A LATE ARRIVAL AT MRS. BARTON'S COTTAGE.
One evening, about eight o'clock, Mrs. Barton was sewing in her little
sitting-room when an unusual feeling of loneliness overcame her.
Circumstances had separated her from her husband, and her only son was
hundreds of miles away.
"Why," she asked herself, "can I not fare as well as other wives and
mothers? I am a wife, yet I cannot enjoy my husband's society.
Fortunately I am not likely long to be separated from Bert. If he only
succeeds in his mission, and comes home able to vindicate the fame of
his father, and restore him to me, I shall be perfectly happy."
She felt unusually restless, and found it difficult to keep on with her
work.
"I feel as if something were going to happen. I hope no misfortune is
impending over me."
She had hardly spoken when the door bell rang.
"It is some neighbor come to make a call," she thought. "I am glad of
it, for I am not in the mood for work."
She rose and opened the door. She started back in surprise when in her
visitors she recognized Uncle Jacob, and leaning upon his arm the
husband of whom she had just been thinking.
"May we come in?" asked Uncle Jacob, cheerily.
"Surely, but--has anything happened?"
"Only this; that your husband is sick and has come here to be nursed
back to health by my advice."
"But--is it safe?"
"I think so. The fact is, Bert has made an important discovery, and is
likely to make more. We are in a fair way to prove your husband's
innocence, and put the guilt where it belongs."
"And where does it belong?"
"The man who stole the bonds, we have every reason to believe, is Albert
Marlowe."
"I do not wish to get him into trouble, but if it is necessary in order
to vindicate my husband's reputation, I will not object."
"Albert Marlowe has been a cruel enemy to you and your family," said
Jacob Marlowe, sternly. "He is entitled to no consideration. The past
ten years cannot be recalled; but I think that we shall be able to
provide a brighter future for yourself and Mr. Barton. The first thing
to do is to get him well."
"What is the matter with you, John?" asked Mrs. Barton, now for the
first time noting with alarm her husband's pale face.
"The doctor says my system is run down, and that I need time to
recuperate. I was living in a boarding-house in Montreal, and the
prospect of being sick there was too much for me. I wanted my wife to
take care of me, and, taking the first train to New York, I consulted
Uncle Jacob as to whether it would be safe. In the light of Bert's
discoveries he told me to take the risk. So here I am. May I stay?"
"Do you need to ask that?" said Mrs. Barton, with an affectionate glance
at her husband. "There is no place where you have a better right to be."
Then, as she thought of her scanty means, a momentary look of anxiety
overspread her face lest she should not be able to provide him with the
medicines and nourishing food that he required. Uncle Jacob, who was a
keen observer, read her thoughts, and reassured her by saying: "Mr.
Barton is provided with what money may be required for at least a month,
and after that time I think some more can be found."
"But, Uncle Jacob, I cannot consent to impose upon your liberality any
further. You have but a small sum of money yourself. What would happen
to you if you should fall sick?"
"I think I should follow your husband's example, and come here to be
nursed back to health," replied Uncle Jacob.
"What am I to say to the neighbors, for they will be sure to inquire?"
"Say that you are taking care of a sick gentleman from New York."
"It will not do to give his real name?"
"No; call me Mr. Robinson, as you did on my former visit," said Mr.
Barton.
"Now that this matter is arranged, can you take care of us both
to-night?" asked Uncle Jacob.
"Yes, there is Bert's room."
"Then I will trespass upon your hospitality for one night."
"Can't you stay longer, Uncle Jacob?"
"No, I must get back to business. I must not run any risk of losing my
situation, you know."
"To be sure not," said Mrs. Barton, earnestly. "Do you like your
employer, Uncle Jacob?"
"I have no reason to complain of him," answered the old man, with a
smile. "He lets me do about as I please."
"You were very lucky in getting in with him."
"As you say, I am in good luck. But I think I ought to get higher pay."
"It seems to me twelve dollars a week is a very good salary," said Mrs.
Barton, soberly. "You could save something out of that if you were not
so generous."
"I must think seriously of that, Mary. If I get mean and close-fisted,
you mustn't be surprised. It will be only because I follow your
advice."
"You can never become mean or close-fisted, Uncle Jacob. It isn't in
your nature to be either. But I hope you will be reasonably economical,
and not give away so much money to others."
"You are a good little woman, Mary," said Uncle Jacob, feelingly. "If
you are ever blessed with means, you will do just as you advise me not
to do. Don't be worried about me, Mary. God loves a cheerful giver, you
know, and whatever I give to you is cheerfully given."
An hour was spent in conversation, and then, as Mr. Barton showed
fatigue, he and Uncle Jacob retired to bed, and Mrs. Barton mixed some
flour so as to be able to give her guests warm biscuits in the morning,
for she remembered that her husband had been very fond of them in former
years.
The next morning after breakfast Uncle Jacob took his departure.
"I leave you in good hands, John," he said to Mr. Barton. "Now, get well
as fast as you can."
"There is one thing that will make me well," said Barton, "and that is,
vindication from the false charge that has darkened my life and
destroyed my happiness during the last ten years."
"That is coming, and coming soon," said Uncle Jacob. "Only be patient a
little while. Bert has already made a discovery that makes it clear who
is the real criminal."
"I hope he will never suffer as I have done," said the sick man.
"You have a more Christian spirit than I, John. I think it only right
that he should suffer for the wrong he has done you. Well, good-by. Let
me hear from you, and if Bert makes any further progress in his mission,
I will apprise you and Mary."
Uncle Jacob left the village without being seen by Albert Marlowe or
Percy, who alone were likely to recognize him. But it leaked out that
Mrs. Barton had a boarder, Percy being the first to hear of it.
"What do you think, papa?" he said one day. "Bert Barton's mother has
taken a boarder from the city."
"A boarder from the city?" repeated Squire Marlowe, surprised.
"Yes."
"What brought him to Lakeville?"
"I don't know. I can tell you who brought him here."
"Who, then?"
"Uncle Jacob."
"Has he been here, then?"
"Yes; he came in the evening and went back the next morning."
"I wonder he did not call upon us," said the squire thoughtfully.
"It's no great loss if he didn't," returned Percy, pertly. "He would
probably want to borrow money."
"No; he appears to be doing very well in the city; that is, for him. But
what could induce a gentleman from the city to come here to Lakeville to
board in a humble cottage?"
"I hear he is in poor health," said Percy.
"Have you seen him? Do you know what his appearance is?"
"Yes. I saw him sitting at Mrs. Barton's window. He is of dark
complexion, and has dark hair. Then he seemed to have a high forehead."
Squire Marlowe started in surprise.
"Dark complexion, dark hair, a high forehead! Is it possible that it can
be----"
"Who, father?" asked Percy, curiously.
"Never mind, my son. Some one whom I used to know answers to that
description."
As Percy went out, Albert Marlowe said to himself: "If it should be he,
what shall I do about it? It is not for my interest that he should
remain in Lakeville. I might denounce him to the authorities, but I
would warn him first. Then, if he still lingers, he must take the
consequences."