with a manifest -interest, which betrayed how deeply his feelings were -enlisted in this pupil, who was so ambitious and such a -credit to him.</p> - -<p>Before 10 o’clock Clifford was back in his own -room, where, on his table, he found an appetizing little -lunch awaiting him. Until that moment he had forgotten -that he had had no supper.</p> - -<p>“Well,” he said, as he sat down to it, “I surely have -one other good friend besides the professor. Maria -always looks out for me; I am sure I should often go -hungry but for her.”</p> - -<p>Maria was Squire Talford’s woman-of-all-work. -Less than half an hour later he was sleeping soundly -and restfully, the consciousness of duty well done and -a more promising outlook for the future sweetening -his rest.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span></p> - -<p>“Papa—please papa, do as I ask you; you are very -rich, are you not?”</p> - -<p>“Well, yes, Buttercup, I suppose I am what would -be regarded as a rich man, even here in New York.”</p> - -<p>“Then you can send this poor boy some money, just -as well as not. Only think, papa, but for his bravery -and the awful work that he did in that dreadful storm, -there must have been a terrible accident, and I should -never have come back to you, to say nothing about all -those other people.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Goldenrod! I cannot bear that you should -even hint at such a calamity; the house—the world -would be utterly desolate without you. What would -ten thousand fortunes be to me if I should lose you! -Yes, Mollie, I will send this lad a substantial token of -my gratitude, if I find he is worthy and likely to make -a good use of money. I must be sure of that first,” and -Richard Heatherford gathered the slim, graceful form -of his only darling into his arms and held her close to -his heart, while his eyes rested with tearful fondness -upon the fair, flushed face that was lifted so earnestly -to his.</p> - -<p>She was his idol—this sweet, golden-haired, azure-eyed -maiden, whom he had named Marie for his -French mother, but whom he almost invariably addressed -by some other tender pet-name, expressive of -his fondness for her, while to her playmates and school -friends she was known by the familiar name of Mollie.</p> - -<p>She was sweet and lovable, always blithe and cheery, -the life of the house, and a favorite with all who knew -her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford had met her in New York on her -arrival on “the Limited,” and, the train being, of -course, a little late, he was in a state of painful suspense -until it rolled into the station, and he held his -darling safe in his arms. When the two were seated -in their elegant carriage behind a fine pair of bay -horses, with driver and coachman in cream-white livery, -and on their way uptown, Mollie, sitting beside her -father with his arm enfolding her, had told the story -of the thrilling experience of the afternoon, while the -man’s face had grown as white as chalk, as he realized -how very near he had come to losing his choicest -earthly treasure.</p> - -<p>Mollie had begged him then to send that brave boy -“a lot of money,” but, for the time being, he did not -pay much heed to her request. He could think of -nothing, talk of nothing, but his thankfulness over her -wonderful escape from an appalling doom. But the -following morning, when, after breakfast, she followed -him to the library and renewed the subject, he was -more ready to listen to her, and finally yielded -to her request to do something handsome for the lad, -provided he found, upon inquiry, that he was worthy.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he is certainly worthy, papa,” Mollie asserted -with enthusiasm, “you never saw a nicer face than his. -He isn’t handsome or stylish, like Phil, you know”—with -a little mocking laugh—“but he has a pair of -great, earnest brown eyes which make you feel good -just to look into. His face is as brown as a nut—all -but his forehead, which is white and high and nicely -shaped like yours, papa dear,” and she emphasized her<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span> -statement with a fond little caress planted directly between -his brows. “He had no hat on,” she resumed; -“he was in his shirt sleeves and wore overalls, and his -shoes were as coarse and clumsy as they could be; but -I never thought of his clothes after once looking into -his face—it was so good, so honest, and true.”</p> - -<p>“Really, sweetheart, you are very enthusiastic over -this rustic hero of yours,” said Mr. Heatherford, and -smiling at her earnestness, “but I cannot wonder, now -that I begin to realize something of the feat that he accomplished.”</p> - -<p>“And papa”—Mollie went on, now blushing and -speaking with some embarrassment, “when we reached -New Haven I went to him and thanked him for what -he had done, and—I gave him that ring you let me buy -last spring.”</p> - -<p>“What! that cameo?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; you know I wanted to give it to Cousin Rex -when he went to California, but his mother had just -given him a nice ring, and so I bought him something -else and kept the cameo. I have always liked it, for it -was so beautifully carved; so, even though it isn’t -exactly a lady’s ring, I have worn it, now and then, -myself. I happened to have it on yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford laughed aloud with amusement.</p> - -<p>“Well, well, Buttercup! So you gave it to this -young Faxon—I believe you said that is his name—as -a souvenir! Of course, my darling, I do not care anything -about the ring, but what on earth will your rustic -hero do with it? He certainly will not want to wear it -with overalls and brogans, and if he has a particle of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -sentiment in his composition, he would never think -of realizing money on it when it was presented under -such romantic circumstances.”</p> - -<p>“Well, papa, I’m afraid it wasn’t the most appropriate -gift in the world,” said Mollie, a shadow falling -over her bright face, “but I just had to do something -to show him how grateful I was, personally, and he -certainly looked as if he was glad to be appreciated.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, dear,” said her father comfortingly. -“I will write to-day and make some inquiries, and if I -find he is all right, I will do something handsome for -him. Let me see—you said that he told some of the -gentlemen aboard the train he wanted to go to college?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he said that he had nearly finished his course -in the academy of the town where he lives, and was -going to try to work his way through college,” Mollie -replied. “Just think of it, papa!” she went on earnestly, -“and it doesn’t seem fair, does it? There is -Phil, who really doesn’t care particularly about having -a college course, only it is the proper thing, and so he -is going to Harvard in September, and he has every -wish gratified—plenty of money, fine clothes, and lots -of good times; and here is this poor boy, without any -one but himself to depend upon, and he is going to -work his way through! It is a queer world, isn’t it?” -she concluded, with a sigh of perplexity.</p> - -<p>“There, there; don’t bother your pretty head about -it, Goldenrod; it is a problem you will never solve,” -said her father, stroking her shining head with a caressing -touch; “go and do your reading for mama, while -I write my letter and get the matter off my mind.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span></p> - -<p>“But to whom will you write?” queried Mollie.</p> - -<p>“I think I will address my letter to the principal of -the academy; he will probably be able to tell me more -about this young seeker after knowledge than any one -else.”</p> - -<p>And the gentleman proceeded to put his plan into immediate -execution. He wrote a brief but comprehensive -epistle, addressing it to the “Principal of the -Academy, Cedar Hill,” telling him that he wished to -show his appreciation of young Faxon’s heroic act in -some practical way, and asking his advice regarding the -best method of doing this.</p> - -<p>He gave no name, as he said he preferred to remain -incog, and not hamper the lad with any sense of obligation, -but that any communication sent to a certain lock -box in New York would reach him. He stated that an -immediate reply was desired, as he was on the eve of -going abroad.</p> - -<p>Professor Harding’s face glowed with genuine -pleasure when he received the letter the next morning, -for now he saw that it would perhaps be practicable for -his protégê to enter college. He replied immediately, -giving a brief history of Clifford Faxon’s life and circumstances, -speaking of him in the highest terms, and -claiming that any assistance rendered him in his efforts -bestowed, and in behalf of the boy, in whom he was -deeply interested, he thanked his unknown correspondent -most heartily for his kind intentions.</p> - -<p>A day or two later there came to Clifford a cashier’s -check for a thousand dollars, made payable to himself,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> -and with it a few sentences of hearty appreciation of -his recent act, and also of encouragement for the future.</p> - -<p>But the donor and writer was anonymous.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">CLIFFORD FAXON’S VOW.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Clifford regarded himself as the most fortunate fellow -in the world when this generous gift was received.</p> - -<p>“Was anybody ever so lucky before! I am sure an -ax was never so effectively wielded!” he exclaimed, his -face radiant with happiness, as he discussed the gift of -his unknown benefactor with his teacher. “Now, my -education is assured, Professor Harding, and if I don’t -win a scholarship, now and then, to help me out, it will -not be for lack of energy and industry.”</p> - -<p>“Cliff! what an ambitious fellow you are!” said his -friend, smiling at his enthusiasm, “but if you set out to -win a scholarship I feel pretty sure that you will get it.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you. Now, another important point upon -which I would like your judgment—do you agree with -me in my preference for Harvard?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I think so,” replied the professor. “If I should -consult my own pleasure, however, I suppose I should -say go to Yale; for then I could see you frequently, -and perhaps help you over a hard place now and then; -but as I am a Harvard man myself, and it is also your -choice, I will be loyal to my alma mater and say go -there.”</p> - -<p>“Then Harvard it will be,” said Clifford, “and as for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -the rough places, why, I can write you when I come to -them.”</p> - -<p>Again Professor Harding smiled, for he knew the -boy well enough to feel sure that he would master all -difficulties without any assistance from him, for he -had seldom known him to seek aid, if, by any means, he -could conquer by his own efforts. Thus the college -question was settled.</p> - -<p>Meantime he was to work out his contract with -Squire Talford—until September 1st—when the professor -said he must come to him and spend the remainder -of the time, before the beginning of the school -year, in preparing for his examinations, and he would -not “thrash” but coach him “within an inch of his -life.”</p> - -<p>Our young hero was jubilant over the prospect before -him. His daily tasks seemed but play to him; he -was up with the lark, and worked with a will until sunset, -and, after supper, improved every moment until -bedtime conning his books.</p> - -<p>“You are a born mathematician,” his teacher remarked -to him one evening, after giving him some intricate -problems to test his knowledge, “and I have not -the slightest fear for you in mathematics; but you are -still a trifle behind in Greek and Latin, and so we will -devote the most of our time to those branches,” and at -this hint of his deficiency Clifford worked along those -lines with redoubled diligence.</p> - -<p>He had found himself very popular after his heroic -deed became known to the public, but he bore his -honors with exceeding modesty, and had but little to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -say about the affair. Glowing accounts of it had been -published in both the New Haven and local papers. -Professor Harding had been interviewed, and had -spoken in the highest terms of commendation of his -pupil, while, as Squire Talford and his peculiarities -were well known, there appeared more than one strong -hint regarding the hard life which the boy had led during -the four years of his bondage with him.</p> - -<p>According to the conditions of the contract which -the squire had made with Mrs. Faxon, Clifford was to -receive twenty-five dollars in money and a suit of new -clothes on the day when his time expired. The contemplation -of this approaching expenditure of money -made the wretched miser—for he was nothing else, -when it came to putting out his dollars for other people—cross -and miserable, and he racked his brain for -some excuse by which he could evade his obligation.</p> - -<p>He broached the subject to Clifford one evening -about a week previous to the expiration of his time.</p> - -<p>“I suppose you’re bound to go the first of the -month?” he remarked, with evident embarrassment, -for he had felt very uncomfortable in the lad’s presence -ever since he had so boldly faced him and freely spoken -his mind.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; my time will be up one week from to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t you be persuaded to sign for a couple of -years longer, if I’d agree to do better by you?”</p> - -<p>The youth flushed crimson, and a peculiar gleam -leaped into his eyes at the proposition; but, instantly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span> -putting a strong curb upon himself, he quickly responded:</p> - -<p>“I think not, sir; I have made my plans to go to college, -and I do not care to change them.”</p> - -<p>“What good will a college education do you?” the -man demanded, with an ill-concealed sneer; “you won’t -have a penny when you get through, and, if you’re -aspiring to a profession, there’ll have to be another -four years’ course atop of that.”</p> - -<p>“I am not looking beyond the college course just -now, sir; when I have accomplished that I feel sure -that the way will be opened for me to choose and fit -myself for my future.”</p> - -<p>“Humph! perhaps you imagine you’re going to have -windfalls all along the route,” was the sarcastic rejoinder, -“but, if you do, let me tell you, you will find -yourself mightily mistaken.”</p> - -<p>Clifford made no response to this thrust, and after -an interval of silence the squire abruptly resumed:</p> - -<p>“How about that twenty-five dollars that I was to -pay you when your time was up and the new suit?”</p> - -<p>“Why,” said Clifford, lifting a look of astonishment -to the man’s face, “of course, I expect that the conditions -of the contract will be fulfilled.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you do! Why, money has been pouring in -upon you so fast of late you can afford to buy your -own clothes,” said the squire, with an uneasy hitch in -his chair and a frown of displeasure.</p> - -<p>Clifford’s face flamed an indignant red, and it -seemed to him as if he must give vent to the scorn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -which sent the hot blood tingling through every nerve -in his body.</p> - -<p>“Squire Talford,” he said, after a moment spent in -trying to control himself, “I have no wish to say anything -to you that I shall ever regret, but, truly, I should -suppose that your self-respect would prevent you from -suggesting anything so penurious and dishonest, after -the four years of faithful service that I have given you, -especially when you take into consideration the fact -that I have never been decently clad during all that -time, nor had a dollar of spending-money, except what -I have myself earned by picking berries in their season, -and doing odd jobs for other people after my regular -work was done. No, sir, I shall not purchase my own -suit. I feel that I am justly entitled to all that the contract -calls for, and I shall demand its fulfilment.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you will, will you!” was the rasping retort, -while the man was white with rage.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, and it is little enough—far too meager -for one of my age to have to start out in life with. But -I suppose my poor mother was too ill to realize what -scant provisions she was making for me, though I presume -she trusted to your humanity and honesty to at -least provide suitably for me during the four years I -was to live with you.”</p> - -<p>“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed his companion viciously, and -with peculiar emphasis. “Your poor mother, perhaps, -realized more than you seem to imagine she did; she -was glad enough to get you housed in a respectable -home, without being too particular about the conditions.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span></p> - -<p>Clifford sprang erect, stung to the soul by the insinuating -tone and words of his companion.</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, sir?” he demanded, in a voice -that shook with suppressed anger. “What is it that -you mean to imply in connection with my mother, who -was one of the purest and loveliest of women?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing—nothing!” retired the squire, with a -sinister smile, “only it is pretty evident that she never -told you much about her early life, while—ahem!—if -I’m not mistaken, you never saw your father, did you?”</p> - -<p>“No,” and now Clifford was deathly white and his -eyes wore a hunted look, as a terrible suspicion flashed -into his mind. “Oh, what do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Well, perhaps it will be just as well for your peace -of mind, my aspiring young man, if you don’t get too -inquisitive,” the man retorted maliciously. “I can tell -you this much, however: Your mother, Belle Abbott, -as she was known in her younger days, was one of the -handsomest girls I ever saw; but she was a—coquette; -she had more beaux than you could shake a stick at, -and she got her pay for it in the end.”</p> - -<p>“Did you know my mother when she was a girl?” -queried Clifford, with a look of astonishment.</p> - -<p>“I should say I did,” was the grim response.</p> - -<p>“And—my father also?” said the youth eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Ahem! I had that honor,” sneered the squire. “But -about that suit of clothes,” he added, rising and abruptly -changing the subject. “If you insist upon it, why, -I suppose I shall have to get them. I’ll step in to see -Black, the tailor, to-morrow morning and talk the matter -over with him.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span></p> - -<p>But Clifford had been too highly wrought up to care -much about clothes or anything else in connection with -his contract. His curiosity had been excited to the -highest pitch, and he was determined to learn something -about the father whom he had never known—about -whom his mother would never talk—if it was -possible—to wring any information from his companion, -who, he realized, was determined to torment -him to the last point of endurance.</p> - -<p>“Who was my father? Tell me what you know -about him!” he exclaimed, also springing to his feet -and placing himself in the squire’s path.</p> - -<p>The man regarded him silently for a moment, an -evil expression in his cold, gray eyes; then a smile that -made Clifford shiver relaxed his thin, cruel lips.</p> - -<p>“Who was your father?” he repeated, with cold deliberativeness; -“he was a treacherous rascal, if there -ever was one, and it is no credit to you that he was -your father; and if you were ten years older I should -say that he had come back to haunt me! Tell you -about him!” he continued, in a terrible tone. “I’ll tell -you this much—I hated him; I still hate him as few -people have the power to hate, and if you are wise you -will never mention him in my presence again, for I -might forget myself and wreck my vengeance upon you.”</p> - -<p>He turned abruptly as he concluded and entered the -house, without giving Clifford time to protest or ask -another question. The boy, left alone, sank back into -his chair, cold chills creeping over him, his heart -burdened with tantalizing fears and suspicions. The -squire had called his father a “treacherous rascal.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span></p> - -<p>In what, he wondered, had he been treacherous and -dishonorable? Why was it no credit to him—his son—that -he was his father?</p> - -<p>Surely, it seemed to him now, in the light of this interview, -as if the squire had been continually wreaking -his hatred of his father upon him during the four -weary years that he had lived with him. But what had -caused this hatred? What did it mean?</p> - -<p>What was the reason that his mother had always -been so reticent upon the subject. She would never -talk with him about his father or her early life, and always -appeared so distressed and excited whenever he -questioned her that he was forced to desist.</p> - -<p>Once, however, she had told him, and only a short -time before she died, that if she should be taken from -him before he was eighteen years of age, he might open -a certain box, which she had always kept locked, and -read some letters and papers which he would find in it.</p> - -<p>But when that time came—when, after his wild grief -over his irreparable loss was somewhat spent, he went -to look for these papers, they were gone—the box was -empty.</p> - -<p>Whether she had shrunk from having him see them -and learn of some great sorrow—perhaps shame—that -had evidently preyed upon her mind for years, and had -destroyed them, or whether they had been stolen from -her, he could have no means of knowing.</p> - -<p>Evidently Squire Talford was, in a measure, posted -upon certain facts connected with the early life of both -his father and mother, and it was just as evident that -he intended to keep him in the dark regarding them;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span> -whether because they were of any real importance, or -because he simply wished to torment him because of his -avowed hatred, he could not tell.</p> - -<p>What rankled most bitterly in his heart was the -man’s taunt that it would be better for his peace of -mind if he was not too inquisitive.</p> - -<p>Clifford was extremely proud and sensitive, and it -galled him almost beyond endurance to have it insinuated -that there might be some stigma resting upon -his birth and upon his dear mother’s honor.</p> - -<p>But no; he did not believe that could be possible, and -he resented the suspicion as soon as it took form in his -thought, for he felt sure that his pure, gentle, and refined -mother had never knowingly done wrong. If -she had been deceived, the sin was not hers, but another’s.</p> - -<p>He sat in his room that night for a long time meditating -upon these things, but growing more wretched -and perplexed the more he considered them.</p> - -<p>“Well, I can help nothing,” he said, at last, throwing -back his head with an air of conscious rectitude; “I am -what I am; I can gather nothing definite from Squire -Talford’s miserable insinuations. I may not even be -entitled to the name I bear, but I know that I will make -it one that a son of mine—if I should ever have one—will -be proud to own.”</p> - -<p>And with that worthy determination he resolutely -drove the subject from his thoughts by burying himself -in his books, and when he finally retired to rest he fell -into as sound and refreshing slumber as if he had not a -care in the world.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br /> -<span class="smaller">A DARING TRICK.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The morning following the interview between -Squire Talford and Clifford, the former repaired to the -establishment of the tailor, where he was accustomed to -have his clothing made, to have a talk with the man regarding -the “freedom suit” which the contract demanded -for his “bound boy.”</p> - -<p>He inquired Mr. Black’s price for making; then he -asked to see the goods, with the intention of selecting -the very cheapest he had in stock.</p> - -<p>But Mr. Black informed him that he had worked up -everything so close he really hadn’t anything on hand -suitable for a young man like Clifford, but he was expecting -a fresh invoice that very afternoon, and would -send him samples as soon as they came.</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said the squire; “and as I have to have -a new suit for myself this fall, send along something -that will do for me also, and I will give you both orders -at once.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Black promised he would do as requested, and -then the squire went about other business; and about -half an hour before tea-time that afternoon a boy appeared -at Squire Talford’s door, with the promised -samples.</p> - -<p>His ring was answered by the maid of all work, or<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span> -perhaps the housekeeper would be the more proper -term, for Maria Kimberly had been a member of the -squire’s household for upward of fifteen years. She -was a widow, and her maiden name was Barnes. She -had come there a girl in her teens, about two years -after the marriage of the squire, and for six months -had been under the training of his wife. Then she -had married and gone away to a home of her own; but, -being left a widow before she had been a wife a year, -she had returned to the service of Mrs. Talford, whom -she loved and served most faithfully as long as she -lived, and, being competent in every respect, had acted -as housekeeper for the squire ever since her death, -which had occurred about five years previous.</p> - -<p>She was a shrewd, practical, commonplace person, -but possessing quick sympathies and a kind heart, and -from the day that Clifford had come into the house -she had befriended the bright, but lonely, boy, growing -more and more fond of him as the years went by, and -she had slyly shown him many a favor and made many -a rough place smooth for him.</p> - -<p>Now, when she saw the tailor’s boy at the door with -the package in his hands, she instantly surmised the -nature of his errand, for she had overheard some of -the conversation regarding the “freedom suit.”</p> - -<p>Always feeling herself a privileged person in the -house, and being especially interested in this matter, -she calmly unfolded the parcel and proceeded to examine -its contents.</p> - -<p>“H’m,” she breathed, after adjusting her glasses and -testing the quality of the various samples, “some of ’em<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -are fair to middlin’, and some of ’em you could shoot -peas through; of course, he will buy the cheapest suit -for him; he won’t give the boy a decent suit if he can -help it. I’ve half a mind to show ’em to Cliff and see -what’d be his choice.”</p> - -<p>She stood a moment considering the matter, then -she deliberately slipped the package into her pocket and -returned to the kitchen, where she had been busy getting -supper when the bell had interrupted her operations.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later Clifford came in from the shed, -bringing a huge armful of wood, which he packed neatly -in the wood-box behind the stove, taking care to -make no litter to offend Mrs. Kimberly’s keen eyes, for -the woman was neatness personified, and would not -tolerate the slightest disorder in her immaculate domains.</p> - -<p>“My, how good those biscuits smell!” the youth observed -appreciatively, as Maria opened the oven door to -take a look at the snowy puffs inside.</p> - -<p>“Wait till you get a nibble at ’em,” said the woman, -with a satisfied nod of her head; “and I’ve got a turnover -for you, too. I had some apple and a little dough -left over when I was makin’ the pies this mornin’,” she -added, lifting a kindly look to his face.</p> - -<p>“Then you should call it a leftover instead of a turnover,” -said Clifford, laughing. “You are always -doing something nice for me, Maria. I’m afraid you -have spoiled me with your dainties, and I shall miss -them when I go to Cambridge, and have to be satisfied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -with what I can get in some third-rate boarding-house.”</p> - -<p>“There ain’t no fear that anybody’ll ever spoil you,” -returned Maria, with significant emphasis; “but I own -I am consarned about your digestion bein’ spoiled by -the poor cookin’ in them dreadful boardin’-houses. But -come here,” she continued, drawing him to a window -and taking something from her pocket with a mysterious -air, “if you were goin’ to have a new suit which o’ -these pieces of cloth would you choose?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! some samples!” exclaimed the boy, an eager -look on his face. “Did the squire tell you to show -them to me?”</p> - -<p>“Never you mind what the squire told me to do, I -just want to see what kind o’ judgment you will show -in your selection,” Mrs. Kimberly responded, with a -knowing air.</p> - -<p>Clifford examined the various slips in silence for several -moments, and finally separated two from the -others.</p> - -<p>“This is a pretty style of goods,” he remarked, holding -up one of them, “but rather light, perhaps, for fall -and to be serviceable; the other mixed goods I like almost -as well.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and it’s a better cloth, too—the best in the -lot,” interposed his companion; “it’s close and firm, and -would do you good service.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, if I am allowed to choose, I’ll take it,” -said Clifford; “and, yes, on the whole, I believe I shall -like it better than the other.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” observed Maria, hastily gathering up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -the samples and returning them to their wrapper as -she caught the sound of a latch-key in the front door. -She slipped them back into her pocket.</p> - -<p>Later, when she was serving the squire at his solitary -meal, she laid the package from the tailor before -him, curtly remarking:</p> - -<p>“Here’s somethin’ a boy brought for you this afternoon.”</p> - -<p>The squire removed the wrapper and examined its -contents. Finally separating two of the samples from -the others, he laid them beside his plate, and tossed the -remainder into a waste-basket that stood under a desk -behind him, and the sharp eyes of Maria Kimberly observed -that one of the selected samples was the very -piece which Clifford had chosen, while the other was -the coarsest, ugliest goods among the lot.</p> - -<p>“Goin’ to have a new suit, squire?” she briefly inquired, -with a curious gleam in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I need a new fall suit, and Cliff has got to have -one, too; how will this do for him?” and the man -passed the shoddy up to her.</p> - -<p>“Humph! you might shoot peas through it,” she -said, with a scornful sniff, and using the same expression -as when she had examined the cloths by herself.</p> - -<p>“Not as bad as that, I reckon; but it will have to do -for him,” said the man coldly. “This is better goods, -and I think I’ll have my suit made from it. What do -you think of it?” and he held it out to her.</p> - -<p>There was a bright spot of red on the woman’s -cheeks and a resentful gleam in her eyes as she took it.</p> - -<p>“This is something like, but t’other ain’t worth the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -thread ’twould take to make it up,” she said, with considerable -asperity.</p> - -<p>“It will have to do,” was the curt response, and the -man resumed his interrupted supper, while the housekeeper -vanished into the kitchen.</p> - -<p>She threw herself into a rocker and began swaying -herself back and forth with more energy than grace, -muttering now and then, and nodding her head angrily -in the direction of the dining-room door. She continued -this until the squire rang his bell to signify that -he had finished his meal, when she returned to the other -room and began to gather up the dishes.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she paused, as her glance fell upon the two -samples, that still lay beside the squire’s plate, he having -forgotten to take them when he arose from the -table.</p> - -<p>“It’s a pesky shame!” she muttered indignantly. “He -hain’t a soul in the world but himself to spend his -money on, and he’s got a tarnel sight more’n he knows -what to do with. I sh’d think he’d be ashamed to give -the boy a suit like that.”</p> - -<p>She picked up the samples and fingered them nervously. -Then she noticed that a tag bearing a printed -number was pinned to each. These numbers corresponded -to those on the list that had been sent with the -samples, and against each of which the price of the -goods was carried out, but this list the squire had tossed -into the waste-basket with the discarded samples.</p> - -<p>“’Twould serve him right,” the woman thoughtfully -muttered, with a vicious gleam in her eyes and a backward -glance over her shoulder toward the veranda,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -where she knew the squire was sitting absorbed in his -evening paper. The next minute she had changed the -tags on the goods!</p> - -<p>“Mebbe ’twon’t amount to anythiny, but I’ll resk it, -and if I git caught I’ll pay for it out o’ my own pocket,” -she whispered; “that boy desarves the best that can be -had, and I only hope that fortune’ll favor the trick.”</p> - -<p>Then she laid the samples on the squire’s desk, where -she thought he could not fail to see them when he sat -down to it, after which she went back to her work, a -curious smile wreathing her thin lips.</p> - -<p>An hour later Squire Talford lighted the student-lamp -and turned to the table for his samples, for he was -about to write his order to the tailor.</p> - -<p>Of course, he did not find them, and, going to the -door leading into the kitchen, he inquired:</p> - -<p>“Maria, where are those pieces of cloth I left on the -table at supper-time?”</p> - -<p>The woman was paring apples for the morrow’s -baking.</p> - -<p>“I put ’em on your desk,” she replied, in a matter-of-fact -tone, but with her mouth full of apple and a very -red face, too, if he could but have seen it.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said the squire, with an inflection which intimated -that he might have known where they were if he -had stopped to think. He found them, and, seating -himself at his desk, he wrote his order to the tailor.</p> - -<p>The following is an exact copy of his letter when it -was finished:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span></p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Cedar Hill</span>, August 24, 18—.</p> - -<p class="noindent">“<span class="smcap">Abel Black, Esq.</span></p> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: Samples received and examined. You -can make a suit for me from goods numbered 324. Use -416 for a suit for Clifford Faxon—will send him to be -measured to-morrow afternoon. Make his first and at -once, as he must have it by September 1. My measurements -you already have.</p> - -<p class="center">“Respectfully yours,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">John C. Talford</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>After taking an impression of the above, as he did of -every letter he wrote, he sealed, addressed, and stamped -it; then went out into the balmy summer night for his -habitual stroll and smoke before going to bed.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later Maria Kimberly, whose ears -had been on the alert, stole softly into the dining-room -and approached the writing-desk.</p> - -<p>Her eyes gleamed with an exultant light as she saw -the letter addressed to the tailor and the pieces of cloth -shoved one side as of no further use.</p> - -<p>“Cliff, my boy, fortune favors you for once, and no -mistake,” she said. “If he’d sent them pieces o’ cloth -along with his letter Mr. Black would ’a’ found out -that they’d been meddled with, and you’d had to wear -that measly old shoddy. I’ll jest die a-laughin’, though, -when the squire’s suit comes home, but it’ll serve him -right,” she concluded, with a chuckle of malicious glee.</p> - -<p>Then with dexterous fingers she changed the tags on -the samples back to their original places, after which -she put them carefully away in a drawer of the desk, in -case they should ever be wanted again, as she felt sure -they would.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span></p> - -<p>The following afternoon Clifford was sent to the -tailor to be measured for his suit, and as he was a -favorite with Mr. Black—as, indeed, he was with every -one who knew him—that gentleman took great pains -to have every measurement exact, and secretly resolved -that the boy should have a suit of clothes that would -do him credit, even among the stylish collegians at -Harvard.</p> - -<p>He was told that they would be ready for him the -following Saturday evening.</p> - -<p>Friday night ended Clifford’s four years’ servitude -with Squire Talford, and, after packing his few belongings, -he had an interview with the man, received the -stipulated twenty-five dollars, and took a respectful -leave of him.</p> - -<p>His heart was light. He suddenly felt like a different -being as he put the money away in his pocket and -realized that he was—free!</p> - -<p>The only regret he experienced was in the thought -of leaving Maria, and the woman broke down and -cried heartily when he stepped into the kitchen to say -“good-by” to her.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Cliff!” she sobbed, as she grasped both his -hands, “you’re the only being I’ve really loved since -Sam and Mrs. Talford died. I can’t bear to have you -go, for your bright face and cheery ways have helped -me through many a lonely day. But I’m glad for you—I’m -downright glad, for I know you’re goin’ among -your equals, and that you’ll get to be a man to be proud -of. But I shall miss you—I’ll miss you more’n you’ll<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span> -ever know,” and the tears streamed like rain over her -flushed cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Why, Maria!” exclaimed the boy, astonished and -also deeply touched to see her so overcome, “I had no -idea you would care so much about my going. I shall -miss you, too, and your many kindnesses, to say nothing -about your fine doughnuts, fluffy biscuit, glorious -pies, and the ‘leftover,’” he added, with a cheery laugh. -“But I’m not going to forget you by any means. I -shall always come to see you when I have a vacation.”</p> - -<p>“Will you now—sure?” the woman exclaimed eagerly -and in a grateful tone.</p> - -<p>“I certainly will, and”—with a roguish twinkle in -his handsome eyes—“when I get through college, if I -am ever fortunate enough to have a home of my own -and you are at liberty, I will give you an invitation to -come and preside over my culinary department.”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean it, honor bright, Cliff?” demanded -Maria, straightening herself and looking him wistfully -in the face.</p> - -<p>“Of course I mean it, and would consider myself -mighty lucky to get you,” he earnestly returned.</p> - -<p>“Then shake on it,” said the woman, holding out one -hard, red hand, while with the other she wiped away -her tears, “and there ain’t the least shadow of a doubt -but I’ll be at liberty when you want me.”</p> - -<p>Clifford gave her a cordial grip; then, with a last -good-by, he went away to Professor Harding’s home, -where he was to remain until college opened; but he -left a gleam of sunshine behind him that warmed and -cheered Maria Kimberly’s lonely heart for years.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">CLIFFORD GOES TO COLLEGE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Upon his arrival at Professor Harding’s home Clifford -received a most cordial welcome, and was at once -made to feel that he was one of the family, and the atmosphere -of peace and refinement of which he had always -been conscious in connection with this household -was most congenial to him.</p> - -<p>The next day was spent in discussing plans for the -future, laying out the work he was to do before the -school year opened, and also in making himself useful -to Mrs. Harding in a way that won him an even -warmer place than he had yet occupied in her heart.</p> - -<p>Saturday evening the much anticipated new suit was -sent to him, and was duly admired by the whole family.</p> - -<p>“Really, Cliff, the squire for once has done the handsome -thing,” remarked the professor, as he critically -examined the suit. “This is a fine piece of cloth, and -everything is first-class.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, and I am very much pleased,” Clifford -heartily responded, little dreaming to what strategy he -owed his fine feathers.</p> - -<p>The next morning he dressed himself with great care -for church, feeling an unusual pride in his linen, and a -thrill of gratitude as well, for Maria had made him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span> -some fine shirts and polished them to the last degree -with her own hands.