Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy

Feeling forced to speak at last, he said: “This is very strange language, Mr. Pendleton.”

“It is unexpected, no doubt, for after all these years you probably thought it would remain forever unknown; but in what respect is it strange? I have given you a statement of facts as directly as I could.”

“They are not facts. Your charge is wholly false,” said the merchant, but his tone was not that of a man who speaks the truth boldly.

“I wish I could believe it,” said Ralph. “I wish I could believe that I was not deliberately swindled by one who professed to be my father’s friend.”

“On what authority do you bring this monstrous charge?” demanded Mr. Stanton, more boldly. “How happens it that you have not made it before?”

“For the simple reason that I myself did not suspect any fraud. I presumed that it was as you stated to me, and that your only fault was your injudicious investment.”

“Well, I admit that, as it turned out, the investment was injudicious. Everything else I deny.”

“Your denial is vain.”

“You cannot prove the truth of what you say.”

“So you fall back on that? But you are mistaken. I can prove the truth of what I say,” said Ralph firmly.

“How?”

“Do you remember a man named David Marston?”

“He is dead,” said Mr. Stanton, hastily.

“So you have supposed,” said Ralph; “but you were deceived. He is not dead. I only encountered him a week since, quite by accident, in my Western home. He was your confidential clerk, you remember, and fully acquainted with all your business transactions at the time of which I am speaking. From him I learned how basely I had been deceived, and with what deliberate cruelty you conspired to rob the son of your dead friend.”

“I don’t believe David Marston is alive,” said Mr. Stanton, hoarsely, with a certain terror in his face. “Indeed, I have proof that he is dead.”

“I know the character of your proof. A paper was forwarded to you from Australia, whither you had sent him, containing the record of his death.”

“Yes? What have you to say against this?”

“That the publication was a mistake. He was dangerously sick, and it was falsely announced that he was dead. That notice was sent to you, and you believed it to be true.”

“I believe it now,” said Mr. Stanton, doggedly. “Why should I not?”

“If you wish to be convinced, proof is at hand. Wait a moment.”

Ralph Pendleton rose from his seat and left the counting-room. Two minutes had not passed when he returned with an elderly man, thin of face and wasted in figure, looking twenty years older than Mr. Stanton, though really of about the same age.

“This is David Marston,” said Ralph—“the living proof that I have told you the truth.”

Mr. Stanton gazed at him wildly, for to him it was as the face of one risen from the dead.

“How do you do, Mr. Stanton?” said David Marston, humbly. “It is many, many years since we met, sir.”

“Are you really David Marston?” demanded Mr. Stanton, never taking his eyes off the shrunken figure of his old clerk.

“I am, sir; greatly changed indeed, but still the David Marston who was formerly in your employ. Time hasn’t treated me as well as it has you, sir. I’ve been unlucky, and aged fast.”

“I am afraid your mind is also affected. You have been telling strange stories to Mr. Pendleton here.”

“True stories, sir,” said David, firmly.

“Come, come, how much is he going to give you for this evidence of yours?”

“Stop, Mr. Stanton! You insult us both,” said Ralph Pendleton, sternly. “I am not the man to buy false evidence, nor is David Marston the man to perjure himself for pay. David, I want you, in Mr. Stanton’s presence, to make a clear statement of his connection with the mining company by which I lost my fortune.”

David Marston obeyed, and in a few words as possible unfolded the story. It is not necessary to repeat it here. Enough that it fully substantiated the charge which Ralph had brought against his early guardian.

When he had finished, Ralph said, “You can judge what weight Marston’s testimony would have before a court of justice, and whether it would help your commercial standing to have his story made public.”

“What is it you want of me?” said Mr. Stanton, sullenly.

“I want restitution, dollar for dollar, of my lost money. I will waive interest, though I might justly claim it. But, were it all paid, interest and principal, the wrong would not be redressed. You cannot restore the bride who would have been mine but for your villainy.”

“How much time will you give me to pay this money?” asked the merchant, moodily.

“Ten days.”

“It is a short time.”

“It must suffice. Do you agree?”

“I must.”

“Bind yourself to that, and for ten days I leave you free.”

