The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1878-10-02

card.
"H. F. Marston was the name I
read on it; and was informed that Mr..
MarstOn had inquired for me.
" I don't know him, said, "Who
is hep"
BY way Of reply the clerk struck q
bell, called a messenger, and sent him
of to see If Mr.. Marston was in his room.
and tell him that "Mr. Edney" had re-
turned. Then he said to me-
You are the young man who left q
watch with me, I believe. Do you wish
for it ?"
81 shall wish for it" 1 said, "when
l have money TO pay my bill, which 1 am
expecting by every mail"
"Theni it wasn't simply for safe keep
ing that you handed it to me 2" he said.
=" Not altogether" replied. CT had
no baggage; and to avoid unpleasant
explanations, and perhaps still more un-
pleasant suspicious, I thought 1 would
place that security in your hands,.
He smiled as he took the watch from
the safe and handed it back to me,
" 1 don't require the security. be-
lieve you are honest, Mr.. Edney. The
paragraph in this mornings paper has
excited interest, and one or two persons
have asked about you. Mr.. Marston
wishes particularly to see you. Walk
up stairs"
The messenger had in fact just re-
turned for me, and I went with him,
wondering all the way what would hap
pen next.
found a tall, well-dressed, fine
looking gentleman waiting for me in
his private parlor.
rs this Philip Clement Edney ?" he
said, with smile, which brought up
host of recollections.
stared at him, all a-tremble with
excitement. might have passed him
twenty times in the hotel without know
ing him; but now 1 was sure of my man
at glance.
"That is my name," 1 said; "and
you
He stopped me with another engag-
ing smile.
81 am Henry F. Marston, please
remember. If l had another name once,
| should be glad to have it forgotten.
But am willing that you should know
who am. When saw your name in
the paper this morning, knew it must
be you. Then found you were stop
ping at the same hotel with me. Your
father was very, very kind to me, Philip;
and when learned"-
The tears actually came into his eyes,
as he faltered; and at that moment
forgave him all.
'You were little shaver when knew
you" he went on, with another flashing
smile. 81 should not have recognized
you; but you have your fathers name,
and your mothers eyes. 1 don't know
why have neglected to communicate
with them. When 1 found that you
were here, my heart yearned towards
you. How are your parents, Philip ?"
He had not heard of my fathers
death. When told him, and described
the straitened circumstances of our
family, he appeared greatly astonished
and conscience-stricken.
"Why haven't you sent for me?" he
asked.
"My father, in his last moments, beg
ged US to let YOU know of our circum.
stances, and have gone through three
cities in search of you, replied. "But
no Thomas Harringford"-
He stopped me again. "Of course
not, he said. "There is no such man
now, and never has been, since left
Utica and began new life under new
name. 1 have been much to blame that
never paid your father. Do you know
the amount of the debt ?"
"The face of the note was seven hun
dred and forty dollars" I answered.
''But that, 1 am sorry to say, went over
the falls in my pocketbook. But
70
mother, which have left in my valise
at the Eagle House,"
"Go and get it, he said.
ST cant,"I replied, ''for 1 have no
money to pay my bill there"
He at once opened his pocket-book.
"Take that and get your valise."
He put a twenty-dollar bank note into
my hand.
In half an hour 1 had redeemed my
baggage, told the landlord of the Eagle
house in plain language what thought
of his conduct, returned to Harringford's
room :. or rather Marston's- with my
mothers letter.
In reading it he had to hide his face.
Tears were still in his eyes, though he
was smiling again. Then he turned to
me.
"That was lucky paragraph in this
mornings paper" he said "and a
lucky accident which detained you here.
In your absence 1 have computed the
present value of that note at compound
interest and now it gives me the great
est satisfaction to repay your family in
a time of need. 1 have deducted the
twenty dollars I just handed you and
here ia tha balance
He put a paper into my hands.
couldn't believe my eyes. Itwas a check
for twenty-three hundred and ninety
dollars.
did not wait for my mothers letter,
but took the next train for home.
Ifound my letter there waiting for her.
She was away, and it had not been for
warded. She soon returned, and had