</p> - -<p>When he came forth from his room he looked every -inch the gentleman, and many an eye rested admiringly -upon him as he walked down the aisle with the professor’s -family and took his seat in their pew.</p> - -<p>Squire Talford, not being a church-going man, was -not there to observe the change which new linen and -fashionably cut garments had made in his bound boy, -and he did not once dream of the practical joke that -had been played upon him until the following Tuesday, -when his own suit came home.</p> - -<p>Accompanying it was a note from the tailor, which -read thus:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>: I fear you have made a mistake in the -selection of cloth for your suit. I cannot quite understand -it, as heretofore you have ordered fine goods; -but as your instructions were explicit I have done the -best I could and hope you will be satisfied.</p> - -<p class="center">“Respectfully yours,</p> - -<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Abel Black</span>.”</p> - -</div> - -<p>The squire looked perplexed as he read the letter, -which, with the bill, had been enclosed in an envelope -and slipped under the string which bound the box that -contained the suit.</p> - -<p>He, however, proceeded to inspect its contents, and -the moment his glance fell upon the coarse, rough cloth -and he comprehended the situation a furious exclamation -burst from him. He snatched the garments from -the box and threw them angrily upon a chair.</p> - -<p>“The fool!” he snarled, “he has made the biggest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span> -blunder of his life—he has made up for me the cloth I -ordered for that boy, and, I suppose, has given him a -suit of that fine piece of goods. Blast the man! but he -shall pay dearly for it. He will never do another stitch -of work for me. The idea, to pretend to think that I -would wear cloth like this! He must have known better. -And yet,” referring to the letter, “he says he is -afraid that ‘I made a mistake in my selections, but that -my directions were explicit.’ Oh, no, Abel, my friend, -you can’t shove the blame off upon me in any such way; -I always keep a copy of my letters, and I’ll soon prove -to you that this is none of my doing.”</p> - -<p>He went to his letter-press, drew forth his book, and -turned back to the date on which he had ordered the -two suits. After reading it through he began to hunt -about his desk for something. Failing to find what he -wanted he called out impatiently:</p> - -<p>“Maria, Maria Kimberly, where are you? Come -here. I want you.”</p> - -<p>Presently the door leading into the kitchen was -opened and the woman put her head inside the room, -curtly inquiring in tones which she always assumed -when the squire was out of sorts:</p> - -<p>“What’s wanted, squire?”</p> - -<p>Then her glance fell upon the new suit lying in a -heap on a chair, whereupon her face suddenly took on a -more ruddy hue and her eyes began to twinkle appreciatively.</p> - -<p>“Did you throw away those samples of cloth that I -showed you a week or more ago?” the man demanded.</p> - -<p>“I never throw away anything o’ yourn, squire. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span> -leave that for you to do,” said Mrs. Kimberly, somewhat -loftily.</p> - -<p>“Then where are they?” he asked impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I reckon you’ll find ’em in one o’ the drawers or -pigeonholes,” said Maria, coming forward and taking -another comprehensive squint at the suit as she did so, -the squire meanwhile pulling out and inspecting various -drawers with considerable show of irritation.</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” Maria inquired, after a moment, and -pointing into a drawer where some dark, frayed edges -were protruding from beneath a couple of letters.</p> - -<p>“Humph!” grunted the squire, as he drew forth the -missing samples, and Maria smiled complacently.</p> - -<p>Then, adjusting his glasses the man compared the -numbers on the tags with those in the copy of the letter -which he had written to the tailor, and in which he had -given the order for the two suits of clothes. His face -was a study as he began to realize that Abel Black was -in no way responsible for the “blunder,” for there, in -black and white, sure enough, his “instructions were -explicit.”</p> - -<p>“Thunder and lightning! I don’t understand it. I -never did such a thing before in my life!” he muttered, -with a very red face, as he was forced to admit to himself -that he had blundered in writing the numbers.</p> - -<p>“Your new suit’s come, hain’t it, squire? Is there -anything wrong about it?” calmly inquired Maria, with -the most innocent air imaginable.</p> - -<p>“Wrong!” shouted the infuriated man, “I should say -there was. I got these numbers misplaced someway in -giving my order, and that dunce of a tailor, instead of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span> -coming to find out whether I made a mistake or not, -has made up for me the cloth I meant Cliff should have, -and vice versa.”</p> - -<p>“Good land! you don’t say so!” exclaimed Mrs. -Kimberly, with every appearance of being greatly astonished. -“Sure enough, this is the cloth”—bending -to examine it and to hide the convulsive twitching of -her mouth—“that I said you could shoot peas -through.”</p> - -<p>“Just so,” said the squire, bestowing a withering -look upon the offensive garments.</p> - -<p>“And Cliff’s suit was made off the other goods?” inquired -Maria, trying hard not to betray eager interest -she experienced in the matter.</p> - -<p>“Of course—yes,” seizing the bill and tearing it -open. “Here it is charged to me—forty-five dollars! -and I suppose that young upstart is strutting around -and feeling as fine as a turkeycock in a suit that cost -three times what I mean it should.”</p> - -<p>A spasmodic, but quickly repressed snort escaped -Mrs. Kimberly at this passionate outburst.</p> - -<p>“Ahem!” she supplemented, “’tis kind of a tough -joke on you, ain’t it, squire?”</p> - -<p>The man turned on her with a fierce imprecation.</p> - -<p>“Maria Kimberly,” he thundered, “if you ever give -it away I’ll make you sorry till your dying day. I -should be the laughing-stock of the whole town if it -became known.”</p> - -<p>“Sure enough, so you would! But mum’s the word, -if you say so, squire,” Maria asserted, with another -hysterical catch of her breath. Then, with an effort at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -composure, she inquired: “Does it—the suit—fit -you?”</p> - -<p>“Fit! Do you suppose I’d put it on—that mass of -shoddy?” snapped the man, with angry derision.</p> - -<p>“Oh, then, you don’t intend to wear it?” observed -Maria, with well-assumed surprise.</p> - -<p>“Of course not.”</p> - -<p>“But it’ll be almost like throwing away a lot of good -money,” said the woman, who rather enjoyed piling on -the agony.</p> - -<p>The squire groaned, not so much for the loss of the -sum which the shoddy suit represented, but because his -supposed blunder had resulted in such good fortune for -Clifford.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps,” Maria remarked, after a moment of reflection, -“you can sell it to Tom, the milk-driver; he’s -about your build, and I heard him say a while ago that -he was goin’ to get him some new clo’s before long.”</p> - -<p>This proved to be a happy suggestion, and appealed -at once to the discomfited man. Suffice it to say that -he made a bargain with the milk-driver later, and so -managed to get rid of the obnoxious garments; but for -years he was sore over the matter, and could never bear -the slightest reference to the subject. To the tailor he -simply said that he was disappointed in the suit and -ordered another made.</p> - -<p>When Maria Kimberly left his presence after the -above interview she repaired at once to the kitchen garden, -ostensibly to pick “a mess of shell beans” for the -morrow’s dinner; but could any one have seen her -crouching among the tall bean-poles, and laughing until<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -the tears rained over her face, and she was utterly -exhausted with her mirth, he would have thought that -Squire Talford’s usually sedate housekeeper had taken -leave of her senses.</p> - -<p>The days slipped very quickly by to Clifford, who -was bending all his energies toward preparing for the -ordeal before him.</p> - -<p>Professor Harding accompanied him to Cambridge a -day or two before the date set for his examinations, to -show him about a little, get him settled, and introduce -him to some of his old acquaintances, and to give him -more confidence.</p> - -<p>The young man acquitted himself most creditably, -and won honors in mathematics, Greek and Latin, and -his teacher felt justly proud of him, and well repaid for -his own efforts in his behalf.</p> - -<p>After seeing him located in a moderate-priced and -homelike boarding-place, with a good woman whom he -had known during his own college days, the professor -wished him good luck and Godspeed and returned to -his own duties in Connecticut.</p> - -<p>Clifford set to work in good earnest—every moment -of every hour was improved to the utmost, and, to his -surprise, he did not find his duties nearly so arduous as -he had anticipated.</p> - -<p>He had always been very systematic in whatever he -had to do, and, possessing a rare power of concentration, -he was enabled to commit his lessons with comparative -ease.</p> - -<p>Thus he found that he would have considerable leisure -time, and this he resolved to turn to account to increase<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span> -his limited resources, and so began to look about -for employment. But what to do was the question.</p> - -<p>This was answered for him within a week or two by -overhearing some of the juniors and seniors complaining -of their blurred and unsightly windows, and asserting -that they could find no one to do satisfactory cleaning -for them.</p> - -<p>Acting upon the impulse of the moment, Clifford -stepped up to them, and remarked in a straightforward, -manly way:</p> - -<p>“Gentlemen, I am looking for work to help me -through my course—let me try my hand upon your -windows.”</p> - -<p>They stared at him with a supercilious air for a moment, -but as he met their glances with a front as unflinching -as their own, and without manifesting the -slightest embarrassment on account of his request, one -of the number observed:</p> - -<p>“Say, let’s try him, boys, the janitors are so rushed -they’re no good, and we don’t want any woman prowling -about,” and forthwith Clifford had half a dozen -orders, and set that very afternoon to begin operations.</p> - -<p>From that time he had all he could do at ten and -fifteen cents per window, according to size, and his -work proved to be so satisfactory that he was frequently -offered a tip besides. But this he scorned to accept -in every instance.</p> - -<p>“Thanks. I have but one price,” he would invariably -observe, and never failed to give the exact change.</p> - -<p>Generally he was courteously treated by his patrons, -but now and then he would meet a snob whose sole aim<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span> -appeared to be to make him feel the immeasurable distance -between a heavy purse and a light one. But even -in these cases he proved himself a match for such customers. -He would fill his order to the very best of his -ability, but he would never take a second one from the -same party.</p> - -<p>“Very sorry,” he would say, with the utmost politeness, -“but I am too busy. I have all the orders I can -fill at present. You had better speak to one of the -janitors.”</p> - -<p>One day he was passing along a corridor with his -pail and brushes, when some one, evidently in a hurry, -passed him. The next moment the young man paused, -turned back and called out in an overbearing tone:</p> - -<p>“Say, here! you window-washer; I want to speak to -you—I have some work for you to do.”</p> - -<p>Clifford’s face flushed a sudden crimson, then grew -as quickly white. He set down his pail, and, turning, -found himself face to face with a member of his own -class. He bowed politely to him.</p> - -<p>“My name is Faxon,” he quietly remarked. “You -are Mr. Wentworth, and we are classmates, I believe.”</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth stared coldly at the speaker for a -moment, and with an air which plainly indicated that, -although they might possibly be in the same class, he -regarded himself as composed of very much finer clay -than his impecunious brother collegian.</p> - -<p>“Oh, ah! really!” he remarked at length. “I simply -wanted to tell you that I have some cleaning for you to -do.”</p> - -<p>“I hope it will be no disappointment to you, Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -Wentworth, but I can take no more orders at present,” -Clifford calmly replied, and, picking up his pail, he -moved on, leaving his would-be patron with a disagreeable -sense of having been politely sat upon.</p> - -<p>“Insolent upstart!” he muttered angrily, and, turning -impatiently on his heel, he pursued his way in the -opposite direction.</p> - -<p>And thus pretty Mollie Heatherford’s would-be -lover, who had begged so earnestly for the costly cameo -which she had worn on that never-to-be-forgotten day, -when she so narrowly escaped a terrible doom, and the -hero, to whom she had presented the valuable gem, met -for the first time, and as classmates at Harvard.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">CLIFFORD ACQUITS HIMSELF WITH HONOR.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Clifford had been keenly stung by the manner in -which Philip Wentworth had saluted him.</p> - -<p>“Say—here! you window-washer!” rang continually -in his ears, as he went about his work. He felt very -sure that the young man knew his name as well as he -knew his, for they had met every day in the class-room. -However, whether he knew him or not, there was no -excuse for his assuming the supercilious manner and -tone that he had in addressing him. These feelings -continued to rankle in his heart for some time, and then -Clifford pulled himself up sharply.</p> - -<p>“How foolish I am!” he thought. “The fact that I -am poor, and have to wash windows to eke out my -small resources will neither make nor mar my life. -What I myself am and what use I make of my opportunities -will alone count in the race between me and my -classmates. At the same time, I am not going to put -myself in a way to be browbeaten by any man living. I -can find work enough to do for people who are civil, -and I have no intention of being tyrannized over by -cads.”</p> - -<p>And he carried out his determination to the letter, -always bearing himself in a gentlemanly manner, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -so for the most part winning the respect of those with -whom he came in contact.</p> - -<p>The weeks sped by, and nothing of special interest -occurred during the winter. Clifford moved on in the -even tenor of his way, working with a will until spring -came, summer opened, and with it the all-important -examinations.</p> - -<p>They were over at last, and, to his great joy, he -passed with honors, and won the—scholarship.</p> - -<p>He was a proud and happy fellow, and, on class-day, -while he was dressing for the exercises, he brought -forth the cameo ring which Mollie Heatherford had -given him a little less than a year previous, and viewed -it tenderly.</p> - -<p>“I do not even know her name,” he murmured regretfully, -“but to me she was, and still is, the loveliest -girl that I have ever seen, and this beautiful ring will -always be a precious talisman to me—something to -incite me always to work for the best and highest results. -I wonder if I might venture to wear it to-day -as a reward for my year’s work?”</p> - -<p>He slipped it upon the little finger of his left hand, -and held it off to note the effect, a thoughtful look on -his fine face.</p> - -<p>“It is a lovely thing,” he continued, drawing it -toward him again, and studying it attentively for the -thousandth time. “The carving is particularly fine. -Yes, I will wear it just for to-day.”</p> - -<p>A few hours later Clifford was standing beneath a -great tree on the campus conversing with one of his -classmates. Almost unconsciously he had lifted his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -left hand, and laid it against the trunk of the tree. It -was a firm, strong, shapely hand, and the costly circlet -upon the fourth finger stood out conspicuously upon it.</p> - -<p>He and his friend were absorbed in discussing some -of the numerous events of the week, and were unaware -of the presence of any one else, until they were startled -by a voice close beside them, exclaiming with marked -emphasis:</p> - -<p>“By thunder!”</p> - -<p>Both young men turned to find Philip Wentworth -standing beside them and staring, with a look of blank -astonishment and dismay on his face, at the ring upon -Clifford’s finger.</p> - -<p>“Well, Wentworth, what are you thundering -about?” laughingly inquired Clifford’s companion, who -was known as Alf Rogers, and was a prime favorite in -the institution.</p> - -<p>Without appearing to heed his question, Wentworth -bent a flashing look upon Clifford.</p> - -<p>“Where did you get that ring?” he demanded -sharply.</p> - -<p>Clifford flushed at his peremptory tone, and his hand -involuntarily dropped to his side. But he immediately -lifted it again, and held it before him, where all three -could plainly see the gem he wore.</p> - -<p>“Oh, this cameo?” he observed, his face softening to -sudden tenderness, which did not escape his interlocutor, -as he gazed upon it.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” curtly and emphatically replied Wentworth.</p> - -<p>Clifford was tempted to tell him that it was none of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span> -his business, but refraining from so discourteous a retort, -he quietly returned:</p> - -<p>“It was given to me.”</p> - -<p>“Who gave it to you?” and Wentworth’s lips -twitched nervously as he put the question, while there -was a savage gleam of jealous anger in his eyes.</p> - -<p>Clifford’s ire began to get the better of him now.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” he said coldly, “if I tell you that is a -matter which cannot concern you in the least.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be so sure, young man; it does concern me, -and far more, perhaps, than you have any idea of,” was -the excited retort. “I could swear that that is the only -ring of its kind in the world, and I should recognize it -if I should see it in China.”</p> - -<p>“Possibly you may be correct, Mr. Wentworth, ‘that -it is the only ring of its kind in existence,’” calmly observed -our hero. “I should not be surprised if such -were the case, for the carving is peculiarly fine, the -subject a rare and difficult one. Nevertheless, it was a -gift to me, and is one that I prize very highly.”</p> - -<p>“It can’t be possible!” cried Philip hotly, “that ring -belongs to a young lady who is now traveling in -Europe.”</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken, Mr. Wentworth,” said Clifford -with quiet emphasis.</p> - -<p>“I am not; I swear it, and—I can give you double -proof of what I have stated,” Wentworth asserted, glancing -at a lady and gentleman who were slowly approaching -them.</p> - -<p>The former was a very handsome woman of about -forty-five years, and there was a strong resemblance<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span> -between her and Philip Wentworth. She was very -elegantly dressed, and her diamonds were of the finest -water, and she was accompanied by the professor of -Greek, with whom she was conversing in a bright and -animated way.</p> - -<p>But Clifford did not appear to connect her in any -way with the subject of his controversy with Wentworth, -or realize that he had referred to her in stating -that he could give double proof of what he asserted.</p> - -<p>“I imagine that you will find it difficult to verify -your declaration,” he observed, with quiet dignity.</p> - -<p>“Do you dare me to do so?” demanded Philip aggressively.</p> - -<p>“Certainly not; this controversy is of your own seeking, -and is of small moment to me, excepting, of course, -that it is somewhat annoying. You have, however, -aroused my curiosity to a certain extent, and since you -claim that you can prove that my ring belongs to another, -I should like to know upon what grounds you -felt justified in making that statement,” Clifford observed, -with a composure which showed that he had -no fear regarding the result.</p> - -<p>“Mother!” said Philip, stepping forward a pace or -two and speaking to the lady who was approaching.</p> - -<p>“Ah, Phil!” she returned, with a bright, fond glance, -“I was looking for you; you know you promised to take -me over the museum, and I have a great desire to see -those wonderful glass flowers.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a moment, please, mother,” the young man -replied, “there is a ring here that I would like you to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -see,” and, without even the courtesy of an introduction, -he pointed at the circlet upon Clifford’s finger.</p> - -<p>Although greatly embarrassed by the uncomfortable -position in which he so unexpectedly found himself, he -politely lifted his hat to the lady and extended his hand -so that she might examine the contested jewel.</p> - -<p>“Mollie’s ring!” she exclaimed, in a tone of great -surprise, while her eyes flew to Clifford’s fine face, with -a curious, searching look. “Why! it surely is the -‘magic cameo’ about which we have had so much sport -with her!”</p> - -<p>“Now, are you satisfied that I knew what I was talking -about?” demanded Philip Wentworth in a tone intended -only for Clifford’s ear.</p> - -<p>He made no reply to the taunt, and there was a moment -of awkward silence, when the professor, seeing -that there was something amiss, yet not comprehending -what it was, although he realized that Wentworth had -done a rude thing, observed in a friendly tone:</p> - -<p>“It is surely a remarkably fine bit of work, Faxon; -but allow me to present you to Mr. Wentworth’s -mother, Mrs. Temple, Mr. Faxon; also Mr. Rogers.”</p> - -<p>Both gentlemen lifted their hats, and the lady -acknowledged the presentation with gracious courtesy, -after which the professor inquired of Mrs. Temple:</p> - -<p>“Is there a peculiar or remarkable history connected -with Mr. Faxon’s ring, which you appear to recognize?—you -spoke of it as ‘the magic cameo.’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, it is only a little family joke,” the lady -laughingly replied; “we have a young friend who owns -a cameo so exactly like this that it seems as if it must<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span> -be the same, and she has always claimed that whenever -she wore it something good never failed to happen to -her. She became so thoroughly imbued with the idea -that we used to laugh at her about her magic cameo. -Of course, this cannot be the same, for I am sure that -Mollie would never have parted with it under any -ordinary circumstances. I am surprised, however, to -find it duplicated; I did not suppose there was another -like it in existence. I hope, Mr. Faxon, it will prove -to be a mascot for you as well as for our little friend,” -Mrs. Temple concluded, and smiling brightly up into -the manly face above her.</p> - -<p>“Mother, this is not a duplicate; this is Mollie’s -ring,” Philip here interposed with a frown and note of -impatience in his tones.</p> - -<p>“Are you not a trifle rash, Phil, in making such an -assertion?” his mother questioned with a gentle reproof, -a slight cloud of annoyance sweeping over her -face.</p> - -<p>“I am sure I can prove it,” he returned loftily. -Then, addressing Clifford, he inquired: “Have you -any knowledge of a secret connected with this ring?”</p> - -<p>“A secret!” our hero repeated wonderingly; “no, I -do not know of any secret,” and he eyed it curiously, -flushing as he did so.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth’s eyes glowed with malicious -triumph.</p> - -<p>“Well, I happen to know that there is one,” he declared. -“Mother, you shall disclose what peculiarities -you know regarding Mollie’s ring.”</p> - -<p>“Really, Phil, I am afraid you are making a mistake,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -Mrs. Temple remarked, flushing and looking -greatly disturbed, “but since you seem determined to -press the matter I will say that the secret is this—the -stone can be raised and underneath there is a plate on -which there is engraved a horseshoe, inclosing the -words ‘For luck’ and the initials ‘M. N. H.’”</p> - -<p>Clifford’s heart beat with great, heavy throbs as he -listened to this. He had never dreamed that his precious -ring was going to create such an excitement, and -become the object of a romantic episode when he had -put it on that morning. He now heartily wished that -he had left it locked away in his trunk.</p> - -<p>“If your ring is like the one I have described,” Mrs. -Temple continued, “you can touch a tiny spring just -under the double gold beading of the setting, and the -stone will open out on a hinge.”</p> - -<p>Clifford carefully examined the setting, found the -tiny spring, pressed it, when, lo! the stone slipped from -its place, and with a great heart-bound, he distinctly -saw the small horseshoe, with the words “For luck” -and the initials “M. N. H.” engraved within the -circle.</p> - -<p>Without a word he extended his hand to Mrs. -Temple for her to see. One glance was sufficient to -assure her that her son’s assertions were correct. The -ring surely was the very same that she had seen in -Mollie Heatherford’s possession.</p> - -<p>“How very strange!” she murmured. “I had supposed -Mollie so superstitious regarding her ‘mascot’ -that nothing would ever induce her to part with it.”</p> - -<p>The professor also examined it with curious interest,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -and then glanced wonderingly at the various members -of the party.</p> - -<p>“Now, have I proved my position?” demanded -Philip, turning with ill-concealed exultation to Clifford.</p> - -<p>Our hero’s face had grown very pale; but it also -wore a very determined expression.</p> - -<p>“You have certainly proved that you have seen the -ring before, but you have by no means proved that it -does not belong to me,” he calmly replied.</p> - -<p>“Will you explain how you came by it, then?” demanded -Wentworth. “Knowing what we do, and -being intimately acquainted with the young lady in -whose possession it was, the last time we saw her, we -naturally feel that we are entitled to know how you -came by it.”</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” returned Clifford, with dignity, “that -does not necessarily follow. I have told you that the -ring is mine, that it was a gift to me, and I have told -you only truth.”</p> - -<p>“Was it given to you by a lady?”</p> - -<p>“That question I must decline to answer,” Clifford -coldly responded. “But this much I will say,” he -added, after a moment of thought, “the ring came into -my possession one year ago the thirtieth of next month—July.”</p> - -<p>“Mother! that was the very day that Mollie went to -New York after her visit with us! She wore the ring -that day—it was on her finger when I bade her good-by -at the station!” Philip Wentworth exclaimed, flushing -crimson, as he recalled how he had begged it of -Mollie and been refused, while he now realized that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -there was a possibility that she had given it to this -“proud upstart,” but why or wherefore was beyond -him to imagine. He was galled almost beyond endurance -and stung to the quick, and a fierce hatred of his -classmate took possession of him then and there.</p> - -<p>“Well, never mind, Phil,” said his mother gravely, -“and I think you should let the matter rest. Mr. -Faxon has his own reasons, no doubt, for not wishing -to say more. Come, I am afraid it is too late, after all, -for me to go into the museum to-day,” she added, -glancing at her watch. “I think the carriage will be -waiting for me, and I have a reception to attend this -evening.”</p> - -<p>With a gracious smile and bow to her recent companions -she took her son’s arm, thus forcing him to -escort her to one of the entrances to the college -grounds, where she had ordered her coachman to await -her.</p> - -<p>He did not accompany her with a very good grace, -and there was a heavy frown upon his face, which -betrayed that he was greatly irritated over his failure -to extort Clifford’s secret from him. The professor -stood gravely regarding our hero for a moment, as if -he also would have been glad to learn more, and was -not quite pleased over his reticence; then he excused -himself and went away; but both young men could -see that the recent occurrence had left an unpleasant -impression on his mind.</p> - -<p>It certainly had been a very awkward interview, and -the evidence was rather against Clifford, for he had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> -been proven ignorant of a most interesting secret connected -with the ring which he claimed as his own.</p> - -<p>“Well!” he observed, glancing at his friend, “this -has been a queer experience.”</p> - -<p>“I should say so indeed!” Rogers exclaimed, with -an expression of disgust, “but Wentworth is a purse-proud -cad anyway, and if his mother and the professor -had not been here I should have been tempted -to knock him down for his insolence. You held yourself -well in hand, Faxon, and I admire you for it.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">AN INSOLENT DEMAND.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>In spite of the court of inquiry and the mortification -to which he had been subjected, Clifford was by no -means crushed, in view of his recent encounter with -Philip Wentworth, who, he had long been conscious, -had been nursing a grudge against him ever since the -day of their first meeting. On the whole, when he -came to think the matter over by himself, he was secretly -pleased with the outcome of it, for he had at -least learned the secret of his precious ring and the initials -of the fair unknown who had been its donor.—“M. N. H.” -He wondered what they stood for.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple and Wentworth had both familiarly -spoken of her as “Mollie,” but he would have given a -great deal to have learned her full name; yet he was -too proud to ask it, or to acknowledge to them that he -was in ignorance of it.</p> - -<p>“Mollie!” he found himself repeating over and over, -until the homely name rang like sweetest music in his -heart.</p> - -<p>The ring was a thousand times more precious to him -now than it had ever been, with its hidden legend which -would hereafter possess as great a significance to him, -almost as much as that of the fetish of the African -devotee.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> - -<p>The face of the young girl was still as clear and distinct -in his mind as the carving of his cameo, and he -still thrilled in every pulse of his being whenever he recalled -the beautiful azure eyes that had shone with such -intense earnestness as she watched for him to come -forth from the car at New Haven, the quiver of her -red lips and the light of heartfelt gratitude illumining -her delicate, clear-cut features.</p> - -<p>How his heart leaped as he seemed to hear again the -music of her fresh young voice, as she gave utterance -to those eager, impulsive words: “Life is very bright -to me; I love to live; I shall never forget you; I shall -love you for the heroism of this day—always.”</p> - -<p>He had said those last words over and over to himself -many, many times, until they had awakened in -his own heart a love for that peerless girl that would -never wane—a love that meant a thousandfold more -than she had intended to imply, and which would never -be satisfied with less than a full requital from its object.</p> - -<p>This mood was on him now stronger than ever as he -thought over that never-to-be-forgotten scene. But -how dare he dream of such a thing! It surely seemed -to him the height of presumption, and he flushed a -guilty crimson in view of his audacity.</p> - -<p>Then another train of thought was started, and his -handsome brown eyes were clouded with pain as he -questioned within himself what this sweet, golden-haired, -blue-eyed “Mollie” could be to Philip Wentworth, -that he should so arbitrarily demand how he -had become possessed of the ring that had once been -hers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span></p> - -<p>When he had told him that it did not concern him, -he had exclaimed with repressed passion, “It does concern -me, and more, perhaps, than you have any idea.”</p> - -<p>What did he mean by that? he wondered. Could it be -possible that there had been a boy-and-girl love affair -between those two, and that Philip Wentworth had -become madly jealous upon seeing the ring upon his -hand and failing to ascertain how it had come there?</p> - -<p>This was not a very pleasing thought to him, but he -had at least learned that the fair “Mollie” was at present -traveling in Europe, while he also reasoned that -there could not have been any very confidential missives -exchanged, or the young man would not have been so -in the dark regarding the presentation of the cameo, -and these facts afforded him some consolation. Then -his mind reverted to the beautiful woman whom the -professor had introduced as Mrs. Temple, and whom -Wentworth had addressed as “mother.”</p> - -<p>He felt sure that they were mother and son, in spite -of the different names they bore, for there was a strong -resemblance between them, although she had deported -herself like a gracious and high-bred lady, while he -was a veritable snob.</p> - -<p>Probably, Clifford reasoned, she had been a widow, -and had married a second time a man by the name of -Temple, and he wondered if there was a Mr. Temple -now living, and what he was like. But these people -and things soon slipped from his mind, for, early the -next morning, he left Cambridge for the White Mountains, -where his ever-thoughtful friend, Professor -Harding, had secured for him a position as head porter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -in a hotel, where he usually spent a portion of his -summer with his family. Clifford found his friends -already there, and was welcomed most cordially by -them.</p> - -<p>He found that his duties would be somewhat heavy, -although they were not, on the whole, disagreeable, -while they would give him a complete rest and change -from the close mental application of the last ten -months.</p> - -<p>It is needless to say that he was most faithful in -his new position, for it was his nature to do well whatever -he had to do, and, before a fortnight had passed, -the proprietor of the house, Mr. Hamilton, confided to -Professor Harding that he had never before secured -so efficient and gentlemanly a person for the place.</p> - -<p>The guests, also, all seemed to appreciate him, for -he was always courteous in his bearing, and attentive -to their wants. He would never allow any loud talking -or rough handling of baggage from the men who -worked under him, while he managed to systematize -everything connected with his department so that there -was no confusion and seldom a mistake.</p> - -<p>He had been there a little over a month, when one -day, as he was returning from the post-office with the -afternoon mail, he met with an adventure.</p> - -<p>He rode a large and valuable bay horse that belonged -to Mr. Hamilton, who, after he learned that Clifford -knew how to handle horses, liked to have him exercise -the animal occasionally. The day had been unusually -warm, and Clifford was allowing his steed to make -his own pace up a steep incline, while he read a letter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -which he had received from his good friend, Maria -Kimberly, who was almost his only correspondent.</p> - -<p>Upon reaching a small plateau he checked his steaming -horse to allow him to rest before climbing the next -ascent. He finished his letter, refolded and tucked it -away in a pocket, then, removing his hat, and wiping -the perspiration from his forehead, he turned in his -saddle to look back upon the valley behind and beneath -him.</p> - -<p>“What a view!” he said aloud, and with kindling -eyes; “it is worth a great deal to have such a scene as -this to look upon day after day, and nature paints the -loveliest pictures, after all.” Then, with a glance -above and beyond him, he continued: “And the hills! -the everlasting hills! how wonderful they are! I have -read somewhere that ‘rocks and mountains stand for -the solid and grand ideas of Truth.’ It is a beautiful -thought, and makes them a hundredfold more lovely -to me. I believe I am receiving an inspiration this -summer that will never leave me——”</p> - -<p>“Ahem! you appear to be struck on the hills, -Faxon,” a voice here interposed with a mocking inflection, -and, glancing toward the spot from whence it -seemed to proceed, Clifford saw to his astonishment the -face of Philip Wentworth peering at him over a boulder -that lay almost on the edge of the mountain road, and -was half-concealed by a clump of sumac that was -growing beside it.</p> - -<p>He had been sitting behind the rock where, screened -by it and the growth of sumac, he had been idly gazing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -into the depths below, for the road just there ran along -the edge of an almost perpendicular precipice.</p> - -<p>He had seen Clifford approaching, although he was -himself unseen, but he had had no intention of making -his presence known, until our hero’s eloquent outburst -fell upon his ears, whereupon he became irritated beyond -measure. He was dressed in the height of style—in -an immaculate suit of white linen, and he carried -a cane having an elaborately carved ivory head.</p> - -<p>He came around into the road and stood there looking -up into Clifford’s face with a derisive smile. Clifford -colored vividly at his manner of addressing him, -but quickly recovering himself, he courteously returned:</p> - -<p>“Ah! good afternoon, Mr. Wentworth. Yes, I am -in love with these grand mountains, but I had no idea -that I was rhapsodizing before an audience. It has -been a warm day,” he concluded, and drew up his -bridle preparatory to moving on, when his companion -detained him.</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute, Faxon,” he said, “I’ve been wanting -to see you ever since class-day, but no one could -tell me where to find you. It’s about that ring, you -know; I’m dying to know just how you came by it.”</p> - -<p>“It was a gift, Mr. Wentworth,” Clifford briefly -replied.</p> - -<p>“So you said before, but who gave it to you?” demanded -Philip, with a frown.</p> - -<p>“I cannot tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Hang it all! don’t be so deucedly secretive,” was -the impatient retort. “Was it given to you by a lady?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span></p> - -<p>“Pardon me, but I cannot tell you,” Clifford reiterated.</p> - -<p>“Will not, you mean,” Wentworth angrily rejoined.</p> - -<p>Clifford did not deign to answer this thrust, and -his silence, which stood for assent, was maddening to -his companion. All his life he had been the pampered -idol of his mother, who had seldom denied him a wish, -and he had grown up selfish, arrogant, and almost lawless.</p> - -<p>During his own father’s life, he had been curbed to a -certain extent, for the man possessed good sense and -judgment, and, had he lived, would doubtless have -brought out the best that was in his son; but the man -had been cut down just when the boy had needed him -most, and so his mother had spoiled him until he had -become intolerant of all opposition to his wishes.</p> - -<p>Thus Clifford’s calm indifference to his demand -drove him into a white heat of rage.</p> - -<p>“You do not need to tell me where it came from,” -he burst forth, “for, as I told you before, I know who -had possession of it up to three o’clock of the day when -you claim that it was given to you—given, ha!” he -concluded, with an insulting significant laugh.</p> - -<p>All the blood in his body seemed to rush into Clifford’s -face at this cowardly insinuation.</p> - -<p>“Wentworth! do you mean to imply that I came by -it through dishonorable means?” he sternly demanded.</p> - -<p>“Well, that is a point upon which I have my own -opinion,” Philip retorted, “but I can swear to this that -at the hour I have named on the thirtieth of July, of -last year, that ring was on the hand of a certain lady<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span> -of my acquaintance. She was on the point of starting -for New York, and as I was taking leave of her I asked -her to give it to me as—as a souvenir.”</p> - -<p>“Ah!”</p> - -<p>It was only an exclamation, and it had escaped Clifford -almost involuntarily, but it expressed a great deal, -and his heart had given a great throb of exultation over -the knowledge that what his blue-eyed, golden-haired -divinity had refused to give the rich and aristocratic -Philip Wentworth, she had, freely, and even enthusiastically, -bestowed upon him, a poor bound boy, who -had stood before her, hatless and drenched to his skin -in his shirt-sleeves and overalls and wearing a pair of -clumsy shoes, the like of which this petted son of fortune -would have scorned for his servant.