The Superior times. [volume] (Superior, Wis.) 1870-1912, 1882-04-01

contented-there was crease in the
rose-leaf
For some time past | had been
vainly endeavoring to account for the
extraordinary interest which my
father-in-law had first taken in me,
because | discov cred, as | grew older
and saw more Of this selfish, egotistical
world, that very few such generous
actions were performed without mo-
tive, and the solution of this, to me
difficult problem frequently occupied
my thoughts.
At first | had attributed it all to
Alice's influence, but | knew now that
it had been as great a surprise to her
as to myself.
About this time DR.. Ponard, one of
Mr.. Thorne's most intimate friends,
arrived in New York, and one morn
ing, while sitting at breakfast, expires
sed great surprise at the numerous
advertisements in the papers relating
to money lost and found.
SWELL" said he, ~ have not the
least sympathy for those who lost
money. They are generally careless,
stupid people not fit to be trusted ;
although | remember having heard of
a young man who lost pocket-book,
some years ago, containing $4,000
and | declare when [ read his piteous
appeals, which were in all the papers,
my heart fairly ached for him. 'But,
continued he, addressing my father-in-
law, who had become very pale, ''you
ought to remember the circumstances,
for it occurred just at the time of the
great failure in Philadelphia, by which
you were so heavy a loser"
Eyes, | recollect the affair" replied
Mr.. Thorne, who appeared to be suf-
fering
II never heard,'' continued the doc
tor, what became Of the poor devil !;
and yet I should like to know"
"Should you ?" said I, laughing !;
then let me crafty your curiosity. [,
Arthur Wallace, am that poor devil,
doctor saved from ruin and despair
by my benefactor here" And then [
related all the events of the last
fifteen years.
The doctor sprang to his feet and
grasped his old friends hand.
"Well and generously done y said
he but Mr.. Thorne interrupted him.
II am not well " he said faintly. II
suffer greatly-let me go to my room"
The next day he sent for me to his
private Office. | found him looking
pale and haggard.
''Sit down, my dear Arthur" said
he, in a low voice, "and listen to me.
For long time have had confess
sion to make to you-one that weighs
on me so heavily that [ must ease my
conscience of its load. l can better
bear to do so now, that [ have in a
measure made some amends for the
trouble [ once caused you"
''The trouble you caused me-" cried
[. "You have been the most gener-
Gus of men to me. 1t is through your
kindness | occupy my present posi-
ton it is to you [ owe my happiness,
and more than all, my honor"
Mr.. Thorne opened his desk, and
took from it a pocket-book.
"Do you remember this % said he,
as he placed it in my hand.
eyes. replied |, ''it is the one l
lost but how"
I could not finish my question. The
truth stared me in the face. Isprang
to my feet in dismay.
"Great heavens p | cried "you
found the money"
"Aye, and kept it, " he groaned, with
L L, 7 l. "a
condemn me without hearing me.
Yesterday you heard DR.. Ponard
allude to the great losses I had sus-
tanned by the failure in Philadelphia
| did not dare to make my embar-
easements known, as that would have
FASTENED my ruin-my ruin God
knows that it was not for myself that
| cared, but for Alice, my darling
child. 1t was on the 18th of Decem.
Der that you lost the money. Oh, ]
shall never forget the date 1t was or
that day that | meditated suicide. ]
was short of $4,000 to meet my
liabilities, maturing on the 18th. ]
was overwhelmed with despair ; the
air of the office seemed to stife me
and [ rushed into the street. | hac
hardly gone ten yards when my foot
struck something. 1t was your pocket
book. | opened il. and the sioh1