Satisfactory security was given that the engagement would be met, and Ralph Pendleton left the counting-room. But his countenance was scarcely more cheerful than that of the man he had conquered.

“I am rich,” he said to himself; “but of what avail is it? Whom can I benefit with my wealth?”

This thought had scarcely crossed his mind when he came face to face with Herbert, walking with a sad and downcast face in the opposite direction.

CHAPTER XXXIII

A FRIEND IN NEED

Herbert left Mr. Godfrey’s counting-room very much depressed in spirits. But an hour before he had rejoiced in his excellent prospects, and, depending on the favor of his employer and his own fidelity, had looked forward to a bright future. Now all was changed. He was dismissed from his situation in disgrace, suspected of a mean theft. He had, to be sure, the consciousness of innocence, and that was a great deal. He was not weighed down by the feeling of guilt, at least. Still his prospects were dark. Suppose the matter should not be cleared up, and he should still remain under suspicion? How could he hope to obtain another place without a recommendation from his late employer? No; he must resign all hope of a position and adopt some street occupation, such as selling papers or vending small articles in a basket, as he had seen boys of his own age doing. He did not doubt but that in some way he could get a living, but still he would be under suspicion, and that was hard to bear.

While these things were passing through his mind he walked down Broadway, with his eyes fixed upon the sidewalk. All at once he started to hear his name called, and, looking up, to his unbounded astonishment he saw before him Ralph the Ranger, whom he had supposed a thousand miles away in his cabin in the Ohio woods.

The sight of a friendly face was most welcome to him at such a time, and Ralph’s face was friendly.

“Ralph!” he exclaimed, seizing the Ranger’s hand. “How did you come here? When did you arrive? You are the last person I expected to see.”

“And you are the one I most wanted to see,” said Ralph, his tone unconsciously softened by his friendly interest in the boy before him.

“I can say the same, Ralph,” said Herbert, soberly, “for I am in trouble.”

“In trouble, boy? I am sorry for that. Is it money? I can get you out of that trouble.”

“It is not that exactly, Ralph. If you will come into the City Hall Park and sit down on a bench with me I will tell you all about it.”

“Instead of that, let us go into the Astor House,” said Ralph. “It is where I am stopping.”

“You are stopping at the Astor House?” said Herbert, in momentary surprise. “Perhaps you do not know that there are cheaper hotels. Shall I direct you to one?”

“No, Herbert, I am not poor, as you perhaps think. I suppose I should be called rich; but that I can explain afterwards. For the present your affairs require attention. Come in.”

They went up the steps of the Astor House, and Ralph led the way to his room, an apartment of good size and handsomely furnished.

“Now, Herbert, take a chair and tell me all,” he said.

To repeat Herbert’s story here is unnecessary. Ralph listened with attention, and when it was concluded he said: “The main thing is to account for the money in your possession. Do you think you should remember the policeman who aided you in recovering your money?”

“I am sure I should.”

“Did he know how much money you recovered?”

“Yes, for he saw me count the bills.”

“Then we must seek him out and induce him to go with us to Mr. Godfrey’s counting-room and give his testimony.”

“I never thought of that,” said Herbert, his face brightening. “When shall we go?”

“Now. I have nothing else to occupy me, and the sooner you are righted the better.”

They went out together, and made their way at once to the spot where Herbert had encountered Greenleaf. They had to wait but a brief time when the policeman came up.

“Do you remember me?” asked Herbert, going up to him.

“Yes,” he replied; “you are the boy that overhauled a thief the other day, and got back his money.”

“You see, he remembers,” said Herbert, with satisfaction.

“My friend,” said Ralph, “when will you be off duty?”

“In half an hour,” said the policeman, in surprise.

“In half an hour, then, I want you to go with me to this boys employer and repeat your story. The possession of the money has caused him to be suspected, and your evidence, confirming his own, will clear him of having obtained it improperly.”

“I will go,” said the officer, “and shall be glad to get him out of a scrape. It was all fair and above-board, and I’ll say so cheerfully.”

At the end of the half hour the three made their way to Mr. Godfrey’s place of business and entered together.