</p> - -<p>Young Wentworth was excessively nettled by the -monosyllable, and instantly regretted having betrayed -so much.</p> - -<p>“I am only telling you this,” he hastened to explain, -“to prove how preposterous it seems in you to claim -that this lady should have given you the ring, after -having refused it to me, and I will also add, as a -clincher, that Miss—the lady is my fiancée.”</p> - -<p>For a moment Clifford felt as if he had been struck -a blow in the face, and the sense of a terrible loss settled -upon his heart. Then, as he recalled the youthful -face that had been lifted so earnestly to him, and also -the fact that the girl had not discarded short dresses, -a faint smile of skepticism involuntarily curved the -corners of his mouth. Philip was quick to note it, and -was exasperated by it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span></p> - -<p>“You do not believe it,” he said sharply, “but it is -true nevertheless; the matter was arranged when we -were mere children, and we have grown up with the -understanding that we are to be married when I am -through college. Faugh!” he interposed, with a shrug -of impatience, “why do I tell you this, I wonder? I am -a fool to give it away to you; but, Faxon, I want that -ring! Do you hear?”</p> - -<p>Clifford gazed down upon the handsome, imperious -face upturned to him with an expression of amazement. -The audacity of the demand almost paralyzed -him for the moment.</p> - -<p>“You want the ring!” he repeated, when he could -find voice.</p> - -<p>“That’s what I said,” Philip returned consequentially. -“I can’t have you wearing a ring that belongs to -my fiancée. Of course, I am willing to pay you something -handsome for it rather than have any words over -the affair—say, fifty dollars, and ask no further questions -regarding how you came by it.”</p> - -<p>Clifford was filled with indignation, both at the imputation -flung at him and the proposition to barter -his gift for money. Sell his precious ring—his “mascot,” -with its magic legend and initials of its fair -donor! Never! He would almost as soon have parted -with his right hand, and he grew very white about -the mouth at the thought. But he seldom gave outward -expression to anger, no matter how deeply moved -he was, and, after a moment spent in making an effort -to speak calmly, he said, in a low tone of quiet decision:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span></p> - -<p>“Mr. Wentworth, I could not, for a moment, think -of surrendering my ring to you.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll make it a hundred, if you like,” persisted Philip.</p> - -<p>“No, sir; I would not part with it at any price.”</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth’s face grew livid with mingled -rage and disappointment.</p> - -<p>“—— you, for an obstinate upstart!” he exclaimed -furiously, and, lifting his slender cane high above his -head, he dealt Clifford’s horse a fierce and stinging -blow upon the thigh. It was a terrible shock to the -beautiful and spirited creature, who scarce ever had -known the touch of a lash. With a snort of fear he -wheeled, sprang erect upon his hind legs, and the next -moment was pawing the air on the very edge of that -almost perpendicular precipice.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.<br /> -<span class="smaller">PHILIP WENTWORTH FINDS AMUSEMENT.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Clifford was in fearful danger for one awful moment, -as the horse hung swaying on the brow of the -precipice, and, seemingly, about to be dashed over -the edge and down upon the rocks below.</p> - -<p>To all appearance horse and rider were doomed—their -fate sealed. But with a dexterous movement the -young man drew his bridle taut, his fingers gripping -it like claws of steel, his muscles unyielding as iron, -and thus he held the animal poised in the air for a -brief instant, like a statue, but for his frightened trembling; -then, pulling sharply upon the bit with his left -hand, he swung him around and away from the frightful -chasm, and eased him down until one forefoot -touched the ground, when the intelligent creature -helped himself farther away from his dangerous position, -though still snorting and quivering in every limb -from fear.</p> - -<p>“Be quiet, Glory! it’s all right—whoa! stand still!” -Clifford called out in a reassuring voice, as he gathered -the bridle into one hand, and with the other stroked -and patted the reeking neck with a gentle, encouraging -touch, and continued to talk soothingly to him, until -he was comparatively calm again.</p> - -<p>It had been a hairbreadth escape, and Clifford’s face<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -was absolutely colorless, but not so white or frozen -with fear as that of Philip Wentworth, who had become -conscious that his ungovernable temper had well-nigh -made a murderer of him.</p> - -<p>The eyes of the two young men met for one moment, -then Clifford spoke quietly to his horse, bidding him -go on, and went his way up the mountain road.</p> - -<p>He was very thoughtful as he pursued his way back -to the hotel, and was deeply thankful. He was almost -dazed, and could scarcely realize what had happened. -But for the reaction, the weakness almost amounting -to faintness, that had crept over him, it would have -seemed more like a dream—a horrible nightmare—than -a reality.</p> - -<p>He drew in long, deep breaths and tried to brace -himself up, and, gradually, he began to feel the -strength coming back to him; but the strain upon him, -both mentally and physically, had been something terrible.</p> - -<p>Finally he forgot about himself in thinking of -Philip, and wondering what his sensations could have -been while watching that desperate battle for life.</p> - -<p>“What a frightful temper he has!” he mused, as he -recalled the young man’s distorted face when he struck -that almost fatal blow. “I am thankful that I am not -so cursed, or rather that I was taught in my boyhood -to govern myself. If he has any conscience he must -have suffered more than I did during that moment of -terrible suspense.</p> - -<p>“How ridiculous to tell me that he is engaged to -that slip of a girl!” he continued, with a skeptical smile,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span> -“and yet,” he added, more soberly, “I know that such -arrangements have been made by parents for their children, -and so what he said is not impossible. But I -should be sorry, from the depths of my heart, for her if -she was doomed to spend her life with one who possesses -such a disposition. Still, I do not believe that -she is lacking in spirit, and I imagine it would not be -an easy matter to drive her to do anything regarding -which she had conscientious scruples. I am very sure -that there is much strength of character behind those -earnest blue eyes. However, if she loves him she will -probably marry him,” he concluded, with a long sigh of -regret and a look of pain in his eyes.</p> - -<p>He rode his horse directly to the stable upon his return -to the hotel, and gave orders to have him carefully -groomed; then he returned to his duties in the -house, and kept his own counsel regarding his recent -adventure.</p> - -<p>It would have involved too many explanations to -have talked about it, and, since no harm had befallen -the horse, he felt under no obligation to speak of the -affair to any one.</p> - -<p>That evening there were several new arrivals, and -among them some people who were registered as Judge -and Mrs. Athol and Miss Gertrude Athol, from Buffalo, -New York. Miss Athol was a remarkably beautiful -girl of about eighteen years, and as Clifford saw -her during the disposal of her trunks in her rooms, -he thought that, with one exception, he had never met -one more lovely. She also was a blonde of the purest -type, tall and willowy, and possessing an air of repose<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -and refinement, together with an unusually sunny -smile, that made one feel as if he had come into a different -atmosphere when in her presence.</p> - -<p>There was one peculiarity about her that seemed to -intensify her beauty; she had great, soft, almond-shaped -brown eyes, which contrasted exquisitely with -her delicate complexion and pale-gold hair, and which -gave marked character to her face.</p> - -<p>“She is a true lady,” Clifford said to himself, as he -mentally compared her with some other young people -who were guests in the house, and who appeared to regard -every employee as their slave, whose sole duty -consisted in serving their lightest caprice.</p> - -<p>About the middle of the next afternoon an elegant -equipage dashed up to the door of the hotel and four -people alighted and entered the house. Clifford instantly -recognized Philip Wentworth and his mother, -and they were followed by a stately, rather pompous, -gentleman, with iron-gray hair, a pair of keen, dark -eyes, and a shrewd, clear-cut, intelligent face, while he -led by the hand a little girl of about five years, a charming -little fairy, who resembled both Philip and Mrs. -Temple, and who was most daintily clad, and with a -great hat set on her sunny head, framing her bright, -laughing face in a most picturesque manner.</p> - -<p>The gentleman was William F. Temple, and the -child was Miss Minnie Temple, the pet and idol of the -entire household. This quartet were shown into a reception-room, -whereupon they sent cards up to Judge -and Mrs. Athol, who, as it proved, were old friends of -Mrs. Temple, Mrs. Athol having been a chum of hers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -at Vassar during their school-days. From that time -the two families were also inseparable.</p> - -<p>They drove or went fishing and rowing on the lake, -or made excursions to various points of interest almost -every morning; the afternoons were devoted to -bowling, golf, or tennis, while they alternated in dining -each other and attended card parties, hops, and receptions -at various hotels in the evening.</p> - -<p>During all this time Clifford and Philip Wentworth -were continually coming in contact with each other; -but the latter never betrayed, by word or look, that he -had ever met him before, and ordered him around like -any ordinary porter.</p> - -<p>Clifford was often galled inexpressibly by his overbearing -manner, particularly so in the presence of Miss -Athol, who was always gracious toward him.</p> - -<p>Early one morning Mr. and Mrs. Temple, accompanied -by the Judge and Mrs. Athol, started out on a -trip to the summit of Mount Washington, leaving little -Minnie Temple to spend the day with Miss Athol, to -whom the child had become very much attached.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth put in his appearance at the hotel -after luncheon, and about half an hour later, accompanied -by Miss Athol and his young sister, and armed -with books, a lunch-basket, and a rug, started forth -again, evidently to spend the afternoon in the woods.</p> - -<p>He had been very devoted to Gertrude Athol ever -since her appearance upon the scene, and had constituted -himself her escort upon almost every occasion, -while there were times when his manner toward her -bordered strongly upon that of a lover.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span></p> - -<p>Clifford had been quick to observe this, and was -secretly indignant at the growing intimacy, for he had -by no means forgotten the statement which Wentworth -had made to him regarding his relations with a certain -little lady who was traveling in Europe. He watched -them this afternoon as they sauntered slowly down the -road in the direction of a pretty little nook, familiarly -known as “The Glen,” Philip carrying Miss Athol’s -sun-umbrella with an air of proprietorship, while little -Minnie skipped on before them, bright and happy as a -bird.</p> - -<p>“What a sweet little fairy that child is!” Clifford -murmured, as his eyes rested fondly upon her, for, -strange as it may seem, a strong friendship had sprung -up between himself and Miss Minnie, who never came -to the hotel without seeking him out to have a social -little chat with him.</p> - -<p>He continued to watch the trio until they disappeared -around a bend in the road, when he went back -into the office, and resumed some clerical work connected -with his duties.</p> - -<p>“The Glen” referred to was, in fact, something of a -misnomer, for it was nothing more or less than a quiet -nook on a small plateau, carpeted with moss, almost -entirely surrounded by a luxuriant growth of great -pines, and overlooking a picturesque valley and strong, -rugged mountains beyond.</p> - -<p>It was almost on the edge of a precipice, and not far -from the very point where Clifford came so near losing -his life only a short time before.</p> - -<p>Upon arriving at their destination, Philip spread the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -rug he carried upon the ground, close by a big boulder, -and the three sat down, removing their hats and making -themselves generally comfortable. Then Philip -opened one of the books he had brought—a new novel -that was creating quite a sensation—and began reading -aloud to his companion.</p> - -<p>But Miss Minnie did not relish any such prosaic way -of spending her afternoon, and, becoming lonely and -restless, began to wander about to see what of interest -she could find for herself. At first Philip tried to keep -her beside them, but, finding that she would not be -quiet, and fretted constantly at the restraint imposed -upon her, finally gave her permission to play about, -provided she would not go beyond a certain limit.</p> - -<p>She soon found amusement in gathering ferns, with -here and there a bright leaf from some sumac bushes -growing near the road at a point where she was perfectly -safe, and the two young people returned to their -book and gave themselves up to the enjoyment of the -hour.</p> - -<p>To Gertrude Athol the companionship of Philip -Wentworth evidently meant a great deal, if one could -judge from the coming and going of her color, the -tender light within her eyes whenever they met those -of the young man, and the shy, happy smiles that hovered -about her mouth.</p> - -<p>The story which they were reading, and pausing -every now and then to discuss, had for its heroine a -young girl who had been sent into the country one -summer to recuperate after a long illness, and while -there had met a young man of the world, who, after<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span> -becoming acquainted with her, monopolized her time, -and made love to her in an indefinite kind of way, yet -never committing himself beyond a certain point. He -completely won the girl’s heart, and she poured out all -the wealth of her nature upon this suppositious lover, -only to awake from her blissful dream at the end of -the season, when he came to bid her a stereotyped farewell, -and then drifted out of her life forever. The -blow was more than the girl could bear in her delicate -state of health, while the shame she experienced upon -realizing that she had been systematically fooled, just -for the amusement of an idler, who found no better -entertainment at hand, almost turned her brain. She -could not rally from it, and quietly folding her hands -in submission to the inevitable she drooped and died -before the year was out.</p> - -<p>“Oh, what a sad, sad story!” Gertrude exclaimed, -when Philip reached this point, and her red lips quivered -in sympathy with the unfortunate girl; “and what -a wicked thing it was for Gerald Frost to do! It is -heartless for any man to play with a woman’s affections -in any such way.”</p> - -<p>“It was simply a summer idyl,” replied Philip, lifting -his eyes from the book and feasting them upon his -companion’s beauty, “and there are thousands of such -incidents occurring every year.”</p> - -<p>“But it is atrocious—it is a crime!” retorted the girl -spiritedly, “and a man who will deliberately set himself -at work to do such a deed is at heart as bad as a murderer.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Gertrude! Miss Athol! your language is very -severe,” laughed Philip.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it sounds harsh, but it is true, all the same,” -she persisted, “and if Gerald Frost is a fair type of the -summer male flirt, too much cannot be said in condemnation -of him.”</p> - -<p>“And what about the summer girl flirt?” questioned -her companion laughingly.</p> - -<p>“She is even worse, for one expects sincerity and -sympathy from a woman, and she shames and degrades -her sex when she descends to such ignoble pastime,” -she gravely returned. “At the same time, a -man has the advantage over a woman in such a case, -for it rests with him to put the all-important question, -and it is inhuman to win a young girl’s heart, and then -cast it from him as worthless. I am glad to think, -however, that there are comparatively few Amy Linders -in the world. I would never have finished the book -like that—I think the author has spoiled it.”</p> - -<p>“How would you have finished it? What would -you have done if you had been in Amy Linder’s -place?” Philip inquired, and shooting a glance of curiosity -at the flushed, earnest face beside him.</p> - -<p>“I certainly would not have drooped and died,” she -returned, with a scornful curl of her lips. “I never -would have given the man who had so wronged me the -satisfaction of knowing how thoroughly he had fooled -me.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, you tell what you would not have done; but, on -the other hand, what would have been your course of -action?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span></p> - -<p>Miss Athol drew her willowy figure proudly erect, -and her fine eyes blazed with the dauntless spirit within -her.</p> - -<p>“I would have lived it down,” she said, her voice -vibrating with intense feeling. “I would have risen -above it, and some day, later on, I would have caused -that man to wonder if he had not made the greatest -mistake of his life; he should have learned to despise -himself for having so belittled himself and dishonored -his manhood by trying to wreck the happiness of a defenseless -girl simply for amusement.”</p> - -<p>She was glorious as she gave utterance to these animated -sentences and Philip was, for the moment, carried -beyond himself by the magnetic influence of her -beauty and her spirit. He caught the white hand that -lay nearest him, and impulsively pressed it to his lips.</p> - -<p>“Ah! no one could ever meet, play the part of lover -to you, and then leave you,” he cried, with a thrill of -passion in his tones. “I——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I wonder where Minnie is!” Gertrude interposed, -and withdrawing her hand before he could complete -what he was about to say. “Great heavens, what -was that?”</p> - -<p>Both sprang to their feet as a frightened scream at -that instant fell upon their ears, and turned their terrified -faces toward the sound just in season to see the -flutter of white garments as they disappeared over the -edge of the plateau, not a dozen yards from where they -stood.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.<br /> -<span class="smaller">A FRIGHTFUL ACCIDENT.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The child had played contentedly enough with her -ferns and leaves until a brilliant butterfly had appeared -upon the scene and attracted her attention, when she -began to chase it, and, unmindful of her promise to her -brother, ran too near the edge of the precipice, lost her -balance, and fell with a terrified shriek into space.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth rushed forward, an inarticulate -cry of horror bursting from his lips, threw himself upon -his knees, grasped a young tree that was growing -there, and leaned over the chasm to see—he dare not -think what.</p> - -<p>“Oh, God!” he groaned, as he stared into the abyss -below.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Wentworth!—oh!—is she—killed?” gasped -Gertrude Athol, as she sprang to his side, her face as -white as the flannel of her outing dress.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know—I do not dare to hope that she is -not,” the young man returned, but still gazing as one -mesmerized upon the scene beneath him.</p> - -<p>Gertrude stooped over, steadying herself by leaning -upon his shoulder, and she caught her breath sharply as -she took in the situation.</p> - -<p>Down, down, at least a hundred feet, she caught<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -sight of a mass of white lying like a ball of cotton in -the midst of the heavy foliage of a tree.</p> - -<p>Many years previous a tiny maple seed had found -lodgment among the rocks and earth of the mountain, -which arose hundreds of feet, like a perpendicular wall, -and this had sprouted, taken root, and grown until -now quite a vigorous tree projected out at right angles -from this wall, and as the plateau above shelved outward -at the top, the child had fallen straight into the -middle of the interlaced branches and heavy foliage, -and thus she had been almost miraculously saved from -being dashed upon the rocks in the ravine below.</p> - -<p>But there was not a movement, not a sound, to tell -those breathless watchers above whether the little one -was still living; she certainly was not conscious, or she -surely would have made the fact known.</p> - -<p>“Oh! what can we do?—this is terrible!” cried Gertrude, -with white lips and shivering as from a chill. -“But”—in an eager tone—“the child is safe, I fancy! -she could not have been badly hurt just dropping into -the tree; she is only breathless and faint from the -fearful fall through space. Oh! Mr. Wentworth, I am -sure if some one will only go to her rescue before she -revives she can be saved.”</p> - -<p>“Saved!” gasped Philip, with a shudder of horror; -“why, she is as dead to us and the world at this -moment as if she had already been dashed upon those -rocks so far beneath her; for no one would risk his life -down that precipice to attempt her rescue.”</p> - -<p>“Some one must! Some one shall!” cried the panting -girl. “Oh! if we had a rope and some one would<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -lower me, I would go. Run—run to the hotel; tell -them to bring ropes—I know she can be saved—go! -go!” she concluded imperatively, while she tried to -drag him to his feet.</p> - -<p>But he appeared to be paralyzed—rooted to the spot.</p> - -<p>“Run!” he repeated, regarding her with a dazed expression. -“I could not run to the hotel if my own life -depended upon it. Oh, Minnie! my poor darling!” he -concluded, a sob of despair bursting from him.</p> - -<p>Without another word, but like a flash, Gertrude -turned, shot past him, and sped over the ground -toward the hotel. Fast and faster she flew, never once -pausing, until, spent and breathless, she sank upon the -steps leading to the veranda.</p> - -<p>Clifford, from the office window, had seen her coming, -and, realizing that something was wrong, sprang -forth to meet her.</p> - -<p>“Miss Athol!—tell me—has anything happened? -What can I do for you?” he exclaimed, as he reached -her side.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Cliff!”—she had heard him called Cliff, -and knew him by no other name—“Minnie Temple -has fallen over the cliff at the glen. A tree has broken -her fall; she is caught in the branches; I have come for -men and ropes to save her.”</p> - -<p>Clifford’s face had grown rigid, and his heart sank -heavily in his bosom as he listened. He had been growing -to love the bright, pretty child, and he felt personally -bereft at the thought of losing her. But he paused -to ask no questions, although he feared the case was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -hopeless. He turned abruptly on his heel, and darted -into the house.</p> - -<p>“John!” he called to an assistant, who had just come -up from the basement, “go to the stable, and get the -longest and strongest ropes you can find; go quick! -Then find Sam, come here, and wait for me.”</p> - -<p>The man knew the case was imperative from his -looks and tones, and hurried away to do his bidding, -while Clifford sprang up two flights of stairs two steps -at a time to a side room, which was remote from any -of the fire-escapes on the building, and where a knotted -rope had been placed to be used in the event of an -emergency.</p> - -<p>He snatched this from the strong hook to which it -was attached, tore a sheet from the bed, and then -darted back down-stairs, where he found the men, -John and Sam, awaiting him.</p> - -<p>“Come,” he said briefly, and then hurried on down -the road after Miss Athol, who, having done her -errand and caught her breath again, was flying back -along the way over which she had just come.</p> - -<p>As soon as they reached “The Glen,” where they -found Philip still crouching where Gertrude had left -him, his face buried in his hands, Clifford went -straight to the edge of the plateau, and peered down -into the ravine.</p> - -<p>Instantly his eyes brightened, and a look of determination -leaped into them as they rested upon that -little motionless form half-buried in the dense foliage -of the tree.</p> - -<p>Stepping back he threw off his light linen coat and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span> -vest, after which he knotted the fire-escape rope firmly -around the trunk of a young oak, and threw the remainder -of it over the cliff, and was glad to see that it -was plenty long enough for his purpose.</p> - -<p>Then he attached one end of a larger rope which -John had brought to the same tree, and secured the -other around his own body.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mr. Cliff! you are going down for her!” eagerly -exclaimed Gertrude, who had been breathlessly -watching his movements, and her eyes met his with a -look of dawning hope in their brown depths.</p> - -<p>“Certainly; some one must go,” he said briefly.</p> - -<p>Involuntarily the girl’s glance wandered to Philip -Wentworth, a slight frown contracting her brow. He -still sat upon the ground, his face covered, and the very -picture of despair. Clearly, he was wholly unfitted to -be of any special use in this fearful emergency.</p> - -<p>Clifford’s next move was to firmly knot the diagonal -corners of the sheet he had brought and slip it over his -left shoulder and under his right arm.</p> - -<p>“What is that for?” questioned Miss Athol.</p> - -<p>“To put the child into. Do you not see? It makes a -kind of pouch, and, swung over my back, will leave my -hands free to use in climbing.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” she breathed; “how thoughtful of you, -and she will be safer so than she could possibly have -been in almost any other way.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said simply, and smiled a look of encouragement -into her white face.</p> - -<p>“Now, John, Sam, and Wentworth, too, we shall -need your help,” he continued, turning sharply upon<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -Philip to arouse him to action. “I am going down -that fire-escape. John, I want you to keep hold of this -other rope that is tied to me, and pay it out as I go—but -not too fast, just enough to feel my movements, -and be sure you do not lose your head or your grip, for -in case the other rope should slip or I should need to -rest a moment a little tightening up upon it will be a -great help to me, and possibly avert a serious accident. -When I start to come back pull it up evenly and -steadily—don’t let it slip, for I shall need to depend a -good deal upon its support. When I get back here to -the edge of the plateau you will—every one of you—need -all your wits about you to help me on to terra -firma once more. Now, obey orders, and, God helping -me, I will do the rest.”</p> - -<p>He stepped calmly forward to where the rope hung -over, laid hold upon the trunk of the tree to help himself -off, then, seizing the knotted fire-escape, slipped -slowly down into space.</p> - -<p>At this moment Philip Wentworth sprang to his -feet and went forward, his face still white as marble, -but evidently doing his utmost to brace himself up to -assist in the rescue of his idolized little sister.</p> - -<p>Miss Athol, however, feeling that she could not trust -herself to watch that perilous descent, went back to the -boulder and sat down, covered her face with her trembling -hands, and prayed for the hero who was risking -so much to save a human life.</p> - -<p>Other people, having learned that an accident of -some kind had occurred, had begun to gather about the -place, though scarce a word was spoken, and “The<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -Glen” was almost as silent as if no one had been -there.</p> - -<p>Hand over hand, calmly and steadily, Clifford descended -the rope, clinging to it with his feet—from -which he had removed his shoes—as well as with his -hands, never once looking down, but always up, with -never a shade of fear in his brave brown eyes.</p> - -<p>Those above him, watching with breathless interest, -grew dizzy and almost faint, as they looked, to see him -swaying backward and forward, and from side to side, -like some erratic pendulum ’twixt earth and sky, for -the rope, being loose at the lower end, he could not control -it, and it seemed as if he would never be able to -stand the strain until he reached his journey’s end.</p> - -<p>John McQueen, a strong and sturdy Scotchman, -stood a resolute and faithful sentinel at his post, and -paid out the rope in his hands just fast enough to make -it a help and a support—and Clifford told him afterward -that he never could have accomplished his task -but for the trust he reposed in his brawny arms and -cool head—until, at last, the brave fellow touched the -trunk of the maple, and so far, all was well.</p> - -<p>Here he paused to rest for a moment or two, for the -strain had been great, and his hands burned and stung -from their contact with the rough rope.</p> - -<p>His next act was to secure the loose end to the tree, -making it as taut as possible, and thus prevent the -swaying, which had so annoyed and hampered him in -making his descent. His upward climb would be the -“tug-o’-war,” and he realized that he must neglect no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span> -measure that would be of the slightest advantage to -him.</p> - -<p>Then he began his perilous climb outward upon the -trunk of the maple toward that snowy mass lying -among its dark-green foliage.</p> - -<p>A single slip or false movement would have sent him -whirling through space to the bottom of the ravine. -Very cautiously he edged his way, almost inch by inch, -taking great care not to shake or disturb the branches -where the child lay, lest she be dislodged before he -could reach her.</p> - -<p>At last!</p> - -<p>His hand grasped the garments, and the long-drawn -breath that heaved the chest of every watcher above -told how intense was the excitement, how terrible had -been the suspense of the last few moments.</p> - -<p>Gently, cautiously, Clifford drew the still, little form -toward him until he could encircle it with his strong -arm, and then he slowly retraced his way along that -slender stem.</p> - -<p>It was a perilous task, but the ropes were reached at -last, and again he paused to rest, while he bent a -tender, anxious face over the inanimate burden now -clasped close to his breast, and placed a hand over the -little heart.</p> - -<p>He detected slight pulsations there, and gave a reassuring -nod to those who were keeping such anxious -vigil above.</p> - -<p>At last he placed the child within the pouch which he -had made of the sheet, swung it gently around upon his -back, and secured the loose corners about his waist to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span> -prevent his burden from swaying away from his body, -and then he was ready for the ascent.</p> - -<p>Full one hundred feet he must climb that perpendicular -strand with that precious little form upon his back.</p> - -<p>Would he be able to accomplish the task? He did not -presume to answer the question as it flashed through -his brain; he put the thought quickly away from him -almost before it had taken form.</p> - -<p>But his brave heart never faltered in his purpose as -he resolutely grasped the rope and lifted himself from -the supporting maple.</p> - -<p>But who shall describe the agony of suspense that -tortured the hearts of those who were lying, face downward, -upon the edge of the cliff, and watching the -struggle for life.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth could not endure it, and knowing -that there was now plenty of help upon the ground, he -retreated, faint and sick, from his position by the oak -to the boulder where Gertrude was sitting, and waited -in speechless anguish for the end.</p> - -<p>Faithful John McQueen, who had been a worshiper -at young Faxon’s shrine from the first day of his appearance -at the hotel, never once took his eyes or his -thoughts from the rope in his hands, or for a moment -forgot the important part he was playing in the tragic -scene.</p> - -<p>Up, up, Clifford came, nearer and nearer toward the -goal, and with every foot of advancement the sustaining -rope was shortened just so much, with a firm and -steady pull that was a source of continual encouragement -and support to the valiant hero.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span></p> - -<p>At length his right hand, now almost purple from -his exertions, grasped the last knot just below the edge -of the cliff.</p> - -<p>This was the most critical moment of all, for the -plateau shelved outward, and it hardly seemed possible -that the young man and his burden could be drawn -safely up over the brink.</p> - -<p>But willing hands and strong arms reached down -and grasped him, while John held his rope with an iron -grip, and in another moment he was lifted out of space -and onto solid ground once more.</p> - -<p>His face was almost as purple as his hands, the veins -upon his forehead stood out in knots, his breath came -in shrill, quivering pants between his livid lips, and the -moment he was relieved of his burden he sank exhausted, -well-nigh unconscious, upon the rug which -Gertrude had dragged forward to receive him.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">CLIFFORD MEETS WILLIAM TEMPLE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Gertrude then held out her arms for Minnie, and the -child was surrendered to her. She had begun to show -signs of returning animation; there was already a little -color in her lips, the heart was beating, the chest heaving -slightly, and ere long she opened her eyes to find -herself gazing straight into the familiar faces of her -brother and friend.</p> - -<p>Gertrude smiled reassuringly, and, bending, kissed -her fondly.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” breathed the child, with a convulsive shudder, -“was it a dreadful dream! Oh, Phil, did I fall?”</p> - -<p>“Never mind the dream, Minnie, dear,” returned the -young man evasively. “You are awake now, and we -will go back to the hotel.”</p> - -<p>“But I am so tired, and I feel so queer,” gasped the -little one, settling back limp and white again in Gertrude’s -arms.</p> - -<p>“Give her to me!” said Philip, in a tone of alarm. “I -will carry her to the hotel, and we must have a doctor -immediately.”</p> - -<p>He gathered her up tenderly, and hastened away, his -whole thought centered upon her.</p> - -<p>But Gertrude, keenly anxious for Clifford, lingered -and went to the spot where he lay, with a pile of coats<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span> -under his head for a pillow and weak as a child, his -breath coming in great gasps. She knelt down beside -him, an expression of deep reverence in her beautiful -eyes.</p> - -<p>“I hope you are better,” she said gently.</p> - -<p>He looked up and smiled.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; I shall soon—be—all right,” he panted, -and she could see how his heart still throbbed and -shook him from head to foot with its every pulsation. -“Those—last few feet—were—rather more than—I—had -calculated upon,” he added, after a moment.</p> - -<p>A look of infinite pity swept over the fair girl’s face, -and, drawing her perfumed handkerchief from her belt, -she wiped the moisture from his forehead and about his -lips, which were still frightfully livid.</p> - -<p>“Cannot one of you get some water for him?” she -inquired, glancing up at those who were gathered -around and apparently paralyzed into inactivity.</p> - -<p>“Yes—I would like—a glass—of water,” said Clifford -trying to moisten his dry lips.</p> - -<p>“You shall have it,” said Gertrude, leaping to her -feet. “Come with me, somebody, and I will send back -a bottle of water.”</p> - -<p>She sped out of “The Glen” as if her feet had been -winged, and was closely followed by one of the waiters -at the hotel.</p> - -<p>They soon overtook Philip, who was toiling up the -hill with his burden, and, telling him of her errand, -Gertrude swept on past him without pausing. On -reaching the hotel she saw that a carafe was filled with -cold, fresh water, and, giving this to the man, she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -begged him to hurry back with it with all possible -speed.</p> - -<p>Then she turned her attention to Minnie, who was -borne directly to her room and put to bed, while Philip -hastened after a physician.</p> - -<p>After a careful examination of the child the doctor -said that she was all right, excepting that the shock of -the terrible fall had, perhaps, unsettled her somewhat, -but that rest and quiet would soon restore her to her -normal condition.</p> - -<p>This assurance was very comforting to both of the -young people, who had been extremely anxious regarding -the child’s condition.</p> - -<p>As soon as the proprietor, Mr. Hamilton, learned -what had happened he sent a carriage to convey Clifford -home, who, upon his arrival, was borne directly -to his own room, and told to remain there until he -should be fully recovered from the terrible strain which -he had sustained.</p> - -<p>The whole household had learned the story of his -exploit by this time, and great wonder and admiration -were expressed by every one in view of his heroism -and power of endurance, as they gathered upon the -veranda while he was being carried into the house.</p> - -<p>He was very glad to avail himself of his employer’s -command to keep his room until he felt perfectly able -to resume his duties, for he was anxious to escape the -crowd and notoriety, while, too, he was fearfully spent -from the efforts which he had been obliged to make -during the last half of the steep ascent.</p> - -<p>There had been moments when, if only his own life<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -had been at stake, he would have felt that it was scarcely -worth the terrible struggle he was making. But the -consciousness that the life of another depended upon -him—the responsibility which the presence of that innocent -and beautiful child entailed upon him—was undoubtedly -the one spur which proved to be the salvation -of both.</p> - -<p>He did not lack for kind attention, for Mr. Hamilton -and faithful John McQueen could not seem to do -enough for him, while Professor Harding and his wife -insisted upon taking turns in watching with him during -the night, to administer nourishment at stated -times, and prevent the necessity of his making any -exertion for himself.</p> - -<p>He slept considerably, and was much refreshed the -next morning, although still weak and unable to rise, -and it was thought best that he should keep his bed for -a few days.</p> - -<p>Late in the evening of the day of the accident Mr. -Temple and his party returned from their excursion, -and were greatly excited upon learning what had occurred, -while they were also unspeakably grateful over -the fact that a terrible tragedy had been averted, and -the idol of the household had been spared to them.</p> - -<p>Gertrude was most enthusiastic and vivid in her description -of the event, while her admiration of Clifford -and the manner in which he had conducted himself was -expressed in the highest terms.</p> - -<p>“I knew the moment when I first saw that young -man that he was no ordinary porter,” she observed, -with glowing eyes. “He carries himself like a nobleman—he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -has a remarkably fine face and figure, and he -is invariably courteous and gentlemanly, while if ever -any one showed himself a hero in the face of seeming -impossibilities, he has done so to-day. Don’t you -agree with me, Mr. Wentworth?” she concluded, appealing -to Philip for confirmation of her assertions.</p> - -<p>“Y—es, he has really done a—a brave thing,” that -young man felt compelled to admit, but he did so in a -decidedly half-hearted and unappreciative manner, and -with a flush of irritation at Gertrude’s high praise of -one whom he had long cordially disliked and regarded -with secret jealousy.</p> - -<p>Miss Athol turned upon him with a look of astonishment. -Her lips curled slightly, and parted as if she -were about to retort in a spirited manner, but before -she could voice her rebuke—whatever it may have -been—Mr. Temple inquired:</p> - -<p>“But who is he? What is the young man’s name?”