Will had now given up his old residence, and was regularly located at the residence of his new-found father. The old gentleman was exceedingly happy in the possession of this strong, handsome lad for his son, and doted upon him with an affection which Will, in good measure, returned. He told his father with much vim of the morning’s events, the arrest of the burglars, and the part he had taken in it. The old gentleman was delighted with the courage and shrewdness of his son. “And now, my dear son,” said Mr. Somers, “since you have so successfully finished your enterprise, I wish you to help me carry out my plans.” “Depends on what they are,” said Will. “I refer to your going to school. You are young enough yet to learn a business, and much as I dislike to part with you I must give you the benefit of an education.” “I’ve got another job to put through yet afore I tie myself down to schooling.” “What do you mean?” asked his father, anxious to know what new whim had seized him. “Want to find my little lost sister. Poor Jennie is just like me, kicked somewhere about this big town. I’m goin’ to scour the whole city for her. Bet I know her if I set eyes on her.” “I earnestly hope you may succeed,” said his father. “I will lend you every aid in that search. I intend to go to the alms-house this very day, and learn if any trace can be found there.” “I want you to come with me, first, to Mr. Leonard’s store,” said Will. “It’s about time we was telling him of our plans.” An hour later found them in Mr. Leonard’s private office. Mr. Fitler was present, and there had been a long debate on the subject of the robbery. The merchant had been apprised of Will’s good fortune, and met his father with much pleasure. “I hope you intend to let Will continue with me,” he said. “He is going to make a good business man, and I should be sorry to lose him.” “I may let him return to you in the end,” said Mr. Somers. “At present I feel it necessary to give him an education.” “I cannot object to that,” said Mr. Leonard. “I want to find my lost sister, Jennie, afore I strike into anything else,” said Will. “Jennie. Was that her name?” asked Mr. Leonard, curiously. “Yes,” said Mr. Somers. “I have made inquiries at the alms-house,” continued Mr. Fitler, “as I promised you to do. They have a record there of the admission of two children, William and Jennie Somers, with date given. There is only one other record about them. Will ran away a few years afterward, and Jennie was adopted by a party who refused to let his name go upon the record. He wished to hide all trace of her origin.” “But the date is there,” said Mr. Leonard, in some excitement. “What date is given?” “The 3d of September, 18—.” The merchant hastily rose and seized his hat. “Come with me,” he said, briefly. He led the way through the store and into the street at a rapid pace, giving no intimation of his object, but evidently in a state of growing excitement. He continued at this pace for a considerable distance through the streets, finally stopping before a private house in a fashionable locality. Ringing the bell with a nervous pull they were speedily admitted into the house. Mr. Leonard had asked to see Miss Arlington, and they were ushered into the parlor, while the servant went for the lady. In a minute she returned, and Miss Arlington was ushered into their presence. She was pale and haggard looking, and had evidently suffered much from the revelation which her guardian had made her. She looked in surprise upon the party who had called to see her. Two of them, at least, were utter strangers. “We have called,” said Mr. Leonard, “on important business. But first let me introduce you to Mr. Fitler and Mr. Somers.” “Mr. Somers,” she repeated, looking from him to Will, who sat beside him. “I told you once that I had lost my parents,” said Will, “or they had lost me, which comes to the same thing. I have found my father.” “And I have found my son,” said Mr. Somers, looking proudly on his boy. “Were but my daughter “I congratulate you both on your good fortune,” said Jennie, with much interest. “I am sure you will have reason to be proud of my young friend, Will. But you wished to see me on business,” she added, turning to her guardian. “Yes,” he replied, “in reference to the matter I mentioned to you at our last meeting.” A look of deep displeasure came upon her face. “Let that matter die,” she said, briefly. “It is enough to have told it to me. Do you wish to publish it to the world?” “It need not go beyond the parties present.” “And why so far as that?” she sharply asked. “What is it their affair? I can see no necessity of this.” “I will tell you why, Jennie. I have learned something important connected with you, since I saw you last. It is necessary to broach it before these gentlemen, who are already conversant with the facts.” Mr. Somers was involuntarily leaning forward in his seat, and devouring the face of the young lady with hungry, eager eyes. He seemed to forget all present in his absorbing interest. “Listen, then, to another story,” said Mr. Leonard, quietly. “Mr. Somers here has had in his life experience the greatest misfortunes. He is a gentleman of great wealth, and surrounded with all that generally makes life desirable. Yet with it all he has been very unhappy. His wife died; his two children, a boy and a girl, were stolen from him by an enemy; his whole life has been devoted to the finding of these lost treasures. We have just learned,” continued Mr. Leonard, “that the villain who carried off the children left them in the alms-house here in Philadelphia—dying there himself.” A quick thought flashed across Jennie’s mind. She grew pale, and sunk back in her chair. She was beginning to guess the object of this revelation. “They were left there under their own names, William and Jennie Somers,” continued Mr. Leonard, fixing his eyes upon his intently listening ward. “The life there did not please young Will. He took occasion, after losing his sister, to run away from the institution. He is now before you.” “After losing his sister?” she repeated, abstractedly, a feeling she had never before experienced coming upon her as she continued to gaze at Mr. Somers. “Yes. The sister was removed from the institution, on the 3d of September, 18— by a gentleman, who was attracted by her beautiful face and charming manner. He adopted her as his daughter, giving her his name, and concealing the facts of her origin.” “Yes,” said Jennie, listening to his words with breathless interest. “On the 3d of September, 18—,” continued Mr. Leonard, “a friend of mine, Mr. James Arlington, adopted from the alms-house a young child, giving her his own name of Arlington, but retaining her original name of Jennie Somers. She is now known, in her full name, as Jennie Somers Arlington, and is the heiress to Mr. Arlington’s estate, I being her guardian.” Mr. Somers had risen and approached Jennie with a motion as if drawn by some unseen force. “Can this be possible!” she murmured, resting with one hand upon her chair, which shook with nervous emotion. “Mr. Arlington not my father! This gentleman my father!” “Yes, she is my daughter—my Jennie!” he cried. “I know her now, her face, her eyes! She is the image of her poor mother!” He would have clasped her in his arms, but she held him off, while her large, eager eyes gazed with devouring intentness upon his face, as if not quite believing in this sudden revelation, yet drawn toward him and longing for his love. Will, with his usual impulsiveness, broke the suspense. “Didn’t I tell you so?” he shouted. “I knowed you was my Jennie! Felt it in my bones. My dear, sweet, lost sister Jennie!” Clasping her in his arms with a bear-like hug, he kissed her with a boy’s earnest though boisterous affection, his whole face thrilled with love for his new-found sister. “This is our father, Jennie—yours and mine,” said Will, pushing her into the old man’s arms. “Don’t be doubting that. There ain’t such another nice old father in Philadelphia!” She yielded to the old man’s embrace, tears springing to her eyes as she felt his gentle kiss upon her lips. The warmest congratulations followed. Mr. Leonard was quite forgiven in the joy of this moment, and she turned to him with all her old impulsive affection. “You only want John Elkton to make you perfectly happy,” he said, smiling. “He is out of prison now, and I suppose is hunting this town over for his betrothed.” |