Mr. Godfrey marked their entrance with surprise, and looked inquiringly at Herbert.

“Mr. Godfrey,” said Herbert, respectfully, “I have come to prove to you that the money I have in my pocketbook is my own.”

“I shall be very glad if you can do so,” said Mr. Godfrey; and it was evident from his manner that he spoke sincerely.

“This officer knows all the circumstances, and will tell you what he knows.”

The policeman made his statement, partly in answer to questions from Mr. Godfrey.

“The explanation is satisfactory,” said Mr. Godfrey, “and convinces me. It does not, however, absolutely clear you, since between the time of the money being lost and your being searched you went out to the post office, and you might have disposed of the pocketbook and its contents on the way.”

Herbert’s countenance fell, but Mr. Godfrey hastened to add. “Although your vindication is not complete, I will say that I believe you fully, and will receive you back into my employ.”

“You have forgotten one thing, sir,” said Herbert. “Thomas declares that he saw me pick up the wallet and put it in my pocket.”

“So I did,” said Tom, boldly.

Mr. Godfrey looked perplexed, and was hesitating what to say when Mr. Walton, the owner of the lost pocketbook, hurriedly entered.

“Mr. Godfrey,” he said, “I have to beg your pardon, and, most of all, the pardon of this boy,” indicating Herbert. “I have found my pocketbook. I didn’t lose it here, but my pocket was picked in the street. The pickpocket was arrested, and the wallet has been returned to me. This boy is innocent.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” said Mr. Godfrey, with emphasis. “Herbert, I will try to make amends to you for my transient suspicions of your honesty. As for you,” he continued, turning to Thomas and speaking sternly, “I despise you for your mean attempt to injure your fellow-clerk. You must leave my employment to-day. I shall write to your father the reasons for dismissing you.”

“I can get along without your paltry four dollars a week,” said Tom, with bravado. “I am not a beggar.”

“You may be something worse, if you do not amend,” said Mr. Godfrey.” Mr. Pratt, you may pay him for the entire week, and he can go at once.”

Although Tom professed so much disdain for the four dollars a week, he did not decline the week’s pay directed to be paid to him, but placed the money in his vest pocket and went out with assumed nonchalance, though, in reality, deeply mortified at the unexpected discovery of his meanness.

“As for you, Herbert,” said Mr. Godfrey, “you can come back at once, and I will raise your pay to eight dollars a week. I owe you some reparation for the injury you came so near suffering. I will never again doubt your integrity.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert; “I shall be glad to come back.”

“Before this matter is decided,” said Ralph, “I have a proposition to make to Herbert. I am rich, and have no one to share or inherit my wealth. I propose to adopt him—to give him an opportunity to complete his education in Europe, whither I propose going, and if some years hence you shall be willing to receive him, he can then enter your counting-room to learn business. The amount of compensation will be unimportant, as I shall provide for him amply.”

Herbert stared at Ralph in amazement. He could hardly realize that the offer was indeed a genuine one.

“Do you mean that I am to go to Europe with you, Ralph?” he said.

“Yes, if you like.”

“I shall like it VERY MUCH,” said Herbert, enthusiastically. “How can I thank you for so much generous kindness!”

“Your companionship will cheer me, and give me something to live for, Herbert,” said Ralph. “Through you I hope some day to enjoy life again.”

Herbert’s clasped the Ranger’s hand in impulsive gratitude, while his face beamed with pleasure.

“I congratulate you, Herbert,” said Mr. Godfrey, kindly, “though I am sorry to lose you. Whenever your guardian is ready to have you enter on a business career, a place in my counting-room shall be open to you.”

“Ralph,” said Herbert, seriously, as they went from the counting-room in company, “all that has happened seems so wonderful that I am a little afraid I shall wake up to find it all a dream.”

“It is a change to me also,” said Ralph, “to have a new interest in life. The past is a sealed book. Let us look forward to a bright and pleasant future. Whatever pleasures and advantages money can obtain for you shall be yours.”

“Thank you,” said Herbert, gratefully.

CHAPTER XXXIV

CONCLUSION

“Where are you boarding, Herbert?” asked Ralph.