</p> - -<p>Philip preserved an obstinate silence, and Mrs. -Temple, who had never happened to meet Clifford -face to face during her visits to the hotel, did not -realize who they were talking about. So Gertrude -continued to be spokesman.</p> - -<p>“I really do not know his name,” she said. “He -seems to be a kind of upper porter about the house, and -you must have seen him. I have heard him called -Cliff, which I have supposed to be his given name abbreviated; -what his surname may be I have not the -slightest idea.”</p> - -<p>“And he is a fine fellow, I am very sure,” Judge -Athol here interposed. “A young man evidently<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -above his present position, although he is very unassuming. -I have sometimes imagined that he might -be some college student taking advantage of the summer -vacation to earn his tuition and expenses for next -year.”</p> - -<p>Still, in the face of all this and the incalculable debt -that he owed him, Philip Wentworth remained silent. -He was conscious that it was mean and churlish to withhold -what information he could give regarding Clifford -Faxon; not to acknowledge in a manly fashion, -that he was his classmate, and give him due honor, not -only for having proved himself to be a noble and -worthy young man during his first year at Harvard, -but also for having that day risked his life to save that -of his young sister.</p> - -<p>But some spirit of perverseness held him mute, and -even though he was thankful from the depths of his -heart for the safety of Minnie, whose advent in the -family had aroused all that was best in his nature, he -almost resented the fact that Clifford had been her -savior.</p> - -<p>A singular grudge against Clifford had taken possession -of him from the moment of their first meeting, -when Clifford had plainly shown him that, even though -he was poor and struggling against great odds for an -education, he, at least, was no menial, and not lacking -in independence and self-respect.</p> - -<p>The discovery that he had in his possession the costly -cameo, which Mollie Heatherford had declined to -give him, together with his refusal to tell how he came -by it, and also the fact that he had recently come very<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -near being accountable for his life, all served to stir his -anger and jealousy and increase his animosity.</p> - -<p>It spoke but very little for the manliness of this -would-be aristocrat that he did not now, in the face of -his great obligations to Clifford, make an effort to -crush out these feelings from his heart, confess the injustice -he had done him, and accord him due gratitude. -But obstinacy was not the least of his many faults, and -he resolutely turned away from the still, small voice -which was pointing out the path of duty to him.</p> - -<p>“Well, whoever he is, I must see him, and make -acknowledgment of the immense debt we owe him,” -Mr. Temple observed in reply to Judge Athol, and with -a very perceptible break in his voice, as his glance wandered -to the little form lying upon the bed in the adjoining -room, now wrapped in restful slumber.</p> - -<p>But it was, of course, too late that night to see Clifford, -and he was forced to wait until the morrow, when -he drove over to the hotel directly after breakfast to -ascertain how his darling was, and to interview the -hero of the previous day.</p> - -<p>Miss Minnie was up and none the worse for her -tragic experience of the day before, but Clifford excused -himself when Mr. Temple sent up his card and -requested an audience. He was still considerably under -the weather, and said he did not feel like talking -about the ordeal through which he had passed just at -present, and so the gentleman was forced to curb his -impatience.</p> - -<p>He came every day to inquire for him, and to bring -him delicacies of various kinds to tempt his appetite;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -but it was not until the fourth morning after the accident -that he achieved the object of his visits.</p> - -<p>As his carriage drove to the door of the hotel on this -occasion, Clifford was sitting upon the piazza, and almost -himself again, although still a trifle weak. Little -Minnie was with her father, and waved her dimpled -hand to Clifford the moment she espied him.</p> - -<p>Clifford smiled a welcome to the pretty child, and, -rising, went forward to greet her. The moment her -father lifted her from the carriage she bounded up the -steps and sprang toward Clifford, seizing with both her -little hands the one he extended to her, and a strange -thrill went tingling along the young man’s nerves at -her touch.</p> - -<p>He told himself that it was on account of the fearful -experience which they had shared, and that, because of -it, a bond had been established between them that -would forever unite their hearts in a mutual interest -in each other.</p> - -<p>Mr. Temple followed his little daughter, his lips -quivering visibly.</p> - -<p>“I am sure you must be the young man to whom we -all, as a family, owe so much,” he said, as he extended -a trembling hand to Clifford. “Words are tame. I -have no power to adequately express what I feel, but if -there is anything on earth that I can do for you, you -have but to make it known, if it is attainable, it shall -be done.”</p> - -<p>Clifford gazed into the clear-cut face of the man -before him, and somehow, in spite of the genuine emotion<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span> -which he betrayed, he was instantly repelled by -him.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he returned, as he released the hand -that he had taken, and with the frank, genial smile -which won almost every one, “you are very kind, but, -pray, believe me, the knowledge that Miss Minnie is -safe and well is reward enough for me.”</p> - -<p>“I do not doubt that, young man,” responded Mr. -Temple, while he gazed as if fascinated into Clifford’s -clear, earnest eyes; “but that fact in nowise lightens my -sense of personal obligation. Let me do something for -you, my young friend. I have wealth and influence—let -me give you something out of my abundance—at -least enough to lift you out of your present position -and start you handsomely in life.”</p> - -<p>Clifford flushed from various emotions. He could -well understand the man’s feelings. He knew it was -only natural he should wish to make some return, or -tangible expression of gratitude for the rescue of his -little daughter from a horrible fate; he knew he would -have felt the same had the situation been reversed; -but an unaccountable repugnance against accepting -pecuniary aid from this man for having saved the life -of his child and Philip Wentworth’s sister took possession -of him. Besides this, the feeling of affection -which had been aroused in his heart for the little one -made him shrink sensitively from anything of the -kind.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he said again, “but I could not accept -money for what I have done.”</p> - -<p>He spoke gently and courteously, but with a note of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span> -firmness in his tones that warned his companion it -would be useless to press the matter further.</p> - -<p>A cloud of disappointment settled over Mr. Temple’s -countenance, and a sense of irritation, in view of being -denied the privilege of canceling a heavy obligation, -made him suddenly compress his lips and avert his -eyes. He was all the more galled because of the inequality -of their positions.</p> - -<p>Had Clifford been his equal in wealth and station he -could have waived the matter gracefully; he would -have considered it an insult to offer money to a man on -the same plane of life with himself for such a deed, but, -as it was, he now felt a twofold obligation, and chafed -against it.</p> - -<p>“I am afraid you are unduly proud, young man,” he -observed, after a moment of awkward silence. “I am -told that you are an employee in this hotel, and the -natural inference would be that you have your own -way to make in the world. As a rule, most young -men would not be averse to a little help upward—to a -good start in some lucrative business, or a plump little -nest-egg for the future.”</p> - -<p>Again Clifford flushed and he straightened himself -a trifle.</p> - -<p>“No, sir, I am not proud—at least, not more so than -is right, I think,” he gravely responded. “What I did -for Miss Minnie I would have done just as readily for -the poorest child in the village, and so, you perceive, I -could not accept a pecuniary reward from you and preserve -my self-respect. It is true that I am poor; that -I am an employee in this hotel for the summer for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -purpose of earning money to help me through college——”</p> - -<p>“College!” interposed Mr. Temple, in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; I have just completed my freshman year.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“At Harvard, and——”</p> - -<p>“At Harvard!” repeated the gentleman, with a shock -of astonishment and dismay; “then you must have been -in the same class with my stepson.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; Mr. Wentworth and I were classmates,” -was the quiet reply.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">PHILIP WENTWORTH’S PROPOSAL.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>This was something of a facer to the banker, as he -recalled the events of the evening following the rescue -of Minnie, when Philip had remained so persistently -silent regarding any knowledge of the hero of the day.</p> - -<p>He colored and frowned with mingled perplexity -and annoyance. He could not quite understand why -his stepson should have been so averse to telling what -he knew about him; still, he was not blind to his faults. -He knew that he was excessively proud; he knew, too, -that in disposition he was jealous, and he reasoned, -possibly Miss Athol’s enthusiastic praises had aroused -his ire and obstinacy, and that was why he would not -acknowledge an acquaintance with him. It did not -occur to him that they might have quarreled at college. -At the same time, even if they had, he would have felt -ashamed of such an ignoble spirit, in view of the -magnitude of the obligation they were all under, and -the almost unexampled exploit which Clifford had -achieved, and which was worthy of the highest honor -that could be paid him.</p> - -<p>He knew, of course, that Philip must have recognized -him, and there was no excuse for the contemptible -silence which he had maintained; but, considering -the relationship which they sustained to each other, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -could not with dignity pursue that point farther, and -so he wisely concluded to ignore it.</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” he said, assuming an approving tone, -“you are certainly very enterprising, and, really, I—it -seems to me that you might at least allow me to make -the remainder of your course a trifle easier for you; in -fact, give me the privilege of putting you through -college.”</p> - -<p>This offer was surely a temptation to Clifford, and -for a moment the vision of having no further care during -the next three years except that of acquitting himself -creditably in his studies was very alluring. But almost -immediately there came a violent revulsion of -feeling, and he scorned himself for having entertained -it even momentarily. He lifted his head, which had -been bowed in reflection, and looked his companion -frankly in the eye, and replied with quiet dignity, yet -appreciatively:</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir; you are very good to suggest it, -but I am doing very well. I have a scholarship for -next year, and that will be a great help to me. I also -have some money in the bank, and with my summer -earnings I shall be able to meet all my expenses.”</p> - -<p>“You are incorrigible,” said Mr. Temple, smiling, -although a frown at the same time contracted his brow, -for he was greatly nettled over not being able to carry -his point. “However, you will at least tell me your -name, for I shall watch your future career with no little -interest.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, sir; my name is Clifford Faxon.”</p> - -<p>“Clifford Faxon,” the man repeated, in a peculiar<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span> -tone, and as if he was trying to remember when and -where he had heard the name before.</p> - -<p>Then he stooped suddenly and drew his little daughter, -who was still clinging to Clifford’s hand, toward -him, and lifted her in his arm, hugging her close -against his heart with a movement that was almost -convulsive, while our hero observed that he had grown -white as the child’s dress.</p> - -<p>“Well, Mr. Faxon,” he said in a brisk tone the next -moment, “you surely have good courage, and I wish -you all success in life. Are—may I inquire—are your -parents living?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir; my mother died nearly five years ago, and -my father I never saw,” Clifford returned, although he -faltered slightly over the statement regarding his -father.</p> - -<p>He was extremely sensitive over the uncertain fate -of his father, and also in view of the uncertain relations -that had existed between him and his mother.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Faxon, while she would never talk about her -husband, had never said outright that he was dead, but -what little she had said had led Clifford to infer that -such was the case. Ever since he had been old enough -to reason for himself he had surmised that there was -some mystery connected with him, and he had been -sure of it after Squire Talford had flung at him those -exasperating hints and sarcasms.</p> - -<p>“Ah! that means, I suppose, that he died before you -were born,” Mr. Temple observed, with his eyes fastened -upon the fair little face resting upon his breast; -“but”—as Clifford did not reply to the observation—“have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span> -you no relatives? Pardon me if I seem inquisitive,” -he interposed, glancing curiously at the young -man’s grave face, “but, after what happened the other -day, I cannot fail to experience a personal interest in -you.”</p> - -<p>Clifford hesitated a moment before replying. Then -he said in a somewhat reserved tone:</p> - -<p>“No—I have no relatives that I know of. My -mother was alone in the world, and supported herself -and me by teaching as long as she was able to work.”</p> - -<p>“And have you been shifting for yourself ever since -she died?” queried his companion.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, in a way. I was bound to a man by the -name of Talford, who lives in Cedar Hill, Connecticut, -for four years, until I went to college.”</p> - -<p>“Ah-a! bound, were you? Who bound you to him?”</p> - -<p>“My mother,” Clifford replied, beginning to grow -restive beneath this catechising.</p> - -<p>The man might feel an interest in him, but he -thought he was carrying it rather too far in thus prying -into his personal history, while he always chafed -when his mind reverted to that contract with the -squire.</p> - -<p>He had never been disturbed in this way until the -man had revealed to him the bitter hatred which he -had entertained for his father, and he could never understand -how his mother, if she had been conscious of -this enmity, could have consigned him to his care, or, -rather, his tyranny; it had been a blind problem to -him for more than a year.</p> - -<p>“Was the man good to you?” Mr. Temple inquired,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -after a moment of silence, during which he had been -studying the young man’s face with a strangely intent -look.</p> - -<p>“No; he was a cruel tyrant,” Clifford returned, with -tightly compressed lips and clouded eyes, as his -thoughts flashed back over those four weary years. -“He made a slave of me—he hated and abused me for -some unaccountable reason. But if I live I will yet -show him that his hated and despised bound boy was -capable of becoming, at the very least, his equal,” he -concluded, with blazing eyes.</p> - -<p>Then he colored with mingled confusion and annoyance -that he should have given vent to such an outburst. -He had very rarely lost control of himself like -this, and he mentally took himself to task very severely -for it.</p> - -<p>He looked up to find Mr. Temple regarding him -steadfastly, and with an expression that affected him -strangely, it was so singularly penetrating and intense. -The man started as he met his eyes. Then he observed -in a preoccupied tone:</p> - -<p>“I am sure you will; I am sure you will. Well”—with -a little shake, as if recalling himself to the present—“as -I have said before, I wish you all success in -life, and remember, if at any time you should need a—need -help in any way, you will not fail to get it if you -will apply to me. My business address is No. —— -State street, Boston.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Mr. Temple,” Clifford replied, and -then, as another carriage drove to the door, he bowed -and left the gentleman to attend to the new arrivals.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span></p> - -<p>William Temple turned away and went slowly down -the steps to his own equipage, hugging his child to him -with an intensity that was almost fierce.</p> - -<p>“Minnie! Minnie! Oh, my darling!” he murmured, -with quivering lips and a look in his eyes that was positively -wild.</p> - -<p>“Why, papa, what is the matter with you?” questioned -the child in a wondering tone, while she softly -patted his cheek with one plump little hand.</p> - -<p>“Nothing, dear,” he replied, capturing the hand and -kissing it passionately. “I was only thinking.”</p> - -<p>“What were you thinking, papa?”</p> - -<p>He bent a half-dazed look upon her sweet face.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was thinking what if—what I should do -without you,” he returned unsteadily.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Minnie, with an air of perplexity; “but -that needn’t make you feel bad, for you don’t need to -do without me—the nice gentleman brought me back -to you, you know.”</p> - -<p>The man folded her to him convulsively again with a -suppressed groan.</p> - -<p>“No, thank Heaven! I have you still,” he murmured, -with his lips against her cheek; “and—and the world -would be a blank to me without you.”</p> - -<p>He placed her tenderly upon the seat of the carriage; -then, entering himself, ordered the coachman to return -to his hotel; but all the way back he seemed to be absorbed -in thought, and barely heeded the prattle of the -little one beside him.</p> - -<p>The following morning the family—all save Philip—left -for Saratoga. The young man did not seem<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -disposed to accompany them. He said he did not care -for the races, and, besides, he had some notion of joining -a fishing-party to Maine.</p> - -<p>So he remained behind, but instead of accompanying -the fishermen to Maine he lingered, and continued to -pay court to Gertrude Athol.</p> - -<p>Possibly he might not have been so persistent in his -attentions to her had he not been piqued by the young -lady’s manner toward him of late. Ever since the day -of Minnie’s accident she had been decidedly cool, not -to say scornful, in her bearing when in his presence. -His lack of courage and his total inefficiency at “The -Glen,” together with his ingratitude and pretended -ignorance of all knowledge of Clifford, had aroused -her contempt and indignation, and, even though she -had secretly learned to love him, and had been led to -infer that he also loved her, she was so bitterly disappointed -in him, she found it very difficult to forgive -and treat him cordially.</p> - -<p>Several times when he called she excused herself -from receiving him on plea of being “engaged” which -so galled the proud young gentleman that he secretly -vowed that he would yet gain her favor again, “just -to conquer her, if for no other reason.”</p> - -<p>Three successive days after his mother, stepfather, -and sister left for Saratoga, he called and received the -same message in every instance. Then he employed -strategy to achieve his purpose; watched the house to -ascertain when she went out for a stroll, and followed -her.</p> - -<p>Her resort was under the shadow of a great rock on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span> -the mountain, about quarter of a mile back of the hotel, -and when he came upon her, although she appeared to -be reading, he saw that there were traces of tears upon -her cheeks. She greeted him with studied coldness, -and yet her heart had given a great bound of mingled -joy and pain at his appearance.</p> - -<p>“Ah! I have found you at last,” Philip observed, in -a reproachful tone, but with a gleam of triumph in his -eyes. “You have been cruel to me, Miss Athol. -Please tell me wherein I have sinned, and allow me to -atone, if atonement is possible.”</p> - -<p>“I am not aware that Mr. Wentworth has been accused -of any especial sin, unless, indeed, his own conscience -has turned accuser,” Gertrude replied, with icy -formality.</p> - -<p>Philip colored consciously.</p> - -<p>“You need not try to evade me in any such way,” he -said; “you certainly are cherishing something against -me, for, even though you have not voiced it, your looks -and acts are more audible than words. Now tell me of -what I am guilty.”</p> - -<p>Gertrude regarded him steadily for a moment.</p> - -<p>“Well,” she said at last frankly, “I confess I have -been wholly unable to understand or account for your -conduct of last Tuesday.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! please explain; how was I so unfortunate as to -displease you on that occasion? To what, especially, -do you refer?” Philip gravely inquired, while he ventured -to seat himself beside her, although her manner -was not particularly inviting.</p> - -<p>“Why, to your utter indifference, apparently, to the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -heroism of Mr. Faxon in saving the life of your sister. -Your strange silence when Mr. Temple was making -inquiries regarding him, and the fact that you have -utterly ignored the young man ever since when you -should be eager to show him every possible honor for -the unexampled deed of self-sacrifice which he performed. -Why, if it had been my sister whom he had -saved, I should have been eager to thank him on my -knees and crown him for his wonderful courage.”</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth gave vent to a scornful laugh at -this.</p> - -<p>“Fancy,” he said, with a sneer; “just fancy me going -down on my knees to Clifford Faxon, the drudge and -window-washer of Beck Hall at Harvard!”</p> - -<p>“What!” exclaimed Gertrude, turning to him with a -start, “you don’t mean to say that you knew him before -you came here!”</p> - -<p>Philip instantly regretted having committed himself -to such an admission; but he had spoken impulsively -and under a sense of irritation.</p> - -<p>“I can’t say that I claim him as an acquaintance,” he -sarcastically returned, “even though we were in the -same class last year.”</p> - -<p>“A classmate!” cried Gertrude, with significant emphasis -and heightened color.</p> - -<p>“Y-e-es,” her companion somewhat reluctantly admitted, -“though why such poverty-stricken devils as he -will persist in going to college, I can’t imagine.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you, indeed?” retorted Miss Athol, with curling -lips and flashing eye. “Really, Mr. Wentworth, -do you fondly imagine that all the good things of earth<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -are attainable only by those who happen to have been -born with the proverbial spoon in their mouths? And -you have known this young man all the time, and have -pretended you did not!” she went on indignantly. -“You have turned your back upon him, so to speak, -refusing to accord him a single manifestation of gratitude -for the incalculable debt which you owe him, or -even admit to others that he has done a praiseworthy -act.”</p> - -<p>“Jove! Miss Athol, but you are hard on a fellow!” -Philip here burst forth, and having changed color half -a dozen times during her spirited speech.</p> - -<p>“Hard! I? I should say that is a term that would -better apply to yourself,” she retorted. “Why, it -seems to me that you are perfectly callous. I admire -Mr. Faxon. He is a gentleman, in spite of his poverty -and the menial position which he occupies, and certainly -he is no coward. I honor him for his determination -to get an education, even though he is willing to -become a ‘drudge’ to obtain it, and I, for one, shall -always be proud to claim him as an acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>It would be difficulty to describe the conflict of emotions -that raged within Philip Wentworth’s breast as -he listened to the above brave and spirited defense of -the man he hated; but it only acted as a spur to goad -him on to achieve his purpose, and make a complete -conquest of the fearless girl who had so nobly constituted -herself Clifford Faxon’s champion.</p> - -<p>He leaned suddenly forward, and boldly grasped -her hands, which were lying idly in her lap.</p> - -<p>“Miss Athol—Gertrude,” he began, in tones that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span> -shook with the passion that possessed him, “after what -you have just said, I suppose it would better become -me to slink out of your sight and hide my head, but I -cannot. In spite of all, I am going to tell you that I -love you madly, devotedly, and that I am even presumptuous -enough to hope that I may yet win you for -my wife. Perhaps, my darling, I may be a ‘coward’; -no doubt Faxon, whom you so affect to admire, is -worth a dozen such useless fellows as I, who am, unfortunately, -an heir to the ‘proverbial spoon.’ But I -can’t help it, though I am humiliated beyond expression -by your scorn, and I will do anything in reason -to atone for my seeming ingratitude, or whatever you -may choose to call it, if only you will forgive me; -smile on me once more; tell me that you will try to love -me, and will some day marry me.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">A REVELATION.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Philip Wentworth, when he began his impulsive declaration, -had no more intention of making her a definite -proposal of marriage than he had of hanging himself. -It had been, and still was, his one aim in life to marry -Mollie Heatherford, just as soon as his college course -was completed.</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford was numbered among New York’s -richest men, and, as Mollie was his only child, Philip -was looking forward to the handling of her magnificent -inheritance, “when the old man should pass in his -checks,” as he was wont to express it to himself.</p> - -<p>The moment he stood committed to Miss Athol he -could almost have bitten his tongue out with mingled -anger and chagrin. He had simply been amusing -himself in seeking her society, and making love to her -something after the fashion of the story which they -had read and discussed in “The Glen” on the day of -Minnie’s accident, but, even though he saw he was -winning the girl’s heart, he had never intended carrying -the affair to a point-blank offer of marriage.</p> - -<p>But egotism, vanity, and obstinacy were the strongest -characteristics of his nature, and when Gertrude -had so dauntlessly turned upon him, expressing her -contempt for his conduct in no measured terms, and so<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span> -fearlessly manifesting her admiration for, and espousing -the cause of, Clifford Faxon, he had been goaded -to jealous fury beyond all self-control, and a rash determination -to conquer her and make her confess her -love for him had taken possession of him. But instead -of entangling her helplessly in his net, he had -unthinkingly fallen into his own trap.</p> - -<p>Gertrude was startled, to say the least, with the turn -the conversation had taken. She had been conscious -for some time that Philip Wentworth held a very -warm place in her heart. He was handsome and brilliant, -and had made himself attractive to her by those -thousand and one flattering little attentions which -render men captivating in the eyes of women.</p> - -<p>But at heart she was a noble and most conscientious -girl, and she had been bitterly disappointed upon discovering -such weak and despicable traits in the character -of her admirer as Philip had manifested, and the -suffering which this had caused had carried her beyond -herself, and thus she had given vent to the scorn that -has been described.</p> - -<p>But a sudden revulsion of feeling had come when he -confessed his affection for her, and appealed so humbly, -apparently, for her forgiveness, and she began to feel -that it would not be so very difficult to pardon him and -influence him to nobler sentiments, and, womanlike, -she at once began to reproach herself for her harsh -judgment of him.</p> - -<p>“Why,” she exclaimed, with crimson cheeks and -averted eyes when he paused for her reply to his suit,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -“you have literally taken my breath away, Mr. Wentworth.”</p> - -<p>“And what have you done to me, I should like to -know?” he retorted, as he shot her a roguish look, -while he lifted one of her hands and imprinted a deferential -caress upon it. “You have just flayed me alive, -figuratively speaking.”</p> - -<p>“Forgive me,” she murmured. “I am afraid I have -said more than I ought.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! but the sting lies in the fact that you could -have thought such hard things of me,” Philip replied, -in a tone of tender reproach. “Still,” he continued, -drawing her gently toward him, “if you will only forgive -the sinner and try to help make him a better man -in the future, all that will be wiped out. Dearest, you -can mold me to your own sweet will. I know that I -am full of faults, but I am also your willing slave, -eager to be led where you will. Gertrude, command -me and love me, and no one was ever more tractable -than I will be.”</p> - -<p>Little by little he had drawn her toward him while -he was speaking, until he had slipped his arms around -her unresisting form, and she lay upon his breast, all -her scorn, contempt, and indignation merged and swallowed -up in her all-absorbing love for him.</p> - -<p>It was very easy to forgive such an earnest pleader, -and she told herself that one so ready to confess his -faults would be easily reformed, and she was not averse -to undertaking the task.</p> - -<p>“Darling, you do love me; you will be mine?” he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span> -pleaded, in a tender whisper, with his lips close to her -glowing cheek.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Phil, I am forced to confess that I do love -you,” Gertrude replied, in low, tremulous tones.</p> - -<p>“And you are mine—you give yourself to me,” he -persisted.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear, when the proper times comes—when -you have completed your college course and are ready -for me.”</p> - -<p>A wave of triumph swept over the young man’s features. -He had won his cause, he had gained his point, -and that was the most he cared for.</p> - -<p>It mattered little to him that he was desecrating -holy ground in winning the love of this pure and lofty-minded -girl. His own future he had marked out for -himself, and if Mollie Heatherford returned safe and -sound from Europe, and with her fortune intact, he -had not the remotest idea of redeeming his troth to -Gertrude Athol. He was simply fooling her to the top -of his bent, for the sake of conquest and the want of -something more to occupy his time.</p> - -<p>How he was to get out of the scrape he had so unwittingly -got into he did not know; but he did not -trouble himself about that just then—he would find -a way when the right time came. Meanwhile he would -enjoy the present and let the future adjust itself.</p> - -<p>So, the two were pledged—at least, so Gertrude understood -their relations. But they agreed among themselves -that they would preserve the matter a secret -until Phil should be through college. It was sufficient, -the fair girl said, with a trustfulness worthy of a better<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -return, to know that they belonged to each other, -and there would be time enough for their friends and -the world to know it when their plans were more -mature.</p> - -<p>That same day by the evening post there came to -Philip Wentworth a dainty missive from across the -water, and it was full of entertaining incident and -charming descriptions, and bore at the end the signature -of Mollie Heatherford.</p> - -<p>“By Jove!” the young man exclaimed, with an amused -laugh, after he had read the epistle, “this is getting to -be highly entertaining—one lady-love in Europe -whose thought centers upon me; another here who -firmly believes her life to be bound up in mine, and -vice versa. Mollie, however, is but a child as yet, and -hardly the companion I crave just at present. Gertrude -is more to my mind for the time being. She is -lovely, bright, and charming, and delightful company, -so I will enjoy her society while I may.”</p> - -<p>Such were the spirit and reflections of this vain -and pleasure-seeking egotist, in whom selfishness was -the mainspring of life.</p> - -<p>The Athols remained at the mountains only a few -days longer, as they had promised to visit some friends -living upon the Hudson, while Philip, now that his -object had been accomplished, had consented to give up -his trip to Maine, and rejoin his mother at Saratoga.</p> - -<p>But before their separation Philip—to keep up the -farce he was playing—had slipped upon Gertrude’s -finger a costly diamond.</p> - -<p>“I did not have it marked,” he explained, “because<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> -of our agreement to keep our own counsel, but that can -easily be done later,” and she, having the utmost confidence -in him, was content.</p> - -<p>Before her departure Gertrude sought an opportunity -to have a little talk with Clifford. She found him, -on the morning of the day she was going to leave, on -the upper veranda of the hotel, where he was repairing -a broken blind.</p> - -<p>“You are always busy, Mr. Faxon,” she observed, -with a cordial smile, as she seated herself in a rocker -near him.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Miss Athol,” the young man respectfully replied, -as he removed his hat and tossed it upon the -floor; “to be busy is a condition inevitable to my position, -you know.”</p> - -<p>This was said without the slightest evidence of -self-consciousness, or of false pride because of the -necessity which obliged him to occupy a humble position.</p> - -<p>Gertrude watched him in silence for several minutes, -admiring his fine, stalwart figure, his easy bearing, and -feeling an additional respect for him because he did not -pause in his work on account of her presence, and the -fact that she had opened a conversation with him.</p> - -<p>“I believe you love to work—you always appear to be -absorbed in whatever you are doing,” she remarked, -at length.</p> - -<p>Clifford turned a smiling glance upon her, and she -was impressed more than she ever had been before with -the frank and genial expression of his face and the -depth and earnestness of his clear brown eyes.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span></p> - -<p>“Thank you,” he said. “I am sure that is a tribute -worth winning. Yes, I do love to work—that is, I -love to do well whatever I have to do.”</p> - -<p>“That is certainly a most commendable spirit,” replied -the girl, a slight shadow falling over her face as -she thought of the aimless, pleasure-loving life that -her lover was in the habit of leading—drifting with the -tide, culling whatever was agreeable that was within -his reach, and seduously avoiding everything that required -personal effort, or anything of a self-sacrificing -nature. “And I dare say,” she added, “you do your -studying with the same cheerfulness and energy. I -understand you are a Harvard student.”</p> - -<p>Clifford colored a trifle, and wondered why she -should be so interested in what concerned him.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he replied, after a slight pause, and with a -thrill of feeling in his tones that betrayed more than -his words, “I love to study; but, perhaps”—with a -light laugh—“my interest in my present occupation is -not prompted so much by a genuine love for it as for -the privileges I expect to secure by means of it during -the coming year.”</p> - -<p>“I think you need not have qualified your previous -statement, Mr. Faxon,” Gertrude gravely remarked, as -she watched the shapely hand that was dexterously -manipulating the screw-driver; “or, if it required any -qualification at all, I should say that something higher -than a mere liking or love for your work prompts you -in whatever you do.”</p> - -<p>Again Clifford turned a smiling look to her, and the -light in his eyes thrilled her strangely.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span></p> - -<p>“Can one be actuated by a higher motive than love?” -he questioned.</p> - -<p>“Well, I suppose not,” she thoughtfully responded, -“and yet I have always regarded duty, or a conscientious -desire to do what is exactly right, as a pretty high -motive.”</p> - -<p>“But what governs conscience?” inquired Clifford.</p> - -<p>“God,” said Gertrude gravely.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and God is—love,” was the quick, earnest response. -“So love fulfills all law, moral as well as civil. -Don’t you see that one must have a love for truth and -justice in order to obey the dictates of conscience and -feel a desire to do what is exactly right?”</p> - -<p>“But conscience might sometimes prompt one to do -that which would be very disagreeable. My duty to -my neighbor or mankind in general might require -something of me that I would absolutely hate to do,” -Miss Athol argued. “Where would love come in in -that case?”</p> - -<p>“Yet it would be the very highest type of love that -would lead one to obey such a demand of conscience or -duty,” Clifford replied, his earnest eyes meeting hers; -“it would be love for the principle of right-doing.”</p> - -<p>“That seems almost paradoxical, doesn’t it, Mr. -Faxon?” said Gertrude, smiling, “that one could love -to do what one absolutely hated to do?”</p> - -<p>“But the love of the principle that would incite one -to adhere to that which was right and just would bring -results which would annihilate or make one lose sight -of the hatred, and so, after all, it would be love alone -that would be the mainspring of the act,” Clifford returned,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span> -in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone, which plainly -indicated that he was wont to argue along this line, and -had settled some knotty problems for himself according -to this rule.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you are right,” Gertrude remarked, after a -moment of thoughtful silence, while Clifford, having -completed his work, gathered up his tools and arose to -go about other business.</p> - -<p>She arose, also, and went nearer to him.</p> - -<p>“I thank you, Mr. Faxon,” she continued, “for having -revealed to me what the highest type of love is; it -is, indeed, as you have said, ‘a principle,’ and not a -mere sentiment, and if the world were governed by it, -according to your interpretation, we should make rapid -strides toward the millennium. But, really,” she interposed, -with a silvery laugh, “I had no idea we should -have such a grave discussion. We have, almost unconsciously, -wandered quite deeply into a metaphysical -argument, and I have had something of a revelation.”</p> - -<p>“A revelation?” Clifford repeated inquiringly.</p> - -<p>“Yes; I have learned that love, according to the -common acceptation of the term, is a synonym for selfishness; -that is, that human affection, when actuated -simply by personal attachment, is a selfish love. But, -according to your higher interpretation of the word, it -is a divine principle. Is not this a revelation?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and you are very receptive to have grasped -it so readily,” Clifford replied, while he regarded her -expressive face earnestly.</p> - -<p>“I am going away after lunch,” Gertrude continued, -smiling up at him, “but I shall not forget our little chat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -of this morning; it has done me good, and, let me add, -you have been very kind to us all since we have been -here. I am glad to have known you, and I hope we -shall meet again some time.”</p> - -<p>She frankly extended her jeweled hand to him as -she concluded, and her beautiful eyes held something -like an expression of reverence in them as they swept -the fine face before her. He took her hand in the same -spirit of friendliness that it was offered.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Miss Athol,” he said, “it will certainly -give me great pleasure if I am ever so fortunate as to -have my path cross yours again in the future.”</p> - -<p>He bowed courteously to her as he concluded, then -turned and quietly left the veranda.</p> - -<p>Gertrude Athol’s sweet face was very grave as she -stood where he left her, and thought over their recent -conversation.