The Golden Key; Or, A Heart's Silent Worship. Mrs. Georgie Sheldon

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СКАЧАТЬ when, following a gradual decline, she laid it down, after having written out a full confession of the deception of which she had been guilty, and humbly begged her husband’s pardon for having yielded to a temptation that had proved stronger than her principles.

      This revelation Adam Brewster did not find until after she had been in her grave many weeks, when he finally gathered courage to examine a box which she had told him, with almost her last breath, contained something of great importance.

      It came upon him with the force of a thunderbolt—he was almost paralyzed with grief and dismay when he read his wife’s letter, and found the proof of its contents in the articles of infant’s clothing which she had preserved—in the note which she had pinned upon the dress of the abandoned child, and the golden key, which was her only heritage.

      It was a terrible blow! His darling—his idol, in whom all his fondest hopes were centered—not his own child! It could not be possible, for no father could so worship the offspring of another.

      The struggle between love, grief, disappointment, and indignation was long and bitter; but love finally triumphed over all.

      “No one need ever know it,” he told himself, but with a twinge of keenest pain in view of his own knowledge. “She is mine—I claim her as my very own by the love I bear her; no one shall ever suspect the truth—she shall never learn it, and thus I shall never be in danger of losing her. I will destroy every evidence of the fact, and then the secret will be buried in my own heart. And, ah, me! forgive my dear lost wife for her deception I must, in view of that other secret which I have withheld from her.”

      The man fully intended to destroy all evidence that Allison Porter was not his own child, but, thinking that he might wish to examine the contents of the box more carefully in a few days—after he had recovered somewhat from the shock he had received—he put it away, with some jewels belonging to his wife, in a secret compartment in the vault in his bank, where, amid the press of business and of many cares, it was forgotten; or, if not forgotten, neglected for many years.

CHAPTER I.

       Table of Contents

SIXTEEN YEARS AFTER.

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      “Papa! papa! Where is my father?”

      The speaker was a charming young girl, of about sixteen years, who came one morning tripping into the cool, private office of Adam Brewster.

      Without, the day was hot and sultry, but Miss Allison Brewster might have just emerged from some shady sylvan retreat, to judge from her fresh, dainty appearance as she paused in an exquisite pose, upon the threshold of the doorway, which made her seem, for the moment, a beautiful picture painted by a master hand.

      She was clad in a fine, crisp lawn, sprigged with forget-me-nots, and trimmed with delicate lace and fetching knots of blue ribbon, all of which was just suited to her flawless pink-and-white complexion, her sapphire eyes, and the gleaming gold of her abundant hair. Her pretty head was crowned with a broad-brimmed hat of white chip, whereon nodded and swayed, with every graceful movement of the little lady, three costly white ostrich-plumes, which were fastened in place by the same number of pale, pink roses and a broad band of rich satin ribbon.

      But Adam Brewster was not in. The only occupant of the place was the office boy—Gerald Winchester—who was seated behind a tall desk, engaged in copying some letters for his employer.

      He was, perhaps, nineteen years of age, and rather boyish in appearance, but with a face “to swear by,” with its clear, steadfast, honest eyes, its clean-cut features, its frank, genial smile, and yet possessing certain lines and characteristics which bespoke high moral principles and great strength of purpose.

      He sprang to his feet at the sound of that eager voice calling “papa,” a quick flush leaping into his cheeks, an intense, peculiar light into his eyes, and, approaching the young girl, with a courteous bow, observed in a quiet tone of respect:

      “Mr. Brewster went out a few moments ago. Can I do anything for you, Al—Miss Brewster?”

      A look of astonishment swept over the fair maiden’s face, and for an instant she made no reply. Then her ruby lips parted and a peal of silvery laughter rang through the room, while her vivacious face dimpled and gleamed with irrepressible merriment.

      “ ‘Miss Brewster!’ ” she repeated, with a saucy toss of her head, that set every spotless plume upon her hat nodding a playful reproof at her companion for his unprecedented formality; for they had known each other for years, and, hitherto, had always addressed each other by their Christian names. “Why, Gerald; how formal! Since when have you become so strictly ceremonious?”

      “Since Mr. Brewster announced a day or two ago, when some one spoke of you by your given name, that hereafter you were to be addressed as Miss Brewster,” the young man responded, flushing slightly, although a smile of sympathetic amusement curled his own expressive lips.

      “Did papa say that?” questioned Allison, with a shrug of her graceful shoulders. “What nonsense! Why, I have been running in and out of the bank ever since I was able to walk, and it seems absurd putting on such airs, when everybody knows me so well.”

      “Still, you are a young lady now, and it does seem a trifle familiar to address you as if you were only a child,” Gerald thoughtfully observed.

      Allison stood considering the matter for a moment; then she gravely remarked:

      “I say, Gerald, I shall not mind the change very much from the others; but,” with an independent toss of her pretty head, “I won’t be ‘Miss Brewster’ to you.”

      Gerald shot a quick, bright glance at the speaker.

      “Thank you—I am sure I appreciate this mark of your esteem,” he said, in tones that were a trifle tremulous, “but,” a roguish twinkle in his fine, dark eyes, “how about obeying orders from one’s chief?”

      “Well, perhaps you’ll have to do as papa wishes, when you are here with the other clerks; but, Gerald”—appealingly, yet half-defiantly—“when—when we are by ourselves, I—just won’t stand it; it will spoil all our nice times, and make us too stiff and prim for anything. Do you want me to call you Mr. Winchester?”

      “I am sure I do not,” he answered, laughing at her injured air.

      “Well, but I shall—if you go to playing at formality with me”—this with a charming little pout as she threw herself into a chair, seized a fan from the desk near her, and began to sway it back and forth with piquant grace, while her companion watched her with admiring interest.

      “I am sorry papa is out,” she resumed, after a minute, and apparently regarding the other topic as settled, “for I want some money. I suppose I can have everything charged, but I do so enjoy having a lot of nice, fresh, crisp bills in my own hands to pay for what I buy. Will he be in soon, do you think?”

      “I am sure I cannot tell,” replied the young man, glancing at the clock, then back, with an expression of yearning tenderness, to the graceful figure in the chair opposite СКАЧАТЬ