Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1884-03-07
sTAUNTON, VIRGINIA, FRIDAY, MARCH 7, 1884

on his confession.
Mr.. Scott heard it with perfect gravity
and politeness. You have, of course,
done my daughter the greatest honor any
man is capable of, Mr.. Kilroy." he said,
suavely. as he turned the paper cutter
over and over on his desk. "Mr. KiIroy,
an obliged for your honesty. l will be
equally plain with you. Business affairs
have not gone we'll with me lately. have
been thinking all day of retrenchment;
you and Frank Maybin will either have to
leave your desks or retain than at very
love Alice too we'll to subject her to pow
erty. 1t is true, have always intended
to give her fortune, but then no man of
honor would ask her hand, under such
circumstances. unless he was able to count
at least dollar for dollar with her. Your
business talents are exceptionally good
expect to see yon worth million. but
when you are worth fifty thousand Of it I
will cheerfully consider your proposal.
He said polite GOOD. night as he left
the office, courtesy which Tom found
himself quite unable to return. If the man
had been angry and uttered all kinds of
hard words, Tom could have borne it bet
ter. He had salary of one hundred dol
lars month; if he was to wait for Alice
until he was worth fifty Thousand, the
probabilities were hardly worth counting.
Besides, there was that covert threat of
dismissal. That would never dc. he must
resign his desk voluntarily. And the out
come was that Tom decided to go West,
and in a weeks time he found himself
crossing the dreary plains which guard
the approaches to the treasure-houses of
the mountains.
One night, after four years of this
strange life, be met little party In the
Platte Canon who had lost their way, and
were in the greatest extremities. Tom
guided them back TO safety, and made
warm friend of their leader-so warm that
the man offered him share in large
smelling and assaying work which he Was
going to establish near the Silverton
Mines.
In the stir, hustle, and method incident
to the conduct of great work, his old
business habits reasserted their power. He
found himself making money so rapidly
that he resolved to go on making and saw
ing until he could buy mine. for to be
the possessor OF veritable gold or silver
nine, still charmed and ruled his imagin-
alton.
Thus the years went by. Few people
would have recognized in the stalwart,
bronzed, bearded man, clothed in leather
and flannel, the once stylishly dressed and
acrupu'ously shaved and gloved clerk
of the great firm of Scott & Donaldson,
Water Street, New York. For full ten
wears had passed away, and though Tom
was only thirty-three, he looked and felt a
great deal older.
1t happened that in his tenth summer
his partner went East to bring home a
daughter whom he left there at school,
and his return was quite an event to Tom.
| The man had walked Broadway within a
week and had brought back with him the
favor and very language Of the place. Tom
had not guessed how dear his native city
was to him until one familiar name after
another unlocked all the wards of mem
| ory. and passionate longing for the old
scenes and haunts, the old loves and
| friendships, seized him.
"John Amboy," he said, 81 must take
| a run East for few weeks. There is very
little quartz in the mill, and the books are
up to date. I've got the home fever, John.
bad. think I'll start tomorrow"
| So in few days Tom Kilroy stood at
the foot of Chambers street, wondering II
he should go home without warning; won
dering. indeed, whether he had any home.
Yes, there it stood. just as he left it, the
little red brick house with it's bright green
blinds outside. But inside there had been
changes. His father was dead, his elder
brothers married. and the little sister he
had left IN short dresses just going to be.
But love is always the same and these
pie souls made a great festival over
their returned wanderer. without once
asking whether he had saved a respectable
sum. or come home with empty pockets.
Sit, ing alone with his mother that night
he at length ventured ON an inquiry very
near his heart.
"Where is Alice Scott now, mother?''
81 don't know, Tom. Things have
changed for herr
''She is married then?'
THAT IS past my telling. I have heard
nothing at all about her for eight years
never since her father failed. They went
somewhere up the river to live. [ saw her
mothers death IN the paper soon after. J.
1t was great tragedy in few words
failure, poverty, death, and iselat on
Toms reveries were not devoid of remorse
/ that night, but the next day he started
out early to do what his heart told him
ought to have been done years ago.
It was hard to find Mr.. Scott's retreat
and he came upon 1t just at noon. Mr..
Scott was leaning over the little wooden
gate, looking down the long dusty lane
and he readily entered into conversation.
Tom was smitten with pity at the change
in his old patron. He had sunk to very
small interests, and talked now Of his lit.
tie patch of corn, his couple of cows, and
his eggs and chickens as he had once
talked of richly laden barks and bills oil
ladlng. and checks, and balance. Then
Tom led him on to speak of his old bust
ness, and he was glad to see that the mer
chant instantly asserted himself. HE
must be taken out ofthis. Thought Tom,
and he asked himself to dinner.
He entered the house with beatin s
heart. Would Alice be there? Would