Walter Bradley's Secret

When Asa Bradley was sentenced to the State's prison forlife, for the doublé crime of forgery and manslaughter, many peojile said that a wicked man was qow where he could do no more harm ; but it was a dreadful misfortune to his wife and son. Six months afterward Mrs. Bradley died, and the friends of the fanrily asked, "What will become of poor Walter?" But this little burst of sympathy was all "poor Walter" ever got from t'hem ; and when the boy was sent to the almshouse it was agreed that the place was good enough for the son of a convict. For five years the almshouse was Walter's only home. Then the overseers of the poor informed him that he must be "bound out," and earn his own living. Young as he was (he was scarcely 13), Walter had a stout heart, and it needed only this sudden send-off to rouse a latent sense of independence. Por the Srst time he realized his position cleurly, and found his native pride. He dèclared with spirit that lie would no longer be beholden to panper help, or would render pauper service, and with this resolution he went his way to fight the battle of life alone. He little knew the difficulties he would have to meet and couqner. After I applying in vain at several places in town, he went to Bockland, a tliriving factory village, and spent three days in fruitless search for work. Weary and discouraged, he finallymet a farmer who wanted some help in his haying. - - "I'll work for you cheap, and hard, too," said the boy, with a brightening eye. "That sounds well. Where do you live?" tnrm-mt "I carne from Stony Brook." '"Como a little nearer. I want to take a good look into your face." Walter approached the wagon for inspection. "You look willing, at any rate. What's your name ?" "Walter Bradley, sir." "I hope you ain't no way connected with Asa Bradley, who killed Thomas Iding." "I am - his son," faltered the boy, with averted face. "Well, that's unlucky! I want fco hire a good lively boy, not a son of - " Then carne a long, embarrassing silence. "Well, Iguess on the whole I won't hire you," said the farmer, reflectively. "I know you ain't to blarne for what your father did, but I guess I'll look a little further." And, starting his horse, he was soon out of sight. Poor Walter! A sharp pain sliot thjough him as he realized afresh how hard and unjnst the man's decisión was, and his own friendless condition. But at length his elastic spirit took hope again, and he walked resolutely on to the next village. i# Here he was more fortúnate. A placard with "Boy Wanted" was eonspicuously displayea in the window of a largo drygoods store, and he applicd for the situation. His open, manly face made a favorable impressioii on Mr. Lewis, the merchant, and he agreed to take him on trial for one week. Walter was active and faithful, and gave perf eet satisfaction. But Mr. Lewis chanced to learn that he was "the son of tho forger-murderer, Asa Bradley," and, when the week was out, he coldly told Water he could loók for a place elsewhere. The boy took this dismissal grievously. Knowing as he did the reason, it touched him like a death-chill. Was he to be rursed through life for inheriting a name loaded with disgrace ? The thought filled his soul with bittemess, and prepared him for the stern, almost fierce, determination which followed. This tainted name should no longer be a hindrance to him. He would discard it forever. Walter's maternal grandfather was Gilbert Henshaw, a man whose character was above reproach, and to be called after whom would be an honor to any descendant. Henceforth he would be no more Walter Bradley, but Gilbert Henshaw. He would go where he was unknown, and the secret of his old name would be revealed to no one. More than 300 miles he traveled on foot, begging food by the way after the little money Mr. Lewis had giren liim was gone, and often at night having only the damp ground for his bed. He reached the boundary line of ühio, and at once began anew the weary search for employment. One warm summer evening he entered a field, and found rest and refreshing sleep in a heap of new-mown hay. The sun was way above the bilis before the tired, foot-sore boy awoke. Old Mr. Gardiner and his man carne out with forks in hand to open the hay. "Jimmy!" exclaimed Abel, " if here ain't a boy asleep, and I carne near a-pitehin' my fork right into him !" Walter opened his eyes and looked wild and frightened. " What are you here for?" demandod Mr. Gardiner, gruffly. " I - I - I arn going to Ashburton to try and flnd work. I hadn't any place to sleep, or any money, and laid down here for the night." " You won't get work in Asliburton. The milis have stopped, said Mr. Gardiner, in a mollified voice. " Do you know of any ono who would like to hire a boy ? I'd be glad of even a small job, for I must either #ark or starve." The farmer gave a sharp look into the boy's face. " Well," said lie, kindly, " go in and got some breakfast, anyhow; and if you're a mind to you may stay hero today, and I'll try you. What's your name ?" "Gilbert Henshaw," replied Walter, with a reddening face. He was not yet sufflciently accustomed to his "new identity" to announce it without a ceftain self-rejSröach. Still there was a kind of assurance of freedom in the sound of it. Like another boy who, from childhood and youth burdened with the disgraeed name of a vicious father, grew to be one of the noblest of our Tice President.s, he had cast off the old appellation, linea only with ignominy and unhappy memories, and chosen another, which would leave him free claim to the character and merit that was his own ; though in assmning a new name without first taking legal steps to such i measure Walter, as must any boy so venturing, trod oiidangerous ground, as we shall see. He toiled fuithfully all that day, and did so well that old Mr. Gardiner deoided to keep him a week ; and, when the week was ended, Mrs. Gardiner had found him so obligiug and useful in the house that she said to her husband - "I think we'd better keep this boy till the harvesting is over. He's very handy, and will save us a great many steps'." "Yes," responded Mr. Gardiner; and the matter was settled. Weeks and nionths passed. Gilbert was happy in his new home, and the comfort and plenty around him made the long autumn like a continued holiday. Old Mr. Gardiner and his wife grew more and moro