The Holly chieftain., 1904-01-01


who came forward to meet him. To
which the reply was, that the gentle
man referred to had crossed by the
boat that morning and lad engaged
private sitting room, leaving word that
he expected a friend from town. who
was to be shown up Immediately on
giving his name.
My name is Buritt.' was the reply
Then please to walk this way sir"
The man ushered him up flight OF
stairs and along a corridor, then. in
dicating a particular door. said: This
is the room the gentleman has taken"
Il will announce myself" said Mr..
Burritt. and the man withdrew.
Then, after pause of few sec
onds, he tapped lightly at the door. A
voice from within cried Come in"
and answering the summons he turned
the handle and entered. The occupant
of the apartment, tall, lean, elderly
man, who was looking out of the win
dow, turned round sharply and con-
fronted the visitor. A look-a strange,
wondering, intent look-passed be-
tween them. Then, the stranger,
made step forward. 'Silas!" he
cried. AT last."-and the men grasp
ed hands.
Then followed brief and impress
sive silence, during which each eager
| ly scanned the features of the other,
| and which Mr. Burritt was the first to
to break
James," he said, and there were
traces of considerable emotion in his
| voice, you are much changed.
should hardly have known you"
Changed, exclaimed the other.
somewhat bitterly: land in twenty
years. Is it to be wondered at?"
| Then, with an alteration of tone, But
should have know you anywhere,
Silas."
Twenty years." repeated his friend.
"Ah, well, SO it is! How quickly the
years have flown. 1t seems nothing
| like that to me-"
1T is that, all the same" said the
other. 1T is twenty years to the very
day. This is the Gath of April, 1884
1t was the oath Of April, 1864, when
you said goodbye to me on board the
vessel in which | was to sail to a new
country"
1T is long time to remain an
exile-a voluntary exile" said Mr.. Bur-
ritt; you might have returned years
ago had you chosen"
The other man shook his head
gloomily. 81 have kept my word"
he said. you remember my last
speech to you? said, I am
going to begin new life-to make
my fortune. In twenty years, if have
zone so, shall return. By that time
| may hope that my crime will have
been forgotten. 1t may be that in
twenty years some of those who know
my wretched story will be dead-I may
even be dead myself; but, if not.
shall return to the country l am now
about to leave behind; for surely in
twenty years the disgrace which now
furnishes my name will be blotted out
and forgotten. Until then, FAREWELL
And now" he continued, "the term
of my self-imposed banishment is at
an end. | have Kept my word and
have returned"
Mr. Burritt laid his hand upon his
friends shoulder.
You Judge yourself too harshly,"
he said "the word crime is too se-
we're one to apply to that youthful
indiscretion-sin, if you will-repented
of as soon as committed"
Repentance" cried the other, i'm
patiently; what is the good of repent
ance? Will it recover lost reputa.
ton and wipe out stain upon the
past? The fortune | went to seek is
mine, but l would give it all for an
unblemished record, so that | might
not be ashamed to look any man in the
face All, Silas. it is terrible thing
to think that child of mine should
ever blush for her father"
You are married, them" inquired
Mr.. Burritt. gladly seizing the oppor-
tunity thus offered of changing the
dismal subject. is your wife with
you?"
Il am a widower," was the reply.
MY wife died twelve years ago, leav
| ing me with one child-a daughter. ;"
Tell IHe all about your daughter,
said Mr. Burritt, "and how you came
to make up your mind to part with her
for so long? have a daughter of my
own-as well as the son who was born
| before you left England-and though |
have been threatening to pack her off
| to boarding school for the last four
| or five years, | never could reconcile
| myself to the idea of the separation.
| And now she's too old-nineteen last
| birthday" and her father shook his