The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1875-05-29


am getting at something"
"Do you go back to Texas at once?"
asked.
"Tbat Is Just what / am on my way to |
find out, said he. ~ am gong In here, to
the post-office, now; I've been every day
looking for a letter." was perplexed be-
You'd measure. felt sure that could de-
termine, without doubt, whether or not his
uncle and my friend were one, but, If they
were, 1t was plain that for some reason
Ralph had concealed the facts OF his early
life from his nephew, and had right 10
reveal them? and would they set this young
inouisitor at work upon new clewP We
had entered the office together. l asked
for letters. He went to his post-ofiice
drawer and opened it, could not help cast
ing nv eve over his shoulder. Yes, there
was the handwriting of my old friend 1t
must be, it could be no other. Candida
read il rapidly and his face kindled. He
| turned and saw me with my eyes fixed on
him.
"Good !" said he, as il talking to friend,
"Tm going to Europe: My uncle writes me
to go at once. He will Join me in New
York"
hoped that the excitement would hold
his mind, and make him forget our previous
| conversation, but in moment he added
glanced at the letter.
eyes," said, as carelessly as / could.
at might be his" Then l added: "You
will see your uncle in few days? | am
not far from New York-at Bloomfield, in
the back of visiting-card Thought is
the devil !" and handed it to Candida.
"That is piece of nonsense, said |. laugh
ing it off. ''If your uncle is my friend,
he will understand 1t, and left him. l
had acted mpusively. dared not go
further with him. I,,felt that ought to leave
it to Ralph to do what he would in this case.
A week after, sat in my study. l was
reading my morning paper. My eyes fell
upon the list of passengers in one OF the At
antic steamers | saw the names of Ralph
Ives and Candida Ives. ! sighed: $50 it
could not have been he. He never would
have refused the recognition" Yet l re-
membered that he had kept silence for 81
years. Why should he break it now? |
wondered, TOO, that Candida had not writ
ten: vet know so little of him that saw
my wonder came from my own network
of speculation. 1t was with heavy heart
that turned back to my work. The mys-
terry seemed to darker for the little light l
had begun to fancy was thrown upon 1t.
| longed for some sign that should show
me the worth or worthlessness of the spec
ulations which had inevitably been forming
in my mind was not left long without
this sign. The next day, came letter,
which / held long in my hand before /
could open it. 1t bore the old familiar
hand, changed only as age would change
it. | am not ashamed to say that | could
not open it till l had first dropped on my
knees and asked courage to bear whatever
message it brought, it was without date,
without signature. 1t read "Since l sent
back that scrap of writing by Philip, that
awful night, tell you | would write as soon
as it was possible, these years have passed,
and still | cannot explain it, cannot come
TO you. My nephew wrote me OF your be-
ing an examiner, innocent of the sharp
pain that would run through me. 1t filled
me with uneasiness, and have resolved to
take him for several years stay in Europe.
am alone with him. Godknows all. My
lips are sealed forever. Should die,
and he return and seek you, be his friend,
oh, be his friend; but do not tell him that
we knew each other and loved each other. "
The letter fell from my hands and the
tears rolled down my cheeks as l again
dropped on my knees and blessed God that
he had given me back my friend. Yes, he
had given him back, though should never
see him more given him back without
stain, and with all his old nobleness glori-
fled in the light of these years of grand sill
ence. 1t was all clear to me now. These
J fragments came together, and l could see
J the noble life before me. On that nigh,
, when Ralph lay beside me, happy and
hopeful, his brother had slain a man, and,
fleeing, had sought this young man tor re-
fuge. He had found him and drawn him
away for counsel. Ralph had sent him
| back with the note, which he never left,
but in place robbed me as | slept. They
had left, this strong young man throwing
his brOtherly arms around the weak and
erring one to save him for better life.
, For him he had given up everything
friends, home, hopes had sought the out
laws land and lived as an outlaw had
seen his brother marry, die, leaving to his
care this boy, and ever since he had given
to the boy what he had given to the father,
the sacrifice of silence, that he might grow
} up true and honorable, ignorant of the crime
| whose shadow had been cast before him.
, / could understand the courage and sense
, even of high duty which should lead him
to send Candida back to the scene of his
J fathers sin, and his own happy, lightning
struck life. l could understand. too, the
sudden fear lest all his protection of tho
! boys life should be suddenly swept away.
o, friend of my youth, it was noble life
that you led, given frankly and fearlessly
, for others. The deep grave of the un.
planted sea holds you and the youth fol-
whom you sacrificed yourself second
} time. The waters roll over you, but in my
heart of haarfe hold tho ;mo1a of yn,,,