Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 452 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

B ET ee a a ee we em ee — ee a es ind lived in this house with his fam n goneral spoke well of both tin mombers of bis household; buat 16 of that people in general know but Little where shhey think they know a good deal, Lir, Wellburn looked up as a footstep sounded, ity. People | a7 anne ; ee |S ee i to acts which would never bave been his other- wise, There was another sop, Willis, of whom we ind then lowered his paper as ho saw his only | shall sce more hereafter. ion. The young man’s name was E:ward, and 16 Was an Overgrown person of twenty-one. wag plainly of a less refined, delicate and sensi- tive nature than his fatber, and people did not ike him as well. Indeed, some people went so far as to say that fdward’s coarse, heavy features, equally coarse black bair, and his shifting e7cs, were indicative of a nature which might have mace him a criminal had he not luckily been born the son of a rich man, Yot, physiognomy to the contrary notwith- standing, if remains a fact that such men often rank high in point of honesty, while the refined, sensitive man like the elder Wellburn goes astray, Edward nodded as he came in, his manner being stiff and sullen. “ve got a word to say to you,” he observed. ** Very woll; szy on.” “Tt's about Olive Pray.” Mr. Wellburn seine | ‘* What about ber?’ ‘* Mother says that you have decreed that Miss Pray must leave the house,” ‘* Such is the fact.” * Well, I'd like to know why?" Edward spoke belligerently, insolently, but his father heard bim quietly. ‘* Because I don't approve of Miss Pray.” ‘* Well, I dol” The young men spoke defiantly, and then thrust his hands into his pockets and squared himself off with increased insolence, ‘‘So IL have observed,” replied Wellburn, dry % ‘ad your eyes are so good. Possibly however, you haven't caught on to the fact that Ohi ve is my betrothed. “Such is the fact, any- how. Wellburn, senior, did not seem surprised. He was not surprised, but the news whica he heard was most unwelcome. It was becauseeven‘s had lod him to fear that sucha might come to pass that he had resolved to free the house from the presence of Miss Pray. ‘* Are you in earnest?” be gravely asked. ‘‘ You can gamble dolilarsonit—lam! I have asked Olive to be my wife and she has consent- ed, so you see there is no use of your kick The best thing you can do is to accept the ine table, and use m 1 well, governor.” _ The senior Welborn ed coldly disapprov- ing. x, Hehad no affection for his coarse son—in fact, the Sec chests had never done anything to deserve aff but he cordially dis] Olive Pray and did not intend that she should become a member of his family. She bad been for nearly a year an inmate of his house, having come thore use Mrs, Well- burn desired it. The latter lady, by the way was Andrew's second wife. She once li in Buffalo, and it was from there that Olive came, if all statements were true. She was Mrs, Wellburn’s niece, which explains why she came at all, but the master of the house had often wished that she had been at the bottom of the Red Sea before ever he saw her. She was a diminutive lady for one who had seon a score of — and her voice was ve soft and bilan}, but, little by little, Mr. Well- burn had been finding out her true character. Briefly summed up, he knew she was untruth- ful, deceitful, avaricious, a mischief-maker, and his suspicions were so strong that she bad stolen sundry missing articles in the house, that he would have bad ber arrested had she not been his wife's niece. LSS It was those facta, combined with his suspicion that the girl had won Edward's love, which had led the elder Wellburn to wish to get rid of her. He was not surprised at the storm which he raised, but, a3 Eidward was his son, be had some regard for his future, and now attempted to show him how undesirable a person Olive was, He failed to carry his point, but did raise 4 sizable “row.” It was not the first fathcr and son badhad. A natural antipathy had always existed between them. Sinzularly enough, Mrs. Wellburn—Ed ward's step~nother—had alvways beon the boy's ally, and made matters all the worse. Shoe incited Edward to rebellion, upheld bim in his opposi- tion to his father, and prov but a proper guide for the willful youth. , But to return to Edward’s interview with his | lio | father. After along, stormy discussion if became clear to Wellburn that his obstinaté offspring could Hotspur Bob, the Street Boy Detective, EE = _ — —— Ss el Between the two, Andrew Wellburn had led a ' wud the otaer | Life of misery, and, though he carried an erect | ten happens head among his outside associates, it had led bim — oe ee made it known more by manner and tone than otherwise, for both were defiant and insolent, Andrew Wellburn had never been more an- | gry, but he controlled bimself with a powerful -_ ——~ not ba moved, and his age prevented any coer- | cive step, but the facf remained that he was master of his house, and he intended to remain O. ** Very well,” he said, coldly, “‘ you may con- tinue your devotion to the girl if you will, but not in this house, Miss Pray must go!” ‘“* She must?” echoed Edward, scornfully. ~ * 6, gee,” ‘* Are you sure?” “Am I sure? Well, you shall see.” ‘*T willsea, I’m not going to have my future wife turned out like a beggar.” ‘Why not say ‘ like a thief?” ‘** Do you assert that she ts one?” ‘*No, for I don’t care to endure the disgrace of proving her one. Were it not for that, I would hand her over to the law.” “You shall repent this!” cried Edward, his dark face growing pale with rage. ‘You are at liberty to attend her in her exile. I have had enough of you and ner, both, Should you so elect, you can go also; but you must understand that, if you go, my doors are forever closed to you.” ‘*T shall not go.” ** Just as you say.” ** Nor will Olive go,” Andrew Wellburn’s forehead contracted agri! & ‘¢ What do you mean?” he demanded. “Just this: You are not going to drive her away!” ‘“ Wdward Wellburn, are ‘No, but I know what ou mad?” am talking