Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 217: what you’re looking at

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

208 had not more than made my start in life, her mother was beginning to fail, and you were absent.” “My absence didn’t need to make any difference,” mumbled Murdock. The young man felt a throb of pain. That this father must have been insen- sible to family affection was a discov- ery he had expected to make, that is, if it should prove that Murdock had been alive and free all these years; but to awaken only a slight-semblance of it now, was doubly distressing trom the fact that the daughter, who should have called forth the tenderest feelings in Murdock, was Bradshaw’s sweetheart. It seemed barbarous to stand there and try to convince Murdock by argu- ment that it was natural that his daugh- ter should yearn for his presence and guidance. Yet just that had to be done, and the young man spoke with the greater intensity trom the very re- straint that he necessarily felt in say- ing things that implied reflections upon his sweetheart’s father. Murdock listened without comment to the story of his daughter’s troubles after her mother’s death. There’ were legal questions of an embarrassing na- ture, for no evidence existed that her father was dead, and the disposition of property that might be hers, and might be willed by him to others, was a difh- cult matter. Bradshaw told how a temporary so- lution had been reached by Irene set- ting aside a large fraction of the mod- est estate which might by any possibil- ity be in dispute, and reserving for her own use only what was absolutely nec- essary for her maintenance. “ Then,” said Bradshaw, “ my own affairs prospered. I came into posses- sion of what is ordinarily called a for- tune. I wanted to share it with Irene. There was no longer any possible rea- son for her not becoming my wife so far as my ability to care for her was in question. “She recognized that and told me that she could not be content to seek THE ARGOSY. her own happiness while there was doubt about her father. She stubborn- ly believed you were alive, picturing you as a prisoner in the hands of sav- ages, waiting hopefully for rescue. Irene believed that if you could be found your freedom could be bought. “ I told her I would search for you. I have been expecting to learn that you were put to death by savages some- where here in Africa, though when I set out I had become more than half convinced by Irene’s confidence that you were alive. I am here, then, to purchase your freedom, to do all in my power to help you to rejoin your daughter. That you love her is clear, and by that love, Mr. Murdock, I beg you not to return to the town of the blacks, but go with me to my camp whence we will start at once, this night, for the coast.” Murdock shifted restlessly from one foot to the other. It was the first movee ment he had made during the narra- tion and appeal. After long hesitation he said: “It would be@ impossible for me to start tonight. Such action would bring the whole tribe in pursuit at once and escape would be out of the question. But you'd better start back at once, Elmer. The warning I gave you was genuine.” “TI shall not leave without you, Mr. Murdock,” responded Bradshaw, firmly. “Why wait for me?” asked the old man. “I can follow when the oppor- tunity arrives. Why sacrifice Irene’s chance of happiness? Return to her, Elmer, with my blessing. Say that I gladly assent to her marriage with you, that I have no idea of despoiling her of the little property I had accumu- lated, and that I will return when I have accomplished what [I am here for. It will be much better that way.” “ What can you hope to accomplish here that will be worth more than a civilized life and your daughter’s af- fection?” ECOMRRIC Oe CO