The Colossus Part 44

"But you _shall_ take it. I have sold the paper at a profit, and it has made money almost from the first. Do as I tell you. Take this check."

The merchant took the check, and it shook in his hand. DeGolyer now addressed Mrs. Witherspoon. "You have indeed been a mother to me. No gentler being ever lived, and till the day of my death I shall remember you with affection."

"Oh, this is all so strange!" she cried, weeping.

"Yes, but everything is strange, when we come to think of it. G.o.d bless you. Sister,"--Ellen gave him her hands,--"good-by."

He kissed the girl, and then kissed Mrs. Witherspoon. Henry came toward him, but DeGolyer stopped him with a wave of his hand. "My dear boy, I'm not going out of the world. No, you mustn't grab hold of me.

Stand where you are. You shall hear from me. Mr. Witherspoon, this time you must get up a statement without my help--I mean for the newspapers. I know that I have caused you a great deal of worry, but it is a pretty hard matter to live a lie even when it is imposed as a duty. By the way, a poor sea captain, Atkins is his name, brought Henry from Dura. I wish you would send him a check, care Wharfmaster, New Orleans."

"I will."

"Good-by, Mr. Witherspoon."

"Henry DeGolyer," said Witherspoon, grasping his hand, "you are the most honorable man I ever met."

"There, now!" DeGolyer cried, holding up his hand--they all were coming toward him--"do as I tell you and remain where you are."

He caught up his bag and hastened out. "To the _Star_ office," he said to the cabman.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

CONCLUSION.

"I'd began to think that you'd forgotten to come," said Miss Drury, as DeGolyer entered the room. She was sitting at her desk, and hits of torn paper were scattered about her.

"I'm sorry that I kept you waiting so long," he replied. He did not sit down, but stood near her.

"Oh, it hasn't been so _very_ long," she rejoined. "Why, how you have changed since yesterday," she added, looking at him.

"For the worse?" he asked.

"For the better; you look more like the heir to a great fortune."

He smiled. "I am an heir to freedom, and that is the greatest of fortune."

"Oh, now you are trying to mystify me again; and you said that to-day you would make everything clear."

"And I shall. Laura"--she looked up quickly--he repeated, "this is my last day in this office. I have sold the paper, and the new owner will take charge to-morrow."

"I'm sorry," she said, and then added: "But on my part that is selfishness. Of course you know what is best for yourself."

"I told you yesterday that my story would be completed to-day. It is, and I will tell it."

The latest edition had left the press, and there was scarcely a sound in the building. The sharp cry of the newsboy came from the street.

In telling her his story be did not begin with his early life, but with the time when first he met young Witherspoon. It was a swift recital; and he sought not to surprise her; he strove to tone down her amazement.

"And to-day I took his son to him. I saw the quick transfer of a mother's love and of a father's interest--I saw a girl half-frightened at the thought that upon a stranger she had bestowed the intimacies of a sister's affection. I had made so strong an effort to be honorable with myself, at least; to persuade myself that I was fulfilling an honest mission, but had failed, for at last I had fallen to the level of an ordinary hypocrite; I had found myself to be a purse-proud fool.

When I went into that restaurant my sympathies were dead, and when that man pointed at the poor menial and said that his name was Henry DeGolyer"--

"No, no," she said, hiding her face, "your sympathies were not dead.

You--you were a hero."

"I was simply a frozen-blooded fool," he replied. "And now I must tell you something, but I know that it will make you despise me. My father was a beast--he broke my mother's heart. The first thing I remember, her dead arms were about me and a chill was upon me--I knew not the meaning of death, but I was terrorized by its cold mystery. I cried out, but no one came, and there in the dark, with that icy problem, I remained alone"--

"Oh, don't," she cried, and her hands seemed to flutter in her lap.

She got up, and putting her arms on the top of the desk, leaned her head upon them.

"How could I despise you for that?" she sobbed.

"Not for that," he bitterly answered, "but for this I was taken to the Foundlings' Home--was taken from that place to become the disgraceful property of an Italian hag. She taught me, compelled me to be a thief. Once she and some ruffians robbed a store and forced me to help them. I ought to have died before that. She demanded that I should steal something every day, and if I didn't she beat me. I got up early one morning and robbed _her_. I took a handful of money out of her drawer and ran away. But in the street a horror seized me, and I threw the money in the gutter and fled from it. Don't you see that I was born a thief? But I have striven so hard since then to be an honorable man. But don't try not to pity, to despise me. You can't help it. But, my G.o.d, I do love you!"

She turned toward him with a glory in her eyes, and he caught her in his arms.

The old building was silent, and the shout of the newsboy was far away.

"Angel of sweet mercy," he said, still holding her in his arms, "let us leave this struggling place. I know of an old house in Virginia--it is near the sea, and rest lies in the woods about it. Let us live there, not to dream idly, but to work, to be a devoted man and his happy wife. Come."

He took her hand, and they went out into the hall. The place was deserted, the elevator was not running, and down the dark stairway he led her--out into the light of the street.

=THE END.=

=GOOD READING=

=BOOKS IN THE FAMOUS "PASTIME" SERIES=

=Opie Read's Works= Lithographed Covers.

The Harkriders.

The Starbuck.

The Carpetbagger.

Old Ebenezer.

My young Master.

The Jucklins.

On the Suwanee River.

The Colossus.