Chapter XVI. Mrs. Brent's Strange Temptation - Page 2

from Philadelphia," he said. "It isn't from Phil, for I know his writing."

"Give it to me, Jonas," said his mother, outwardly calm, but inwardly excited.

"Do you know any one in Philadelphia, mother?"

"No."

She cut open the envelope and withdrew the inclosed sheet.

"Is there any money in it?" asked Jonas eagerly.

"No."

"Just my luck!" said Jonas sullenly.

"Wait a minute," said his mother. "If the letter is really important, I'll give you twenty-five cents."

She read the letter, and her manner soon showed that she was deeply interested.

We will look over her shoulders and read it with her: "Continental Hotel, Philadelphia, Feb. 5.

"Dear Madam:--I write to you on a matter of the greatest importance to my happiness, and shall most anxiously await your reply. I would come to you in person, but am laid up with an attack of rheumatism, and my physician forbids me to travel.

"You are, as I have been informed, the widow of Gerald Brent, who thirteen years since kept a small hotel in the small village of Fultonville, in Ohio. At that date I one day registered myself as his guest. I was not alone. My only son, then a boy of three, accompanied me. My wife was dead, and my affections centered upon this child. Yet the next morning I left him under the charge of yourself and your husband, and pursued my journey. From that day to this I have not seen the boy, nor have I written to you or Mr. Brent. This seems strange, does it not? It requires an explanation, and that explanation I am ready to give.

"To be brief, then, I was fleeing from undeserved suspicion. Circumstances which I need not detail had connected my name with the mysterious disappearance of a near friend, and the fact that a trifling dispute between us had taken place in the presence of witnesses had strengthened their suspicions. Knowing myself to be innocent, but unable to prove it, I fled, taking my child with me. When I reached Fultonville, I became alive to the ease with which I might be traced, through the child's companionship. There was no resource but to leave him. Your husband and yourself impressed me as kind and warm-hearted. I was specially impressed by the gentleness with which you treated my little Philip, and I felt that to you I could safely trust him. I did not, however, dare to confide my secret to any one. I simply said I would leave the boy with you till he should recover from his temporary indisposition, and then, with outward calmness but inward anguish, I left my darling, knowing not if I should ever see him again.

"Well, time passed. I went to Nevada, changed my name, invested the slender sum I had with me in mining, and, after varying fortune, made a large fortune at last. But better fortune still