about, and [ll prove it in a short time. Mark one thing down—Olive stays in this house,” ith this deflant assertion, the young man oe pas of the room, slamming the door be- m, His father looked after bim with a frown. Quarrels between them had been frequent. but never before had Edward so boldly and inso- lently defied bim. It was a magnified repetition of scenes which had imbittered the cashier’s whole life, and he felt the bitterness of his situ- ation keenly. He no longer was in mood for reading, and the unnoticed from his naad What was to be done with Edward? Naturally of a headstrong, perverse nature, the boy had never bad proper training. His father had been away to business, and the pe we page had sown only tares in the youthful mind, Now, the harvest was come, W hat to do with the crop of rebellion he hard- ly knew, but he had a good share of firmness, and did not waver an atom from the position he had taken. : if Edward persisted in holding to Olive Pray, he must leave the house. The cashier was thus thinking when “the door — opened, This time it was Mrs. Wellburn who entered. She was about ten years younger than her busband, and rather a handsome we- man, though there was that in her bold, black eyes, and abcut her tense, thin lips, which was not p ¢. Ste was tall and graceful, dressed well, and had always maintained the family dignity outside the house. Just at present her expression was more belli- eee than dignified, as Andrew saw at first glance. ‘‘T have seen Edward,” she observed, quietly, as she seated herself. “ Have you?” Mrs, Wellburn waited for comments, but the cashier remained colaly silent and indifferent, ‘furthermore, I am surprised that you should take such a course with your own son,” the lady wait with some gpa ‘Possibly you have come as his agent,” dry! surrested Wellburn. oa “T have, if such is the term yon prefer. I come as his friend—his and Olive’s,” ‘“We have already discussed Olive’s case. As for Edward, he has my ultimatum, and be can take whatever course he prefers. Let us not refer to it further.” ‘s With your permission we will refer to it fur- ther. I desire that Olive remain in this house— as Edward’s wife.” Coolly the woman made known her position; paper drop ; you have not had your own way in the past. | effort and sat looking at ber with outward calm- ness. ‘‘Mrs. Wellburn,” he said, earnestly, “ you and I have often differed, but you cannot say { have often yielded to you when eae was folly. Now, understand me, ! shall yield to no one, Olive Pray leaves this house, and I shall _ not raise a finger to prevent Edward from fol- | lowing her.” | The wife sat very quietly, but her eyes gleamed like those of a snake. ‘ Andrew Wellburn,” she replied, in a hard voice, * I will convince you that J have a voice in this matter. You shall not drive Olive and Edward away. ‘Try to doit, and I will publish to the whole world the fact that you,in your official capacity as cashier of the Bonanza Sav- ings Bank, are a defaulter!” he blecd retreated from Wellburn’s face with a rush. He sat staring at his wife in speechless con- sternation. She laughed mockingly. ‘** So! the shot goes home, does it? Oh! I sup- pose you thought your crookedness unknown to all, but I am not so blind as you supposed. I know more of your games than you think. In- stead of spending your time at home, like an honest man, you are all about the city by night as a brawler—or whatever your line of weak- ness is, All this requires money. Where do you get it? Why, bless us, you are cashier of the bank, and there is the people’s n.oney—what you have not stolen!” The cashier’s alarm did not seem to abate, and his voice was tremulous as be exclaimed: ‘“ What mad idea is this?” ‘‘ Your idea was the mad one; the law takes notice of such deeds as yours. Bah! did you sup me wholly blind? I am anythi : IT bave known the truth for some time, What of it? If the affair becomes known J am not the one who will go to prison.” Her mocking, exultant manner did more than anything else to irritate Wellburn, who impetu- ously exclaimed: “* Well, neither would you reap a harvest from such an exposure, You would practically be left a ¥. ‘* We won't speak of that,” the woman answer- ed, her manney showing that she disbelieved this statement. ‘The point I wished to make is this: Wiil be allow Olive to remain here, or are you Wiiliing to have your crime made pub- “ By which I infer that you threaten to make it public® ‘That is what I mean.” Hushand and wife looked steadily and hostile] at each other. It was not their firstclash, but it was the most serious. “ Yield your point and allow Olive to remain, and Edward to see her as he has done, and you are cafe,” the woman added. “ Refuse, and we know bow to act. We will not spare you,” Still Weliburn did notanswer. He sat looking at ber for several seconds, and then abruptly arose, “We will aa of this again,” he said, in a hard voice, and passed from the room, His face showed that a great inward struggle was going on, and be put on his street garmenta without a very clear idea of what be was doing. He went as far as the door and then paused, hes- itated and turned about. Softly he went up- stairs and moved to one of the doors opening from the ball. He opened it carefully, A light burned inside, and by the table a boy of about thirteen years sat reading, This was the cashier’s younger son, whose life dated from the day on which his mother died. He was very unlike Edward, being slight and delicate, with light-brown bair and a face as re- fined and gentle as that of a girl. He was, how - ever, the intellectual member of the family, and light of his father’s ot wretched e. The second Mrs, Wellburn had never been able to influence him, and bis disposition was thor- oughly good, ; Andrew Wellburn stood in silence at the door for several minutes, for the ef bad net heard it open; then he softly retreated and went down- stairs again, His face was full of mixed emo- homer in which love for the boy and misery pre- minated. As he reached the lower floor a lond, clear voice began singing in the parlor, It was that