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

“Did you succeed?” asked Mr. Stanton, surprised.

“So well,” answered the other, “that at the end of two years’ residence, I found myself as rich as I had ever been.”

“Had you made fifty thousand dollars?” demanded the merchant, in amazement.

“I had.”

“What did you do? Why did you not let me know of your success?”

“When I once more found myself possessed of a fortune, I took the next vessel home with my money. I had but one thought, and that was to claim the hand of my promised bride, who had promised to wait for me ten years, if necessary.”

“Well?”

“I found her married,” said Ralph, bitterly. “She had forgotten her promise, or had been over-persuaded by her parents—I do not know which—and had proved false to me.”

“That was unfortunate. But do you still possess the money?”

“I do.”

“Indeed! I congratulate you,” said Mr. Stanton, with suavity, and he held out his hand, which Ralph did not appear to see. Ralph Pendleton rich was a very different person from Ralph Pendleton poor, and it occurred to him that he might so far ingratiate himself into the favor of his former ward as to obtain the charge of his second fortune. He saw that it would be safe, as well as politic, to exchange his coldness for a warm and cordial welcome.

“Proceed with your story,” he said; “I am quite interested in it.”

CHAPTER XXXII

RISEN FROM THE DEAD

Ralph Pendleton proceeded.

“This blow overwhelmed me. All that I had been laboring for seemed suddenly snatched from me.”

“You had your money,” suggested Mr. Stanton.

“Yes, I had my money; but for money itself I cared little.”

Mr. Stanton shrugged his shoulders a little contemptuously. He could not understand how anyone could think slightingly of money, and he decided in his own mind that Ralph was an unpractical enthusiast.

“I valued money only as a means to an end, and that end was to make Margaret Lindsay my wife. She failed me, and my money lost its charm.”

“There were plenty who could have consoled you in her place.”

“No doubt, I might have been successful in other quarters, but I did not care to try. I left New York in disgust, and, going West, I buried myself in the forest, where I built a rude cabin, and there I have lived since, an unsocial, solitary life. Years have passed since I visited New York.”

“What did you do with your money all this while?”

“I left it in the hands of men whom I could trust. It has been accumulating all these years, and I find that the fifty thousand dollars have swelled to ninety thousand.”

“Indeed!” ejaculated Mr. Stanton, his respect for Ralph considerably raised. “And now you have come here to enjoy it, I suppose?”

“A different motive has led to my coming—a motive connected with you,” said Ralph, fixing his eyes steadily upon Mr. Stanton.

“Connected with me!” repeated the merchant, uneasily.

“Yes.”

“May I ask in what manner?”

“I expected the question, and am come to answer it. When I returned from Europe impoverished, you gave me a brief statement of the manner in which you had invested my fortune, and showed me how it had melted away like snow before the sun.”

“You remember rightly. I bought, on your account, shares in Lake Superior Mining Company, which promised excellently, and bade fair to make handsome returns. But it proved to be under the management of knaves, and ran quickly down from par to two per cent., at which price I thought best to sell out, considering that a little saved from the wreck was better than nothing.”

“This is according to the statement you made me,” said Ralph, quietly.

“I am sure,” said Mr. Stanton, “that no one regretted more than I do the disastrous result. Indeed, I had reason to do so, for I was myself involved, and suffered considerable loss.”

“I am aware now that you were concerned in the matter,” said Ralph, significantly.

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Stanton, quickly, detecting something peculiar in his tone.

“I will tell you. You were right in denouncing the management as knavish. The company was got up by knaves, on a basis of fraud, and was from the first intended as a trap for the unwary. But there is one important circumstance which you have neglected to mention.”

“What is that?” asked Mr. Stanton, in a voice which strove to be composed.

“I mean this,” said Ralph, firmly, “that you yourself were the prime originator of the company—that you engineered it through to the end—that you invested my money with the express intention of converting it to your own profit. I charge you with this, that all, or nearly all the property I lost, went into your pocket.”

The color came and went in Mr. Stanton’s face. He seemed staggered by this sudden and unexpected accusation, and did not at first make reply.

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?”