Robert Coverdale's Struggle: or, on the Wave of Success

"I don't see where the boy got money enough to go off," said Mrs.

Jones.

"He didn't need much to get to Boston or New York. He's probably blackin' boots or sellin' papers in one of the two."

"I hope he is. I wonder how that sort of work will suit the young gentleman?"

"To-morrow the time's up, and I shall foreclose the mortgage. I'll fix up the place a little and then offer it to young Shelton. I guess he'll be willin' to pay me fifty dollars a year rent, and that'll be pretty good interest on my two hundred dollars."

"Have you given Mrs. Trafton any warning?"

"No, why should I? She knows perfectly well when the time is out, and she's had time to get the money. If she's got it, well and good, but if she hasn't, she can't complain. Oh, there's young Shelton," said the landlord, looking out of the window.

"I'll call him and see if we can make a bargain about renting the cottage."

"Frank Shelton!" called out Mr. Jones, raising the window.

The young fisherman paused.

"Come in; I want to speak to you."

Frank Shelton turned in from the street and the landlord commenced his attack.

"Frank, folks say you're thinkin' of gettin' married?"

"Maybe I shall," said the young man bashfully.

"Whereabouts do you cal'late to live?"

"Well, I don't know any place."

"What do you say to the Widder Trafton's house?"

"Is she goin' to leave?"

"I think she'll have to. Fact is, Frank, I've got a mortgage on the place which she can't pay, and I'll have to foreclose. You can have it as soon as you want it."

"How much rent did you cal'late to ask, Mr. Jones?"

"I'd ought to have five dollars a month, but, seein' it's you," said the politic landlord, "you may have it for fifty dollars a year."

"I'll speak to Nancy about it," said the young fisherman. "I don't want to turn Mrs. Trafton out, but if she's got to go, I suppose I might as well hire the house as any one else."

"Just so. I tell you, Frank, I'm offerin' you a bargain."

Just then Frank Shelton, who was looking out of the window, exclaimed in surprise:

"Why, there's Bob Coverdale!"

"Where?"

"He just walked by, with a smaller boy alongside."

"You don't say so!" uttered Mr. Jones, hardly knowing whether to be glad or sorry. "Well, he's come in time to bid good-by to his old home. I'll go up to-morrow, first thing, and settle this matter. I s'pose they'll try to beg off, but it won't be any use."

Robert had written to the hermit from Columbus a letter which conveyed the glad tidings of his success. It filled the heart of the recluse with a great and abounding joy.

Life seemed wholly changed for him. Now he felt that he had something to live for, and he determined to change his course of life entirely. He would move to Boston or New York and resume the social position which he had abandoned. There he would devote himself to the training and education of his boy.

And Robert – yes, he would richly reward the boy who had restored to him the son lost so long. He would not yet decide what he would do for him, but he felt that there was no reward too great for such a service.

He knew on what day to expect the two boys, for Robert had informed him by letter. Restless, he waited for the moment which should restore his son to his arms. He took a position on the beach in front of the entrance to the cave and looked anxiously for the approach of the two boys.

No longer was he clad in his hermit dress, but from a trunk he had drawn out a long-disused suit, made for him in other days by a fashionable tailor on Broadway, and he had carefully trimmed and combed his neglected locks.

"My boy must not be ashamed of my appearance," he said proudly. "My hermit life is over. Henceforth I will live as a man among men."

Presently his waiting glance was rewarded. Two boys, one of whom he recognized as Robert, descended the cliff and walked briskly toward him on the firm sand beach.

He did not wait now, but hurried toward them. He fixed his eyes eagerly upon the second boy.

Julian had much improved in appearance since we first made his acquaintance. It does not take long to restore strength and bloom into a boy of sixteen. He was slender still, but the hue of health mantled his cheeks; he was no longer sad, but hopeful, and in his delicate and refined features his father could see a strong resemblance to the wife he had lost.

"Julian!" said Robert Coverdale, "that's your father who is coming. Let him see that you are glad to meet him.

"Mr. Huet," he said, "this is your son."

"You do not need to tell me. He is too like his mother. Julian, my boy,

Heaven be praised that has restored you to me!"

It is hardly to be expected that Julian should feel the rapture that swelled the father's heart, for the thought of having a father at all was still new and strange, but it was not long before he learned to love him.

The poor boy had received so little kindness that his father's warm affection touched his heart, and he felt glad and happy to have such a protector.

"God bless and reward you, Robert!" said Mr. Huet, taking the hand of our hero. "You shall find that I am not ungrateful for this great service. I want to talk to my boy alone for a time, but I will come to your aunt's house to supper with Julian. Please tell her so, and ask her to let it be a good one."

"I will, Mr. Huet."

From Julian his father drew the story of his years of hardship and ill treatment, and his heart was stirred with indignation as he thought of the cruelty of the relative who had subjected him and his son to that long period of grief and suffering.

"Your trials are over now, Julian," he said. "You will be content to live with me, will you not?"

"Will Robert live with us?" asked the boy.