</p> - -<p>“‘An upstart,’ the ‘window-washer and drudge of -Beck Hall,’” she repeated, under her breath and with -clouded eyes. “Why, there is the stamp of true royalty -on every feature of his grand face! He is the truest -gentleman, in every sense of the word, that I have ever -met. I am sure he is a man with a wonderful career -before him, and he is certainly one of whose acquaintance -I shall ever be proud. I wonder——”</p> - -<p>What she wondered she did not frame in words, but -she lifted her left hand and gazed at the ring which -she had worn less than three days, with a look which -held in it something of anxiety and doubt.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">AN UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>The Athols left the hotel that afternoon. Philip -Wentworth disappeared from the town the following -morning, and no incidents of importance in connection -with Clifford occurred during the remainder of the -season, throughout which he continued to do honest -and faithful work for his employer, and thus commended -himself to every guest of the house.</p> - -<p>Indeed, he proved himself so efficient, so courteous, -and obliging under all circumstances, that Mr. Hamilton, -who had conceived a feeling of friendship for him, -made arrangements with him to return to him the following -year, and under much more favorable conditions.</p> - -<p>Meantime the Temples were well launched upon the -topmost wave of social popularity in Saratoga. They -had taken one of the most luxurious suites in the -Grand Union Hotel, where Miss Minnie had her white-capped -and white-aproned nurse, Mrs. Temple her -maid, and Mr. Temple his valet.</p> - -<p>No equipage was more stylish or elegant, no horses -more spirited or better bred, no coachman or footman -in finer liveries than those of this wealthy gentleman, -who registered as a citizen of Boston, but who, it was -rumored, had made the bulk of his fortune in the mines<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -of Colorado and California, and who, it was also -stated upon good authority, had twice been mayor of -San Francisco, and might have been governor of the -State, if he had chosen. What more did one need to -become popular?</p> - -<p>His handsome and cultivated wife was no less conspicuous, -for no one was more charming in manner; -no one wore richer or more tasteful costumes or finer -jewels than she. Her husband was very fond and -proud of her, and they were frequently referred to as -“an ideal couple.” He loved to see her arrayed in -silks, satins, laces, and rare gems; he doted upon -having Minnie clad in the finest and daintiest of garments, -and was never in a happier frame of mind than -when, seated in his carriage with these, his two idols, -he could roll about the country and note the admiring -glances bestowed upon them.</p> - -<p>He realized that it was a weak point; that it bordered -upon vulgarity to be so proud of his wealth, and -to love display to such an extent; but he had not been -a millionaire so very long, and he had not yet outgrown -the sense of exultation which had attended the lucky -find that had so suddenly lifted him out of the depths -of poverty to the very pinnacle of luxury and success.</p> - -<p>Less than a score of years ago this distinguished gentleman, -now figuring as “William Temple, banker and -broker,” had been a penniless adventurer, although he -fondly believed that this portion of his history was -buried in utter oblivion for all time.</p> - -<p>One chill, dreary night, in early spring, cold, hungry, -and with scarce clothing to cover him respectably, he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span> -had wandered into a small mining-town of the far -West. The proprietors of a rude hostelry had given -him a scant supper, and allowed him to sleep in the -adjoining stable. The next morning he had let himself -to a carpenter, and for several weeks followed this -trade, earning a couple of dollars a day.</p> - -<p>Then one Sunday he, in company with another carpenter, -made a trip to a mining-camp higher up among -the mountains. The following morning they gave -their notice to their employer, and, a week later, with -picks, shovels, and a few supplies, started out on a -prospecting tour.</p> - -<p>Just one month from that time the hungry, destitute -man, who a few short weeks previous had been wandering -aimlessly about eking out an insufficient existence, -stuck “pay-gravel” and—his fortune was made.</p> - -<p>Two years afterward he made another lucky find -in a California mine, and gold poured in upon him in -a perfect flood.</p> - -<p>Four years later, upon an imposing building in a -busy street of San Francisco, might have been seen in -heavy gilt letters, the legend: “William Temple, -Banker,” while behind the glass doors of his private office -the man sat for a few hours of every day to keep -an eye upon the corps of efficient workers who managed -his princely business.</p> - -<p>There was little resemblance in the stately, distinguished, -richly clad gentleman to the hungry, poverty-stricken -carpenter and miner of a few years previous.</p> - -<p>During the early years of his life he had acquired a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -good education, and thus, when wealth turned her tide -upon him, it was no difficult matter, with careful -reading, attention to the rules of etiquette and the accessories -of broadcloth and fine linen, to make a good -appearance and gain a foothold in society.</p> - -<p>Not very long after establishing himself in San -Francisco and attaining a position among the élite, he -met the beautiful and accomplished widow, Mrs. Wentworth, -from New York, who, with her son, a lad of -about ten years, was visiting some friends in the city.</p> - -<p>They were mutually attracted toward each other -from the first, and, after a brief courtship of three -months, they were married and set up a magnificent -establishment on “Nob Hill,” and became at once -prominent among the leaders of society.</p> - -<p>The following year Mr. Temple, having become interested -in politics, and ambitious to attain to even -greater heights, was elected mayor of the city, and -served in that capacity for two years.</p> - -<p>Then Mrs. Temple, becoming anxious to have her -boy fitted for Harvard, where his own father had been -educated, and also beginning to yearn for the East, -which had always been her home, entreated her husband -to retire from business, rest upon the laurels he -had won, cross the continent, and locate in some convenient -suburb of Boston, where Philip could have -the advantages which she craved for him.</p> - -<p>At first he appeared somewhat reluctant to do this, -for he had been interviewed and asked if he would accept -a nomination for governor of the State; but he -had become very fond of his stepson, for whom he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -also desired the best privileges the country afforded, -and he finally yielded the point, and a few months -later found the family located upon a beautiful estate -in Brookline, Massachusetts, where—glowing accounts -of their wealth and prestige having preceded them—they -were warmly received among the élite of that -aristocratic town, and also of cultured Boston.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple’s first husband had been a classmate -and close friend of Mr. Heatherford, of New York, -and the families had always been in the habit of exchanging -frequent visits previous to Mr. Wentworth’s -death, and Mrs. Wentworth’s going West. But the -intimacy, thus for a time interrupted, was resumed -when they returned East, and located in Brookline, and -then Philip and Mollie Heatherford had renewed the -friendship of their early childhood, when they had -played “keep house” together in a picturesque tent -which Mr. Heatherford had caused to be erected beneath -the shadows of two magnificent elms, that grew -upon the lawn of his fine estate on the banks of the -Hudson, and where they—the one thoughtlessly, the -other with something of avarice and intrigue manifesting -itself even then—agreed that when they should -grow up they would “marry each other and really -keep house together.”</p> - -<p>Two years after the Temples located in Brookline, -and when Philip was fourteen years of age, Minnie -Temple came like a sunbeam into their home, and from -the hour of her birth, the entire household, the servants -not excepted, worshiped at her shrine.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth had always been a selfish, exacting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span> -boy, but now the one redeeming trait of his nature -showed itself in the tender love which he manifested -for his little sister.</p> - -<p>She was Mr. Temple’s idol, and he was in the -habit of spending more hours in the nursery than in -any other portion of the house. It was an oft-repeated -joke of his wife’s to tell him that it was useless extravagance -to keep a nurse, since he was more devoted -and reliable, and achieved better results than any incumbent -of the position they had ever had.</p> - -<p>Before going in town to his business in the morning -he would invariably visit the nursery to take a reluctant -farewell of his darling, while his first act upon his return -was to personally ascertain how she was and how -she had fared during his absence.</p> - -<p>He was extremely fond of Phil, also; was always -kind to him, and lavish in everything where money -was necessary, even though the young man had inherited -a handsome fortune from his own father, but the -sweet little girl was part and parcel of his very existence.</p> - -<p>He had seemed like one suddenly stricken with mortal -illness when he had first learned of the terrible fate -that had menaced her, the day she had fallen over the -cliff, at the mountains. For many hours he had seemed -stripped of all strength, and his face was of the hue of -death, while for days afterward he would not allow her -out of his sight—scarcely out of his arms.</p> - -<p>“What should I have done!—I could not live without -her,” he had said, with pale lips and tones that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -quavered, like those of an old man with the intensity -of his emotions.</p> - -<p>“Will, I shall certainly be jealous of my own child -if you go on like this,” his wife had said in playful reproof, -but secretly startled to see him so completely -unnerved.</p> - -<p>“But, dear,” he had smilingly returned, and making -an effort at self-control, “life would be a blank to -me without either of you.”</p> - -<p>But, even as he said it, he had hugged his child convulsively -to his breast, and the almost involuntary act -was more significant than words.</p> - -<p>But as time passed the horror of that experience -wore off, life resumed its rosy hue, and seemed to -promise only harmonious conditions for the future, -with his wealth and position assured as he firmly believed, -and thus he flourished, spent his money with -lavish hand, lived only in the present, and—worshiped -his idols.</p> - -<p>They had been in Saratoga only a short time when -business of an urgent nature demanded Mr. Temple’s -presence in New York City. He was quite disturbed -by the call, and tried to persuade his wife to take Minnie -and her nurse and accompany him, even though -he was going to be gone only a couple of days at the -longest.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple regarded him with astonishment at -the request.</p> - -<p>“Positively, Will, I cannot,” she objected. “You -know the ball at Congress Hall—the finest affair of -the season, I am told it will be—is to come off Thursday<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -night, and if I should go with you and try to get -back for that I should be fagged out; besides, you -know, there is some change which must be made in my -costume before I can wear it, and the dressmaker is -coming to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>“True, I did not think of the ball when I spoke,” -Mr. Temple admitted, but with a look of disappointment -sweeping over his face.</p> - -<p>He could not for a moment think of having her -give up the ball, and he was equally anxious to attend -it, for he had insisted upon having her order a magnificent -costume, and had also had some jewels reset for -her to wear upon the occasion. After all this lavish -preparation, he knew it would be foolish to miss the -affair, and simply to gratify a mere whim of his own.</p> - -<p>Consequently he was obliged to go alone, although -he made his arrangements for his trip with an unaccountable -sense of reluctance and uneasiness.</p> - -<p>He made the trip to New York in safety, transacted -his business in a most satisfactory manner, and set -out upon his return highly elated—several hours earlier -than he had anticipated, his traveling-bag stuffed with -toys and goodies for Minnie, some dainty and expensive -trifles for his wife, and a set of diamond studs -and sleeve-buttons which Phil had long coveted, and -which he knew would be most acceptable, in view -of the coming ball.</p> - -<p>As soon as the train started he settled himself -comfortably in his compartment, donned his traveling-cap, -and was soon absorbed in his newspaper.</p> - -<p>He read for an hour or more, and then started for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span> -the smoking-car. As he stepped inside of it and was -in the act of closing the door behind him, he observed -a man in the second seat on the left half-start to -his feet and regard him with scowling intentness.</p> - -<p>For a moment it seemed to William Temple that a -hundred-pound sledge-hammer had crushed down -upon his heart and brain. His strength suddenly forsook -him, and it seemed as if he could not move another -inch if his life depended upon it, while a blur -came before his eyes.</p> - -<p>But it was only for an instant. The next, his glance -shot ahead, as if he was intent only upon finding a seat -for himself, and he moved on, to all appearance, utterly -oblivious of the fact that he had attracted special -attention, or had himself observed any one whom he -had ever known.</p> - -<p>But he had not taken three steps when a brawny -hand gripped his arm. He drew himself haughtily -erect at the familiar act, and, turning, faced, with a -stare of well-assumed surprise, the man who had presumed -thus to detain him.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir; what is it? What can I do for you?” -he coldly inquired, but with an air of high-bred -courtesy which had become habitual with him since -he had known “better days.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha!” ejaculated the individual whom he had -addressed, and with an air of scornful amusement, -“you do the high-and-mighty very well, but do you -imagine for a moment that I don’t know you, -Bill——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span></p> - -<p>But a hand was laid over his mouth before he could -pronounce the name he was about to voice, and it was -instantly smothered in indistinct muttering that made -it unintelligible.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.<br /> -<span class="smaller">A LIFELONG ENEMY.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>“Hush! for God’s sake, don’t air your knowledge -before all the world.”</p> - -<p>William Temple fairly hissed these words as he -stooped and brought his lips on a level with the ear -of his companion, while his face was absolutely colorless.</p> - -<p>“Humph!” observed the other, as he roughly put -away the hand from his mouth, “then it seems that I -have at last jogged your memory sufficiently to make -you willing to acknowledge a previous acquaintance.”</p> - -<p>“I should have supposed that you would not be very -anxious to renew an acquaintance with one whom you -once bitterly repudiated,” Mr. Temple retorted acrimoniously, -while a spot of angry red settled upon either -cheek.</p> - -<p>“Humph! it is one thing to repudiate—it is another -to be ignored,” was the grim response. “Where have -you been all these years? What are you doing now? -Come, sit down here and give an account of yourself,” -and the man moved along, making room for him in the -seat he was occupying, for he had no companion.</p> - -<p>“Really, sir, I am not aware that I am accountable -to you for my movements, either in the past or present,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> -haughtily returned Mr. Temple, and regarding -the face before him with a malignant look, while he -mentally cursed himself in no measured terms for having -come into the smoker.</p> - -<p>“No—possibly you are not accountable to me,” was -the sarcastic rejoinder; “at the same time, you might -find it to your interest not to carry too high a head -with me.”</p> - -<p>William Temple shot a swift, searching glance into -the steely eyes regarding him, and grew white again -with mingled anger and fear. The other, observing -it, smiled knowingly.</p> - -<p>“Sit down! Sit down!” he said authoritatively, and -patting the cushion with his strong, brawny hand; and, -as if powerless to disobey, the haughty banker sank -down beside him.</p> - -<p>“Light a cigar if you want to smoke,” the man continued, -as he glanced at the costly case in his companion’s -hand, “it may serve to quiet your nerves after -the start they’ve had. I have my pipe here.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you; but I will smoke later,” said the -banker, as he slipped his case into a pocket, while he -waited with a set and rigid face for what might follow.</p> - -<p>His companion smiled again, and coolly looked him -over, from the silk traveling-cap upon his head to the -fine, highly polished shoes upon his feet.</p> - -<p>“Ahem! you look as if the world had used you -pretty well,” he remarked laconically, at length.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have made some money during the last few -years,” was the brief but rather complacent reply, while<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -a gleam of evil triumph leaped into his eyes as he now -observed, for the first time, the rather shabby -duster that lay over the back of the seat in front of -him, and the well-worn grip underneath it.</p> - -<p>“Where did you make your money?”</p> - -<p>“Some of it in Colorado—some in California.”</p> - -<p>“Humph! Been quite a traveler, haven’t you? -Been in the mining business, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“Yes; part of the time.”</p> - -<p>“And the rest?”</p> - -<p>“Taking my ease.”</p> - -<p>“Really! You must have struck it rich?”</p> - -<p>“Rather.”</p> - -<p>“What have you on the docket at the present time?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve just come from New York. I’m going -to——”</p> - -<p>“Saratoga, perhaps, for the races,” supplemented -the stranger, as Mr. Temple suddenly cut himself -short, and he caught the startled flash in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“To Albany,” Mr. Temple added, as he began to revolve -a certain plan in his mind, in case he found the -man by his side was going beyond there.</p> - -<p>“Well, you at least haven’t forgotten how to keep -your own counsel, Bill,” his companion remarked, with -a note of irritation in his tone. Then he added with a -malicious leer: “Any interest to hear about the old -folks and——”</p> - -<p>“No!” emphatically interposed Mr. Temple, with -an impatient frown.</p> - -<p>“All dead—every one.”</p> - -<p>“I know it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, you do! Who’s been keeping you posted?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve read the papers.”</p> - -<p>“Then you know, perhaps, how the property was -left; but you couldn’t have expected anything else, -taking all things into consideration,” and the stranger -searched the banker’s face with keen, avaricious eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh, you need not be disturbed. I shall never put -in any claim. You are welcome to every penny of it, -as far as I am concerned,” responded Mr. Temple, -with galling contempt.</p> - -<p>“Well, now, prosperity seems to have made you -surprisingly generous; but your magnanimity is all -lost, for everything was made so tight that you -couldn’t get a penny if you should try,” snapped the -man, but his face had cleared at the other’s assurance, -nevertheless. “Pity,” he continued tauntingly, “you -couldn’t have been a little more square in the old days -about some other matters.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Temple turned upon him with a fierce though -low-toned imprecation.</p> - -<p>“You’d better let sleeping dogs lie,” he continued -between his tightly closed teeth, and his eyes glowed -with a savage light. His companion appeared to rather -enjoy the effect which his words had produced, for -he chuckled audibly.</p> - -<p>“Well, Bill, wherever you may have been and whatever -you may have been up to all these years, one thing -is sure—you haven’t lost your hot temper. But where -are you living now? Are you married, and have you -a family?”</p> - -<p>“Those are matters which do not concern you in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -the least,” was the cold reply. “Our paths diverged -years ago, and I hoped at that time that they would -never cross again. Let me advise you to go your own -way, and I will go mine; mind your own affairs, and -don’t presume to pry into mine—if you do, I swear I -will spare nothing to crush you. I am rich and powerful, -and I can do it. I will, too, I tell you, if you -meddle with me.”</p> - -<p>He had risen from his seat while speaking, and, as -he concluded, he turned abruptly and swung himself -out of the car without even a backward look.</p> - -<p>He carried himself proudly erect until he was out -of the sight of his enemy; then his haughty head -dropped, his step faltered, and he groped his way back -to his section like one who had suddenly been stricken -partially blind, and with an overwhelming sense of -weakness.</p> - -<p>“Heavens!” he breathed, as he sank into his seat and -wiped the moisture from his white face, “to think, -of all the people in the world, I should have happened -to run across him. Where on earth can he be going? -Not to Saratoga, I most devoutly hope. Ha!” with a -violent start, “he used to be tremendously fond of -horses, and perhaps he is bound to Saratoga for the -races. I don’t know of anything else that would be -likely to take him so far from home. Oh! if I had not -been in such a hurry to get back! If I had only waited -for the next train!” he concluded, with a despairing -sigh.</p> - -<p>While he was absorbed in these painful thoughts -the train stopped at a station. At first he paid no<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -attention to the circumstances, but after a minute he -glanced from the window, and saw his enemy walking -the platform outside.</p> - -<p>“Ah-a! he is watching for me—watching to see -where I get off,” he muttered angrily. “But”—with -sudden animation as some novel thought seemed to -strike him—“I’ll lead him a dance that he will not soon -forget. The next station is Albany. I will get off -there. He will doubtless follow me to ascertain what -my next move will be; but, by a little maneuvering, I -can easily outwit him, and then catch the next express -for Saratoga, which will leave Albany in about two -hours.”</p> - -<p>Accordingly, as the train drew near Albany, he began -to gather up his belongings, and as the train pulled -into Albany station he was standing on the steps ready -to alight.</p> - -<p>At the same moment his enemy hove in sight. Without -appearing to pay the slightest attention to him, -Mr. Temple deliberately walked inside the station. He -was closely followed, and aware of the fact. Passing -through and out upon the other side, he signaled a -carriage.</p> - -<p>“I wish to go to 257 —— Street,” he informed the -cabman, who instantly responded to his call.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir; take you there in less than twenty minutes, -sir,” and the next moment he was rolling along -toward the street he had named.</p> - -<p>Arriving at 257 —— Street, which proved to be the -office of a prominent Albany lawyer, with whom Mr. -Temple had some acquaintance, he ordered the cabman<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> -to wait, and, entering the building, inquired for -the gentleman.</p> - -<p>He was told he was out, and might not be in for -some time. Mr. Temple said he would wait, and, seating -himself, took up a newspaper to pass the time away.</p> - -<p>More than an hour elapsed before the lawyer came, -when his visitor informed him that, as he was passing -through the city and had a little time to spare, he -thought he would improve it by making him a friendly -call.</p> - -<p>They chatted socially for half an hour or so, when -Mr. Temple bade him good day and returned to the -station.</p> - -<p>Five minutes later he met his pursuer face to face -on the platform. The Saratoga train was due to start -in about ten minutes. Fifteen minutes after that a -train was scheduled to return to New York.</p> - -<p>Presently Mr. Temple repaired to the ticket-office. -He was immediately followed thither by the one who -was shadowing him.</p> - -<p>“A ticket for New York, please,” he said to the -agent.</p> - -<p>A minute later the bit of pasteboard and the change -were in his hands, when he turned abruptly to find a -blank look of disappointment had overspread the face -of the man at his elbow.</p> - -<p>“Well, is your—curiosity satisfied at last?” he demanded, -with a sneer. “I told you I was coming to -Albany. I have transacted my business here, and now -I have bought my ticket back to New York. Come on,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -if you want to keep this thing up, and I’ll give you a -good time at that kind of racket.”</p> - -<p>The stranger flushed crimson, and his eyes blazed -with anger at the taunting tone of his enemy.</p> - -<p>“Do you live in New York?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“That is a matter which I will leave you to ascertain -for yourself, Mr. Paul Pry,” said Mr. Temple, with a -contemptuous laugh, as he turned his back on the man -with an insolent air.</p> - -<p>The stranger darted to his side.</p> - -<p>“You and I will have a long account to settle one -of these days,” he said menacingly, and then, putting -his lips close to his ears, he whispered something that -instantly blanched Mr. Temple’s face.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe it,” he said, with stiffening lips and -a look of horror in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“It is the truth—I swear it—I can prove it,” was -the fierce retort, and then, without waiting for a reply, -he strode for the Saratoga train that was waiting and -almost ready to start.</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” muttered Mr. Temple, as he watched -him board it. “He is going to Saratoga for the races, -and the very devil will be to pay if he should see me -there with Nell and Minnie. What am I going to do -to avoid such a catastrophe?”</p> - -<p>At first he thought he would not rejoin his family at -all, so great was his dread of again encountering the -man from whom he had just parted.</p> - -<p>He was tempted to telegraph his wife that he was -unavoidably detained; that unforeseen business would -not permit him to return to Saratoga, and it would be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span> -necessary for them all to go home at once; that she -must come on immediately after the ball.</p> - -<p>Then he feared that his telegram might alarm her, -and cause her to worry and fear something had gone -wrong with him; this would spoil the ball for her; he -would miss seeing her in her new gown and jewels—an -event which he had looked forward to with almost -as much interest as she herself; while his heart yearned -mightily for his child, and the thought of not being -able to see her for several days longer was unbearable.</p> - -<p>While he was standing there disconsolate and revolving -these things in his mind, and feeling that he -could not endure to see the train move on its way, his -restless glance settled upon a placard that had been -placed upon the wall near the ticket-office.</p> - -<p>With a start and a thrill of exultation he read the -board, which had the following notice upon it:</p> - -<p>“A special car will leave Albany for Saratoga at -6:30 P. M.”</p> - -<p>He went immediately to the ticket-office and inquired -more particularly regarding the matter. The -agent informed him that “the extra” had been put on -for the superintendent and some other high officials -of the road, who were going to Saratoga to attend -a ball that was to be given at Congress Hall that evening; -that the notice had been posted so that others, if -they wished, might avail themselves of the arrangement.</p> - -<p>Mr. Temple grasped at the chance like the drowning -man at the proverbial straw, and, finding that his ticket<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -would be good for the special, at once felt as if a mountain -had been removed from his heart.</p> - -<p>Fearing, however, that his wife might be anxious -over his non-appearance on the regular train, he sought -the telegraph-office, and sent her the following message:</p> - -<div class="blockquote"> - -<p>“Am unavoidably detained here. Will leave on special -two hours later. Have maids pack for Boston—must -return to-morrow.</p> - -<p class="right">“W. F. T.”</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">CLIFFORD VISITS AN OLD FRIEND.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>It was quite late in the evening when Mr. Temple -arrived in Saratoga and rejoined his wife. She was -already arrayed for the ball, and was certainly a magnificent-looking -woman.</p> - -<p>Her costume was composed of white satin, combined -with garnet velvet and rare point-lace. A tiara -of diamonds flashed its dazzling gleams above the coils -of her rich brown hair. A necklace of the same gems -encircled her white neck, while other ornaments of -unique designs and great value adorned her corsage.</p> - -<p>“Well, Nell, you are a stunner!” was her husband’s -admiring comment, after exchanging greetings with -her. “You usually do ‘take the cake’—excuse the slang—but -to-night you really outshine everything in the -past.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Will, I’m glad you are pleased; but, -dear, don’t stop to compliment me—dress as quickly as -you can or we shall be late for the opening march,” -Mrs. Temple responded, with an appreciative smile, but -with a note of impatience in her tones.</p> - -<p>“I wish you would let me off, Nell—I really do,” -said Mr. Temple appealingly. “I am tired and dusty -after my long ride, and haven’t an atom of enthusiasm -for the affair. Let Phil act as your escort, and I will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -have a bath, a quiet smoke, then go to bed, for we must -get away as early as possible to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>His wife turned and regarded him curiously, observing -for the first time the worried expression in his -eyes.</p> - -<p>“What detained you so to-night?” she inquired; -“and why this hurried flitting?—why must we return -to Boston to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, business, of course,” said her husband, as he -turned away from her searching gaze, ostensibly to unstrap -his grip, but in reality to conceal the pallor which -he felt was creeping into his face; “an affair that has -been hanging fire for some time, and has now, unfortunately -for our outing here, reached a climax.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you go and settle it, and then return for us? -Will it take long?” queried his wife thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“So long, dear, that I could not think of being separated -from either you or Minnie,” returned Mr. Temple, -as he came again to her side and took her tenderly -into his arms. “Of course,” he continued regretfully, -“I am awfully sorry to take you away while you are -enjoying yourself so much, but really it seems unavoidable -as things stand.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, never mind, Will,” she responded cheerfully, -and meeting his lips with an answering caress; “my -enjoyment here would be spoiled without you, and the -trunks are already half-packed. I set the girls about it -as soon as I received your telegram; and, of course, I -know it must also be a disappointment to you to miss -the races.”</p> - -<p>“Nell, you are a jewel,” said the man appreciatively,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span> -and greatly relieved by the readiness with which she -yielded to his plans; “and now are you going to let me -off for this evening?”</p> - -<p>“Let you off, indeed!” she retorted, with pretended -indignation. “Why, Will, I never heard of anything -so absurd. Here you have spent no end of money—to -say nothing of my own efforts—to get me up in this -superb style, and now you do not care to come with -me to see how I will shine among other brilliant social -stars at this most magnificent affair of the season. Phil -is well enough and a most attentive escort, but I shall -not appear at Congress Hall to-night without my husband. -Come, Will,” she added, laying her white arms -around his neck with a coaxing air, “I know you are -tired, but you really must come—at least, to take me -in and dance once or twice with me; then, if you want -to come back and go to bed I shall not mind so much.”</p> - -<p>The man sighed, but made no further objection. But -he was oppressed with a terrible fear that he might -run against his enemy if he should leave his hotel, and -he would rather lose half his fortune than that he -should ever set eyes on his beautiful wife or learn anything -in connection with his domestic affairs, and he -inwardly cursed the luck that had caused their paths -to cross that day.</p> - -<p>He knew that, to a certain extent, he was in this -man’s power—that he could ruin his whole future if -he chose, and he had not the slightest doubt that he -would choose if the opportunity offered; hence his -eager desire to get his family away from Saratoga before -he could gain any information regarding them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p> - -<p>But, of course, all this involved secrets of the past -which he could not explain to his wife, and he was -consequently obliged to resign himself to the inevitable -and yield the point under discussion.</p> - -<p>Accordingly, less than an hour later the wealthy -banker and his resplendent wife made their appearance -at Congress Hall, where they were by no means the -least conspicuous among the brilliant company that -thronged its spacious ballroom.</p> - -<p>But a heavier heart could not have been found beating -in the breast of any human being than that of William -Temple, in spite of his millions, and the seemingly -enviable position which he occupied in the world.</p> - -<p>He found himself anxiously watching every face, -in search of the one he so much dreaded, and yet he -well knew that the man was not likely to frequent -fashionable assemblages like the present. He would -be far more likely to be found in the smoking-room at -a third-rate hotel, discussing the pros and cons of the -various noted horses that were booked for the forthcoming -races.</p> - -<p>Yet one could never tell what might happen, for -curiosity, pure and simple, might prompt him to look -in upon that brilliant scene, and the bare possibility -of being seen by him with his wife upon his arm gave -him a chill that actually set his teeth chattering; for -in such a case he knew it would be a very easy matter -for him to make inquiries, learn the name he was now -living under, where he was stopping, and the place of -his residence.</p> - -<p>But he managed to conceal his uneasiness from his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -wife and Phil, and was, as usual, punctiliously observant -of all the demands of etiquette until it was proper -for Mrs. Temple to release him and accept the attentions -of others.</p> - -<p>Then he heaved a long sigh of relief, and drifted -into an obscure corner of the ballroom, whence he only -emerged whenever it became absolutely necessary for -him to do so.</p> - -<p>Shortly after supper, however, Mrs. Temple, who -realized that her husband was not himself, though she -attributed his condition wholly to excessive weariness, -considerately signified her readiness to retire, and they -returned to their hotel.</p> - -<p>The next morning found all, save Phil, on their way -to Boston, and that same evening back in their own -palatial home in Brookline.</p> - -<p>But it was some weeks before William Temple could -breathe with his accustomed freedom, and he still -found himself watching faces in the street with a vague -fear in his heart that the one which he dreaded most -of any in the world would suddenly confront him with -the malicious leer which it had worn when the man -had whispered those few blighting words in his ear -as they stood together in the station at Albany.</p> - -<p>This nervousness wore away after a time, however, -and he gradually resumed his usual pursuits with his -accustomed vigor and enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>Nothing of special interest occurred in connection -with the various characters of our story during the -three succeeding years, unless we mention the fact that -Clifford never abated one iota of his zeal during this<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span> -time, and won a scholarship every year, acquitting -himself in such a manly fashion in every department, -and bearing himself so genially toward every one, that -he thereby gained the admiration and friendship of -classmates and professors alike.</p> - -<p>Each summer vacation found him at the same -mountain-house, where he earned a snug little sum, -which was a great help to him in pursuing his college -course.</p> - -<p>The Christmas holidays and other recesses were -spent with his friend, Professor Harding, and his family, -who had removed to Springfield, Massachusetts, -where the professor had secured the position of superintendent -of schools.</p> - -<p>Once every year Clifford had paid a flying visit to -Cedar Hill, and called upon his old friend, Maria Kimberly, -who was still housekeeper for Squire Talford. -He was in no wise disappointed upon these occasions -because he did not meet the squire, who, if he happened -to be in the house, never showed himself; but Maria -invariably greeted him with a beaming face and eyes -full of happy tears.</p> - -<p>“What a gentleman you have grown, to be sure!” -she remarked admiringly during one of those calls -after their greetings were over.</p> - -<p>“Thank you, Maria,” Clifford retorted, with a gleam -of mischief in his handsome brown eyes, “but, really, -I am in some doubt whether to accept that as a compliment -or not, for I always tried to be a gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, get out! You know I didn’t mean that, Clifford,” -the woman returned, and flushed. “Of course,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span> -you were always a gentleman. With such a mother -as you had you couldn’t have been anything else. I -only meant that you’ve got a spruce look about you -that you didn’t have when you lived here—how could -you, when you wasn’t allowed a decent thing to wear!”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” said Clifford, reassuringly; “but”—willing -to do the squire justice—“my freedom suit -was a pretty good one.”</p> - -<p>“Yes—it was,” Maria laconically observed, with an -audible chuckle, while her square shoulders shook with -suppressed mirth.</p> - -<p>The squire had never quite gotten over the mistake -(?) about Clifford’s freedom suit, and never saw Tom, -the milk-driver, wearing the shoddy clothes that had -been made for himself without becoming secretly enraged -and giving expression to muttered remarks that -were more emphatic than elegant.</p> - -<p>At the time of this last call of Clifford’s, which occurred -during a short recess of his senior year, the man -had gone to New Haven on business, and Maria kept -him talking so busily that she did not realize how rapidly -the time was passing until a glance at the clock -made her start and suddenly cut herself short.</p> - -<p>“My!” she exclaimed, “here it is most five o’clock, -and you must have some supper before you go.”</p> - -<p>She was bound that he should partake of her hospitality, -and yet she did not want the two to meet, for -she was sure the squire would make the young man -uncomfortable.</p> - -<p>Clifford urged her not to trouble herself, saying he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> -would get his supper in New Haven before returning -to Springfield.</p> - -<p>“Well, I guess not!” she returned, with considerable -spirit. “If Maria Kimberly can’t give her friends a -bite now and then when they take the pains to come -to see her, she’ll clear out and let somebody else keep -house here.”</p> - -<p>Clifford saw that she would be hurt if he refused, -therefore he allowed her to have her way. She tied a -spotless apron around her ample waist and flew about -the kitchen, mixing some of her delicious, old-time biscuit, -but keeping up a stream of conversation all the -while, and in less than half an hour had a dainty supper, -of everything that she knew Clifford liked best, -laid out in the most tempting manner before her guest.