The Argosy, Vol. XXIV, No. 1 — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

168 LIVING IT DOWN. afresh from the lowest step of all. And here, at the outset, there met him two calls from that old life, both of which it was hard to resist. Mr. Rim- bolt’s he decided to’resist at all hazards. He still shuddered as he recalled the stiff rustle of a certain silk dress in Clarges Street, and preferred his present privation a hundredfold. Even the thought of his young friend Percy, and the library, and Mr. Rimbolt’s goodness, could not efface that one over- powering impression. The other advertisement perplexed and agitated him more. Who was this unknown person on whose behalf Messrs. Wilkins and Wilkins were seeking information respecting young Forrester? It might be Scarfe, or Mr. Frampton, or possibly some unheard of relative, interested in the disposal of the late gallant officer’s effects. He could not assist the search. ‘The little he knew was probably already known to the lawyers, yet it excited him wildly to think that some one besides himself was in search of the lad whose memory had haunted him for so many months, and whom, even in his most despairing moments, he had never quite given up for lost. True, he had long since ceased to believe that he was really to be found by searching. Everything combined to baffle search, almost to forbid tang yet he had constantly lived in a vague expectation of finding or hearing of him some day accidentally and unawares. But this advertisement filled him with self reproach. What right had he had to do anything, to rest a day, till he had found this lost boy—lost by his fault, by his sin? No wonder he had not prospered. No wonder the bad name had haunted him and dragged him down ! . One thing was certain, whether what he knew was known to others or not, it was his duty to aid now in this new search. So he wrote as follows to Messrs. Wilkins and Wilkins: PRIVATE AND CONFIDENTIAL, The writer of this knew Gerrard Forrester at Bolsover School two years ago, and was responsible almost wholly for the accident referred to. ‘The writer left Bolsover in conse- quence, and has not seen Forrester since. In May of the following year he made inquiries at Grangerham, Forrester’s native place, where he ascertained that the boy had been re- moved there from Bolsover, and had remained for some time with his grandmother, Mrs, Wilcox. Mrs. Wilcox, however, was ordered to the South for her health, and died at Torquay. Forrester, who appears to have been a cripple, and unable to help himself, was then left in charge of his old nurse, who left Grangerham shortly afterwards, it is said, in order to take the boy to a hospital—where, no one could say. ‘This is the last the writer heard. Messrs. W. and W. might do well to apply to the clergyman and Wesleyan min- ister at Grangerham, who may have some later news. The writer would be thankful to be of any service in helping to find one whom he has so terribly wronged; and any letter addressed ‘‘J., at Jones’ Coffee House, Drury Lane,’’ will find him. It should be said that when Forrester was last seén, only faint hopes were held out as to his recovery, even as a cripple. An anxious time followed. It was hard to work as usual—harder still to wait. The idea of Forrester being after all found took strange possession of his mind, to the exclusion of all else. The prospect which had seemed to open before him appeared suddenly blocked ; he could think of nothing ahead except that one possible meeting. So preoccupied was he that his own advertisement for work was forgotten Eomichbooks |