"Do you like Robert?" asked his father.

"I love him like a brother," said Julian impulsively. "You don't know how kind he has been to me, father!"

"Yes, Robert shall live with us, if he will," said Mr. Huet. "I will speak about it to him tomorrow."

"Will you live here, father?"

"Oh, no! You must be educated. I shall take you to Boston or New York, and there you shall have every advantage that money can procure. Hitherto I have not cared to be rich. Now, Julian, I value money for your sake."

Together they went to Mrs. Trafton's cottage to supper.

"What makes you look so sober, Robert?" asked Mr. Huet, observing that the boy looked grave.

"I have heard that Mr. Jones will foreclose his mortgage to-morrow."

"Not if you pay it," said Mr. Huet quietly. "Come with me after supper, and I will hand you all the money you require."

Robert was about to express his gratitude, but Mr. Huet stopped him.

"You owe me no thanks," he said. "It is only the first installment of a great debt which I can never wholly repay."

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE LANDLORD'S DEFEAT

About ten o'clock the next morning Mr. Nahum Jones approached the

Trafton cottage.

Sitting on a bench outside was Robert Coverdale, whittling. He had put on his old clothes, intending it to be for the last time. He wanted to surprise Mr. Jones.

"There's Bob Coverdale," said Mr. Jones to himself. "He don't look much as if he was able to pay the mortgage. I guess I've got the place fast enough."

"Is your aunt at home, young man?" he asked pompously.

"Yes," answered Robert, continuing to whittle.

"You might say 'yes, sir.'"

"All right. I'll remember next time."

"You'd better. Tell your aunt I want to see her – on business," emphasizing the last two words.

"Come right in, sir."

Mr. Jones, with a patronizing air, entered the house of which he already considered himself the proprietor.

Mrs. Trafton was engaged in making a pudding, for she had two boarders now, Julian and his father, who were to take their meals in the fisherman's cottage till they got ready to leave Cook's Harbor.

"Good mornin', ma'am," said Mr. Jones.

"Good morning. Will you take a seat?" she said quietly.

"I can't stay long, Mrs. Trafton. I called on a little matter of business."

"Very well, sir."

"I suppose you understand what it is?"

"Perhaps I do, but you had better explain."

"I have made up my mind to foreclose the mortgage I hold on this place, and I should like to have you move out within three days, as I am going to let it."

"Indeed! To whom do you intend to let it?"

"To Frank Shelton. He's goin' to be married, and this house will suit him."

"And what am I to do, Mr. Jones? You surely do not mean to deprive

Robert and me of our home?"

"It isn't yours any longer, or won't be. Of course, you can't expect to stay here. I haven't forgotten how you talked to me when I was here before nor how impudent your boy was."

"Meaning me?" asked Robert with a grave face.

"Of course I mean you!" said Mr. Jones sharply.

"I haven't said anything impudent to you to-day, have I?"

"No, but you'd ought to have thought of that before. It's too late now!"

"You won't turn us out on the street, will you, Mr. Jones?"

"Haven't I given you three days to stay? If you want my advice, I should say that you'd find a good, comfortable home in the poorhouse. Your boy there might be bound out to a farmer."

"I don't know any farmer that wants a boy," said Robert meekly.

"I'd take you myself," said Nahum Jones, "if you wasn't so impudent. I'm afraid you're a little too airy for me."

"Wouldn't you let the house to me, Mr. Jones?" asked the widow. "It's worth a good deal more than the face of the mortgage."

"You couldn't get a dollar more, in my opinion," said the landlord. "As to takin' you for a tenant, I haven't any assurance that you could pay the rent."

"What rent do you want for it, Mr. Jones?"

"Five dollars a month."

"Five dollars a month, when you say it's only worth two hundred dollars!"

"I'm goin' to fix it up a little," said Mr. Jones, rather nonplussed.

"I think, Mr. Jones, we won't move," said Robert.

"Won't move?" ejaculated the landlord, getting red in the face. "You've got to move."

"Who says so?"

"I say so, you young whelp!"

"No hard names, if you please, Mr. Jones. The fact is, my aunt doesn't fancy going to the poorhouse. To be sure, if she could have your society there it might make a difference."

"You'll repent this impudence, Bob Coverdale!"

"How am I impudent?"

"To talk of my being in the poorhouse!"

"You spoke of Aunt Jane going to the poorhouse."

"That's a different matter."

"At any rate, she won't go!" said Robert decidedly.

"Won't? We'll see about that. How are you going to help it?"

"By paying the mortgage," answered Robert quietly.

"You can't do it," said Mr. Jones, his jaw drooping.

"You are mistaken, Mr. Jones. If you'll write a receipt, I am ready to pay it now – principal and interest."

Robert drew out a roll of bills from the pocket of his ragged vest and began to count them.

"Where did you get this money?" ejaculated the landlord.

"I must decline telling you, Mr. Jones. It's good money, as you can see. I think you'll have to tell Frank Shelton he can't have the house unless he wants to hire of my aunt."