</p> - -<p>“I have never enjoyed a meal like this since I went -away from the shadow of your hospitable wing, -Maria,” he told her, as he finished his second cup of -tea, “and I haven’t forgotten that you have promised -to come to live with me when I am able to set up an establishment -of my own.”</p> - -<p>The woman shot him a delightful look in return -for his praise and his reference to that “promise,” -though she said, with an independent toss of her head:</p> - -<p>“I can assure you you wouldn’t have been allowed to -forget it, and I’m comin’ just as sure as my name is -Maria Kimberly.”</p> - -<p>“What!” cried Clifford, in mock consternation, but -with a merry twinkle in his eyes, “is there any danger -of your changing it?”</p> - -<p>“Get along, you rogue! You know there isn’t,” she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -retorted, with a giggle, and growing crimson at the -imputation; “but I don’t care how soon you get somebody -to change her name for yours and set up that establishment.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t mean that you are ready to desert the -squire, do you?” the young man inquired.</p> - -<p>“Well, the squire don’t grow amiable as he grows -older—he’s been crosser’n usual the last two years, and -he hain’t never found a boy to suit him since you went -away,” said Maria confidentially.</p> - -<p>Clifford did not care to discuss the man’s disposition -with her, and he adroitly turned the subject by inquiring:</p> - -<p>“Maria, how would you like to come to Cambridge -when I take my degree next June?”</p> - -<p>“Do you mean it?” she demanded eagerly.</p> - -<p>“I should not invite you if I did not mean it,” he -gravely replied.</p> - -<p>“Of course you wouldn’t—you never was a hypocrite, -I’ll say that for you, and—and I’d just love to -come,” the woman observed, with tears in her eyes. -“I declare! I should just be too proud for anything!”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, I will see that you have your invitation -in good season,” said Clifford, deeply touched by her -appreciation of the small attention.</p> - -<p>Maria thanked him, and then, rising, he said he -must go. He left a courteous message for Squire Talford; -then, bidding her good-by, went away, but leaving -a ray of sunshine in the lonely woman’s heart -which warmed and cheered her for many a long month.</p> - -<p>The squire merely grunted when, upon his return,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -she informed him of Clifford’s visit, but she could -see that he was deeply interested in her account of him—what -he had said, and how he had looked.</p> - -<p>The remaining months of the year sped very swiftly -for Clifford, many days seeming all too short, for he -was working very diligently and perseveringly.</p> - -<p>But the examinations were over at last, and he found -that he had won the second honor in his class.</p> - -<p>It was a proud moment for him when he was informed -that the salutatory oration would be expected -from him, while many of his classmates rejoiced with -him.</p> - -<p>“He has earned it, if anybody ever earned anything,” -his friend Rogers observed when the honors -were awarded; “he is a splendid fellow, and I am -downright glad for him.”</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth just managed to pull through, -and probably would have been perfectly satisfied with -the knowledge that he would receive his degree had -not all his old hatred been aroused and his jealousy -stirred upon learning of Clifford’s achievement, and the -interest which the whole class was manifesting in him.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE SQUIRE RECEIVES A SHOCK.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Maria Kimberly was made very proud and happy -one morning upon Squire Talford’s return from the -post-office by the reception of the long-promised invitation -to attend the commencement exercises at -Harvard.</p> - -<p>With a beaming face she read it through several -times, handling it with great care lest she should mar -the satin-smooth paper by a single wrinkle or blemish.</p> - -<p>Then with an air of pride, as if some great personal -honor had been conferred upon her—as, indeed, she -felt there had been—she carried it to the squire, who -was in his customary seat upon the veranda reading -his morning paper.</p> - -<p>“There!” she exclaimed triumphantly, “I always -knew that boy’d come out at the top of the heap!”</p> - -<p>“What boy?” inquired the man, without a suspicion -that she was referring to Clifford, while he held out -his hand for the heavy cream-tinted sheet which she -was regarding so fondly.</p> - -<p>“Read and see for yourself,” said Maria, with a -satisfied smile, as she left it with him and went back -to her work in the kitchen, while she began to con over -in her mind the necessary preparations she would have -to make for the important event.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span></p> - -<p>“If I’m goin’, I’m goin’ in shipshape,” she asserted, -with an air of decision. “For one thing, I’ll have that -new black silk that I’ve be’n savin’ up for, for the last -five years, and I’ll just ask Alice Eldridge to tell me -how to have it made, and what I need to go with it.”</p> - -<p>Alice Eldridge, by the way, was the minister’s daughter, -a pretty, refined girl, and noted in Cedar Hill for -her excellent taste.</p> - -<p>While Maria was planning for this most important -event, Squire Talford, having carefully read the communication -which she had handed to him, sat with -bowed head and clouded brow, absorbed in thought, -while it was evident that his reflections were not of a -very pleasing nature.</p> - -<p>“Humph!” he finally ejaculated, “that proud-spirited -youngster has proved himself smart, and no mistake! -So he has won the salutatory! I never believed he’d -get through—and he has worked his own way mostly! -I confess I’m a trifle curious to know how he’ll acquit -himself as an orator. I’ve half a mind to drop down -to Cambridge on the sly and see what he can do; he’d -never be able to pick me out in the crowd.”</p> - -<p>He was somewhat taken aback, however, when, upon -handing back the invitation and inquiring, with a sarcastic -inflection, if she intended to “honor the occasion -with her presence,” Maria spiritedly informed him:</p> - -<p>“Of course I’m goin’. You don’t suppose I’d stay -away, much as I think of that boy, and ’specially when -he hasn’t either kith or kin to show a bit of interest in -him on the proudest day of his life. And, squire”—with -a little settling of her determined chin—“I’m<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -goin’ to New Haven to do some shoppin’, and I’d like -to be paid up to date, if you please.”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” said the man shortly, and with a frown, -for it always hurt him sorely to pay out any of his -money unless it was for his own needs or gratification.</p> - -<p>And Maria did go to New Haven the following -week, carrying a well-filled purse with her, and accompanied -by Alice Eldridge, who was to assist in the -selection of the gown and other fixings that were to -do honor to the “proudest day of Clifford’s life.”</p> - -<p>And the result of this expedition was most gratifying, -for, when the kind-hearted and happy woman presented -her at Cambridge on the morning of Commencement -Day, and which was almost as great an -event to her as to Clifford, she astonished the young -man by a most genteel and quietly fashionable appearance.</p> - -<p>Her really nice black silk was made in the prevailing -style, fitted her nicely, and, with some “real lace” -ruffles at the neck and wrists, was very becoming.</p> - -<p>Her black lace bonnet, with its nice ties and a few -modest sprays of mignonette, had been made by a New -Haven milliner, who evidently knew her business and -studied effects, while a pretty handkerchief of linen -lawn, also bordered with “real lace,” and a pair of well-fitting, -pearl-gray kid gloves—all selected under the -careful supervision of Miss Eldridge—completed a -tout ensemble that was very gratifying.</p> - -<p>“Why, Maria, how very, very nice you look!” Clifford -exclaimed, with beaming eyes, as he warmly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span> -grasped her hand, after assisting her to alight from the -carriage which he had sent to her lodging-house to convey -her to the college.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you like it,” she quietly returned, but bestowing -a shy glance of satisfaction upon the lustrous -folds of her gown as she spoke.</p> - -<p>“Like it! why, I am proud of you!” Clifford responded, -with a sincerity that sent a warm thrill -through the woman’s heart and a bright spot of color -to either cheek.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Kimberly, being conscious, in a measure, of -shortcomings in her use of the English language, preserved -a discreet silence for the most part, except when -she was alone with Clifford, and thus did not once offend -his sensitive ears in the presence of his friends.</p> - -<p>He found her a good seat where she could both hear -and see well, and was then obliged to leave her by herself -until the exercises should be over.</p> - -<p>A few moments later a tall, spare, gray-haired man -might have been seen slipping into the auditorium, -where he sought an obscure corner, and appeared as if -he was desirous of escaping observation. He was -Squire Talford.</p> - -<p>Maria had left New Haven on the two-forty-five -train for Boston, the day previous, and he had followed -her on the five o’clock express.</p> - -<p>It was his intention to steal in just in season to hear -Clifford’s oration, then out again as soon as it was delivered, -so that no one might know of his surreptitious -trip. He missed his calculations, although he was not -aware of the fact, for Clifford’s keen eyes had espied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span> -him, almost immediately after he took his own seat -upon the platform, and instantly he knew that the man, -actuated by curiosity, had come to ascertain how he -would acquit himself in the trying ordeal before him.</p> - -<p>It was really the best thing that could have happened -for Clifford, for it at once inspired him with a sense of -absolute self-possession and the determination to do -himself honor.</p> - -<p>“He has come to criticize me,” was his mental comment, -“and now I will prove what I once told him—that -I would some time win honor and respect for the -name I bear.”</p> - -<p>A great calm settled over him, although until that -moment he had been conscious of a feeling of nervousness -in view of facing that great audience, and when -he at length arose and went forward, there was not a -quiver of even a muscle—he lost all thought of fear in -the determination to prove to the man who had once -expressed the utmost contempt for him, that he had -conquered every obstacle, and attained the goal he had -sought.</p> - -<p>And even this motive was soon swallowed up in his -all-absorbing theme, which he handled with remarkable -skill and originality. His production not only showed -careful research and a thorough knowledge of his subject, -but sound logic, clear and brilliant reasoning, and -the power to gain and hold the attention of his audience -by his graceful diction, and a fluency that was absolutely -irresistible.</p> - -<p>His presence also was a great point in his favor, for -he certainly was a fine appearing young man. He had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span> -grown some inches during the last four years; his figure -had developed, and he was now strong and stalwart; -broad-shouldered and straight as an arrow, while -one could not look into his frank, honest, intelligent -face without at once becoming conscious that the character -of the young orator was as manly, clean, and -attractive as his person.</p> - -<p>When the exercises were over nothing was to be seen -of the squire, and Clifford made no attempt to find him. -He judged that the man did not care to meet him, or -he would not have sought so obscure a place in the -auditorium. He felt sure that he had been impelled -to come to Harvard only by motives of curiosity and -criticism, therefore he immediately sought Maria, as -soon as he was at liberty, and devoted himself exclusively -to her entertainment.</p> - -<p>He conducted her over the beautiful grounds, and -through some of the dormitories, to let her see how -college students lived, and finally took her to the University -Museum to see the wonderful “glass flowers” -and the valuable geological and zoological collections.</p> - -<p>There was not time to show her all that he would -have liked her to see, for she insisted that she must return -on a certain train, for the next day was “churning -day, and the cream must not be neglected.”</p> - -<p>Clifford accompanied her to the station, and saw her -comfortably settled in a parlor-car—for Maria, who -had determined to do nothing by halves on this great -occasion, already had the ticket for her seat—then sat -and chatted with her for the little time that remained -before the train would start.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span></p> - -<p>“What are you goin’ to do now you’re through college?” -Maria inquired, after she had thanked him for -the pleasure he had given her, and told him how proud -she was of the distinction he had won.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I have not made up my mind yet what I shall -settle down to for a permanent business,” Clifford -thoughtfully responded. “You know I have my own -way to make in the world, the same as I have had to do -in order to get through my course; and, as yet, there -has seemed to be no promising opening for me, although -I have had my eye out for some time. I have -done pretty well, however, during the last three summers, -with Mr. Hamilton at his mountain hotel.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know; but—I hope you ain’t goin’ to settle -down to keep a hotel after spendin’ four long years gettin’ -your education, and comin’ out at the top of the -heap,” said Maria, with visible anxiety.</p> - -<p>Clifford laughed at the characteristic speech.</p> - -<p>“I assure you, Maria, there are some well-educated -men who have made a great success at keeping hotel,” -he said. “But I do not think that I should be quite satisfied -with that kind of a life. At the same time, I am -going back to Mr. Hamilton for this summer also, since -nothing better has offered. He is contemplating opening -a fine new house in Washington in the fall, and I -have agreed to go with him and act as clerk until I can -find something more to my mind. I must do something, -you know, to keep even with the world until the -right thing offers.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Maria gravely, after a minute of -thoughtful silence, “I’ve saved up some money, and if<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span> -ever you need a few hundred to give you a lift, you’re -more’n welcome to them.”</p> - -<p>Clifford was deeply touched by this evidence of her -regard for him. He flushed, and a suspicious moisture -gathered in his eyes as he returned a trifle huskily:</p> - -<p>“You were always good to me, Maria, during my -boyhood, and I have always felt more grateful to you -than I could ever express, and now this kind offer is in -keeping with all your previous kindness. But, my -friend, I am not in need of any financial help just at -present.”</p> - -<p>“Well, but if you ever should—I haven’t a soul in -the world to care for, or who feels any special interest -in me—if ever you do need it you’ll take it, won’t you, -Clifford?” said the woman eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Maria,” he answered gently, and seeing she -would be deeply wounded if he refused, “if I ever find -myself in a strait where it becomes necessary for me to -borrow, I will come to you for help, and, believe me, I -shall never forget your goodness in offering it. But -there is the bell, and I must go, or I shall soon find myself -on the way to New Haven with you,” he smilingly -concluded, as he arose to leave.</p> - -<p>“I’m sure ’twouldn’t be the worst cross I’ve ever had -to bear if you did,” said the woman, trying to speak -lightly, but with an unmistakable quaver in her tones.</p> - -<p>“I can’t inflict it upon you this time,” the young man -returned in the same strain, as he extended his hand to -her in farewell, and, after promising that he would -write her from time to time regarding his movements, -he hurried from the train.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span></p> - -<p>It was nearly midnight when Maria Kimberly -reached home, where she found the squire still up and -quietly reading his evening paper by the student-lamp -in the dining-room.</p> - -<p>He had arrived from his stolen trip only about an -hour previous. He merely glanced up as Maria came -in and expressed her surprise at finding him up so late; -but he asked no questions regarding her journey, and -she was determined to volunteer no information.</p> - -<p>She had not a suspicion that he, also, had attended -the commencement at Harvard, for Clifford, surmising -that she knew nothing of his presence, and feeling sure -that the man did not wish it known, had kept his own -counsel.</p> - -<p>But Squire Talford, although he imagined that he -had been so shrewd in his movements that neither Clifford -nor his housekeeper would ever learn where he -had been that day, had, nevertheless, had an unexpected -experience which had given him quite a shaking -up in a way.</p> - -<p>As he was hurrying away from the college grounds -to catch an electric-car to take him to the railway-station, -he suddenly came upon a group of people standing -upon the sidewalk beside an elegant carriage to which -a magnificent pair of black horses in silver-mounted -harness were attached, and attended by a driver and -coachman in handsome livery.</p> - -<p>The group comprised a middle-aged gentleman of -distinguished appearance, a beautiful woman richly -clad, a lovely child of eight or nine years, and a young -man of about twenty-two or twenty-three.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, papa, please take me to see the birds,” the -squire heard the child say in a pleading tone. “You -know, you promised me that you would.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Minnie, darling, I did; but mama says there -will not be time to-day. You know we are expecting -guests, and she must get home to receive them,” the -gentleman replied, while he fondly patted the small -hand that rested upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“But I want to see them so much,” said the child, -with quivering lips.</p> - -<p>“And you shall, dear. I will come again with you -to-morrow morning, and that is the very best that I -can do,” her father returned.</p> - -<p>“Ah! pardon me,” he added politely, as he found he -was standing in the way of some one who wished to -pass. “Ha——!”</p> - -<p>The startled exclamation burst from him, and was -echoed by Squire Talford as the two men found themselves -face to face and recognized each other.</p> - -<p>They stood for a full minute and gazed, as if fascinated, -into each other’s eyes, the squire’s face growing -gray and rigid as he looked, his lips twitching convulsively -from some violent, inward emotion.</p> - -<p>“Pardon me,” he finally observed, and pulling himself -together with a visible effort. Then, with a -sweeping glance at the other faces of the group, he -lifted his hat and walked briskly away down the street.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">MOLLIE HEATHERFORD RETURNS.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>“Why, Will! who was that man?” inquired Mrs. -Temple in a tone of surprise, as she turned to observe -the retreating form of Squire Talford after the encounter -described in the last chapter.</p> - -<p>“I cannot tell you, dear,” replied her husband, in the -quietest and calmest of tones.</p> - -<p>“But how strangely he appeared! He acted as if he -knew you!” persisted the lady, and still gazing after the -man.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he did,” her husband admitted, with apparently -the utmost composure; “he evidently mistook me -for some one else. Now, shall we go?” he concluded, -turning toward the carriage, but gnawing his under -lip nervously, for it had required all the force of his -will to control himself during the recent encounter with -one whom, in his youth, he had deeply wronged, and -whom, as a natural consequence, he had most cordially -hated ever since. He assisted his wife into the carriage -with the same loverlike attention which he had -always shown her, then lightly swung his little daughter -in after her.</p> - -<p>“You are not coming with us, you said, Phil,” he observed, -as with one foot on the step he turned to address -the young man.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span></p> - -<p>“No, I cannot. I have an engagement which will -detain me for a couple of hours; but I will try to get -home in time for dinner,” Philip replied.</p> - -<p>“Yes, do, Phil,” said his mother earnestly, “it would -seem very remiss if you should be absent on the first -evening of the Heatherfords’ visit; it almost seems as if -you ought to come with us and be there to welcome -them.”</p> - -<p>“But I really cannot,” Philip responded, with a -slight frown; “they have chosen an unfortunate day -for their arrival, and I am sure they will excuse it if I -am not there to greet them. You can explain, and I -will certainly be in season for dinner.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple appeared to be satisfied with this assurance, -and the carriage drove away, while Philip -slowly wended his way back into the college grounds, -and with a very thoughtful air. He had never for a -moment wavered in his determination to marry Mollie -Heatherford and her “magnificent fortune”; but, -through his selfish love of pleasure and his constant -pursuit of amusement, he now found himself disagreeably -hampered in some ways, which might, if they -should become known, interfere with his interests and -plans in connection with Miss Heatherford. He had -kept up a correspondence with her during her absence -abroad, although Mollie’s letters had been tantalizingly -irregular, and far from being of as tender a nature as -he desired; nevertheless, he had, from time to time, referred -to their old-time betrothal with an assurance -which indicated that he, at least, regarded it as binding -and definite.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span></p> - -<p>At the same time he had not scrupled to keep up a -desperate flirtation with several other pretty girls, to -say nothing about his entanglement with Gertrude -Athol, to whom he was still practically pledged. Indeed, -Miss Athol was at that moment awaiting him to -attend her to a spread that was to be given by one of -his classmates in Beck Hall.</p> - -<p>She had come on from Buffalo to spend a week with -some friends in Cambridge, and attend the commencement -exercises in which she was, of course, more than -usually interested this year, because of Phil’s participation -in them.</p> - -<p>Now that the time was approaching when he knew -that Gertrude would expect him to redeem his pledge to -her, ask her hand of her father, and declare his intentions -to the world, Phil began to experience not a little -uneasiness regarding his precarious situation and how -he was going to escape from it. Therefore, he was in -no enviable frame of mind as he re-entered the college -grounds, after his mother’s departure, to seek Gertrude -by appointment. He found her with a group of young -people, all of whom were invited to the “spread,” and -she bestowed a bright smile of welcome upon him as he -came to her side.</p> - -<p>She was even lovelier than when we saw her at the -mountains three years previous. She seemed taller, -her form had developed to more perfect proportions, -and her expressive face bespoke growth of character, -earnestness, and purity of purpose.</p> - -<p>She was clad all in white, even to her hat, which was -trimmed with graceful, nodding ostrich-plumes. It<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -was an exceedingly dainty costume, stylish as well, -and, with her queenly bearing, her sweet, pure face, her -clear brown eyes, and wealth of golden hair, she did -not fail to attract attention wherever she went, and -Philip was really proud of her, and also fond of her, in -a way.</p> - -<p>The party turned their steps in the direction of Beck -Hall as soon as he joined it, while Gertrude looked as -if she needed nothing more to complete her happiness.</p> - -<p>“Everything has passed off lovely,” she whispered, -as they followed their friends, then added shyly, “but, -of course, you know in whom my chief interest centered.”</p> - -<p>“And did I acquit myself to your satisfaction?” -queried Philip, with a smiling and admiring glance, -which plainly indicated where his present interest -centered.</p> - -<p>“That goes without saying,” Gertrude replied, -though she flushed slightly.</p> - -<p>Then she seemed as if about to add something, but -suddenly checked herself, while a look of thoughtfulness -settled over her countenance, and her companion -observed that she scanned every face they met, as if in -search of some one.</p> - -<p>An hour and a half later, when the party broke up -and they were on their way out of the building, they -encountered in one of the halls some students who were -just coming in. Clifford was among them.</p> - -<p>Gertrude espied him instantly, and her eyes lighted -with pleasure, for she had been hoping to meet him, -and his was the face she had been watching for. She<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -turned away from her companion and went directly to -him, her white-gloved hand cordially outstretched to -greet him.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Faxon,” she began, in her bright, vivacious -way, “I am so glad of this opportunity. I hoped I -should meet you to-day, and I want to congratulate -you—your oration was positively grand.”</p> - -<p>Clifford smiled as he doffed his hat and took the -proffered hand.</p> - -<p>“It certainly is a great pleasure to me to meet you -again, Miss Athol,” he heartily responded, then added -modestly, “and thank you for your commendation, but -I fear you dignify my effort beyond its worth.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed I do not, and, I assure you, I am only one -out of many who have voiced the same opinion,” Gertrude -earnestly replied. Then, as she saw he was -averse to being made conspicuous, she inquired: “Are -you glad to get through with your course?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, glad on some accounts, although I have thoroughly -enjoyed my four years’ work. One always is -glad to attain a goal he has been seeking, you know. -But now I have to begin the real battle of life.”</p> - -<p>“And you will win the victory, I am sure, just as you -have won in everything else you have ever attempted,” -said the beautiful girl, with shining eyes. “I wish you -all success, and the next time we meet I shall expect -to find you far on the road to fame.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” said Clifford, flushing at her words. -Then, with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he questioned: -“But are you contemplating leaving the -country for an indefinite sojourn?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span></p> - -<p>“No, indeed; why?”</p> - -<p>“Why, you know it takes many years to win fame, -and it would be a matter of sincere regret to me if I -thought our paths would not cross meantime.”</p> - -<p>Gertrude laughed musically.</p> - -<p>“It certainly will not take a great while for you, if -you go on as you have begun, and are governed by the -same principle and earnestness of purpose as when I -last saw you,” she observed, with a look which told him -that she still remembered their conversation on the -piazza of the hotel in the mountains. “At all events, I -hope it will not be years before we meet again. But au -revoir, I must run away now, for my friends are waiting -for me,” and with a charming smile and bow she -was gone.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth had withdrawn a short distance -when Gertrude greeted his rival, whom he never recognized -if he could avoid doing so, and his face was -sullen and overcast when she rejoined him.</p> - -<p>“Are you annoyed over having to wait for me?” -she inquired, keenly sensitive to the change in his -manner.</p> - -<p>“I should not be annoyed to wait your pleasure any -length of time under ordinary circumstances,” said -Philip, with studied coldness.</p> - -<p>Gertrude swept his face with a searching look.</p> - -<p>“Under ordinary circumstances,” she repeated. “I -think I do not quite understand you.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, to be plain, it rather tries my temper to -have you waste your time and breath on that upstart,” -he replied, with some irritation.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span></p> - -<p>The girl turned upon him sharply.</p> - -<p>“Do you still cherish that old-time animosity against -him?” she gravely inquired.</p> - -<p>“Well, I certainly do not love him,” was the moody -response.</p> - -<p>Gertrude drew herself up proudly, and her eyes -flashed.</p> - -<p>“I am ashamed of you, Phil—I really am, for -nursing such a spirit all these years. I cannot understand -it when you owe him so much. But if Mr. -Faxon is an ‘upstart,’ I only wish that the world was -full of just such people.”</p> - -<p>“Which, I might infer, would shove me out entirely. -Thanks, awfully,” sneered her companion.</p> - -<p>“You are entirely welcome,” the girl shot back -spiritedly; “that is, if you are so narrow-minded as to -take offense at my courtesy toward Mr. Faxon. I -have known him to be a fine young man; he bids fair to -make his mark in the world, and his oration to-day -was positively grand.”</p> - -<p>“So I heard you observe to him,” Philip sarcastically -rejoined.</p> - -<p>There was a moment of awkward silence, and then -Gertrude’s natural sweetness conquered her momentary -anger. She turned to her lover with a frank and -sunny smile.</p> - -<p>“Don’t let us quarrel, Phil, and you haven’t the -slightest cause to be jealous of Mr. Faxon, for, although -I respect him very highly, I do not love him, -and I do love somebody else. But, dear, you must not -think that because I have promised to be your wife I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -have pledged away my individuality or my independence. -I have my opinions, I have a right to express -them, and I shall expect that they will receive just the -same deference that I shall pay to yours. Is not that -fair and right, Phil?”</p> - -<p>But the young man looked straight ahead and preserved -a sulky silence. Gertrude studied his face for a -moment; then she resumed with heightened color, but -with a little prouder poise of her pretty head:</p> - -<p>“It has been conceded by every one whom I have -heard speak of it, that Mr. Faxon’s oration was the -finest effort of the day. Why should not you, as well -as others of your class, candidly admit it, and give him -the honor due him? But we will not talk about it any -more, if the matter disturbs you. There are Guy and -Emelie beckoning us, and wondering, no doubt, why -we are loitering. Now, Phil”—bending forward and -looking archly into his eyes—“smile on me just once, -clouds are not in order to-day.”</p> - -<p>She looked so sweet and sunny, she was so bewitchingly -pretty that no one could have resisted her, and -Philip’s face relaxed in spite of himself. They rejoined -their friends, and Gertrude was her own -charming self once more, and appeared to have forgotten -all about her tiff with her lover.</p> - -<p>Philip, however, secretly nursed his wrath and resolved -that, when the right time came to serve his purpose, -the “quarrel” should be renewed.</p> - -<p>Gertrude was beautiful and always faultlessly clad, -and he was proud of her; she was delightful company, -and he never failed to enjoy himself wherever he went<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -with her, while she visited among people in Cambridge -whose acquaintance and good opinion he was desirous -of preserving; consequently, he did not feel quite ready -to break with her—at least, not until he was sure of -capturing Mollie Heatherford and her fortune.</p> - -<p>When he reached home that evening he found that -the Heatherfords had arrived—at least, Mollie and her -father; Mrs. Heatherford had died abroad more than a -year previous.</p> - -<p>There were several other guests invited to dinner, -and the company were all in the drawing-room when -he entered.</p> - -<p>He drew a long, deep breath when he espied Mollie -standing beside his mother, who was introducing her -to some of her friends, for she was lovely beyond description. -She was still in half-mourning for her -mother, and wore a black gown of some thin, gauzy -material, the lining to the corsage cut low, and none -in the sleeves, thus revealing the outlines of her beautiful -arms and neck.</p> - -<p>It was elaborately trimmed with white, and the contrast -of this effective costume with her flawless complexion -and wealth of golden hair was marked. She -was now in her nineteenth year, tall and slim, yet perfectly -formed, with a proud poise to her small head that -gave her a regal air. Her face was delicate and clear-cut -as a cameo, with dainty color in her cheeks that -ebbed and flowed with every varying emotion, while -her blue eyes were just as bright and mischievous, -grave or gay, as she was moved, as in the old days<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -when she had played with her boy-lover beneath the -elms on the bank of the Hudson.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth had flirted with many beautiful -girls during the last four years, but he now declared to -himself that he had never seen any one as lovely as -Mollie, or “Miss Marie Heatherford,” as she was -known to the world, only a favored few being allowed -to address her by the pet-name that had been bestowed -upon her during her childhood.</p> - -<p>Her every movement gave evidence of the refinement -which foreign travel and culture bestows. Philip’s -heart leaped as he stood and watched her, himself, for -the moment, unseen.</p> - -<p>“Mollie is the girl for me!” he mentally exclaimed. -“She is perfectly stunning. Any man might be proud -to call her wife for herself alone, but, taken with her -prospective fortune—ah!”</p> - -<p>He made his way toward the group where she stood -at the other end of the room.</p> - -<p>“Ah! here comes Phil at last,” said Mrs. Temple, -with a note of pride in her tones, as he presented himself -before them. “I am sure I do not need to introduce -two old playfellows.”</p> - -<p>The fair girl turned with a smile of pleasure on her -lips and put out her hand to greet him, while a lovely -blush deepened the color in her cheeks.</p> - -<p>As Phil clasped the slim hand and bent upon her a -look of undisguised admiration while he murmured the -joy he experienced at her home-coming, her beautiful -blue eyes were searching his face with a grave and -steady gaze.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span></p> - -<p>What did she find there to make the blush fade -slowly out of her cheeks—to cause her to release the -hand he had taken, after the briefest possible clasp, -and the shadow of disappointment to creep into the -earnest azure eyes?</p> - -<p>“This is a long looked-for moment, Mollie, and I -hope that you are glad to be with us again,” Phil observed, -throwing a note of tenderness into his words -that spoke volumes.</p> - -<p>“Yes, thank you. I am glad to be at home once -more,” Mollie returned in calm, even tones. “I did not -quite realize how delightful it would be until we sailed -into New York harbor and I began to see so much that -was familiar all around us. Truly, I believe there is -no place like America to an American. And so you -have finished your college course to-day,” she continued, -drawing herself up a little haughtily at his persistent -stare of admiration. “No doubt you are very -proud of your degree, and now your friends will expect -great things of you in the future.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.<br /> -<span class="smaller">THE HEATHERFORD FORTUNE GONE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>“What do you mean by ‘great things’?” Philip -smilingly questioned.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that in return for the advantages you have enjoyed -you will choose some business or profession and -turn your knowledge to good account.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think it the duty of every man to devote -himself to some business or profession?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do,” returned Miss Heatherford, with emphasis.</p> - -<p>“Even if he possesses an independent fortune?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” she persisted, “I feel that, no matter how rich -a man may be, he should have some definite object in -life.”</p> - -<p>“How about a woman?” queried Philip, with a mischievous -glance into her thoughtful blue eyes.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I intended to make no distinction. I should -have said everybody,” the girl replied.</p> - -<p>“Have you marked out your future career, Mollie?” -inquired the young man in the same spirit as before. -“I suppose you have been pursuing your studies during -your absence.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I have been doing some honest work in that -line during the last four years,” she gravely returned; -“but, as to my future, I have not quite made up my<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -mind what I am best fitted for. I want to do something. -I could teach elocution and rhetoric, both of -which, you know, I have always enjoyed very much, -and perhaps some other thing,” she added modestly.</p> - -<p>“Such as what?” queried Phil, who was curious to -learn in what she excelled.</p> - -<p>“Oh, please do not make me particularize regarding -my acquirements,” Mollie replied, the color coming -again to her cheeks, “and, besides, you have not yet -told me what you are going to do—are you going to -study a profession?”</p> - -<p>He wanted to tell her that the most definite object -he had in view just then was to try to win the hand and -heart which he had so long coveted, but he hardly dared -venture that far so soon after her return.</p> - -<p>There was a certain air about her that seemed to -warn him against being too familiar or precipitate, or -of assuming too much upon the ground of their early -friendship; and, although all his old love revived and -his pulse thrilled under the influence of her beauty and -the tones of her magic voice, he resolved to approach -her very carefully and delicately.</p> - -<p>“Well, as you have already said regarding yourself, -I have not yet decided upon anything,” he observed.</p> - -<p>“But surely you have a decided penchant for some -particular business or profession!” she remarked, while -she regarded him earnestly and with some surprise.</p> - -<p>“No, I cannot say that I have,” he answered, with a -doubtful shake of his head, yet feeling strangely embarrassed -and uncomfortable under the searching look -in her dark-blue eyes. “But there is time enough yet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -for that,” he added, to change the topic, and making -an effort to throw off the sensation. “Now, suppose -you tell me something about your impressions of -European life and travel.”</p> - -<p>But dinner was announced just at that moment, and -their conversation was interrupted.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple had arranged to have Philip escort -Mollie to the dining-room, and he exerted himself to be -attentive and agreeable to her.</p> - -<p>But one of the professors at Harvard, to whom -Mollie had been introduced, was seated on her left, and, -having previously discovered that she was an unusually -intelligent girl, adroitly drew her into conversation, -which finally drifted into an animated discussion upon -the geological formation of different countries.</p> - -<p>Several times Mollie appealed to Phil, hoping thus -to draw him into the debate, for she did not wish to -appear to neglect him, neither could she ignore the professor -without being rude. But Phil did not appear to -advantage in the opinions he offered or the remarks he -made, and was entirely distanced in the race. He was -greatly relieved when dinner was over and he succeeded -in whisking Mollie away to the drawing-room, -where he proceeded to monopolize her, for a while, at -least.</p> - -<p>The remainder of the evening was passed most enjoyably, -there being several musical people present, and -who contributed a delightful program; while Mollie, -who was noted for her powers of elocution, gave two -or three spirited selections, which were rendered with -such artistic effect that she won much applause.