MRS. BARTON'S SECRET.
Mrs. Barton staggered, and would have fallen, had not the other held her
up. "You here," she exclaimed, in amazement, "after being absent so many
years?"
"Yes; it has been a cruel exile. We have been very unfortunate."
"Where have you been these last ten years, Simeon?"
"For the last eight years in Canada."
"And you did not write me?"
"No; I feared it would set officers on my track. I have heard from you
now and then, indirectly. Have you suffered much?"
"It has been a weary time. It would have been easier to bear if I had
heard from you."
"A letter from Canada would have been sure to attract attention and
invite comment. Besides, I had no money to send you. Misfortune has
pursued me, and I have only been able to support myself. When I think of
the probable author of my misfortunes, I own it has made me feel
revengeful."
"To whom do you refer, Simeon?"
"To Albert Marlowe."
"What do you mean? How is he responsible for your--misfortune?"
"I will tell you. I believe that it was he who stole the bonds, the loss
of which was imputed to me."
"Is it possible that you have any proof of this?" asked Mary Barton
eagerly. "The bond that was found in your possession----"
"Was placed in my overcoat pocket for the express purpose of throwing
suspicion upon me. You remember that it was a bond for five hundred
dollars, while the amount stolen was six thousand."
"Yes."
"Albert and I were both at work in the same establishment. We were on a
level, so far as means are concerned."
"Yes."
"Now he is a rich man," added Simeon Barton significantly.
"Yes; he is considered worth thirty thousand dollars."
"It was the stolen money that gave him his start, I verily believe."
"He did not start in business for himself for more than a year
after--the trouble."
"No; for he thought it would invite suspicion. I have reason to think
that he disposed of the bonds in Canada, and with the proceeds started
in as a manufacturer. How otherwise could he have done so? He was only
earning two dollars a day when we were working together, and it cost him
all of that to support his family."
"I have often wondered where he obtained money to go into business."
"I don't think there is any mystery about it."
"And you have been compelled to bear the consequences of his wrong-doing
while he has been living in luxury?" said Mary Barton bitterly.
"Yes; but mine is not a solitary case. Wickedness often flourishes in
this world. We must look to the future for compensation."
"Do you think you will ever be able to prove your innocence, Simeon?"
"It is all that I live for. If I can do that, we can live together
again. But tell me, before I go any further, how are you and the boy
getting along?"
"We are comfortable," answered Mary Barton briefly. She did not care to
add to her husband's anxieties by speaking of Bert's discharge.
"I wish I had some money to give you, but I only had enough to bring me
here and return."
"You had an object in coming?"
"Yes; there was a man who was employed by Weeks Brothers at the time of
the loss of the bonds. I learned some months since--it is not necessary
to explain how--that he could throw light on the long unsolved
mystery--that he knew the real thief. I am in search of him. Some time I
hope to find him, and make clear my innocence by the aid of his
testimony."
"Oh, Simeon, if you only could!" exclaimed Mrs. Barton, clasping her
hands.
"I shall try, at all events."
"I wonder if it would not be well to consult Uncle Jacob?"
"Uncle Jacob!" repeated Simeon Barton in surprise.
"Yes; I have not told you. He has returned from California, and is now
in New York."
"Have you seen him?"
"Yes; he spent a week at our house."
Mrs. Barton went on to give the particulars of Uncle Jacob's visit.
"He is a poor man," she concluded. "As I understand, he brought home but
five hundred dollars, but he is lucky enough to be employed in an office
in New York at a salary of twelve dollars a week."
"If I were earning that, and could hold up my head an honest man,
without a stain--an undeserved stain--upon my name, I should be happy."
"Can you tell me Uncle Jacob's address?" he asked, after a pause. "I
don't think I shall venture to call upon him, for I am subject to arrest
on the old charge, as you know, and the New York detectives are sharp,
but I might write to him and ask his advice. But stay! he thinks me
dead, does he not?"
"Yes."
"And Bert--is that what you still call him?--he still thinks that he has
no father living?"
"You wished it so, Simeon."
"Yes; but the time may come when the secret can be revealed to him. I
may disclose myself to Uncle Jacob. I don't remember him very well,
but----"
"He is the best and kindest of men. I wish, he could have found
employment here."
"Did he visit Albert?"
"Yes; he remained at his house one night."
"Was he well received?"
"At first; for, coming from California, Albert supposed him rich. When
he found he had but five hundred dollars, he lost no time in turning him
out of the house."
"Poor Uncle Jacob! It must have hurt the old man's feelings."
"I feared it would, but he only seemed amused--not at all offended."
"He has seen so much of the world that he probably expected it. The old
man seemed in good spirits, then?"
"Yes; he declared that he was well able to earn his own living still,
though he is sixty-five, and was as gay and cheerful as a young man. He
insisted on paying his board while he was with us."
"There is nothing mean about Uncle Jacob."
"No; and it is a mystery to me why such men as he, who would make so
good use of riches, should almost always be poor."
"And men like Albert Marlowe are rich."
"Yes."
"There are a good many things that are difficult to make out. Where are
you going to stay to-night, Simeon?" she asked, after a pause.
"I--don't know."
"I wish I could invite you to the house where you have the best right to
be."
"I wish so, too."
"Bert doesn't know that you are alive. Perhaps I might introduce you as
an old friend of his father."
"If you think it would do. He would not speak of your having a visitor?"
"Not if I told him not to do so."
"You have tempted me strongly, Mary. I should like to see our boy, to
see with my own eyes how he is looking at fifteen. And it would be a
comfort to rest once more beneath the same roof as the wife from whom I
have been so long separated."
"I think we can risk it, Simeon. I must introduce you under another
name."
"Call me Robinson. That is the name I have borne for some years past."
"Mother!" was heard from a little distance.
"Bert has come out in search of me, being alarmed by my long absence.
Now, be on your guard."
"Is that you, mother? Where have you been so long? I got quite anxious
about you."
"I met an old friend of your father, Bert, and in talking with him I
forgot how time was passing. Mr. Robinson, this is my son Herbert."
Bert greeted the stranger politely. As his hand rested for a moment in
the hand of Mr. Robinson, he felt the latter tremble.
"Do you remember your father, Herbert?" asked the supposed stranger.
"Not very well. He died when I was quite a young boy."
"True! It was indeed a long time since," murmured Robinson, with a sigh.
"Bert, I have invited Mr. Robinson to stay with us to-night. It is long
since I have seen him and we may not meet again for some time. He will
share your room."
"Certainly, mother."
They went together to the cottage. Mrs. Barton prepared some tea, and
they sat down to a slight meal.
"Oh, if it could only continue thus!" thought Simeon Barton, as he
looked wistfully at the wife and son from whom he had been so long
separated. "It is like a sight of the promised land."
"Do you know my mother's cousin, Albert Marlowe?" asked Bert, during the
evening.
"I used to know him some years ago."
"Shall you call upon him? He is a rich man now."
"I think not I never--liked--him much."
Bert laughed.
"Ditto for me!" he said. "He is a cold, selfish man. He is not popular
with his workmen."
"By the way, Bert," said his mother, "you need not mention Mr.
Robinson's visit. His business requires secrecy."
"All right, mother! I'll bear it in mind."