The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-04-22

shall be discharged, said Mr.. Hanlitoh'
as the two sat down TO dinner together.
Il have thought him for long time more
knave than fool
such men make trouble. 1 wish we
could send him away before the story OF
his claims get abroad, hey, Vane?
1T would not do TO offer him money,
though no doubt that Is what the IelloW
wants; and he Is not able to go now, sup
pose
There was no more said between them
about the matter. and the dinner progressed
in silence. though 1t must be owned that
neither ate heartily. But they arose 10 go
TO the office afterwards as II nothing I'M
usual had occurred. .
I'll just run up and see Constance said
VERY well. 1 will wait for you" And
Mr.. Hamilton did SO
How is she? Does she look much dis
turbed?" asked the latter, when Mr.. Car
"She looks as if she had had a great
shock, Vane. l told her not to go near the
what did she say?"
Nothing, only that / need not fear that
she would do anything imprudent."
mo, she will not you may be sure or
that" said Mr. Hamilton, and he walked
along silently and thoughtfully to the Of
flee.
Constance did not intend to be imprudent,
but she did mean TO see Primus Edes and
ask him few questions. Accordingly she
went over about o'clock and made her
errand known to Mrs Fry. who ushered her
as Constance requested.
Constance" he cried, so you did come
again. | did not hope to see you till to-
II want to ask you few questions 1
came for that" said she. quietly.
Ask me anything"
You say you are Vane Hamilton. Tell
me. then, why you went away every year
in May"
81 will. 1 feel now that ought to have
done so before. But l shrank from it.
1ancVinQ m
foolish one'
"Quest?"
mother, Constance-a sad, delicate woman
who seldom smiled; but you never knew the
reason of her sadness, nor did 1, till a
short time before she died. Then she told
me. She had three children, girl and
two sons, who were twins. My sister died
In childhood, and my brother, also, as sup
posed; but she, Ii seems. always doubted
IT. AS you know, Constance, | was one of
the twins, and the other was stolen. My par
ents, who were very wealthy at that time,
lived in Elmira, n. Y. The nurse, who
had charge of us, took our carriage, which
was a double one, to the park one day,
as usual There she left us, servants
will to gossip with other girls, and when
she returned my brother was nowhere to
be seen. OF course, the woman was filled
with grief and fear. and she searched
long time, herself. before summoning aid.
fearing the displeasure of her employers.
But the child could not be found My moth
er was nearly frantic for she had set her
heart on her two remaining children after
her little daughter died, and IL seemed for
a long time as if she would be insane.
THE search was wide and thorough.
Everything was done TO find him that ample
means and anxious hearts could devise. and
at last II was believed that he was dead,
or had been carried from the country.
My father lost the larger part of his prop
erty about this time. Indeed, the long
search had been a heavy drain upon it, and
since it had long been decided that no more
could be done, he took considerable pains
to impress upon my mothers mind the be-
lief that the child was dead. There were
many facts that tended toward il, and my
father himself actually believed that Victor
died after being stolen. and before the
kidnaper felt that it would be safe to
make any move towards securing a re-
ward for his return.
This what he believed, and as
have said he had great reason for thinking
so, many facts pointing to it; facts which
/ will not explain now. Indeed, the case
much resembled that of Charlie Ross,
which occurred a good many years later.
| But my mother did not agree with this ex-
PLANTATION, though she would have been
| glad to have had her hearts questioning
set at rest, if possible, even in this way
Far better to be dead she thought, than
| In the hands of wicked men,
when she was about to die she called
me to her bed and asked me if l would
| try faithfully to find my brother. / under
| stood then for the first time her lifelong
| sorrow Take two weeks of every year
| In May, the month of his loss to me, and
|
weeks left for yourself, she said will you
promise? Though I felt the futility of
| such a search, though / felt that I'm her
healthy lifetime she would never have ex-
| acted it, could not refuse such request
| at such a time. / promised. Then she took
a ring from her finger and gave it TO me,
in trust, for him should | ever find him.
! / found the words engraved inside the ring.
| and / always carried ii with me when
| went on my search.
LAS you may suppose, did not experience
1 IN hon hot k-hn Er,1
brother, even If he were living. The proba-
| bility of his having a different name
| amounted to a certainty, 1 considered; and
| then too, he, doubtless, would be ignorant
| OF his parentage, and might bear very little
resemblance to the family from which he
| sprang. although when we were infants it
| was almost impossible to tell us apart. No
| one could do so but my mother.
| You will see, Constance, why I hestated
| to take you into my confidence. You would
| have considered it foolish for me to leave
| my business each year and go seeking
| about the country for a brother who ii
was believed had died in his infancy.
| could not bear TO mention it even to you.
| though / felt that | must not break my
| solemn promise TO the dead. For four years
/ could learn nothing about the matter;
| the fifth / fancied that had found a trace,
| but, if so. Constance. my brother was not a
| good man; for it was among desperate men
| that he was classed-men who had violated
| the law many times. The next year l saw
| a description of this man in a newspaper
| He event usually by the name OF Ashley. II
was stated, and he had wife, beautiful
| green-haired woman her name was Le-
| nora i learned what | could about them
| and decided that at last 1 was the track
| of my long-lOst twin brother. Last May
| 1 was much excited. 1 could scarcely wait
| for the time to come. l meant fully to find
| my brother give him my mothers rins
| and message, and appeal to him i'm the
| name of her love and our relationship &c
| become a different man. You opposed my
| going. you recollect, but persevered. for
| reasoned very soon the quest would bC
| ended
| LAS L walked down the street a LADY
| came out of the Essex House and spoke &C
! me as if she knew me. In a moment
I became convinced that she was Lenora
| from the strange color of her hair and thai
she mistock me for my brother. | cOulC
| not talk with her there. and / asked her il
| / could not speak with her some place
that she would name. / was going on the
| train that morning, / told her. She asked
| me which way, and L replied to Portland
She said she could see me on the train
then 1t occurred to me to-day that sh,
| must have mistaken me throughout the in
terview for her husband for she seemed
bewldered. Be that as it may, | saw bel
on the train. and that is far as my
| recollection goes.
"My mind became eclipsed soon after
left Grovedale. / think, for L remember
| nothing that she said to that l sale
10 her. had been working hard at my bus
| mess and was much excited about my
brother. No doubt, the work and trouble
| were too much for me. That, Constance
explains the matter up to the time wheI
nv mind became blank. But how or why
came here. | know no more than you do
| Doubtless, it was through some dumb in
| stinct that took the place of active in
have fingered in my mind. and when 1 go
| here my feet would naturally tend towarf