A REVELATION.
The excitement over the "Three Boys" mine called many adventurers to the
vicinity. Capitalists came in great numbers, and the three lucky owners
were the lions of the hour. The fame of the new mine extending far away,
the leading journals of the land were filled with graphic accounts of
the bonanza. The owners described, men wondered who they really were,
as no knowledge of whence they came could be obtained. They gave their
names as George Howard, Ralph Waters, and Frank Bentley, and that was
all the curious ones could learn about them.
Already, the partners had ordered improved machinery needed to work the
mines. The wealth of the "Three Boys" was computed at several millions,
and of course the owners were abundantly able to borrow all the funds
necessary to assist them in developing their prize. Men came forward,
offering to advance all the money required and take stock in the mine,
but the shrewd owners thought best to hold aloof from any connection
with others. George Howard's thorough knowledge of banking was valuable
in assisting them to obtain money from banks, so they were independent
of any aid others could afford, and all the pressure of outsiders to be
allowed an interest was unavailing.
George Howard, under his assumed name, was the same methodical and
honorable man as when in the bank at Cleverdale. He was the head of
the firm in all financial matters; his advice always resulted in the
concern's advantage. His embrowned and healthy face covered with a
handsome beard, and his eyes sparkling with all the vivacity of yore,
the impression that his frank, straight-forward manner made upon all
with whom he associated was always favorable. He was thoroughly relied
upon by his companions, and when indulging in moments of despondency
they labored earnestly to restore him to good nature. A perfect
gentleman, a refined and cultivated spirit, and, withal, one versed so
well in business matters, they wondered why he had become an adventurer
in the wilds of Colorado. Many times the two conversed together
concerning their partner, yet no suspicion of wrong on his part ever
entered their mind. It was decided between them that a love affair and
blasted affections had sent George Howard out into the world to seek his
fortune and open a new book of life. They were satisfied to accept this
explanation, and their companion rose in their respect as they did so.
One day a stranger appeared at the new mine, and asked many questions.
He claimed to represent a wealthy banking-house in Chicago, and it was
not long before George Howard was perfectly satisfied that the gentleman
was all he represented himself to be. After forming the acquaintance of
the three partners, the stranger unfolded the object of his visit, which
was nothing less than to purchase the claim or induce the owners to open
negotiations with a view to forming a stock company. Painting a glowing
picture of the advantage to be gained by the latter plan, he assured the
firm they could realize a fortune at once.
George Howard, not in favor of the latter plan, was not averse to
selling the mine, providing the purchasers would pay enough. Although
not a jockey at a trade, he was shrewd enough to know the firm owned
wealth such as he had never dreamed of possessing. While assuring Mr.
James of the firm's disinclination to enter into a speculation, he would
confer with his companions with a view to selling their claim. And the
result of the consultation was the decision to sell the mine.
Mr. James requesting time to consult by mail with his partners, a week
afterward a letter from the bankers asked an interview with the owners
of the mine at Chicago, and three days later the four men were on their
way. For two days after their arrival the banking-house labored to
induce the miners to form a stock company, but, after exhausting their
powers of persuasion without avail, the firm finally offered three
million dollars for the mine. The offer was accepted, the sale soon
effected, and the young men, with a million dollars each, were happy.
George Alden, _alias_ Howard, sat alone in his room at a hotel, and said
to himself:
"What a change since my first visit here, one year and a half ago! Then
I was broken down in health and full of sorrow. Time has wrought many
changes in me, for to-day I am strong in both body and mind, and possess
a fortune of a million dollars. But with this money I cannot obtain
the happiness I desire. My wife's cruel letter, that nearly killed me,
recurs to my mind many times a day. What shall I do? I am a millionaire,
but cannot return to Cleverdale to be spurned by her as if I were a
thief! No, I will go and see the good Mrs. Nash, tell her the story
of my life, and then seek a foreign clime, and in travel try to drive
the one great sorrow from my heart. Oh, Belle, my darling wife, how
happy we might be! Your proud father would not scorn me now on account
of financial standing. I will go this day to see Mrs. Nash, remain
with the good woman a short time, and see that her future is made more
comfortable."
