Witch Hazel; or, The Secret of the Locket — page 342: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

He had never been able to forget what his supposed grandfather had said to him on his death-bed, how he had craved foreiveness for some long-continued deceptiou aud for some wrong that he had done him. He still had the little package of clothing, which he had given him at that time, and he never looked at it without suspecting that he was of uo kin to the old light-keeper, whom he had been taught to regard as his grandsire, but the son of some other man than William Morton, who had been lost at sea. | The sailor’s strange words, upon seeing those marks on his friend's arm, had aroused afresh all these sus- picions, while they seemed to point to some mystery connected with the birth of the physician’s son. “What wasit? It seemed to be a day of revela- tions! Would it end witb the discovery of the secret of his own life ? He found the old tar and the young gentleman who had assisted in Charlie’s rescue conversing together upon the veranda. “T feel very grateful to you both for this afternoon’s work,” he said, approaching them and extending a hand to each, ‘there has been no chance for formal introductions, but, pray, allow me to inquire now to whom we are indebted.” ;: “My name is Osborn,” replied the younger of the two men, ‘‘and I am only too happy to have been instrumental in the performance of a good deed. It is not often that I do anything that is considered worthy of commendation,’ he concluded, with a touch of bitterness in his tone. “And lam Tom Lawson, at your service, sir,’”’ said the sailor, dofing his hat and giving a vigorous pull at his forelock. ‘It were mighty lucky for the young chap in yonder that we were on hand to fish him out in the nick of time, or he'd never seen ermebsok tony Them eramps are ’most always the death of a man