“In Stanton Street.”

“I shall wish you at once to remove to the Astor House, in order that we may be together until we sail for Europe.”

To this pleasant arrangement Herbert made no opposition. He found it a great change from the dirty and slipshod boarding-house to the elegant arrangements of a first-class hotel. It is needless to say that he enjoyed that change not a little. He often had the feeling, of which he had spoken to Ralph, that it was a dream from which he would some time awake. But the dream was destined to be a pretty long one.

Within a week, much against his will, Mr. Stanton paid over to Ralph Pendleton the fifty thousand dollars of which he had years ago defrauded him, and thus the Ranger found himself master of a fortune of nearly one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He settled without delay a comfortable annuity on David Marston, the old clerk, through whose evidence he had been able to ferret out the treachery of Mr. Stanton. Marston needed it, for his health was broken down and he was an invalid, prematurely old. He is now settled in a comfortable boarding-house in Clinton Street, and usually spends his mornings at the Mercantile Library Reading-Room, in Astor Place, reading the morning papers. Sometimes he ventures downtown, and takes a slow walk through the streets, crowded with busy, bustling men, and recalls the years when he, too, was one of them.

Before sailing for Europe, Herbert expressed a desire to repay his uncle the sum of ten dollars, which the latter had sent to him. Ralph was surprised when he learned that this uncle, of whom Herbert spoke, was the same man who had been his former guardian. He approved our hero’s determination, and one morning Herbert entered for the first time his uncle’s place of business.

“Is Mr. Stanton in?” he asked of a clerk.

The clerk, in reply, pointed to the office.

Herbert entered.

His uncle looked up, but although he had seen our hero at a concert at the Academy of Music, he did not recognize him in the new and fashionable suit which Ralph had purchased for him.

“Mr. Stanton, I suppose?” said Herbert, with quiet self-possession.

“Yes. Do you wish to speak with me?”

“I must introduce myself,” said Herbert. “I am Herbert Mason, your nephew.”

“Indeed!” said Mr. Stanton, surprised. “When did you come to the city?”

“Some weeks since.”

“What brought you here?”

“I had my living to make. I preferred to make it in the city.”

“The city is crowded. You had better have remained in the country.”

“I do not think so,” said Herbert.

“You could have got a place on a farm, and in time perhaps might have bought a little land for yourself.”

Herbert smiled.

“I did get a place on a farm,” he said; “but I did not like it.”

“What are you doing in the city? Have you got a place?”

“Not at present.”

“So I supposed,” said his uncle, frowning. “I told you the city was overcrowded. You should not have come here. I suppose you relied on me to help you to something. But I have my own family to take care of, and my first duty is to them, as you must be aware.”

“I don’t think you quite understand my object in calling,” said Herbert, quietly. “I have not come for assistance of any kind.”

“Indeed!” returned Mr. Stanton, appearing to be puzzled.

“You sent me ten dollars in a letter to Dr. Kent some months since?”

“Yes. I felt that it was best for you to depend on yourself, and that more would only encourage you to idleness.”

“I have come to thank you for the LOAN,” said Herbert, emphasizing the last word, “and to return the money.”

“What!” exclaimed Mr. Stanton, now thoroughly amazed.

Herbert repeated his former words.

“But I don’t understand this. You are out of a place; yet you do not need this money.”

“No, I do not need it.”

This was certainly astonishing, and Mr. Stanton gazed at his nephew as if he did not know what to make of it.

“What are your plans?” he asked. “What are you going to do?”

“I sail for Europe next week,” said Herbert, enjoying his uncle’s surprise.

“Sail for Europe!” ejaculated Mr. Stanton, scarcely believing his ears.

“Yes, I am to go to school there, and shall probably remain three or four years.”

“You are trifling with me,” said his uncle, irritably. “How can you go to Europe without money?”

Herbert felt that the time had come for an explanation.

“A friend,” he said, “kindly undertakes to pay all my expenses. I go with him.”

“Who is your friend?”

“Mr. Ralph Pendleton. I believe you know him.”

“Ralph Pendleton!” repeated Mr. Stanton, in renewed surprise. “How did you become acquainted with him?”