Nahum Jones hated to take the money that was offered him, but there was no loophole to escape. The good bargain was slipping from his grasp. The triumphant look faded from his face, and he looked exceedingly ill at ease.

"I'll come up with you for this, Bob Coverdale!" he muttered angrily.

"For what? Paying you money, Mr. Jones?"

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do know what you mean," returned the boy gravely. "This money is in payment for liquor furnished to my poor uncle – liquor which broke up the happiness of his home and finally led to his death. You laid a plot to deprive my aunt, whom you had so much injured, of her home, but you have been defeated. We don't care to have anything more to do with you."

There is no need of recording the landlord's ill-natured answer. He was angry and humiliated, and, when he got home, snapped up Mrs. Jones when she began to make inquiries about the new property. He felt the worse because he had been defeated by a boy.

CHAPTER XXXIV

HOW IT ENDED

"Robert," said Gilbert Huet later in the day, "next week Julian and I go to Boston, where we shall try to make a home for ourselves."

Robert looked sober.

"I shall feel very lonely without you," he said.

"You are to go, too, Robert," said Julian quickly.

"If you will. Julian wants your society, and so do I."

Robert's face flushed with eager delight.

"But my aunt?" he said.

"I have been speaking to your aunt. In fact, I invited her to accompany us, but she says she is used to Cook's Harbor and cannot leave it."

"I don't like to leave her alone."

"Then I'll tell you what you can do. I understand that young Frank Shelton is seeking for a home where he can take his promised wife. I advise you to enlarge the cottage, putting on another story and perhaps an L also. This will give you plenty of room for your aunt and the young couple, who will be company for her."

"Yes," said Mrs. Trafton, "I always liked Frank Shelton and his wife that is to be. The arrangement will be very agreeable to me."

"But," objected Robert, "how can I build an addition to the house? I have no money."

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Huet, smiling, "but I don't think a young gentleman worth ten thousand dollars can truthfully say he has no money. I hope, Robert, you are not growing mean."

"Ten thousand dollars!" ejaculated Robert, his eyes wide open with amazement.

"Certainly."

"I don't understand you, Mr. Huet."

"Then perhaps you will understand this."

Mr. Huet handed Robert a slip of paper, which proved to be a check on the Merchants' Bank, of Boston, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, payable to Robert Coverdale or order. It was signed by Gilbert Huet.

"You see, you are rich, Robert," said Julian, smiling with joy at his friend's good fortune.

"Oh, Mr. Huet, I don't deserve this," said Robert, his heart full.

"You must let me judge of that, my dear boy. Say no more or you will be depreciating Julian's value. You have restored him to me, and I consider him worth much more than ten thousand dollars."

Of course, Robert joyfully accepted the munificent gift so cordially offered. By Mr. Huet's advice, he invested the money in good dividend-paying securities and monthly sent his aunt twenty-five dollars, which, with the rent, made her quite easy in her circumstances.

The additions were made to the cottage, and Frank Shelton and his wife were glad to hire the house, thus providing Mrs. Trafton with society as well as adding to her income.

As for Robert, henceforth he shared in all the educational advantages which Julian enjoyed.

Mr. Huet took a house, engaged an excellent housekeeper and at length enjoyed a home.

One letter he wrote to Charles Waldo – a scathing letter denouncing him for his infamous conduct and threatening severe punishment if he ever again conspired against his happiness. Mr. Waldo did not answer the letter for very shame. What excuse or apology could he possibly offer?

Three years later Robert and Julian made a vacation journey westward.

"I should like to call on my old friend Nathan Badger," said Julian.

"So should I," said Robert. "I want to see how he looks."

The Badgers could not at first be convinced that the elegant young gentleman, introduced as Julian Huet, was no other than the bound boy, Bill Benton; but he recalled so many incidents of his past life that they credited it at last.

"You were always a favorite of mine, Bill – I mean Mr. Julian!" said the farmer, who had a wonderful respect for wealth.

"And of mine!" chimed in Mrs. Badger. "And I'm sure my Andrew Jackson loved you like a brother."

Andrew Jackson, a gawky youth, no more prepossessing than his boyhood promised, winked hard and looked enviously at Julian.

When the latter drew from his pocket a silver watch and chain and asked Andrew to accept it for old acquaintance sake he was quite overcome and said he liked Julian "better than any feller he knew!"

"Then you forgive me for hitting you with a hoe, Andrew?" said Julian smilingly.

"I don't care for that," said Andrew Jackson stoutly, "and I guess you more'n got even with us that time you stayed with Dick Schmidt and father tried to thrash a tramp – thinking it was you – and got thrashed himself!"

Then Andrew Jackson fixed an admiring glance on the watch he had coveted so long.

"Boys will be boys!" said Mr. Badger with a fatherly smile. "Andrew

Jackson don't have no ill feelings."

It was the way of the world. Julian was rich now and had plenty of friends. But he had one true friend whom money could not buy, and this was Robert Coverdale, the young fisherman of Coolers Harbor, prosperous henceforth and happy, as he well deserved to be.

THE END