In Search of a Son. Walsh William Shepard

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СКАЧАТЬ her mamma by the arm, obliged her to bend down, and said in her ear,—

      "I love him already, our friend Roger."

      CHAPTER IV.

      MONSIEUR ROGER'S STORY

      The evening had come, the evening of that happy day when the two friends, after ten years of absence, had come together again. Monsieur Roger had known from the first that he would find loving and faithful hearts just as he had left them. They were all sitting, after dinner, in a large vestibule, whose windows, this beautiful evening in autumn, opened out upon the sleeping park. For some moments the conversation had fallen into an embarrassing silence. Every one looked at Monsieur Roger. They thought that he might speak, that he might recount the terrible event which had broken his life; but they did not like to ask him anything about it. Monsieur Roger was looking at the star-sprinkled sky, and seemed to be dreaming, but in his deeper self he had guessed the thoughts of his friends and understood he ought to speak. He passed his hand over his forehead to chase away a painful impression, and with a resolute, but low and soft voice, he said,—

      "I see, my friends, my dear friends, I see that you expect from me the story of my sorrow."

      Monsieur and Madame Dalize made a sight gesture of negation.

      "Yes," continued Monsieur Roger, "I know very well that you do not wish it through idle curiosity, that you fear to reawaken my griefs; but to whom can I tell my story, if not to you? I owe it to you as a sacred debt, and, if I held my tongue, it seems to me a dark spot would come upon our friendship. You know what a lovely and charming wife I married. Her only fault—a fault only in the eyes of the world—was that she was poor. I had the same fault. When my son George came into the world I suddenly was filled with new ambitions. I wished, both for his sake and for his mother's, to amass wealth, and I worked feverishly and continuously in my laboratory. I had a problem before me, and at last I succeeded in solving it. I had discovered a new process for treating silver ores. Fear nothing: I am not going to enter into technical details; but it is necessary that I should explain to you the reason which made me"—here Monsieur paused, and then continued, with profound sadness—"which made us go to America. Silver ores in most of the mines of North America offer very complex combinations in the sulphur, bromide, chloride of lime, and iodine, which I found mixed up with the precious metal,—that is to say, with the silver. It is necessary to free the silver from all these various substances. Now, the known processes had not succeeded in freeing the silver in all its purity. There was always a certain quantity of the silver which remained alloyed with foreign matters, and that much silver was consequently lost. The processes which I had discovered made it possible to obtain the entire quantity of silver contained in the ore. Not a fraction of the precious metal escaped. An English company owning some silver-mines in Texas heard of my discovery, and made me an offer. I was to go to Texas for ten years. The enterprise was to be at my own risk, but they would give me ten per cent on all the ore that I saved. I felt certain to succeed. My wife, full of faith in me, urged me to accept. What were we risking? A modest situation in a chemical laboratory, which I should always be able to obtain again. Over there on the other side of the Atlantic there were millions in prospect; and if I did not succeed from the beginning, my wife, who drew and painted better than an amateur,—as well as most painters, indeed,—and who had excellent letters of recommendation, would give drawing-lessons in New Orleans, where the company had its head-quarters. We decided to go; but first we came to Paris. I wished to say good-by to you and to show you my son, my poor little George, of whom I was so proud, and whom you did not know. He was then two and one-half years old. My decision had been taken so suddenly that I could not announce it to you. When we arrived in Paris, we learned that you were in Nice. I wrote to you,—don't you remember?" said Monsieur Roger, turning to Monsieur Dalize.

      "Yes, my friend; I have carefully kept that letter of farewell, full of hope and of enthusiasm."

      "We were going to embark from Liverpool on the steamer which would go directly to New Orleans. The steamer was called the Britannic."

      Monsieur Roger stopped speaking, full of emotion at this recollection. At the end of a long silence he again took up the thread of his story.

      "The first days of the journey we had had bad weather. And I had passed them almost entirely in our state-room with my poor wife and my little boy, who were very sea-sick. On the tenth day (it was the 14th of December) the weather cleared up, and, notwithstanding a brisk wind from the north-east, we were on the deck after dinner. The night had come; the stars were already out, though every now and then hidden under clouds high up in the sky, which fled quickly out of sight. We were in the archipelago of Bahama, not far from Florida.

      "'One day more and we shall be in port,' I said to my wife and to George, pointing in the direction of New Orleans.

      "My wife, full of hope,—too full, alas! poor girl,—said to me, with a smile, as she pointed to George,—

      "'And this fortune that we have come so far to find, but which we shall conquer without doubt, this fortune will all be for this little gentleman.'

      "George, whom I had just taken upon my knees, guessed that we were speaking of him, and he threw his little arms around my neck and touched my face with his lips."

      CHAPTER V.

      FIRE AT SEA

      "At this moment, a moment that I shall never forget, I heard a sudden crackling noise, strange and unexpected, coming from a point seemingly close to me. I turned around and saw nothing. Nevertheless, I still heard that sound in my ears. It was a strange sound. One might have thought that an immense punch had been lighted in the interior of the ship, and that the liquid, stirred up by invisible hands, was tossed up and down, hissing and crackling. The quick movement of my head had arrested George in the midst of his caresses. Now he looked up at me with astonished eyes. The uneasiness which I felt in spite of the absence of any cause must have appeared upon my face, for my wife, standing beside me, leaned over to ask, in a subdued voice,—

      "'What is the matter?'

      "I think I answered, 'Nothing.' But my mind had dwelt upon an awful danger,—that danger of which the most hardened seamen speak with a beating heart,—fire at sea. Alas! my fears were to be realized. From one of the hatches there suddenly leaped up a tongue of flame. At the same instant we heard the awful cry, 'Fire!' To add to our distress, the wind had increased, and had become so violent that it fanned the flames with terrible rapidity, and had enveloped the state-rooms in the rear, whence the passengers were running, trembling and crying. In a few minutes the back of the ship was all on fire. My wife had snatched George from my arms, and held him closely against her breast, ready to save him or die with him. The captain, in the midst of the panic of the passengers, gave his orders. The boats were being lowered into the sea,—those at least which remained, for two had already been attacked by the fire. Accident threw the captain between me and my wife at the very moment when he was crying out to his men to allow none but the women and children in the boats. He recognized me. I had been introduced to him by a common friend, and he said, in a voice choked with emotion, pointing to my wife and my son,—

      "'Embrace them!'

      "Then he tore them both from my arms and pushed and carried them to the last boat, which was already too full. Night had come. With the rise of the wind, clouds had collected, obscuring the sky. By the light of the fire I saw for the last time—yes, for the last time—my wife and my child in the boat, shaken by an angry sea. Both were looking towards me. Did they see me also for the last time? And in my agony I cried out, 'George! George!' with a voice so loud that my son must surely have heard that last cry. Yes, he must have heard it. I stood rooted to the spot, looking without seeing anything, stupefied by this hopeless sorrow, not even feeling the intense heat of the flames, which were coming towards me. But the captain saw me. He ran towards me, СКАЧАТЬ