IN THE CARS.
If Walter was surprised at receiving a visit at so late an hour, he was
still more surprised to recognize in the visitor Dr. Porter, the
principal of the Institute.
"Good-evening, Conrad," said the doctor. "I am rather a late visitor. I
was not sure but you might be in bed."
"I was just getting ready to go to bed, sir. Won't you walk in?"
"I will come in for five minutes only."
"Take the rocking-chair, sir."
All the while Walter was wondering what could be the doctor's object in
calling. He was not conscious of having violated any of the regulations
of the Institute, and even had he done so, it would be unusual for the
principal to call upon him at such an hour. So he watched the doctor
with a puzzled glance, and waited to hear him state his errand.
"Have you heard from home lately, Conrad?" asked the doctor.
"Yes, sir, I received a letter a few days since."
"Did your father speak of being unwell?"
"No, sir," said Walter, taking instant alarm. "Have--have you heard
anything?"
"Yes, my boy; and that is my reason for calling upon you at this unusual
hour. I received this telegram twenty minutes since."
Walter took the telegram, with trembling fingers, and read the following
message:--
"DR. PORTER:--Please send Walter Conrad home by the first train.
His father is very sick.
"NANCY FORBES."
"Do you think there is any danger, Dr. Porter?" asked Walter, with a
pale face.
"I cannot tell, my boy; this telegram furnishes all the information I
possess. Who is Nancy Forbes?"
"She is the house-keeper. I can't realize that father is so sick. He
did not say anything about it when he wrote."
"Let us hope it is only a brief sickness. I think you had better go home
by the first train to-morrow morning."
"Yes, sir."
"I believe it starts at half-past seven."
"I shall be ready, sir."
"By the way, are you provided with sufficient money to pay your railway
fare? If not, I will advance you the necessary sum."
"Thank you, sir, I have five dollars by me, and that will be more than
sufficient."
"Then I believe I need not stay any longer," and the doctor rose.
"Don't think too much of your father's sickness, but try to get a good
night's sleep. I hope we shall soon have you coming back with good
news."
The principal shook hands with Walter and withdrew.
When his tall form had vanished, Walter sat down and tried to realize
the fact of his father's sickness; but this he found difficult.
Mr. Conrad had never been sick within his remembrance, and the thought
that he might become so had never occurred to Walter. Besides, the
telegram spoke of him as _very_ sick. Could there be danger?
That was a point which he could not decide, and all that remained was to
go to bed. It was a long time before he got to sleep, but at length he
did sleep, waking in time only for a hasty preparation for the homeward
journey. He was so occupied with thoughts of his father that it was not
till the journey was half finished, that it occurred to him that this
was his fifteenth birthday, to which he had been looking forward for
some time.
The seat in front of our hero was for some time vacant; but at the
Woodville station two gentlemen got in who commenced an animated
conversation. Walter did not at first pay any attention to it. He was
looking out of the window listlessly, unable to fix his mind upon
anything except his father's sickness. But at length his attention was
caught by some remarks, made by one of the gentlemen in front, and from
this point he listened languidly.
"I suspected him to be a swindler when he first came to me," said the
gentleman sitting next the window. "He hadn't an honest look, and I was
determined not to have anything to do with his scheme."
"He was very plausible."
"Yes, he made everything look right on paper. That is easy enough. But
mining companies are risky things always. I once got taken in to the
tune of five thousand dollars, but it taught me a lesson. So I was not
particularly impressed with the brilliant prospectus of the Great
Metropolitan Mining Company, in spite of its high-sounding name, and its
promised dividend of thirty per cent. Depend upon it, James Wall and his
confederates will pocket all the dividends that are made."
"Very likely you are right. But it may be that Wall really believed
there is a good chance of making money."
"Of course he did, but he was determined to make the money for himself,
and not for the stockholders."
"I might have been tempted to invest, but all my money was locked up at
the time, and I could not have done so without borrowing the money, and
that I was resolved not to do."
"It was fortunate for you that you didn't, for the bubble has already
burst."
"Is it possible? I was not aware of that."
"I thought you knew it. The news is in this morning's paper. There will
be many losers. By the way, I hear that Mr. Conrad, of Willoughby, was
largely interested."
"Then, of course, he is a heavy loser. Can he stand it?"
"I am in doubt on that point. He is a rich man, but for all that he may
have gone in beyond his means."
"I am sorry for him, but that was reckless."
"Yes, he was completely taken in by Wall. He's a smooth fellow."
Walter had listened with languid attention; still, however, gathering
the meaning of what was said until the mention of his father's name
roused him, and then he listened eagerly, and with a sudden quickening
of the pulse. He instantly connected the idea of what he had heard with
his father's sudden illness, and naturally associated the two together.
"My father has heard of the failure of the company, and that has made
him sick," he thought.
Though this implied a double misfortune, it relieved his anxiety a
little. It supplied a cause for his father's illness. He had been afraid
that his father had met with some accident, perhaps of a fatal nature.
But if he had become ill in consequence of heavy losses, it was not
likely that the illness was a very severe one.
He thought of speaking to the gentlemen, and making some further
inquiries about the Mining Company and Mr. James Wall, but it occurred
to him that his father might not like to have him pry into his affairs,
and he therefore refrained.
When the gentlemen left the cars, he saw one of them had left a morning
paper lying in the seat. He picked it up, and examined the columns until
his eyes fell upon the following paragraph:--
"The failure of the Great Metropolitan Mining Company proves to be a
disastrous one. The assets will not be sufficient to pay more than five
per cent. of the amount of the sums invested by the stockholders,
possibly not that. There must have been gross mismanagement somewhere,
or such a result could hardly have been reached. We understand that the
affairs of the company are in the hands of assignees who are empowered
to wind them up. The stockholders in this vicinity will await the result
with anxiety."
"That looks rather discouraging, to be sure," thought Walter. "I suppose
father will lose a good deal. But I'll tell him he needn't worry about
me. I shan't mind being poor, even if it comes to that. As long as he is
left to me, I won't complain."
Walter became comparatively cheerful. He felt convinced that loss of
property was all that was to be apprehended, and with the elastic
spirits of youth he easily reconciled himself to that. He had never had
occasion to think much about money. All his wants had been provided for
with a lavish hand. He had, of course, seen poor people, but he did not
realize what poverty meant. He had even thought at times that it must be
rather a pleasant thing to earn one's own living. Still he did not
apprehend that he would have to do this. His father might have lost
heavily, but probably not to such an extent as to render this necessary.
So the time passed until, about half-past eleven o'clock, the cars
stopped at Willoughby station.
The station was in rather a lonely spot,--that is, no houses were very
near. Walter did not stop to speak to anybody, but, on leaving the cars,
carpet-bag in hand, jumped over a fence, and took his way across the
fields to his father's house. By the road it would have been a mile, but
it was scarcely more than half a mile by the foot-path.
So it happened that he reached home without meeting a single person. He
went up the door-way to the front door and rang the bell.
The door was opened by Nancy Forbes, the house-keeper, whose name was
appended to the telegram.
"So it's you, Master Walter," she said. "I am glad you are home, but
it's a sad home you're come to."
"Is father _very_ sick, then?" asked Walter, turning pale.
"Didn't anybody tell you, then?"
"Tell me what?"
"My dear child, your father died at eight o'clock this morning."