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“Oh Paul, Paul, how could you!”
and the speaker, a pale delicate look
ing girl wrung her hands, while the
tears ran down her cheeks.
Paul Crossland, a (handsome and
rather dissipated looking youth of two
or three and twenty, with bold black
eyes and curling dark hair, looked a
little ashamed and not a little defiant.
“Who was to know that he’d be
home,” he exclaimed, “and that things
would be looked into as 'they are be
ing looked into now! I tell you, Milly,
after the old man’s buried I shan’t be
safe from discovery for one more day;
something must be done; but what?
1 don’t see that there’s anything left
for me but to hook it, and then
what’s to become of you?”
What indeed! Paul’s salary was all
the two had to depend upon, for the
few pupils Milly was able to procure
were but a precarious provision for
her own personal expenses.
When Paul had written his em
ployer’s name, securing an advantage
to himself by doing so, I can not say
to what he had trusted most to pre
serve his sin from being found out;
whether tothe laxity of discipline in
the office, or the failing health and
consequent absenteeism of Mr. New
ton.
It is certain that for a while he had
been successful in maintaining his
secret. Still Mr. Newton had suspic
ions that all was not going on as it
should in the office, and wrote urgent
ly to his son in India beseeching his
return. The result of this letter of
entreaty was the eturrn of England
■of Roland Newton, for the superint
endance of his father’s affairs.
The rumor was that Roland Newton
was in truth a very nabob, and that
in the event of his father dying, the
business would be wound up.
Already, so shortly after his return
hings were more strictly looked in
to in the office than they had been
before for many years.
It was the dread and the probabili
ty of discovery that caused Paul
Crossland to make his confession to
his sister; but for that he might have
kept her in ignorance while he sank
deeper into the mire.
Milly’s shame and dlistress were
very great.
“That you should have done this
Paul! you, a Crossland. Oh, Paul!”
cried the poor girl, “it is dreadful: 1
can hardly believe it of you—that
youshould commit forgery to get
money to gamble!”
“Oh don’t talk such nonsense, Milly,
but, like a sensible girl, think of some
way of raising the money. Only let
me once get clear of this debt and I
will never touch a card again.”
Milly’s lovely face grew brighter
through her tears.
“Is that a promise, Paul?” she
asked. Will you give me your word of
honor that if I help you get quit of
this incumbus you will never permit
yourself to be tempted into any kind
of gambling again?”
Paul thought she must isuddenljy
have conceived some means of help
ing him, and the relief was so great
to his mind that he readly gave the
required promise, sealing it with a
kiss. But Milly’s only idea was to
get that promise; she had not the re
motest idea how the debt was to be
paid.
When Paul left his sister to go to
his daily occupation, she could think
of nothing else than the task she had
set herself to accomplish for Paul’s
sake all day long, and this was to go
THE GOLDEN AGE FOR WEEK OF OCT. 9
PAUL’S DEBT
By VIVIENNE.
and confess everything to Mr. (Newton
and ask his indulgence till they paid
it back.
“And how we will work to repay
him.” thought Milly. “I will wear my
old dresses all the year round, and
I’ll deprive myself of every luxury,
and I’ll try and get more pupils. We
might, yes I diare say we might, go
to humbler lodgings. And I wonder
whether Mr. Roland has a wife and
family? Paul did not say anything
about them. If he has, perhaps she
will give me some plain work to do.
when she knows why I want it.”
That evening Paul Crossland
brought home the news of old Mr.
Newton’s death.
The day before a scene had taken
place in a gloomy mansion in one of
the gloomiest squares of the grand
old city. A city merchont lay upon
his death bed.
His shaking hands grasped those of
a younger man, and the dim eyes
sought the loved features of the other,
in anxious desire to communicate
something ere his power to do so
was taken from him.
Let us give the substance of that
communication, without the breaks
in it that characterized the speech of
the dying man.
“Roland, when you come to lie, as
I do, at the gates of death, it will not
be the many brilliant success you
have known in life that will occupy
your mind, but the few mistakes that,
in spite of your utmost endeavers,
have occurred. You remember, be
fore you went to India, my intimacy
with a fellow merchant, for whom 1
had a great respect and liking.”
“You mean Crossland?” said the
son.
‘I do,” was the reply. “Four or five
years ago he died insolvent, and un
der circumstances that compelled all
men to pity rather than to blame him.
He left a family.”
“And you wish me to seek out that
family and provide for their wants?”
said Roland Newton, soothingly. Never
fear, father; if they are upon the face
of the earth, I will find and relieve
them!”
“They are not lost,” said Mr. New
ton. “I have not utterly neglected
them. Paul Crossland occupies the
second stool in the office, but beyond
giving him employment I have never
inetrested myself to discover whether
or not he had other wants. I fear
things have not been going on as
they should do in the office: if when
you come to examine matters you
should find Paul Crossland in error,
remember what his father was to me,
and how upon my death-bed I re
proached myself for not having taken
a warmer in his welfare, and not giv
ing him that assistance that might
have lifted him above temptation.”
“I promise you that Paul Crossland
shall find as merciful judge in me,
and one as ready to overlook involun
tary transgression, as he would have
done in you,” said Roland.
At seventy-five years of age a man’s
race is pretty nearly run, and seldom
is further space granted him in which
to perform duties he has neglected be
fore that. None "was granted to Jos
eph Newton. On the morrow he died,
and Paul and Millicent Crossland
were left a sacred legacy upon the
hands of his only son and heir.