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span></p> - -<p>Philip had observed, while he was exchanging greetings -with Mr. Heatherford, that the man appeared -greatly worn and aged; but he had attributed this depression -and change to the loss of his wife. He also -noticed, from time to time during the evening, that he -avoided the company and seemed to want to get away -into a corner by himself, where he would fall into a fit -of abstraction from which he was only aroused when -Mollie went to him and after chatting with him a few -minutes would draw him out among people again.</p> - -<p>She was tenderly watchful of him, Phil could see, -even while she appeared to be the most brilliant and -entertaining, while occasionally an anxious expression -would sweep over her face and a gentle sigh escape her -as her glance rested upon his face.</p> - -<p>The young man wondered what it all could mean, -but did not give the matter much thought, and it probably -would never have entered his mind afterward if he -had not overheard Mr. Temple tell his mother after -lunch the next day, while Mollie and her father were -out making a call, that Mr. Heatherford had confided -to him the fact that he had been continually losing -money at a disastrous rate during the last two years, -until the bulk of his fortune had melted away. He did -not add, however, that he had conducted some of these -losing negotiations.</p> - -<p>“Heavens!” exclaimed Mrs. Temple, aghast, “how -did he ever lose it?”</p> - -<p>“I expect he has spread himself too much—got tied -up in too many enterprises, and when the pinch came he -was unable to turn himself,” her husband explained.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -“A railroad in which he was largely represented has -collapsed; a bank of which he was a director and a -heavy shareholder has failed; a Western syndicate of -immense proportions has gone to pieces—he says there -was fraud at the bottom of it—while a rascally agent, -in whom he had implicit confidence and to whom he -gave power of attorney during his absence, has played -him false and skipped to parts unknown with a large -amount of money.”</p> - -<p>“Well, surely, that is a series of misfortunes,” Mrs. -Temple observed; “but, in spite of all, I should suppose -he must have a competence left—he was accounted a -very rich man before he went away.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but he has been sending good money after bad -all the time until, he tells me, he is reduced to a very -few thousands.”</p> - -<p>“Whew!” ejaculated Phil, under his breath, as, concealed -behind a pair of heavy curtains of a bay window, -he listened to the above chapter of accidents. “So -Miss Mollie’s ‘magnificent inheritance’ has dwindled to -almost nothing! What a shame, for she is very beautiful; -but a man doesn’t want a penniless wife, especially -when his own bank-account will not more than meet -his own needs.”</p> - -<p>“I am amazed—it is absolutely shocking!” sighed -Mrs. Temple, “and it will be a great detriment to -Mollie, too; she is a beautiful girl, she has been tenderly -and delicately reared, and ought to make a brilliant -match.”</p> - -<p>“I thought it wise to tell you something of this,” -Mr. Temple observed, while he covertly watched his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -wife’s face. “I imagined that perhaps you might not -be quite so eager to have Phil make advances in that -direction now.”</p> - -<p>“I am sure I could not desire a more lovely wife for -Phil,” the lady thoughtfully responded; “but, really, -his fortune is hardly sufficient to warrant his marrying -a poor girl. I am truly sorry for the Heatherfords; -but if I had known of this I should not have thought it -wise to invite them here at this time. Since they are -here, however, we must make the best of it, but I shall -not be sorry when their visit is over.”</p> - -<p>“It is rather an awkward position, especially as there -has always been a tacit understanding that Phil and -Mollie would marry when they attained a suitable age,” -Mr. Temple remarked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, that must now be regarded only as children’s -play—which it really was, after all,” Mrs. Temple -hastily interposed, but flushing as she remembered how -eager she had always been to help on the “children’s -play.” “Of course, I should have been willing to have -had such a marriage consummated if things had remained -as they were. Perhaps—do you think there is -any possibility that Mr. Heatherford will ever retrieve -his fortune?”</p> - -<p>“I should say that is very doubtful,” said the man, -suddenly averting his eyes beneath his wife’s earnest -look. “Having told you so much, I may as well tell -you that a very short time will settle his fate, either -one way or the other, for he has risked all he has upon -one throw.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span></p> - -<p>“Heavens! Will, you don’t mean it is as bad as that -with them!” gasped Mrs. Temple, in dismay.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Heatherford told me all about his affairs this -morning, while we were out driving, and if he loses in -this last venture he will be absolutely penniless.”</p> - -<p>“That seems dreadful. Is he speculating in stocks?”</p> - -<p>“I—I really feel that I should not say what he is -doing,” returned Mr. Temple, with some embarrassment. -“All this has been strictly confidential, you understand.”</p> - -<p>“Does Mollie know of her father’s misfortunes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and her father says that she has been the greatest -comfort to him throughout all his trouble—especially -when Mrs. Heatherford sickened and died; -and now she tells him that, if worse comes to worst, -she can teach and take care of them both. He says she -is an exceptionally bright scholar—that in the school at -Heidelberg, where she graduated, she was offered a -fine salary to remain and teach elocution and rhetoric; -she also speaks four languages fluently.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, any one can see that she is very smart and -talented,” said Mrs. Temple, reflectively; then added: -“Did you observe her talking with Professor Hubbard -at dinner last evening?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, I did, and wondered not a little,” returned -Mr. Temple, laughing, “for the professor does not -often condescend to converse with young people—he -shuns them, especially girls.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he certainly exerted himself to be agreeable -to Mollie and draw her out. He found his match, too, -or I am much mistaken,” said Mrs. Temple, in a tone<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span> -of amusement. “Oh, dear!” she continued, with a -sigh, “I am terribly disappointed, for I have always -been fond of the girl, and she is just the one I would -have chosen for Phil; but it will never do for him to -marry a poor girl. I must tell him of the change in -the Heatherfords’ circumstances, and caution him to -govern himself accordingly.”</p> - -<p>This she did later in the day, and was gratified and -intensely relieved to see how coolly he accepted the -situation, for, knowing that he had been really fond of -Mollie in the old days, and also that they had corresponded -during the last four years, she feared that he -might have committed himself, and might now find it -difficult to extricate himself from an entanglement, if, -indeed, he did not really love the girl too well to be -willing to give her up. But Philip listened without -comment through the story, and, upon its conclusion, -simply remarked, with a wise nod:</p> - -<p>“I understand the situation, mother, and you may -safely trust me. Mollie is lovely, as everybody must -admit, but, with my expensive tastes, I am fully conscious -that it would never do for me to marry a poor -girl.”</p> - -<p>He spoke with the utmost assurance; nevertheless, -before a week had passed, he found himself becoming -more and more enthralled by Mollie Heatherford’s -witching loveliness, both of person and mind.</p> - -<p>Of course, as she was a guest of the family, it became -his duty to act as her escort and take her about to -see the various improvements that had been made in the -city during her absence, although he was obliged to intersperse<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -these duties with frequent visits to Gertrude -Athol, who was still with her friends in Cambridge, -and thus he was kept very busy during these days -dancing attendance upon two divinities.</p> - -<p>But he was not so eager now as he had thought he -might be to resume his “quarrel” with Gertrude; for, -although Mr. Athol was by no means as wealthy a man -as Mr. Heatherford was once supposed to be, he possessed -a tempting share of this world’s goods, and -Philip reasoned that, if he could not find a more alluring -bait, he might eventually think best to keep his -pledge to his fair daughter.</p> - -<p>He fondly imagined that he could control his affections -and be governed by his judgment and by policy—in -fact, play “fast and loose” with both girls, and enjoy -the present to the utmost without experiencing any -disastrous effects when he came to make a final decision. -But he very soon grew to realize that Cupid is -a god who cannot be tampered with with impunity, and -that he was fast learning to love Mollie Heatherford -with a strength and fervency which would either demand -utter self-renunciation on his part, or ruin his -life for all time.</p> - -<p>On her part, Mollie frankly accepted his attentions, -and appeared to enjoy his society, and yet Philip was -vaguely conscious at times that she was adroitly sounding -him and studying his character. She, like Gertrude, -was an independent thinker, and never hesitated -to express her opinions, and she frequently led him into -spirited discussions upon topics where he often found -himself beyond his depth, and was thus made conscious<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -that in what pertained to character, honesty, and -morality he fell far short of the ideals that she cherished.</p> - -<p>One afternoon he invited her to go with him to -Riverside, a beautiful spot a few miles out of Boston, -where the silvery Charles winds its alluring way among -green meadows and picturesque hills and woodlands, -and which has long been a noted and favorite resort for -parties who delight in boating.</p> - -<p>Philip was the owner of a fine canoe, and, being an -expert in the management of such craft, the young -couple spent several hours skimming over the smoothly -flowing river, dipping in and out of shady, romantic -nooks and gathering the fragrant golden-hearted lilies -that grew in abundance all along the banks of the -stream.</p> - -<p>It seemed to Phil as he sat opposite his lovely vis-a-vis, -who—in her white flannel outing-suit, her jaunty -sailor-hat, and shaded by a white sun-umbrella lined -with pale green—seemed like a fair, pure lily herself, -that the world and wealth were well lost for such a -wife as he knew she would make, and he found himself -hungering and thirsting for the priceless and ennobling -love which he knew it was in her power to bestow -upon the man whom she would choose to be her life-companion.</p> - -<p>They had been conversing upon various subjects, -some grave, some gay, when suddenly Philip started -slightly as his glance fell upon one of Mollie’s slim, -perfect hands, which was resting upon the edge of the -boat.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span></p> - -<p>“Mollie,” he observed, resting upon his oars and -leaning toward her, “do you remember the day you left -for home after your last visit with us, just previous to -going abroad?”</p> - -<p>“Of course I remember it,” she returned, a delicate -flush suffusing her face as she recalled some things that -he had said to her on that day; “it was only four years -ago, you know,” she added, smiling and quickly recovering -her self-possession.</p> - -<p>“And do you also remember that your humble servant -asked you to give him a certain ring which you -were wearing that day?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the cameo? Yes,” and now the color deepened, -while her eyes wavered and fell beneath his gaze, -for she feared he was about to ask her a question which -she knew she was not yet ready to answer.</p> - -<p>“Why did you refuse to give it to me, Mollie?” -queried the young man, in a low, eager tone.</p> - -<p>There was a moment of absolute silence; then Mollie -said in a voice that was not quite steady:</p> - -<p>“Because—I did not think it best.”</p> - -<p>Philip laughed.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps the form of my request may have been the -cause of your refusal,” he said; “if I had worded it differently, -would you have given it to me?”</p> - -<p>“Possibly—I cannot tell,” she gravely returned, with -a far-away look in her eyes.</p> - -<p>“If I should beg for it now, as a gift of friendship, -would you bestow it?” he persisted, determined to find -out how Clifford Faxon had come by it.</p> - -<p>“No, I could not.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span></p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“Because I have already given it away,” Mollie replied, -a little smile flitting over her red lips as she recalled -that scene at the railway-station in New Haven.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.<br /> -<span class="smaller">MOLLIE MAKES A DISCOVERY.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Phil studied the fair face opposite him closely for a -moment, a gleam of jealous fire burning in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“‘Given it away!’” he repeated, throwing a note of -reproach into his tones. Then, a harsh laugh breaking -from his lips, he added: “Really, Mollie, in view of -the past, I am very much inclined to be jealous.”</p> - -<p>“Are you?” she questioned, with seeming nonchalance.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think it was rather hard on me—that you -might be accused of partiality?” Phil inquired.</p> - -<p>“I do not think that term at all applicable to the -case,” Mollie quietly replied.</p> - -<p>“Well, not knowing to what ‘case’ you refer, of -course I am not capable of judging either for or -against,” Philip observed in a somewhat injured tone.</p> - -<p>Mollie laughed outright, and her eyes danced with -mischief.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Curiosity,” she retorted saucily, “if you want -to know why I gave away the ring and to whom, why -do you not ask?”</p> - -<p>“You might regard me as unduly inquisitive,” said -the young man demurely.</p> - -<p>“So you are,” she flashed back at him. “I am sure<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -you are just dying to know, and, as there is really no -reason why you should not, I will tell you.”</p> - -<p>She then proceeded to relate all that had occurred -during her journey to New York on that sultry July -afternoon four years ago, describing the terrible storm, -her loneliness and fear, the sudden shock and stopping -of the train, the falling of the maple-tree across the -track, and Clifford Faxon’s heroic efforts to remove -the dangerous obstruction, thus preventing a shocking -accident.</p> - -<p>As she talked she seemed to live over again the whole -of that thrilling experience. She shrank visibly as she -described the vivid flashes of lightning and the deafening -crashes that seemed to be almost simultaneous. She -caught her breath sharply as she told of those piercing -whistles, which bespoke imminent danger to every -quaking heart, and of the shrieks and cries, the white -faces and trembling forms of men, women, and children -as they expected every instant to be hurled into -eternity.</p> - -<p>Then came her description of the youthful hero as he -appeared working for dear life, without a thought of -self, while the conflict of elements and the deluge swept -over and raged around him.</p> - -<p>She waxed eloquent as she spoke of his poverty, how -he had been clad in the coarsest and meanest of garments, -with old and clumsy shoes on his feet, without -hat, coat, or vest, or anything to commend him to the -fastidious eye, except his frank, noble face, his honest, -fearless eyes and his manly bearing.</p> - -<p>“One did not mind his lack of suitable clothing,” she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -went on earnestly, “as one looked into his countenance -and read there the truth and integrity of his character, -and he had the finest eyes I ever saw. I am sure, -though, that he had had a hard life, for he said he had -been bound out to a man on a farm when he was thirteen -years old for four years, but that his time was almost -up, and then he was going to try to get a college -education. Some gentlemen on the train took up a -collection to give him a start. There was quite a generous -sum raised—I don’t know just how much, but almost -everybody was glad to do something to manifest -their gratitude, and when we reached New Haven the -money was presented to him, and he was then sent -home in a hack.”</p> - -<p>“Really! Then the young rustic rode in state for -once in his life,” Phil here interposed, with an ill-concealed -sneer, and Mollie wondered at the malice in -his tone and what could have made his face grow so -startlingly pale.</p> - -<p>“Yes, and why shouldn’t he?” she demanded spiritedly, -for his words and manner grated upon her. “Just -think what he had done—prevented a terrible accident, -saved thousands of dollars’ worth of property and the -lives, doubtless, of many people; and, besides, he was -completely exhausted by his efforts, and it would have -been a shame to have allowed him to get back to his -home in the country as best he could. Why, if a fortune -had been raised for him there on the spot, it would -not have been an adequate return. He was a hero, he -had done a deed to be proud of, and for which he -should be honored all his life; and he was so modest<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span> -about it, too—as if he had only been chopping wood to -make a fire! Why, Phil, I’d rather do a deed like that -than have all the wealth and social honors of the world -heaped upon me!” Mollie concluded, with gleaming -eyes and glowing cheeks.</p> - -<p>“Well, but about the ring; was it to this—‘hero’ that -you gave it?” questioned Philip, in a peculiar tone.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” Mollie exclaimed, a silvery laugh rippling -over her lips. “I had become so interested in telling -the story that I had forgotten all about the ring. Yes. -I was so grateful that I wanted to make it manifest personally, -and I went to him, when we arrived in New -Haven, thanked him, and asked him to accept the -cameo as a memento of my gratitude.”</p> - -<p>“Did you learn the name of this most wonderful of -heroes?” queried Philip sarcastically.</p> - -<p>Mollie sat suddenly erect, stung to the quick and -flushing indignantly at the satirical fling.</p> - -<p>“Why do you speak so slightingly about him, -Philip?” she cried; “don’t you love to hear about brave -deeds? Aren’t you glad to know that there are such -noble and heroic souls in the world?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, of course. Did I speak slightingly? You -must pardon me, but, truly, Mollie, I was somewhat -amused, in view of your enthusiasm over this valorous -backwoodsman,” Philip replied, with a laugh that had -something of mockery in it.</p> - -<p>“I think I have reason to be enthusiastic,” the fair -girl coldly responded. “Yes,” she added, “I did learn -the young man’s name—Clifford Faxon, he gave it, -and I wish——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, what do you wish?” her companion demanded, -and finding it difficult to control himself as -she had pronounced the name he so hated, notwithstanding -he had been prepared to hear it.</p> - -<p>“I wish that I might meet him again. I would like -to know if he attempted to go through college, and, if -so, what success he is having,” said Mollie, with an -earnest look on her face. “I am sure he will ultimately -succeed in whatever he undertakes, for there was -strength of purpose written on every line of his handsome -face.”</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth gnawed his lip until the blood -started, and a cruel, steellike glitter flashed into his eyes -at this. He was furious, in view of the girl’s interest -in the young man whom he had hated for years. It -galled him almost beyond endurance to hear Clifford -Faxon’s praises sounded by every one who knew him, -but Mollie’s encomiums drove him almost to the verge -of madness, and he was determined that she should -never learn that Faxon had been a classmate of his—she -should never meet her hero again if he could -help it.</p> - -<p>To be sure, he had said that he could never marry a -poor girl; but there was a bare possibility that Mr. -Heatherford might retrieve his fallen fortunes, and, in -such an event, he would be only too eager to make -Mollie his wife. He was beginning to feel that life -would be very blank to him without her. Her beauty, -her brilliant accomplishments, her amiable, yet spirited -disposition, her high standard of life and its pursuits all -made him realize that she was a woman to be worshiped,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> -and that she had won a place in his heart which -could never be given to another.</p> - -<p>These feelings were intensified and his fiercest jealousy -aroused by her openly acknowledged admiration -for Clifford Faxon. He had been stung by Gertrude -Athol’s praise of and friendliness for him; but that had -been as nothing when compared with his present feelings -upon hearing his name so reverently spoken by -Mollie, and with that indescribable look on her fair -face. He was, however, obliged to conceal his ire -from her, and presently turning his canoe and changing -the topic at the same time, they drifted slowly down -the stream with the current toward the landing, and -ere long were on the train back to town.</p> - -<p>Another week slipped swiftly by, and as Miss Athol -had returned to Buffalo, Phil had more time to devote -to Mollie, of whom he became more and more enamored -with every passing day; and as she always -drew out all that was best in him, she little dreamed -what grave defects there were in his character, and -appeared to enjoy his society and gratefully appreciated -his efforts to make her visit pleasant.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple watched the couple with ever-increasing -anxiety, and wished from her heart that something -would occur to cut the Heatherfords’ visit short before -irreparable mischief resulted. One morning she sought -her son, and gravely cautioned him.</p> - -<p>“Phil, you really must not do anything rash,” she -said. “Mollie is the nicest girl in the world, I am willing -to admit, but you can’t be saddled with a poor wife. -Your income, though fair, will not admit of it, with<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span> -your tastes, and Mollie’s are expensive, too. If this -last venture of Mr. Heatherford’s should fall through, -he will be utterly ruined and the girl a beggar; so take -care!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose that is good advice from a worldly point -of view,” the young man responded, “but she is, as you -have said, the very nicest girl in the world, and it is a -deuced shame that the old man has lost his money; confound -it!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple looked startled at this outburst, and -well she might, for she could plainly read in Phil’s pale, -pain-drawn face the story of his life, and knew that he -had given his whole heart into Mollie Heatherford’s -keeping.</p> - -<p>“Phil!” she cried regretfully. “I am sorry I ever -asked them here. I never would have had them come -if I had known, and I shall be glad when they go. But -you must not make a fatal mistake. Suppose you make -some excuses to go away; take a trip to the Adirondacks, -or go West for a while?”</p> - -<p>Phil gave vent to a hollow laugh.</p> - -<p>“Suppose, on the other hand, that, mothlike, I prefer -to flutter around the candle and get singed?” he -recklessly returned, as he saw that his mother had read -his secret. “Or suppose that I should be inclined to -turn over a new leaf, settle down to some business, and -be willing to work for the girl I love?”</p> - -<p>“Phil!” gasped Mrs. Temple again, and growing -pale herself at his strange mood. “Are you really so -far gone as that? I believe I shall insist upon your -going away, for I never will consent to let you marry a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -beggar, though I’ll own I’m very fond of Mollie myself, -and should be proud of her as a daughter if she -only had money enough to sustain the style she has -always been accustomed to. Where is your pride, -Philip Wentworth, that you are willing to spoil your -whole life?”</p> - -<p>If she could but have known it, she was missing the -grandest, most precious opportunity of her life, for the -scales that held her son’s future in the balance were on -the point of tipping toward a better and nobler manhood, -and had she wisely and tenderly dropped a few -words of sympathy and encouragement into the love-laden -heart laid bare before her, she might have -wrought a marvelous change, and saved both herself -and him much suffering and remorse.</p> - -<p>But those last, arrogant words did their work. The -young man sprang to his feet and shook himself as if -just awakening from a dream.</p> - -<p>“Never you fear, mother,” he said, with a careless -toss of his head, “the Wentworth name shall never -suffer in that way through any fault of mine. I reckon -I can look out for myself; but I’m not going away—the -Heatherfords would think it very strange, and I -have a curiosity to see how the old gentleman’s venture -turns out—if he should make a corner, why, I should -be on hand to improve my opportunity.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple was not quite satisfied that he could -“look out for himself” in the way she desired; but she -felt that she had said enough for the present, and so -allowed the matter to drop.</p> - -<p>A day or two later there came a drenching rain,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> -when, of course, there could be no excursion or sightseeing, -and everybody was shut within doors; at least, -after luncheon no one ventured out.</p> - -<p>Mr. Temple and Mr. Heatherford were playing billiards -up-stairs, and Mrs. Temple was in her own room -reading to Minnie, who had been indisposed for a day -or two.</p> - -<p>Mollie and Phil were alone in the library, where, for -a time, they amused themselves by looking over a collection -of views and photographs, among which were -many of Phil’s classmates and college friends. While -they were thus engaged one of the programs of the recent -commencement exercises at Harvard was found -among them. Mollie picked it up and began to look it -over.</p> - -<p>At first Phil did not notice what she had, for he was -searching for the likeness of a friend of whom they had -been talking, and which he wished her to see. He -found it at last, and turned to her with the picture in -his hand, when, as he caught sight of the program, his -heart gave a great, startled bound, and he grew cold -as ice.</p> - -<p>He knew that if Mollie should look it carefully -through she would find Clifford Faxon’s name there, -learn that he had been a classmate of his, how he had -distinguished himself, and, worse than all, how he—Phil—had -wilfully concealed these facts from her.</p> - -<p>What should he do? How get it away from her -before the mischief was done?</p> - -<p>“What have you there, Mollie?” he inquired, assuming -an indifferent tone. “Oh, it is the commencement<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span> -program,” he added. “Come, don’t get absorbed -in that just now, there will be time enough by and by -to look it over, and I want you, who are so clever at -reading faces, to tell me what you think of this.”</p> - -<p>He playfully laid hold of the booklet in her hands -and attempted to withdraw it from her.</p> - -<p>She tightened her grasp upon it, for almost at that -instant she had caught sight of the name which he was -so anxious to keep from her.</p> - -<p>She started slightly as she comprehended the situation; -then her beautiful eyes flashed up to her companion’s -face, and he shrank back from the scorn in -them as if from a blow.</p> - -<p>Mollie was as pale as marble, but there was a -haughty poise to her small head, and a sudden stiffening -of her whole form that actually made him cringe -before her.</p> - -<p>“Why did you not tell me that Clifford Faxon was a -classmate of yours?” she demanded in icy tones.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.<br /> -<span class="smaller">PHILIP WENTWORTH PUT ON PROBATION.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Philip Wentworth had never felt meaner in all his -life than at that moment, when he realized that his -duplicity was exposed, and that the girl whose esteem, -of all others, he cared most to preserve had found him -out, if not exactly as a liar, as having been wilfully and -contemptibly deceptive. He flushed crimson, and then -grew as pale as Mollie herself, but he was dumb before -her for the moment, and could find no voice to answer -her imperative demand.</p> - -<p>“Why did you keep it from me?” she questioned -again. “What object could you have had in wishing -to keep me in ignorance of that which you knew would -give me great pleasure to learn? Why could you not -be generous to your classmate, and give a hard-working, -worthy young man the honor which belongs to -him?</p> - -<p>“So,” she continued, as he still sat mute before her, -and dropping her eyes again upon the program, “Clifford -Faxon has completed his college course and distinguished -himself, as I knew he would. I was sure -that there was power, determination, and perseverance -above the average in his character. Oh, I wish I could -have come to Boston a day earlier, attended commencement, -and heard his oration.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span></p> - -<p>She sat lost in thought for a moment or two, a look -of keen disappointment on her beautiful face. Then -turning suddenly to her companion again, she briefly -inquired:</p> - -<p>“Where is Mr. Faxon now?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know; he left town the day after commencement,” -Philip returned in a tone of constraint.</p> - -<p>“Is his picture among these?” eagerly questioned -Mollie, and touching the pile of photographs between -them.</p> - -<p>Philip started as if he had been stung, and his lips -curled like an angry dog’s.</p> - -<p>“Assuredly not,” he loftily responded.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry; I should like to see him as he looks to-day, -though I am sure he cannot have changed enough -to prevent me from recognizing him if I should meet -him anywhere,” Mollie observed, and her every word -cut her listener like a lash. “But you have not told me, -Phil, why you kept from me the fact that he was at -Harvard with you. Have you a grudge against him? -I wondered why you appeared so strangely the other -day when I was telling you about him; wondered how -you could listen so indifferently to the story of his wonderful -heroism and speak so sneeringly of him; and -then, when you knew all the time of whom I was talking, -and how glad I would have been to learn more -about him, to pretend ignorance and deceive me! I am -inclined to be very angry with you.”</p> - -<p>Her words, her tone, her looks, were simply maddening -to him, and he turned to her with a gesture of passionate -appeal.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span></p> - -<p>“Mollie! Mollie! Don’t speak to me in that tone; -don’t condemn me utterly; don’t annihilate me quite -with your scornful eyes,” he pleaded in a voice that -was almost shrill from mingled rage and wounded feeling. -“I did not tell you that I knew Clifford Faxon—I -withheld all information regarding him because I—I -was jealous of him.”</p> - -<p>“Jealous! Why, Phil!” exclaimed the startled girl, -her look of scorn and indignation merged into one of -undisguised amazement.</p> - -<p>“Yes; furiously, madly jealous of him,” Philip hotly -returned, every pulse in his body beating like trip-hammers, -while he recklessly threw all discretion to the -winds, “for, Mollie, I love you, and it drove me wild -to have to listen to your enthusiastic praises of that -low-born fellow; to be told that you had given him the -ring which I had coveted—which I had begged of you, -and you had refused to bestow upon me.</p> - -<p>“Darling, have you not suspected this,” he went on, -forgetting for the moment everything save the fact that -he loved her with all the passion of his nature, and -must win some response from her or go mad, “have you -not seen that you are more to me than all the world? -Do you not know that I have always loved you? Have -you forgotten how, when we were children playing together -under the elms on the banks of the Hudson, I -vowed that I should always love you, and that when -we grew up I should claim you?</p> - -<p>“Forgive me for deceiving you about Faxon,” he -went on, with assumed humility, for he realized that he -must eat humble pie before she would pardon his duplicity;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -“of course I knew, when you were telling me -about that railway accident, of whom you were speaking; -but some perverse little devil held me silent, and -now I am found out and punished for it. Dearest, tell -me that you forgive me, and that you return my love; -for, Mollie, from the moment we met, after your return, -all the old-time affection revived with a hundredfold -intensity, and—and I just cannot live without -you.”</p> - -<p>He had gradually drawn nearer her while speaking, -and now, seizing her hands, drew them to his breast -and held them there, while he searched the sweet, -down-cast, but very grave, face before him.</p> - -<p>She had flushed crimson when he began to pour -forth his torrent of love; then the color had gradually -receded, leaving her pale and with an expression of -mingled pain and perplexity on her face.</p> - -<p>For a moment they sat thus, and not a word was -spoken. Then Mollie lifted her head and looked her -lover full in the eye, her own seeming to search his -very soul.</p> - -<p>“Sweetheart, tell me you forgive me,” Phil whispered -passionately, and unable to endure that penetrating -look; “remember my love for you made me sin.”</p> - -<p>Mollie smiled slightly, and the color began to creep -toward her temples again, for what woman can listen -unmoved to such a confession of love for her?—but she -still studied his face, and appeared to be thinking -deeply.</p> - -<p>“You do forgive—you do love me, Mollie!” Phil -burst forth eagerly, as he noted the smile and blush.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p> - -<p>He stretched forth his arms, and would have -gathered her into them, but she gently repulsed him -and moved a little away from him.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Phil, I forgive you as far as any wrong -against me is concerned; at the same time, I must say -that I think you have been very unfair to Mr. Faxon.”</p> - -<p>Phil ground his heels into the carpet at this reference -to Clifford, while he secretly wished that they had been -planted upon his enemy’s handsome face.</p> - -<p>“As for the other matter,” Mollie continued reflectively, -“I—I cannot say just now whether I love you or -not.”</p> - -<p>“Mollie!”</p> - -<p>“Nay, do not be so impatient, Phil,” she interposed -with smiling reproof, her color deepening again; “but -wait and let me be perfectly frank with you. When I -returned I confess I looked forward very eagerly to -meeting you; our earthly friendship and our correspondence -have, of course, governed my thought of you -during my absence, and I have often found myself -wondering just how we would resume our—acquaintance. -You have been very nice to me, Phil, during my -visit. I find you”—flashing him an arch look—“very -attractive personally, delightfully entertaining, and -well versed in all those little attentions and observances -of etiquette that usually make men attractive to women; -but—I wish you had not spoken just yet, for I am not -prepared to define my own feelings toward you. I -want to know you—the real you, your inner self, a little -better before I can be sure where I stand, or make -you any promises. And, Phil, you must never attempt<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -to deceive me again,” she interposed, a shadow falling -over her face; “I—I cannot bear anything of the kind, -and nothing would sooner establish an impassable -barrier between us.”</p> - -<p>“I will not, dear—I promise I will not,” Philip murmured, -with well-assumed humility. “But, oh, Mollie! -this uncertainty seems cruel and unendurable. How -long must I wait before you will tell me what I want -to know?”</p> - -<p>“I cannot say, Phil,” Mollie kindly but thoughtfully -replied. “I like you right well in many ways, though -what has just occurred has been like a dash of cold -water over me; but liking is not love, you know, and -you will have to be patient until I know my own heart.”</p> - -<p>He snatched one of her hands again and kissed it -passionately. Her reticence and the uncertainty of his -suit only served to make him so much the more determined -to win a confession of love from her, even -though he knew that he was liable to change his mind -later and break her heart; though, to his credit be it -said, there were times when better impulses moved -him, and he vowed that he would marry her in spite -of his mother—in spite of his own pride and love of -worldly wealth, prestige, and ease.</p> - -<p>“I will try to be patient,” he said, “but do not make -the test too hard.”</p> - -<p>He devoted himself to her more assiduously than -ever after that, and was so guarded in his behavior -and so congenial in every way during the few remaining -days of Mollie’s visit that she began to tell herself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> -that she did love him, and was sometimes tempted to -speak a word of encouragement to him.</p> - -<p>But something held her back—she never went beyond -a certain limit, although she was as kind and -sweet and charming as ever.</p> - -<p>Mr. and Mrs. Temple also showed their guests all -due courtesy and attention while they remained with -them; but they experienced a feeling of intense relief -when they announced the day of their departure, for -both realized the danger of Phil’s infatuation. They -were somewhat chagrined, however, when Mr. Heatherford -informed them that they would remain in Boston -for the present—until some matters of business -were settled, he said, with a quick, anxious glance at -Mr. Temple which caused that gentleman to change -color a trifle—and would make their home at the -Adams House.</p> - -<p>As soon as they were gone, Mrs. Temple persuaded -Phil, though evidently against his will, to accompany -her and her husband to Newport for the month of -August. She then tried to entice him to the Adirondacks -for another four weeks, but this he refused to -do, and returned immediately to Boston, where he at -once began to dance attendance upon Mollie again, -though he constantly fretted and fumed within himself -because he appeared to make no progress in his -suit.</p> - -<p>He sometimes wondered why he allowed himself to -be so absorbed in his pursuit of her, when there were -plenty of girls with large expectations—Gertrude<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span> -among others—who would have said “Yes” without -presuming to impose probation upon him.</p> - -<p>But Mollie’s rare beauty intoxicated him; her brilliancy -and versatility dazzled him, while her persistent -reticence, more than all else, made him her slave. She -would not allow him to make love to her. Whenever -he approached the forbidden topic she would invariably -interrupt him with some irrelevant remark, or with a -reproving smile and shake of her head.</p> - -<p>“For Heaven’s sake, Mollie! how long is this to go -on?” he burst forth one day, after a repulse like this, -and for the moment losing all self-control.</p> - -<p>“I cannot tell, Phil—until I know,” she gently returned. -“Or,” she added, with a grave look into his -clouded eyes, “if I weary you with this uncertainty, do -not hesitate to tell me so, and we will part—friends.”</p> - -<p>“Mollie! Mollie! How you torture me!” he cried -at this. “Life to me would not be worth the living -apart from you.” And he believed that he really meant -it.</p> - -<p>She sighed regretfully, and a shade of sadness stole -over her face. She realized that she was trying him -severely, but she was not “sure” even yet, and she -would not be untrue to herself or wrong him by professing -an affection which she did not feel, although -there were times when she was almost on the point of -yielding.</p> - -<p>“I am very sure I have never met any young man -whom I like as well as Phil,” she would sometimes admit, -when discussing the subject with herself, “but I -do not feel, as he says,’that I cannot live without him.’<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span> -In fact, I am sure I could be happier without him than -without my father, and I know”—a queer little smile -flitting over her lips—“that is not the right attitude for -a girl to maintain toward the man she expects to marry. -Besides, I cannot get at Phil—he eludes, he evades me, -he does not reveal his real self to me.