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Nelson The Newsboy

Год написания книги
2018
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"Lakewood is a famous winter resort now. The hotels are fine, so I've been told."

"Does the lady live at a hotel?"

"No; she has a private cottage near by—so her letter says."

"Well, I wish you luck," said Gladys, and so the pair parted.

CHAPTER XXV.

MARK HORTON RELENTS

After having mailed the letter to Gertrude from Lakewood, Homer Bulson returned to New York to complete his plans for the future.

Evening found him at his uncle's mansion, as smiling as ever, with nothing to betray the wicked thoughts which were in his mind.

Mr. Mark Horton had changed greatly. He was very feeble, his face was pinched, and his hair was fast growing white.

He had had two doctors waiting upon him, but neither of them had been able to make him well.

His malady baffled all their science, and despite their most carefully administered medicines he grew steadily worse.

"I cannot understand the case," said one physician to the other. "I was never so bothered in my life."

"It is certainly strange," answered the other. "I shall make a report on the case before the fraternity. Ordinarily this man should grow better quickly. He has no organic trouble whatever."

As Mark Horton grew more feeble he longed for Gertrude, remembering how she had ministered to him day and night.

"How goes it, uncle?" asked Homer Bulson, as he entered the room in which Mark Horton sat in an easy-chair.

"I am very weak, Homer. I don't think I shall ever be better. It is not because I fear death, for I have little to live for. But Gertrude–" He did not finish.

"She treated you badly, uncle, after all you had done for her."

"I am afraid that I was the one that was to blame."

"You? You were too indulgent, that was the trouble. She used to have her way in everything."

"Have you heard anything of her yet, Homer?"

"I think she went to Boston."

"To Boston? Do you know if she had much money?"

"I do not."

"Did she go alone?"

"I believe not. That actor got a position with some traveling company, and I think she went with the company, too."

"It is too bad! I do not wish her to throw her whole life away in this fashion. I wish she were here. Won't you write to her?"

"I would if I had the address."

"But you can find out where the theatrical company is, can't you?"

"The company went to pieces after visiting Boston."

"Then she must be in want," groaned Mark Horton. "If you cannot write to her, you can at least advertise for her in the Boston papers."

"I'll do that, if you wish it."

"I do, Homer. Tell her to return—that all will be forgiven. I am fairly dying to see the child again."

At this latter remark Homer Bulson drew down the corners of his mouth. But the dim light in the room hid his features from his uncle's gaze.

At this moment the servant came to the door.

"The nurse is here," she said.

"Oh, all right!" exclaimed Bulson. "Send her up."

"The new nurse," said Mark Horton wearily. "They simply bother me. Not one of them does as well as did Gertrude."

Presently a middle-aged woman came in, dressed in the outfit of a trained nurse. She bowed to both men.

"You are the nurse Dr. Barcomb said he would send?" said Homer Bulson, as he eyed her sharply.

"Yes, sir."

"What is your name, please?"

"Mrs. Mary Conroy."

"As the doctor sent you, I suppose it is all right. You have had sufficient experience?"

"Plenty, sir; plenty! What is the matter with the gentleman?"

"Nervous debility."

"That is too bad. I nursed one patient with it."

"Did he recover?" questioned Mark Horton, with a slight show of interest.

"He did, sir."

"Then there may be hope for me, Mrs. Conroy?"

"Certainly there is hope," put in Homer Bulson, with a hypocritical smile.

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