The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success
Page 16
CHAPTER XVI.
MRS. BRENT'S STRANGE TEMPTATION.
Now that Phil is fairly established in the city, circumstances requireus to go back to the country town which he had once called home.
Mrs. Brent is sitting, engaged with her needle, in the same room whereshe had made the important revelation to Phil.
Jonas entered the house, stamping the snow from his boots.
"Is supper most ready, mother?" he asked.
"No, Jonas; it is only four o'clock," replied Mrs. Brent.
"I'm as hungry as a bear. I guess it's the skating."
"I wish you would go to the post-office before supper, Jonas. Theremight be a letter."
"Do you expect to hear from Phil?"
"He said nothing about writing," said Mrs. Brent indifferently. "He willdo as he pleases about it."
"I did'nt know but he would be writing for money," chuckled Jonas.
"If he did, I would send him some," said Mrs. Brent.
"You would!" repeated Jonas, looking at his mother in surprise.
"Yes, I would send him a dollar or two, so that people needn't talk. Itis always best to avoid gossip."
"Are you expecting a letter from anybody, mother?" asked Jonas, after apause.
"I dreamed last night I should receive an important letter," said Mrs.Brent.
"With money in it?" asked Jonas eagerly.
"I don't know."
"If any such letter comes, will you give me some of the money?"
"If you bring me a letter containing money," said Mrs. Brent, "I willgive you a dollar."
"Enough said!" exclaimed Jonas, who was fond of money; "I'm off to thepost-office at once."
Mrs. Brent let the work fall into her lap and looked intently beforeher. A flush appeared on her pale face, and she showed signs ofrestlessness.
"It is strange," she said to herself, "how I have allowed myself to beaffected by that dream. I am not superstitious, but I cannot get overthe idea that a letter will reach me to-night, and that it will havean important bearing upon my life. I have a feeling, too, that it willrelate to the boy Philip."
She rose from her seat and began to move about the room. It was arelief to her in the restless state of her mind. She went to the windowto look for Jonas, and her excitement rose as she saw him approaching.When he saw his mother looking from the window, he held aloft a letter.
"The letter has come," she said, her heart beating faster than its wont."It is an important letter. How slow Jonas is."
And she was inclined to be vexed at the deliberation with which her sonwas advancing toward the house.
But he came at last.
"Well, mother, I've got a letter--a letter from Philadelphia," he said."It isn't from Phil, for I know his writing."
"Give it to me, Jonas," said his mother, outwardly calm, but inwardlyexcited.
"Do you know any one in Philadelphia, mother?"
"No."
She cut open the envelope and withdrew the inclosed sheet.
"Is there any money in it?" asked Jonas eagerly.
"No."
"Just my luck!" said Jonas sullenly.
"Wait a minute," said his mother. "If the letter is really important,I'll give you twenty-five cents."
She read the letter, and her manner soon showed that she was deeplyinterested.
We will look over her shoulders and read it with her:
"CONTINENTAL HOTEL, PHILADELPHIA, Feb. 5.
"DEAR MADAM:--
"I write to you on a matter of the greatest importance to my happiness,and shall most anxiously await your reply. I would come to you inperson, but am laid up with an attack of rheumatism, and my physicianforbids me to travel.
"You are, as I have been informed, the widow of Gerald Brent, whothirteen years since kept a small hotel in the small village ofFultonville, in Ohio. At that date I one day registered myself as hisguest. I was not alone. My only son, then a boy of three, accompaniedme. My wife was dead, and my affections centered upon this child.Yet the next morning I left him under the charge of yourself and yourhusband, and pursued my journey. From that day to this I have not seenthe boy, nor have I written to you or Mr. Brent. This seems strange,does it not? It requires an explanation, and that explanation I am readyto give.
"To be brief, then, I was fleeing from undeserved suspicion.Circumstances which I need not detail had connected my name with themysterious disappearance of a near friend, and the fact that a triflingdispute between us had taken place in the presence of witnesses hadstrengthened their suspicions. Knowing myself to be innocent, butunable to prove it, I fled, taking my child with me. When I reachedFultonville, I became alive to the ease with which I might be traced,through the child's companionship. There was no resource but to leavehim. Your husband and yourself impressed me as kind and warm-hearted.I was specially impressed by the gentleness with which you treated mylittle Philip, and I felt that to you I could safely trust him. I didnot, however, dare to confide my secret to any one. I simply said Iwould leave the boy with you till he should recover from his temporaryindisposition, and then, with outward calmness but inward anguish, Ileft my darling, knowing not if I should ever see him again.
"Well, time passed. I went to Nevada, changed my name, invested theslender sum I had with me in mining, and, after varying fortune, madea large fortune at last. But better fortune still awaited me. In a poormining hut, two months since, I came across a man who confessed that hewas guilty of the murder of which I had been suspected. His confessionwas reduced in writing, sworn to before a magistrate, and now at lastI feel myself a free man. No one now could charge me with a crime fromwhich my soul revolted.
"When this matter was concluded, my first thought was of the boy whom Ihad not seen for thirteen long years. I could claim him now before allthe world; I could endow him with the gifts of fortune; I could bringhim up in luxury, and I could satisfy a father's affectionate longing. Icould not immediately ascertain where you were. I wrote to Fultonville,to the postmaster, and learned that you and Mr. Brent had moved away andsettled down in Gresham, in the State of New York. I learned also thatmy Philip was still living, but other details I did not learn. But Icared not, so long as my boy still lived.
"And now you may guess my wish and my intention. I shall pay youhandsomely for your kind care of Philip, but I must have my boy backagain. We have been separated too long. I can well understand that youare attached to him, and I will find a home for you and Mr. Brent nearmy own, where you can see as often as you like the boy whom you have sotenderly reared. Will you do me the favor to come at once, and bringthe boy with you? The expenses of your journey shall, of course,be reimbursed, and I will take care that the pecuniary part of myobligations to you shall be amply repaid. I have already explained why Icannot come in person to claim my dear child.
"Telegraph to me when you will reach Philadelphia, and I will engagea room for you. Philip will stay with me.
"Yours gratefully,
"OSCAR GRANVILLE."
"Mother, here is a slip of paper that has dropped from the letter," saidJonas.
He picked up and handed to his mother a check on a Philadelphia bank forthe sum of one hundred dollars.
"Why, that's the same as money, isn't it?" asked Jonas.
"Yes, Jonas."
"Then you'll keep your promise, won't you?"
Mrs. Brent silently drew from her pocket-book a two-dollar bill andhanded it to Jonas.
"Jonas," she said, "if you won't breathe a word of it, I will tell you asecret."
"All right, mother."
"We start for Philadelphia to-morrow."
"By gosh! that's jolly," exclaimed Jonas, overjoyed. "I'll keep mum.What was in the letter, mother?"
"I will not tell you just now. You shall know very soon."
Mrs. Brent did not sleep much that night. Her mind was intent upon adaring scheme of imposture. Mr. Granville was immensely wealthy, nodoubt. Why should she not pass off Jonas upon him as his son Philip, andthus secure a
fortune for her own child?