The Evansville journal. [volume] (Evansville, Ind.) 1866-1870, 1868-03-06

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couple good morning." and they,
poor souls! did their best to answer
cheerily.
But it would not do. There were
traces of tears on Mary's cheeks, and
the roses had withered from such
pestilent dew.
81 can't help it, John-I can't help
asking you what is the matter? l see
you are both unhoppy, said Rossiter,
kindly.
John remained silent.
Why should not tell your" said
Mary, pluckiDg up SPIRIT have in
part already. We are in terrible want
Of money TO pay our rent, Joseph.
81 Much p
:. nearly seventy pounds, re-
piled Mary.
The actor whistled :. note or two.
a Now, l will tell you Joseph, what
| have been saying to John" said
Mary, almost choking. Mr. Speed
we'll told me that when he saw you in
London, you told everybody in the
playhouse how rich you were -"
" On the stage, my dear?
: Yes, on the stage, before every
one, and that he saw you give dia-
mond ring worth he didn't know
how much, to one lady, and bagful
of guineas to another"
On the stage. my dear creature
it was In my partp exclaimed Rossi-
ter, seeing what delusion was possess
ing his poor friend.
. [ don't understand you" said
Mary, sadly.
" No, / am sure you don't. I'm an
actor-to-day prince-to-morroW a
beggar; I'm only an actor and not a
prudent one. There in that pocket
book is my whole worldly wealth, ex-
cept my wardrobe upstairs. There
are two ten-pound notes in that book,
and both at your service.
/. No mOre? asked Mary. And
is that all you have?"
Except some debts, which can be
paid at my convenience. Now listen
to me. Don't make yourselves so mis-
cradle about this trife of twenty
pounds. ] have no doubt that / can
borrow the money in the great metro.
polls if things come to the worst
which they won't. Things are going
to mend = to become very much
brighter. When they are at their
worst, things must get better. Where's
the COMMODORE Not gone on one
Of his rambles, hope.
No, John had seen him half an
hour ago in his little garden.
Very well-then you must con-
trive to get him into this room about
four O'Clock. You must get him to
tell you once more the fight off Copen-
hagen and then"
Well, Joseph"
And then we will see if we can
uneork his secret.
And so matters were to rest for the
present.
There was hope certainly In Jo-
'seph; promise of assistance; twenty
pounds were a great help, and more
was to come from London. There
was hope certainly in all that-but
from old Phillip nonel
Mary w eloer, however, undertook to
manage the Commodore, and to her
he seemed incapable of refusing any
thing. At four o'clock, just as the
evening began to close in, Phillip Pull
len was telling the story he had told
so often. He had spoken of his dear
master and friend stricken down by
the splinter-he was repeating the
last Of his dying words when the door
Of the parlor opened gently and there
stood-indistinctly seen In the gloom
of the evening-the counterpart of
one who had long gone to rest.
The whole group stood amazed, but
the effect upon old Phillip soon be
came almost painful to witness. His
broad chest heaved, big sweat drops
triekled down his SCARED forehead,
and he trembled like one stricken
with the palsy.
You have been seeking me, Phil
lip Pullen--seeking me for three
years past"
The old man bowed his head
afirmatively.
You have a dead mans message
to me-give it me"
! With trembling hands the old man
loosened his neckerchief, and then
christening the bosom Of his shirt.
produced small leathern bag, which
he held forth to the strange ques-
toner.
Give it to mel
With hesitating steps the old man
advanced and did as he had been COM
mauded.
" You have done your duty truly
and faithfully, Philip Pullen. You
will know this before many days are
past. Be at peace; you have done
your duty, Your Admiral has said it.
The figure slowly retired, the door
closed. The ole man fell upon his
knees aud uttered a few earnest words
Of thanksgiving that he had been
allowed to discharge his duty, and
had found him to whom his friend