“The farmer with whom I was placed in Ohio ill-treated me. Ralph lived near by, and helped me to run away.”

Mr. Stanton made no comment. Indeed, his surprise was such that he knew not what to say. His friendless and penniless nephew, as he had regarded him, was about to share advantages which he would gladly have obtained for his own son. When, that evening, at home, he told his family of Herbert’s good fortune, Tom was filled with bitter envy. If it had been any other boy he would have cared less, but for “that begger Herbert” to go to Europe in charge of a man of wealth was very mortifying to his pride.

Mr. Stanton made a faint protest against receiving the ten dollars tendered by his nephew, but Herbert was determined to repay it. He placed it on the desk and eventually Mr. Stanton placed it in his pocketbook.

After some reflection, finding his nephew very differently situated from what he had supposed, Mr. Stanton, with the concurrence of his wife, whose opinion also had been changed, sent an invitation to Ralph and Herbert to dine with them previous to their sailing for Europe. Herbert, by his new guardian’s direction, returned a polite reply, to the effect that they were too busy in making preparations for their departure to accept the invitation. Ralph did not feel like sitting as the guest of a man who had cruelly defrauded him, and had only done him justice when he was actually compelled to do so.

In due time our hero sailed for Europe with Mr. Ralph Pendleton. They divided their time between Paris and Berlin, Herbert studying at both places. With his natural good abilities, he made rapid progress, and at the end of four years was an accomplished scholar, able to speak both French and German with facility. In watching his progress, Ralph Pendleton found a new and fresh interest in life. He recovered from his old, morbid feeling, and became cheerful and happy. On returning to New York, Herbert, who felt that he should enjoy a life of business better than a professional career, entered the counting-room of Mr. Godfrey. At twenty-one, the junior partner retiring, he was received as partner in his place, his guardian, Ralph Pendleton, purchasing an interest for him at a cost of fifty thousand dollars. He developed good business abilities, and bid fair to swell this sum, in time, to a large fortune. There is a prospect that he will, in time, sustain a closer relation to his senior partner, as it is rumored that Julia Godfrey, now a brilliant young belle, prefers her father’s young partner to any of the crowd of young men who pay her court.

The other characters in our story demand a few closing words. First, for Mr. Stanton. It might have been the sudden withdrawal of the fifty thousand dollars from his business that embarrassed him. At any rate, from that time nothing prospered with him. He met with loss after loss, until, in a time of financial panic he failed. He saved but a little from the wreck of his fortune, That little started him in a modest business, yielding him, perhaps, one-tenth his former income. The brownstone house was sold. He moved into a shabby house in an obscure street, where Mrs. Stanton spends her time mostly in bewailing the loss of her former splendor.

Tom developed habits of extravagance, and seemed indisposed to work steadily. Finally, when his reverses came, his father was compelled to refuse further assistance, and now Tom, in an inferior clerkship, on a small salary, gazes with envy at his once-despised cousin, with whom he has completely changed places. How he will come out eventually is doubtful. Unless he changes considerably, it is not likely that his circumstances will ever be much better than at present.

Abner Holden died suddenly last year in a fit of delirium tremens. His habits of intemperance grew upon him until they led to this sad result. His death did not excite any very prolonged grief in the community, as his temper and uncertain honesty had made him very far from popular. To the housekeeper who had been kind to him, Herbert sent a valuable silk dress, of the richest fabric, of which Mrs. Bickford is very proud. She only wears it on great occasions, and then is particular to mention that it was presented to her by Herbert Mason, of the great New York firm of Godfrey & Mason, who was once Abner Holden’s bound boy.

Nor was Herbert forgetful of his good friends, the Kents. He paid off the mortgage on the doctor’s place, and insisted on putting the house in thorough repair, and newly furnishing it, so that now the town of Waverley does not contain a handsomer house, inside and out, than that of Dr. Kent.

So we bid farewell to our young hero, fairly launched on a prosperous career, trusting that his life-path may be bright to the end, and that he may leave behind him, at the end of his career, the reputation of a noble and honorable merchant, and a life filled with good deeds.

THE END