Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-05-31

WIS Scb db lCot. ASS, ~uoAAS@A 40 oShioA
partner. That is the position, john" said
he. 81 am Junior still" -.-.
For some moments Westcott pondered
deeply ''Mr. Carter" he presently said,
81 have no wish, as you must know, to dis
pute nv uncle's will. He made me gen.
erous offer, and refused. Hal / fallen in
with his views, instead of opposing them,
l should have been his heir. % p
'Cnquestionably, said Mr.. Carter.
Fifteen years ago" continued Westcott,
81 was very young. had no judgment. /
was all activity and impulse. But have
now-at least hope so-arriyed at years OF
discretion. l am 81; and l should IKE to
settle down in life. Will you help me-!
Mr.. Carriers face grew thoughtful.
"Don't misunderstood me, Westcott
went on. "I will begin, as you did, at'the
foot Of the ladder"
The merchant appeared surprised.
"Would you accept elerkship, SAID he,
sin your uncle's old house,"
''Why not? wish to be guided ntirely
by yOu. cannot ask you to make me a
partner" said Westcott, with slight smile.
81 have little or no means. Though / ought
to tell vou,'' he added, somewhat nIysteri-
ouslv, 81 am not without expectations.
Mr. Carter reflected a moment; then he
said: 81 should indeed be ungrsteful, John,
if I refused TO help you. Mr.. Girdlestone
was a true friend to Ele. Andif appear to
hesitate" he added, s'it is because 1 am
thinking Of you, not of myself. L Will
briefly explain my meaning" He seated
himself opposite his visitor; and the care
worn look, which WesEcott had ntticed
when he came in, appeared to increase.
'YoU must know, John, that your uncle
was great fnancier-how great, l did not
realize until taken into partnership. some
times doubt if fully appreciated his genius
even then. The amount of capital in the
business was amazingly small. But such
confidence was placed in Mr. Girdlestone as
a financier, that had he drawn bills to the
extent of 100000 he would have had no
difficulty in getting them accepted" Aftera
short pause Mr.. Carter continued. "When
Mr.. Girdlestone died, as YOU may imagine,
the position was altered. With small
capital and greatly diminished credit,
have had to sustain the reputation of an old
established city house l have been
doing my best; you will not doubt that.
But do not profess to have talent for
finance like my late partner What has
been the result? For a whole year l have
been at nv wits end how to save the firm.
1t has been hard struggle; af:lirs have
gone from bad to worse. You have ap-
peared, John, at a most trying moment.
Had YOU arrived a few weeks later you
would probably have found the, old place
locked up and in the hands of creditors.
How, under these circumstances, can help
you?''
John Westeott rose from his chair. There
was a look of energy in his face "Who
knows of this?"
''lO one," replied Mr.. Carter, "except
Marian"
WestcoIt reflected a moment. "What
sum is required to save the house?"
Twelve thousand pounds"
The young man answered: 81 scarcely
possess that number of shillings. But some
thing-though one must not be too sanguine
something may be done. p"
Mr.. Carter appeared lost in thought. His
face expressed deep dependency. 1t was
not merely the dread of losing the position
he had gained through close attention to
business; it seemed to him that if the
house tailed-as it could never have done,
in his opinion, while his old partner
was alive-the catastrophe would throw
blot on Mr.. Girdlestone's memory. Mr..
Girdlestone had ch psen him as a trust
worthy and competent person. one most
capable of upholding the traditions of the
firm after his death, But independent of
that, as Mr.. Carter could not hide from
himself, his daughter would suffer: if fall
ure came she would participate in the ca
lamity. The gloomy prospect was almost
overmastering. And now John Westcott,
Mr. GirdlestOne's one surviving relative,
had come Unexpectedly upon the scene
had come as if to remind him, at the
eleventh hour, of his serious responsibility.
As Westcott stepped toward the door,
Mr. Carter recovered himself and said:
''YOu will be our guest? A room shall be
prepared for you-your old room. Where
shall L send to for your luggage?"
81 left it in a coach at the entrance to the
square"
The merchant hastened out to give the
necessary instructions. When he returned,
Westcott was standing with his hand on
Mr. Girdlestone's door, 4 side door commu-
nicating with Mr.. Carter's room. MAY
take another glance" said the young man,
''at that portrait of my uncle? 1t struck
me as a remarkable work of art"
''By all means" said Mr.. Carter. at is
by great master. VIII you excuse me?"
he added, seating himself at his writing
table. 81 have a number of matters to see :,
about. We dine at o'clock"
The candles in Mr.. Girdlestone's room are
still burning. Westcott takes up one of
them and again looks intently at the Dor
trait of his old uncle. at is your secret
q will use it, as YOU would have wished me
to do, to save the house. He puts the can
die on the bureau, and again he sits down
in the chair facing the desk. He does not
hesitate now. He places his hand into an
apparently empty pigeon-hole, and the inner
wall falls open. In moment he has drawn
forth an Obiong paper. He glances rapidly
at the inscription. 1t is the "Last Will
and Testament of Jeremiah Girdlestone, of
Fishers Folly" And at the foot of the
document, in a quaint handwriting, John
Westcott reads the following significant
words: 'For the key to the secret strong
room, wherein will be found fifty bags of
hard cash, look behind the Golden Lamp"
The room with the five windows, in the
center one of which stood the Golden Lamp,
was an old dining hall. The oal1en walls
were hung with large and valuable paint
ings; and from the center of the ceiling was
suspended great chandelier. At one end
of this room a fire was burning in the open
chimney: and near the rug, in front of the !
fire, was placed round dining table, laid
for three. Leaning over this table, to ar
range some exotic flowers in center vase,
was the beautiful lamplighter who had at |
tracted John WeStcott's attention an hour |
ago.
No antique room, with so lovely figure |
placed there, would have better represented |
former century; a period, one might say,
in which Fishers Folly was the abode of |
beauty and fashion. The girl was plainly |
dressed; the fair hair was drawn back from |
the broad forehead into Grecian knot, and |
the dark velvet robe fitted closely to the |
tall and slender form. Her face was unde- |
niably handsome; but there was something |
more than mere beauty in the large |
brown eyes and resolute mouth; |
each feature exOresSed that nuick L