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford and his daughter were most comfortably -located in pleasant rooms in the Adams House, -and they were very happy together, although there -were times when Mollie was conscious that her father -was weighted with a load of anxiety that was well-nigh -crushing him.</p> - -<p>But she did everything in her power to cheer and -amuse him when he was with her, coaxing him into -the country while the bright October days lasted as -often as she could, and playing cribbage and other -games when they were alone evenings.</p> - -<p>During business hours, when he was absent, she employed -the time in earnest and faithful study to perfect -herself in certain branches which she surmised might -be useful to her in the near future.</p> - -<p>After Mr. and Mrs. Temple’s return from the Adirondacks, -Mollie became conscious of a decided coolness -in their manner toward herself and her father, although -they were always courteous whenever they -chanced to meet.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Temple seldom called—she was “so busy with -club engagements, receptions, etc.,” she gave as an excuse, -and so, of course, Mollie scarcely ever went out -to Brookline.</p> - -<p>She thought it strange that Mrs. Temple never asked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span> -her to drive, or offered to introduce her to, or chaperon -her in, society; but she tried to think that these omissions -were caused by thoughtlessness rather than by intentional -neglect.</p> - -<p>Her father seldom mentioned Mr. Temple’s name -during those days, but grew more and more grave and -silent, losing both flesh and appetite, while she could -hear him tossing restlessly at night, and then he would -rise in the morning, pale, haggard, and with heavy -eyes.</p> - -<p>Of course, these things made Mollie anxious and -miserable, and she could not account for them; but she -did not like to question her father, knowing well -enough that he would confide in her when the right -time arrived, and she strove to be patient and cheerful -whenever she was in his presence.</p> - -<p>But there came a day when she understood it all, -and the shock which came with the revelation was a -rude and cruel one to the sweet and trusting girl.</p> - -<p>She went out one morning to do some shopping—but, -oh! how glad she was afterward that she had -been unable to find what she wanted, and so had -brought back unbroken the crisp bills which her father -had given her—and on her return found her father sitting -in a rigid attitude by a window and looking dazed -and strange.</p> - -<p>“Why, papa! it is unusual for you to come home at -this hour!” she observed as she went to him and kissed -him on the forehead, while she strove to conceal the -nervous trembling which had seized her. “Are you<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -ill, dear?” she concluded, and tenderly smoothed his -hair, which had whitened rapidly of late.</p> - -<p>He turned his white, haggard face to her, and tried -to smile reassuringly; but it was an effort that nearly -broke her heart.</p> - -<p>“No, my darling, I am not ill; but I am—ruined; we -are beggars!” he said in a voice that shook and quivered -like that of a man ninety years old.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">MR. HEATHERFORD RUINED.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>“Beggars! Ruined!” repeated Mollie, with a wondering -intonation, as if she could not really comprehend -the meaning of the words.</p> - -<p>She had known that her father had lost a great deal -of money; that he had been greatly distressed over -business complications; but, notwithstanding, their -every want had been supplied—every comfort and -luxury had been theirs up to this time, and she had no -more conception of the meaning of the word poverty, -from a practical standpoint, than an unreasoning child.</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear,” Mr. Heatherford responded to her exclamation; -“my last venture has failed—collapsed—and -I am, so to speak, ruined. Oh, my darling, I could -bear it for myself, but to have your life blighted at the -time when it should be the brightest—to have all your -future prospects blasted—crushes me to the earth.”</p> - -<p>Mollie lifted one white hand and laid it caressingly -against her father’s cheek.</p> - -<p>“Hush, dearie! Do not talk like that,” she said in -a tone of gentle reproof; “you make me feel ashamed, -to be regarded as such a tender exotic.” Then she -inquired gravely: “What was this ‘last venture’ to -which you refer?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span></p> - -<p>The man glanced curiously up at her; then, taking -her hand from his cheek, he drew it around to his lips -and kissed it.</p> - -<p>“Never mind, Goldenrod, what it was; you would -not understand it if I should tell you,” he said evasively.</p> - -<p>“All the same, I want you to tell me, if you please, -papa, and I will try to understand,” Mollie returned, -with quiet decision, adding: “I have heard you speak -of it to Mr. Temple, and I have a curiosity to know -more about it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it was connected with—stocks,” Mr. Heatherford -reluctantly admitted, and changing color slightly.</p> - -<p>“Oh! was it ‘trading in futures,’ as I heard Phil express -it one day, when you were all discussing stocks?” -questioned Mollie.</p> - -<p>Her companion bent a glance of surprise upon her.</p> - -<p>“Well, yes; something of that kind,” he said, while -a bitter smile curled his lips.</p> - -<p>“Did—did you lose very much that way, papa?”</p> - -<p>“Several thousands, although three years ago I -should have regarded the amount as but a drop out -of the bucket; but now, since it has taken almost my -last dollar, it seems a great deal,” the unhappy man -replied, with a sigh.</p> - -<p>“Papa, excuse me,” and the girl flushed vividly as -she spoke, “but isn’t ‘dealing in futures’ a—one way of -gambling? Of course, I do not know much about such -things, but I listened quite attentively one day when -you were talking with Mr. Temple—I think he was explaining -some method in which he was interested—and -it seemed to me very much like a game of chance.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span></p> - -<p>“It is, my darling,” said Mr. Heatherford, with a -flush of shame, “and I have always said that it is a disreputable -business, and thousands of men are annually -ruined by it, homes are made desolate, while half the -cases of suicide in the world result from the despair -which just such ruin as now stares me in the face -entails.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa!” sharply cried the fair girl, and growing -deathly pale, while she searched his face with a -look of horror in her eyes. The man drew her arm -around his neck and held it there with a grip which -seemed to her startled heart to indicate that he was -clinging to her for salvation from the very despair of -which he had spoken. But he did not appear to heed -her cry and continued with the same hopeless note in -his tone, and with something of scorn, also:</p> - -<p>“I would never have believed, even a year ago, that -I could ever sink to such a level; for I had only contempt -for such measures and for men who have made -their fortunes in that way; but when I found everything -going against me and my resources fast dwindling -to nothing, I grew wild to retrieve myself, chiefly -for your sake, however. I could not endure the -thought that you, who had always had every wish -gratified—who had known nothing but luxury, and -floated upon the topmost wave of prosperity—you who -are so fitted to shine in society, should be reduced to -poverty, and so, at Mr. Temple’s suggestion, I ventured -my last dollar on one throw, and—have lost.”</p> - -<p>“Papa, did Mr. Temple advise you to do this?” -questioned Mollie, with a start of surprise.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, and that is not the worst of it, either,” the -man bitterly returned. “However, that fact does not -excuse me for having yielded to such advice.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by saying, ‘that is not the worst -of it?’” queried Mollie, who had caught the peculiar -flash that leaped into his eyes as he said it.</p> - -<p>“Don’t ask me, dear,” he returned, with a sudden -compression of his lips. “I should not have said that—it -escaped me unawares.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind; tell me everything, papa,” the girl persisted, -and determined to get to the bottom of the matter, -“even if you have lost all your money, you haven’t -lost me, and I am egotistical enough to fancy that I am -more to you than fortune.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, you are, my darling; more than many fortunes!” -Richard Heatherford cried as he snatched her -to his breast and covered her face with kisses. “Oh, -Goldenrod, my life would not be worth living without -you!”</p> - -<p>“And it will be worth living with me, papa—oh, -papa!” Mollie murmured as she clung to him, her -eyes fastened upon his face with a nameless fear in -their blue depths that smote him to the soul.</p> - -<p>“Mollie!” he gasped as her meaning flashed upon -him, “surely you did not think I would be guilty of -that! No, no, Buttercup—my one priceless treasure, -as long as God wills, my life will be very precious to -me for your sake. When I said that half the suicides -in the world were caused by just such despair as mine, -I had no thought of anything like that. Do not fear, -love, I could never be such a coward.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span></p> - -<p>The beautiful girl stood up tall and straight, her -face now shining with love and happiness.</p> - -<p>“Then, since we are all in all to each other, why -should we be discouraged—why grieve for what you -have lost?” she cried in a voice that had a strange, exultant -thrill in its sweetness. “Who cares for luxury, -for society’s smile or frown, or to ride upon the topmost -wave of prosperity? I do not, papa, truly, and, -to be frank with you, I have long dreaded the time -when you would expect me to take a prominent place -in society. It all seems very hollow and unsatisfying -to me, and, during the last four years, while I have -been studying so hard, I have dreamed fond dreams of -some time putting my knowledge to some practical use. -Now, dearest, do not let us look back with a single -regret—you are in the prime of life; I am young and -strong. I have a good education and I know I can -turn it to some account, so let us begin life together, -find some cozy nook in which to make a simple home. -I will apply at once for a position to teach—I have -some fine vouchers from those Heidelberg professors, -you know—and, after you have had time to pull yourself -together a little, perhaps something in the way -of business will commend itself to you.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford had listened to his daughter with -ever-increasing wonder, and when she concluded he -regarded her with undisguised astonishment, mingled -with admiration. It was a revelation and an inspiration -to him to find the beautiful and delicately reared -girl so thoroughly practical, so brave and unselfish,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -in view of what had seemed a most appalling situation, -and he was also deeply moved.</p> - -<p>“Mollie!” he tremulously exclaimed as he held out -both hands to her, “what a dear little comforter you -are! You are a veritable staff of pure and solid gold, -and you have lifted a load from my heart that was -well-nigh crushing me. I thought it would break your -heart to give up our beautiful home in New York, our -summer place in Newport, the horses and carriages, -rich dresses, and the thousand and one pretty things -which you have always been accustomed to. But you -have proved yourself a noble-hearted heroine, and I -am prouder of you than if you had been crowned a -queen. Mollie, it seems incredible, but my heart has -not been so light for many months. I am happy, in -spite of all,” and the proud, long-tried man dropped -his head upon his daughter’s shoulder, while a sob of -infinite relief burst from his surcharged and grateful -heart.</p> - -<p>Mollie’s lovely eyes were swimming in tears, but she -bravely blinked them away, while a clear and silvery -laugh rippled over her red lips.</p> - -<p>“Papa,” she said, while she softly smoothed the -hair away from his temple, “do you remember that -boy who saved the train from being wrecked near New -Haven, four years ago, to whom you sent the check?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, dear; but what makes you think of him at -this time?” inquired Mr. Heatherford, and, looking up -with sudden interest, for he had not thought of the -incident for a long while.</p> - -<p>Mollie flushed brightly as she replied:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span></p> - -<p>“He does seem rather irrelevant to the subject, I -know; but I remember that I thought he must have -been the happiest fellow in the world to have been -such a hero at that time. You know I have always -been something of a worshiper of brave and noble -deeds, and to be regarded as a ‘hero’ has been to set -one on a pinnacle, in my estimation. And now you -have called me a ‘heroine,’ and I am proud and happy, -even though I have done nothing to deserve the praise -except to speak a few comforting words to my own -dear father.”</p> - -<p>“A few comforting words!” repeated Mr. Heatherford, -in unsteady tones. “My child, do you so underestimate -what you have done? You have shown to-day -that spirit of utter self-abnegation which alone -animates all heroes, and you can never realize how -much it means to me, for you have inspired me with -new life and fresh courage. God bless you, my -precious daughter!”</p> - -<p>He kissed her tenderly, almost reverently, on the -lips, and truly felt that God had indeed been good to -him—even though he had been stripped of every dollar -in the world—in leaving him this brave, pure, and -loving girl to live for.</p> - -<p>Both were too deeply moved for speech for a few -moments; but Mollie finally disengaged herself from -her father’s embrace, and, forcing him back into his -chair, drew another for herself to his side.</p> - -<p>“Now, papa, let us get down to the practical again,” -she observed, with a smile, “for I want you to explain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span> -this business a little more fully to me. Will there be -any debts?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford’s eyes actually gleamed with -amusement at the question, for he could scarcely believe -that Mollie realized the import of the word.</p> - -<p>“No, dear,” he returned; “I think not. Of course, -I shall give up everything, and my real estate, though -heavily mortgaged, together with what personal property -I hold, will, I am sure, be sufficient to meet all -my obligations.”</p> - -<p>“That is lovely!” said Mollie, with animation, “for -a lot of debts would have made our burdens so much -heavier for the future; besides, no opprobrium will rest -upon our name if you do not have to fail. You needn’t -laugh, papa”—as she caught his smile—“for I really -am not such an ignoramus as you might think. But -I suppose it will be best for us to get away from this -expensive hotel as soon as possible.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and we must go back to New York immediately, -for it will be necessary to notify my creditors -and make arrangements to settle with them.”</p> - -<p>“All right, dearie; I can be ready to leave this very -evening, if you wish,” said Mollie briskly, and her -father wondered more and more as the reserve force -of this tenderly nurtured girl was made manifest to -him.</p> - -<p>“I think we will wait until to-morrow night, and go -by boat, for I have to see Mr. Temple again before I -leave,” Mr. Heatherford replied, and his face hardened -suddenly as he spoke the man’s name.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Mollie, who was quickly observant of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span> -change in him, “and that reminds me that you have -not yet told me what you meant by ‘the worst,’ in connection -with Mr. Temple.”</p> - -<p>“Sweetheart, I should never have spoken as I did—that -was an unfortunate slip,” her father replied, and -feeling that, if Mollie was ever to assume closer relations -with the Temple family, it were better that she -did not know too much.</p> - -<p>“But, having made the ‘slip,’ papa, and aroused my -curiosity, it leaves me to imagine all sorts of dreadful -things if I am kept in the dark,” she persisted, adding: -“Besides, I have realized of late that something was -wrong in connection with the Temples, and wondered -what could have occasioned the change in their manner -toward us.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, perhaps it will be best, having said so -much, to tell you that the money which I have recently -lost has all gone into Mr. Temple’s pockets.”</p> - -<p>“Papa! Are you sure? And he advised you to -make this venture!” cried Mollie, aghast at such apparent -treachery.</p> - -<p>“Yes, there can be no doubt about it, though I -learned the fact only this morning, and that was what -hurt me most.”</p> - -<p>“I should think so, indeed. And he has pretended to -be your friend—has even entertained you in his own -home while leading you on!” exclaimed the indignant -girl, with blazing eyes, her face and tone expressing -infinite scorn. “Truly it has been the tragedy of the -‘spider and the fly’ enacted in real life!”</p> - -<p>“Do not forget, dear, that the unwary ‘fly’ deserves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span> -his share of condemnation for having allowed himself -to be so hoodwinked,” said Mr. Heatherford, with a -bitterness which betrayed how keen was his mortification -at having become entangled in the net which had -ruined him.</p> - -<p>“Oh! but one would never dream of being so -‘wounded in the house of one’s friends,’” retorted Mollie, -with supreme contempt.</p> - -<p>“And yet a great deal of Mr. Temple’s money, I -am told, has been acquired by these doubtful methods. -It is said that he got a fine start in some Western -mines, after which he went to San Francisco, where -he established himself as a banker. After he came to -Boston he also put out his sign as a ‘banker,’ but I -learned to-day that he has another office in the city -where he operates in the dark in a different business, -and that many a man is stripped of his last dollar by -him.”</p> - -<p>“How dreadful!” said Mollie, with an expression of -disgust.</p> - -<p>“It was to this office that I was taken and introduced -to a gentleman with whom, Mr. Temple informed me, -he had long had successful dealings. He spoke only -truth, however, for it turns out that the man is his -own agent.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, papa! that is worse and worse!” cried his listener, -aghast. “I never would have dreamed of anything -so dishonorable of him—he has always seemed a -perfect gentleman.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and yet there have been times when I have -observed a cruel look in his eyes and about his mouth,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> -said Mr. Heatherford. “Of course, I have never known -anything about the man until within the last few years, -but I supposed him to be at least a gentleman. However, -the lesson he has taught me, though dearly paid -for, has, I trust, been salutary, while it has also revealed -to me the fact that I possess a hundredfold -richer mine of wealth and heart of gold in you, my -darling, than I ever dreamed was mine.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.<br /> -<span class="smaller">AFFLICTION OVERTAKES MOLLIE.</span></h2> - -</div> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford sought an interview with Mr. -Temple the morning following his revelations to Mollie, -when he did not hesitate to inform that gentleman, -much to his surprise, that he had discovered by whom, -and by what methods, he had been fleeced of his last -dollar.</p> - -<p>Mr. Temple attempted to deny the impeachment; -but there was so much of embarrassment and of conscious -guilt in his manner that he stood self-convicted. -He had been wholly unprepared for such a disclosure, -and, consequently, was taken off his guard, while he -was evidently deeply chagrined to learn that the secret -of his blind operations had been discovered.</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford had his say out in a quiet, dignified, -but impressive manner, after which he bade the -man good day, and left him to chew the cud of reflection, -which he did in no enviable frame of mind.</p> - -<p>Of course, Mrs. Temple and Philip were in ignorance -of Mr. Temple’s agency in Mr. Heatherford’s -misfortune—indeed, they knew nothing of his methods -of doing business—and, upon learning that Mollie and -her father were to leave for New York that evening, -Mollie having sent a messenger with a brief explanatory -note to Brookline, to get a box that had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span> -stored there, they drove in town to pay them a farewell -visit.</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford was out, but Mollie received them -courteously and strove to entertain them graciously, -and yet the visit was formal and constrained; for the -power of thought is mightier than the tongue, and -Mrs. Temple’s mental attitude, in spite of her surface -smiles and volubility, made itself felt.</p> - -<p>Phil threw something of the lover into his manner, -notwithstanding the warning glance from his mother, -at parting, and gave Mollie’s hand a lingering pressure -that was intended to speak volumes, while he observed, -as he loitered a moment after Mrs. Temple passed -from the room:</p> - -<p>“Mollie, I cannot bear to have you go like this; tell -me where to address you, and I will write.”</p> - -<p>“At the old home on Fifth Avenue, for the next -week or two; more than that I cannot tell you at present,” -she replied.</p> - -<p>“All right; you will hear from me very soon, and -you must write me an explanation of this sudden flitting—I -do not understand it at all,” Phil observed as, -with another hand-clasp, he hurried away at his -mother’s call from the hall.</p> - -<p>To do him justice, he was somewhat in the dark -regarding the unexpected departure of the Heatherfords. -He had attended Mollie to a concert the night -but one before, and, as she had known nothing of what -was before her, of course nothing was said about any -change, and the first intimation Phil had received was -when her note had come announcing her return to New<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -York that evening, and requesting that the “box” be -sent to the railway-station for a certain train.</p> - -<p>When he questioned his mother, she could tell him -nothing beyond the fact that she knew that Mr. -Heatherford’s “venture” had failed, and she supposed -he had got to get home and settle up his affairs as best -he could. Mrs. Temple would gladly have escaped -the ordeal of a leave-taking, but she knew she could -not do so without violating all rules of courtesy and -decency; so, calling upon Phil to attend her, and thus -prevent a “private interview and all nonsense” between -the young couple, she made her farewell call.</p> - -<p>Mollie and her father left on one of the Sound boats -that same evening, arriving in New York the following -morning, when they repaired at once to their -palatial home on Fifth Avenue, and which they immediately -proceeded to dismantle and make over, with -most of its treasures, to Mr. Heatherford’s creditors.</p> - -<p>Three days later all the world knew that the man -had lost his all, but that he would meet every dollar of -his liabilities, and thus leave a clean record and an untarnished -name behind him when he should drop out -of the social world, where he had so long held a prominent -position.</p> - -<p>Philip Wentworth wrote Mollie, as he had promised -to do, a few days after her departure; but there was -very little of the lover manifest in the studied sentences -which he indited, and Mollie’s lips curled involuntarily -with scorn, as, reading between the lines, -she realized that she had been wiser than she knew -when she had refused to commit herself by either confession<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> -or promise, to one who could not stand faithful -under the frowns of misfortune.</p> - -<p>She wrote a kind and friendly letter in reply, telling -him frankly just how she and her father were situated—that -they had lost everything, and were both -about to learn from practical experience what it meant -to have to work for a living.</p> - -<p>“But”—and there was an undercurrent of reserve -force and triumph in every line—“even though the future -seemed to point to a far humbler sphere in life -than they had ever known, she was by no means unhappy -in view of the prospect, for she hoped now to -learn just what she was best fitted for, and to prove -the mettle of which she was made.”</p> - -<p>There was no word or even hint of any tenderer sentiment -in her letter, and Philip Wentworth heaved a -sigh of relief as he read it, while he “thanked his lucky -stars” that she had reserved her answer to his rash -and impulsive proposal that day when they floated -down the sunlit Charles, and thus he had escaped an -entanglement that would have been exceedingly awkward -for him to have broken away from.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, such is the perversity of human nature, -he chafed in secret because he had failed to subjugate -the heart he had coveted most of all, and so add another -to the many victories of that kind which he flattered -himself he had won.</p> - -<p>He sent her a note of regret and condolence, and -intimated that he should expect to hear from her often, -and to be kept posted regarding any change of location,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -and hoped the time was not far distant when he should -see her again.</p> - -<p>But it was a long time after that before he heard -from her again, and henceforth his letters to Gertrude -Athol took on a tenderer tone, although he did not -definitely refer to any consummation of their hopes, -yet mentioned casually that he was contemplating getting -settled in some business as soon as he could find -a favorable opening.</p> - -<p>Mollie Heatherford, however, realized that her old-time -lover had proved recreant, even though he was -too cowardly to confess it. But she did not grieve for -him; she was far too busy, even if she had been inclined -to do so, during those trying days when she was assisting -her father in the settlement of his affairs and -superintending the packing of their household-furnishings -and treasures, which were to be sent to various -places to be sold.</p> - -<p>Not a murmur escaped her, not a sigh nor a tear, as -one after another of the dear and beautiful things were -removed from their accustomed places. She was cheerful, -sunny, and intensely practical through it all, and -chased many a gloomy cloud from her father’s brow -by a merry laugh, a sparkling jest, and now and then -by a mock reproof because he “didn’t obey orders from -his superior any better.”</p> - -<p>At last these sad duties were completed, and Mr. -Heatherford, having obtained through the influence of -a friend a situation in the post-office department at -Washington, they removed to that city, where, taking -a tiny house in a quiet but respectable locality, Mollie<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -became mistress of the very modest home which their -means would allow.</p> - -<p>The enterprising girl wanted to put in an immediate -application for a position as teacher in the public -schools, but her father would not listen to the project, -and appeared so sensitive upon the subject that she -finally yielded, though reluctantly, and tried to be -content with doing all in her power to make home -pleasant and attractive for him.</p> - -<p>And they were very happy, in spite of the great -change in their circumstances and manner of living. -They had only five rooms, but they were prettily, if -cheaply, furnished, with odd pieces which they had -been unable to dispose of when breaking up in New -York. Mollie proved herself a very thrifty and efficient -little housekeeper, and carefully followed the instructions -of an experienced colored woman who came -to help her for a few hours every day.</p> - -<p>Mollie Heatherford, untrained in domestic economy -as she was, cheerfully faced the changed conditions of -her life with a brave heart. The former heiress to -millions, the carefully nurtured idol of a loving father, -brought up from infancy in the lap of luxury, carefully -shielded from the rough side of the world, now faced -the stern battle of life as the daughter of a government -clerk with a true womanly spirit of independence and -determination.</p> - -<p>Mr. Heatherford’s salary proved to be ample for all -their needs, and they were even able to save something -from it every month.</p> - -<p>Mollie had begged a monthly allowance for household<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> -expenses, as soon as they were settled, and her -father had given her sixty dollars, reserving the remainder -of his income for rent and incidentals, and the -girl was jubilant at the end of the month when she -showed him a balance in her favor of fifteen dollars.</p> - -<p>“I will do even better than that next month, papa,” -she said with shining eyes, after she had made him go -over her neatly kept accounts with her, “for, of course, -I have made some mistakes during the last four weeks, -but Ellen knows how to make every penny count, and -I am learning something new every day.”</p> - -<p>But, as the winter passed and the sunny days of an -early spring warned them that summer would soon be -upon them, Mollie could see that, notwithstanding his -apparent cheerfulness, her father’s health was suffering -from the unaccustomed confinement of the winter. -He said he was well, but she knew that he was not, and -she watched him with jealous eyes. He rallied somewhat -during the month of his vacation, which they -spent in a quiet New England town by the sea. This -improvement, however, proved to be only temporary, -for, late in October, he was suddenly prostrated by -some affection of the brain which, from the outset, -baffled the physician who had been called to attend -him.</p> - -<p>Another doctor was called, but the change brought -no better results and Mollie grew wild with anxiety, as -she realized that, in spite of everything, her dear one’s -mind was rapidly failing, like a candle that has nearly -burned out, for there were times when he did not seem<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -to know her; then he would rally for a day or two, -only to lose ground faster than ever.</p> - -<p>Finally Doctor Partridge, the attending physician, -requested that a consultation of specialists might be -called, as he did not wish to assume the responsibilities -of the case any longer without advice.</p> - -<p>Mollie grasped eagerly at this straw, and two noted -physicians were sent for to confer with Doctor Partridge. -It was not a long conference, fortunately for -the poor girl to whom the suspense of that one hour -was torturing beyond description.</p> - -<p>It was over at last, and the physician came to her, -his face very grave and pitiful. Mollie sprang to her -feet at his approach, and stood rigid and snow-white -before him, awaiting the verdict.</p> - -<p>“Miss Heatherford,” he said very gently, “it is my -painful duty to tell you that there is absolutely no help -for your father. We are all agreed that materia medica -has been exhausted in his case, and it is only a question -of time when he will entirely lose his mind and become -utterly helpless. The specialists advised me not to tell -you the worst, but I had given you my word that I -would not keep anything back from you, therefore I -could not feel justified in deceiving you.”</p> - -<p>Mollie listened to this cruel ultimatum like one petrified -and feeling as if she also were losing her mind. -Then the strong curb which she had put upon herself -suddenly gave way and she burst forth in wildly rebellious -tones:</p> - -<p>“I do not believe it! It cannot be true! I will not -believe it! Oh, God is good—surely He will not leave<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -me utterly desolate! Doctor Partridge, there must be -help somewhere—is there not some one else to whom -we can appeal? I cannot live without my father!”</p> - -<p>The physician was almost sorry that he had not -listened to the advice of his colleagues and kept the -blighting truth from her. But she had been so calm -and self-possessed through all that he had overestimated -her strength. Still she had insisted upon being -told and he had pledged himself to withhold nothing, -and he believed he was doing his duty. He was a -kind-hearted and conscientious man, and had been -almost an enthusiast in his profession, but there had -been times when he was sorely perplexed—when he -was led to doubt the virtue of drugs and the conflicting -and inefficient methods of his profession, and these -seasons of doubt he found becoming more and more -frequent as disease and experiences like the present -were multiplied.</p> - -<p>Doctor Partridge spent a long time with the sorely -afflicted girl, trying to comfort and quiet her and advising -her regarding the future care of her father. He -told her that the most that could be done now would be -to make him physically comfortable, and in order to do -this she must have some strong, reliable woman come -to relieve her of household cares and assist in the nursing. -He said he knew of just the right person—a -faithful negress, who had had large experience in sickness, -was an excellent cook and who would be glad of -a comfortable home and small wages.</p> - -<p>Mollie wondered vaguely where the money was coming -from to defray all these extra expenses, but she<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -did not demur; she told the doctor to send the woman -at once, and when she came, the following day, the -weary and sorrowful girl found her a tower of strength, -not only in the care of her father, but to her aching -heart as well.</p> - -<p>“Don’t yo’ take on so, honey,” said the sympathetic -creature, when Mollie, with a wild burst of grief, told -her of her father’s hopeless case. “De doctors don’t -know eberyt’ing, spite of der pertenshuns; yo’ jest -trust de Lord, honey, an’ He’ll brung it out all right.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, where is God, Eliza?” cried Mollie helplessly, -while sobs shook her slight form like a reed.</p> - -<p>“I ’spects He am ebrywhere, honey,” returned the -woman, with humble faith, and then she brought her -young mistress a steaming cup of tea, which she made -her drink, firmly believing it a panacea for an aching -heart as well as an empty stomach.</p> - -<p>But Mollie was no weakling. When the first fierce -rebellion was over she began to consider the situation -in a practical way. What was to be done for the future? -How was her helpless charge, to say nothing -about herself, to be provided for? Nearly all of the -money which both she and her father had saved had -been swallowed up by the physicians and other expenses -of his illness, and some provision must now be made -for their daily needs.</p> - -<p>She could teach, if she could obtain a position; but -she had no influential friends in the city to whom to -apply for aid to secure a school. She studied the -papers every day, with the hope of finding some want -or advertisement that would come within her capabilities;<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -but it was late in the season—the public schools -were all supplied with teachers, and nothing else -seemed to offer without requiring her to be absent from -home too many hours during the day, and the outlook -seemed dark.</p> - -<p>One morning she had an errand to do at a bank on -Pennsylvania Avenue, and, after attending to it and -making one or two necessary purchases, she walked -swiftly to a corner, to wait for a car to take her home. -A pretty French maid, who was trundling in an elegant -perambulator a lovely child of about three years, -was standing talking with a young man, evidently of -her own nationality.</p> - -<p>They became so absorbed in each other that they -appeared to be wholly unmindful of the child, who, -however, seemed to be safe enough, for all Mollie could -see, although she felt that the girl was neglectful of -duty.</p> - -<p>Presently an ice-cart drove to the curb and stopped. -Almost at the same instant a strong gust of wind swept -around the corner, catching the perambulator and -sending it rolling to the very edge of the sidewalk, -and within three feet of where Mollie was standing. -But before she could stretch forth her hand to save it, -it went off, was overturned, and the child, with a shriek -of fear, rolled to the ground, directly in front of the -powerful gray horse that was attached to the wagon.</p> - -<p>The animal tossed its head with a startled snort, -and reared upon his hind legs. The driver, a powerful -man, with great presence of mind snatched at his reins -and, by sheer muscular strength, held the animal back<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -upon his haunches, with his forefeet madly pawing the -air.</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake, grab that young one, somebody!” -he shouted wildly.</p> - -<p>The French maid and her companion both appeared -to be paralyzed with fear. Neither seemed able to move -from the spot where they stood, although the girl -filled the air with her shrieks.</p> - -<p>Mollie, without a thought of anything save the precious -life of the little one, bounded forward, and -crouching low under the formidable hoofs, seized the -tiny form by its clothing and sprang back upon the -sidewalk, just in season to escape being crushed to -death as the ponderous animal, now beyond the -driver’s control, came down upon its forefeet.</p> - -<p>It was a close shave, and had Mollie hesitated an instant, -the child would have been beyond the reach of -human aid. As it was, the fright and the fall had -rendered it unconscious, and a slight abrasion on one -plump little cheek, where the iron shoe had just grazed -it, showed how very narrow had been the escape. Mollie’s -skirt was badly torn where the descending hoof -had caught and taken a piece out of it.</p> - -<p>The nurse was almost beside herself with mingled -joy and fear, and would have snatched her little charge -from Mollie’s arms, but she gently repulsed her, and -said in French—the language in which the girl had -been conversing with her friend: “Be quiet, the baby -is not hurt, and I am sure she will soon be quite herself. -I will take her into this drug-store and have<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -her cared for—secure the carriage and then follow -me.”</p> - -<p>The maid mechanically obeyed her, and appeared -greatly relieved to have some one assume the responsibility -of attending to her charge.</p> - -<p>The proprietor of the store had once been a practising -physician, and into his care Mollie gave the -little one. She had already begun to revive, and now -manifested considerable fear at finding herself in the -arms of a strange gentleman, who, after looking her -over carefully, said that she was uninjured.</p> - -<p>Mollie was very sweet and gentle with her, and she -was more than half-reassured before the familiar face -of her nurse appeared, when she lapsed from tears to -smiles, and was soon chatting like a magpie, in French, -with them both.</p> - -<p>The perambulator also had escaped serious injury, -greatly to the surprise of every one, and little Lucille, -as the child was named, was ere long comfortably settled -among her pillows and being trundled homeward -by the thankful Nannette.</p> - -<p>Mollie walked a short distance with them, for she -saw that the girl was still greatly overcome from the -shock which she had sustained, and she kindly strove -to reassure her, but cautioned her never to let go the -handle of the perambulator when she was on the street -with the little one.</p> - -<p>She left them at the next corner, where they were -to turn, having persuaded Lucille to kiss her and given -her address to Nannette, who begged to know where -she lived, so that she might come to thank her again<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span> -when she was more herself; then she hailed an approaching -car, and returned to her own cares and -responsibilities.</p> - -<p>The further experiences of the personages in this -story will be related in the sequel to this story entitled -“The Heatherford Fortune,” published in style and -price uniform with this volume.</p> - -<p class="titlepage">THE END.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="ads"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center larger">Popular Copyright Books<br /> -<span class="smaller">AT MODERATE PRICES</span></p> - -</div> - -<p class="center">Any of the following titles can be bought of your -bookseller at the price you paid for this volume</p> - -<ul> -<li><b>Alternative, The.</b> By George Barr McCutcheon.</li> -<li><b>Angel of Forgiveness, The.</b> By Rosa N. 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