Two hours later the three partners separated, Waters and Bentley taking
trains for their destination, while George Howard went directly to the
residence of Mrs. Nash. The good woman at first did not recognize him,
as he stood before her in the little parlor of her home, but after
closely scanning his face her delight was unbounded. She had heard of
his prosperity, but when informed of his selling his interest in the
mine for one million dollars, she could scarcely realize the truth of
the assertion.
"One million dollars!" she exclaimed. "The day of miracles has returned
to us."
That day Alden told the motherly woman his story. He told her of his
childhood; his struggle to obtain an education; his career as salesman
in a store; and his appointment as teller in the bank. He told of the
happy weeks at Lake George, where he met the love of his heart, and then
related the opposition of her father. As he proceeded, Mrs. Nash became
much interested. He spoke of his adventure in the burning factory,
describing his injuries and sufferings. He told of his long illness, and
the secret marriage, and when he described the happy days following,
he could scarcely control his emotion. He told of the parting between
his wife and himself; the false accusations against his honor, his weak
condition causing him to flee from home and friends, and then he related
the particulars of his flight and the cruel letter. Suddenly Mrs. Nash
arose excitedly, and asked:
"What is your rightful name?"
"Alden--George Alden."
"George Alden? And was Cleverdale the place you fled from?"
"Yes; but you are agitated; what--what is it?"
"There has been a great mistake somewhere. You are mourned as dead."
"My God! Mrs. Nash, what do you mean?" exclaimed George. "_I_ mourned as
dead?"
"Yes, wait here a moment. I have a paper containing full particulars.
Your poor wife could never have written that letter. But I will get the
paper."
A moment later she returned. Greatly excited, Alden seized the
newspaper, which bore date of a year and a half previous. His eyes fell
upon a marked article, which read as follows:
"A SAD TRAGEDY.
[From the Cleverdale, N. Y., _Investigator_.]
"We are called upon to chronicle one of the saddest tragedies
that ever occurred in this locality. The facts of the case are
as follows: Last fall the Cleverdale Woollen Mill was destroyed
by fire, and one of the bravest and noblest acts of the age was
performed by George Alden, cashier of the Cleverdale National
Bank. The immense factory employed seven hundred men, women, and
children, and, as the flames burst forth, one hundred and fifty
persons on the third floor were cut off from escape, except by the
way of two doors only reached by running a gauntlet of fire. Poor
Alden succeeded in relieving the captives, but his bravery nearly
cost him his life; for several months he languished on a bed of
suffering, and approached the door of eternity. Kind attention and
skilful treatment brought him up, but the sad catastrophe left him
weak in mind and body. His lifeless form was found on Friday last,
in Reynolds Grove, a bullet-hole in the brain and a pistol lying at
the side of the unfortunate man telling too plainly of his death by
suicide."
George Alden paused a moment to calm his agitation, and then proceeded:
"The body was horribly decomposed, the face being unrecognizable,
the clothing alone proving the identity of the poor fellow.
"It was a sad ending of a noble life, and never did a community
mourn for one of its citizens as the people of Cleverdale mourn
for poor George Alden. Two women in this affliction are entitled
to our deepest sympathy. His sister has lost the companion of her
life, while the beautiful daughter of Senator Hamblin is utterly
prostrated by the sad event. George Alden was an estimable young
man, and the love and respect of the whole community was shown when
all business was suspended to allow a public demonstration of sorrow
at the grave of Cleverdale's hero."
Alden dropped the paper and exclaimed, "Oh, my poor wife! how I have
wronged you! But who are the villains who have done this? I have been
the victim of a wicked conspiracy. To-night I will leave for Cleverdale.
I must go at once, for I have deeply wronged my wife. But perhaps she is
dead! Oh no, she _must_ be alive, and her father will not turn me off
now."
Making immediate preparations to leave Chicago, he presented his kind
friend with a generous sum of money, promising to write her on his
arrival at Cleverdale. That night he was on a train bound for the East.
He remembered how full of sorrow he was when he arrived in the city,
eighteen months previous. Now he was returning to his home and kindred,
unconscious of the events going forward at Cleverdale to rob him of his
wife.
His first thought was to telegraph his friends, informing them of his
coming, but he finally concluded to hasten on and verify his existence
in the flesh by his own person and with his own lips.