Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1875-06-17

IT," and left him. ! had acted impul-
felt that | ought to leave it to Ralph
to do what he would in this case.
A week after sat in my study. was
reading my morning paper. Ny eyes
fell upon the list of passengers in one of
the Atlantic steamers. | saw the names
OF Ralph Ives and Candida Ives. ]
sighed: SO it could not have been he.
he never would have refused the recog-
milton" Yet l remembered that he had
kept silence for thirty-seven years. Why
should he break it now? | wondered too
that Candida had not written; yet l
knew so little of him that saw my WOE.
der came from my own network Of spec
ulation. 1t was with heavy heart
that | turned back to my work.
The mystery seemed darker for the
| little light / had began to fancy was
! thrown upon it. longed for some sign
that should show me the worth or worth
lessncss of the speculations which had
inevitably been forming III my mind. l
was not left long without this sign The
next day came letter, which l 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 l could not open it
till had first dropped on my knees and
asked courage to bear whatever message
it brought. 1t was without date, without
signature. 1t read: "Since | sent back
that scrap of writing by Philip that
awful night, telling you would write as
soon as it was possible, these years have
passed, and still cannot explain il, can
not come to you. My nephew wrote me of
you being an examiner, innocent of the
sharp pain that would run through me.
IL filled me with uneasiness, and | have
resolved to take him for several years.
stay in Europe. His mother is dead.
His father is dead. / am alone with
him. God knows 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 again
dropped on my knees and blessed God
that he had given me back my friend.
Yes, he had given him back, though l
should never see him more--given him
back without a stain, and with all his
old nobleness glorifed in the light of
these years of grand silence. 1t was all
clear to me now. These fragments came
together, and l could see the noble life
before me. On the night when Ralph
lay beside me, happy and hopeful, his
brother had slain man, and, fleeing,
had sought this young man for refuge.
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 l slept. They
had left, this strong young man throw
ing his brotherly arms around the weak
and erring one TO save him for better
life. For him he had given up every
thing friends, home, hopes; had sought
the outlaws 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 under
stand the courage and sense even of high
duty which should lead him to send Can
dido back to the scene of his fathers sin
and his own happy, ghtning-struck life.
! could understand, too, the sudden fear
lest all his protection Of the boys life
should be suddenly swept away.
O friend of my youth. it was noble
life that you led, given frankly and fear
lessly for others. The deep grave of the
implanted sea holds you and the youth
for whom you sacrificed yourself sec
ond time. The waters roll over you, but
in my heart of hearts hold the image of
your faithfulness. Horace II. Scudder, in
Apptotons' youy7ldt.