Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1885-06-11

4 y
pound?" said new intruder, in the
voice that had brought about all this
TODD. Then here you arei" And a
young gentleman dressed in the very
height of the fashion yet looking un-
born thereto, threw down upon the
table bundle of bank notes big enough
to dazzle The eyes even of revenge.
There; pick 'em up, Marrish. They re
Bank of England, every one. I've seen
and heard enough to guess how things
lie. Patience haven't you got one eye
for mep Father-I'm come home. too;
l may, now; couldn't as Black
thorn, when it looked as if it was for
the fatted calf-could I, you know?
Father, don't you know Dick? To
think I'd find him like thisr' he cried.
patience, what has come to him?
Don't he know me9 Father, look here.
Is it because you can't understand Dick
turning up like a gentleman, with his
pockets lined with these?''
Tom Blackthorn only looked at him
vacantly. III smoke a pipe" said he.
1--we been soldier" said Dick,
desperately. ''In Spain Spain, do you
see? And when discharged myself l
was that hard up / didn't know which
way to turn; and there was nothing
| fresh to turn tod tried 'em all.
Then I thought of grandfather in
Thames street, father; l thought he
might make me a clerk; and if not,
give me guinea to be rid of me-
| ''Ah-Thames street, sir. / know;
a skinflint; the most Internal old"
flush! Poor old boy-he's been in
the grave these two years; and without
will. Patience, you and l have got
1 TO divide irrIt Thousand r,p11nIs Tho
| LAWYERS had been looking for next of
kin high and low
My wife's father died-two years
ago?" asked old Tom, slowly. ''Mar-
| IRISH saw him III less time than that
time, sir. You're very kind. l dare say.
But it can't bet can't be.
Dick groaned. For he, also, had had
his visions of coming home with a glori-
Gus surprise.
But the mind of old Tom, though at
its latest gasp, was laboring. The
shame of having begged of his father
in-law, and begged in vain, was the dis
grace of his life; and even if all other
memory went, that would remain. He
looked at Marrish with such gentle up
braiding, as of a man who, even when
he had ceased to be himself, can not
comprehend a cheat, that the other was
forced to hang his head, as of one who
| is at last brought face to face with con-
science-not that conscience had much
to do with Enoch, who. all because he
had dropped little gold ring, was los
ing the woman he loved, and forty
thousand pounds besides.
1t was cruelty hard. There was the
cost of that first journey to London,
when he found that Patience had be-
come an heiress worth not only loving,
but marrying; and whom he might buy,
| for want of better winning, if he could
| only keep the knowledge of her inner
| itance to himself-and all that had gone
so easily and so well. There was the
marvellous stroke of good fortune that
had removed his rival out of his way.
But there is no need to repeat this story
through and through. For over and
above it all, over even the half of eighty
thousand pounds, he was baked even
of revenge. And over and above even
that. if such could be, the rival whom
he thought dead had come back to
battle him, he was beaten, who had
never been beaten before. And yet
baffled revenge and mortally wounded
vanity were scarce so great as the dash
ing away from his poor parched lips of
the cup of love Just when it was touch
ing them. He had never been happy
in all his life; and he might have
learned, after fashion, how.
Some day or other, perhaps, some
pen able enough will, instead of de-
manding sympathy for the sorrows of
true lovers, do tardy justice to the trag-
edy of the evil, the base and the mean.
Only it would call for such infinite pity
that the sight of the picture could scarce
be borne. Be good that you may be
happy, indeed! The maxim has. in it
self mean and selfish ring Be happy
that you may be good is nearer the
mark therein the tragedy of the
| unhappy lies. And therein lay the
tragedy of Enoch Marrish, the unhappy
man. And now his last chance was
gone. And, since fable without a
moral is not worth a fig, and history
with some unexpressed thought of
Christmas-tide in it, yet without a les
son worth learning, is unfaithful to it's
season.
Hyou would be good. be happy; if
you would make others good, make
them happy.
That is worth thinking over, be the
rest of the story what it may.
Father" whispered Patience in old
Tom Blackthorn's ear.
Her voice had new life in it, soft and
| low as it fell upon that struggling
brain.
No, l say. There's no Dick. I
killed him-at the glorious battle of
Talavera, fighting like the British lion
for Old England and good King George.
Dick, Richard; do you tell me that you
have been on your knees to that old
All! dead SO is his daughter; so shall
we all be. No. You're no son of
mine. He's dead; and if he's alive,
he's dead to me. You have disobeyed
me; l will never forgive you. never, if
you 90 down on your knees. You know
what mean. Once offend Black
thorn, and there's an end. Be off with
you, sir. l know you now. You are
an undutiful son; a e'er-do-well,
who'll come to the gallows before
you've done. You're starved out, I sup
pose, and so-Patience, never let me
hear that wretched scapegrace's name
| again. 1 could have forgiven him, if
he'd only had the spirit to die for his
country, like man. l was proud of
him then. But now, never let me hear
his name. Oh, Dick-my boy-my
boyr'
''Father!"
And his father ran, and fell on his
neck, and kissed him. And, in rain of
tears, the cloud that had fallen over
him melted away.
But who shall say how Stephen and
i ~ L