Could this be the place? A dark,
gloomy, five-storied house! Millie
looked up to it depreciatingly and in
queringly. Yes there was the word
“Newton” on a brass plate on the
door. Twice she spelt over the six
letters, whispering to herself the
name they formed, before she dared
to ring.
“Can I see Mr. Roland Newton?”
faltered Milly.
Seeing her shabby look, the porter
hesitated a moment and then showed
her into an apartment that had an
air of somber and oppressive grand
eur. the funeral plumes of the mourn
ing hearse had left their atmosphere
behind and their 'shadow upon the
brow of the man who sat upon the
hearth.
When he arose, Milly did not recog
nize in him the Roland Newton of
her brother’s description.
“I —I —beg your pardon for my in
trusion,” said Milly nervously; “is is
Mr. Roland Newton I wish to see.”
This young man—at least not over
thirty—with a space figure, deeply
bronzed but handsome face, and
crisp, curley, dark hair.
“I am he,” he replied in quiet,
grave tones.
Poor Milly became confused and
trembling, but in her embarassment
she mentioned her name.
“I am so glad to see you,” he said.
“The name of Crossland was almost
the last my dear father’s lips utter
ed. What is there I can do for you?”
Then Milly forgot everything but
the cause she had come to plead;
and for herself and Paul she pleaded,
having made confession of his guilt.
“He is so young,” she cried, “and
our lives have been so dull since our
poor father died, that he was sorely
tempted to seek amusement where
he should not have done. If you will
only have pity, if you will give us
time; Paul has promised never to
touch cards again, and we will both
work unceasingly until we have re
paid you the debt.”
She had thrown herself upon the
floor. She raised her streaming eyes,
and the sight of so young a creature
in such deep distress went straight
to Roland Newton’s heart, as no wo
man’s loveliness had done yet.
He raised her from the floor and
placed her in the large easy chair he
had occupied upon her entrance.
“You have made my task easier
for me,” he said; “for it was my task
to seek you out and learn in what
way I could most benefit you. I am
sorry to hear that your brother has
made himself amenable to the laws
of his country, and I trust the fear
and the pain he has suffered himself
has caused you to suffer, may be a
warning to him. I need hardly say,
after what I have fold you, that I can
not entertain any idea of prosecuting
him. For the present make yourself
quiet happy upon his account, belie\
ing in me as a friend. You shall hear
from me very shortly..”
Overcome with gratitude, Milly
could but murmur a few broken
words of thanks. Then Roland New
ton conducted her to the hall, with
a suddenly assumed and protecting
care that was full of promise for the
future as it was of assurance in the
present.
Mr. Newton saw Paul Crossland at
the office the next day; he held a
private conversation with him for a
short time informing him of his
knowledge of the forgery of his
father’s name —all of which, of
course, Paul had in the meanwhile
heard from Milly—and the forged
bill was destroyed in Paul’s pres
ence: Mr. Newton only making it a
condition that the young man should
repeat to him the promise he had
given his sister. Then Mr. Newton
dismissed him with a severe caution
as to his conduct in future. Mr.
Newton had strict ideas with regard
to crime and its punishment; it is
hardly to be supposed he would have
let Paul off so easily but for the re
memberance of two tearful blue eyes,
and a mouth quivering as it told its
agony.
In as short a time as possible from
the old gentleman’s death the clerks
were paid off, and, with the excep
tion of Paul, obtained other situa
tions through Mr. Newton’s recom
mendation.
Paul dared not asked for that, re
membering the history of the forged
bill, and walked home mortified and
indignant, because in his heart he
felt that Mr. Newton treated him
with more than justice.
“Well, there’s good-by to him for
ever,” he soliloquized, as he mount
ed the stairs to their little sitting
room. “I must get along as best I
can now.”
But there was not good-by to him
forever. Milly jumped up from her
low seat to prepare tea for him, with
radiant face.
“O, Paul, guess whom 1 had a visit
from today?” she said. “But you
never will unless I tell you.”
“I don’t know and I don’t care to
night,” he said. “Is tea ready?"
“Not quite,” said Milly; “but I am
sure you would care, Paul. It was
that very Mr. Newton you are so
angry against.”
“Mr. Newton here!” cried Paul in
amazement.
“Yes, he came to see me,” said
Milly. “And he has invited both you
and me to dine with him tomorrow;
I promised for you, because I guess
ed you would have nothing better to
do.”
This altered the aspect of affairs,
and Paul’s face brightened as he drew
up to the tea table.
“Perhaps,” said Paul, “he is going
to suggest some way in which my
debt may be paid.”
Mr. Newton treated his young
guests with the utmost courtesy and
kindness. Paul was astonished at the
difference there was between him in
the respective capacities of a host
and a master.
Nothing was said that had the re
motest reference to business matters
until Paul and Mr. Newton sat to
gether, then Roland Newton spoke.
The purport of his remarks was
that Paul should go to India and
take the place he had himself left
to return home.
Paul was overjoyed at the idea and
readily promised.
After all the arrangements were
made, Mr. Newton continued :
“Leave it to me, then, to inform
your sister of it. Don’t say a word to
her about it to her tonight, and I’ll
drop it at your lodgings about five
o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
Paul absented himself from Milly
nearly the whole of the afternoon on
the morrow, hardly daring to trust
himself to look into her face, remem
bering as he did how he was with
holding from her a secret that was
about to transform their lives entire
ly.
Milly prepared the tea and sat
down to wait for Paul.
A step upon the stair* caused
Milly’s heart to beat mdcklv. but
something whispered to her that it
(Continued on pag e!5.)
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