attached to him, and their kindnoss to him was unfailing. One peculiurity in the boy, however, puzzled the worthy eouple and piqued their euriosity. Gilbert never alluded to the past, and never would teil directly where he eame from, or if his parents ■mi dead or alive. But they were considérate 'enough not to press hiin, and preferred to think that he had some sad reason for his silence, which involved no blame of his own. When winter carne, the Gardiners were less inelined than ever to let Gilbert go. He stayed with them, attended the villagc school, and worked morning and evening, taking care of the cattle. One day, Mrs. Gardiner was looking over a large mahogany box which contained valued family relies. She took out an ambrotype, and, after gazing at it long and tenderly, she said to Gilbert, who was near, with much emotion : "This is the pieture of my only brother. Thomas Iding. He carne to a dreadful death. A wickcd man named Asa Bradley murdered him." Gilbert's knees shook under him. He gasped for breath and his face looked wild and white. "The jury brought in a verdict of manslaughter," she continued, "but it was murder - delibérate muider! "Why, Gilbert, how pale you are! What is the matter?" "I - I don 't feel very well. I guesa I will go out." And, hurrying from the house, the poor boy, overwhelmed with horror and distress, went to the barn, and sat down alone. That his best friends, his benefactors, who of all the world had in his need given him employment and a home, sliould prove, after all, to be the sufferers by his faiher's crime, was too much. How would they feel if they knew they were harboringthe son oí their brother's murderer ? It seemed that he must fly from the place at once - fly to the ends of the earth, lmnted by a paternal baus But palmer thoughts returnecCand he sueceedcd in quieting the tumult of his feeliugs. To run away would be a suspicions and eowardly act; to confess wLo he was could do no possible good. There seemed to be nothiug lef i to liim but to seek to atone, as far ts possible, for his fa'ther's crime by self-sacrificing devotion to those whom that crime had so turribly aJHicted. He could do this, though he shcnild never break to them the arcad secret of his real name and kiudred. Winter and spring passed, and summer came again. Ono morning, as Gilbert was re turning from the postoffiee, he saw a roan ridiug up the street whom he instantly knew to be Peter Harrington, one of the overseers of the poor in Stony Brook. Great was his consternation. Tf Mr. Harrington should recognize him, and reveal that he was the son of Asa Bradley, and had lived five years in the almshouse, all his present hope and happiness would lx; at an end. He quickly turned his face away, and stood leaning - over the railing of the mill-stream bridge, gazing intently into the water. Mr. Harrington stopped his horse. "Boy," he said, pleasantly, " which road must I take to go to Ashburton?" No answer. Gilbert seemed not to hear him. 'I say, boy, which is the right road to Ashburton '!" Still no reply. " Can 't you speak, or don't you know?" touehing Gilbert's shoulder witli the handle of his whip. Still Gilbert neither moved nor spoke. " He either can't hear or won't hear," muttered Mr. Harrington, as he started his horse and rode on. Gilbert stopped to cali on a sick friend, and an liour later reached home. As he entered the sitting-room, the tirst porson ho saw was Peter Harrington, in eonversation with Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. With a crimson face and wildlyI beating heart, he slipped out by the nearest door. As Mr. Harrington had merely glanced toward him, he hoped he had eseaped recognition. But Gilbert was mistaken. Hardly had the door closed after him when Mr. Harrington asked, in much surprise : " Is that boy, Walter Bradley, living with you?" " That lad's name is Gilbert HenI sliaw," replied Mr. Gardiner. ■' He has been with us over a year." " Ha, ha, ha ! You have been well duped. He is the son of Asa Bradley, who killed your brother, Thomas Iding." "Impossible!" cxclaimed Mr. luid Mrs. Garliner, simultaneously. "It's afaet," persistëd Mr. Harrington. "I knew Walter Bradley well. He was in the almshouse a long time. Over a year ago he disappéareu, and most people thought he'd gone to sea. Eo Jie lina jiassed himself off on yon as Gilbert Henshaw? A pretty bold push, I cali it." As may be supposed, Mr. Harrington left the Gardiners greatly disturbed in miad. Their astonishment upon learning they liad befriended a son of the dreaded convict, Asa Bradley, seemed overpowering. "I understand now why he nevcr alindes to his past life and will say nothing abont liis parents," said Mr. Gardiner, reflectively. "And tilia expíains why he ttimed so white when I showed hiin brothor Thomas' picture, and told him he liad been nmrdered by Asa Bradley," said Mrs. Gardiner. "Wcll, wife, this boy's fathertook the life ot your brother, and it's for you to say what wc shall do with him." Mrs. Gardiner ivas silent a few monients. "Husband," she said, at last, "Gilbert has livcd with us over a year, and all that time he has evidently tried his best to be a good boy. AVe have caught him in no wrong-doing, and have scen no signs of a bad disposition in him. He has been industrious and faithful. All W6 i;ui charge against him is that he eame t-o us under a falso name. He has been aii outcast once; it would be cruel to send him adrift again. Let him stay." "That's just my mind!" exclaimed Mr. Gardiner, fervently. " We have no childien, and it may be that God has given us this boy. We will not ttirn him away for his father's sin." When Gilbert carne to dinner, he cast an anxious look into the faces of the oíd people, but no trace of any reveíation was visible. They were even more gentle and tender toward him than they had ever been before. Five years passed. GiTbert lived, happy and beloved, under the roof of the good old Mr. Gardiner and his wile. He had attended school, and received a good education in the ordinary branches. His benefactors had no cause for regret for taking the friendless youth to their home and heart. One night Gilbert suddenly awoke, and was startled by a strange glare of light. Through his window he saw the elms and poplars outside glowing lurid red. He sprung up, and hurriedly raised the sash. The shed was on fire and the flames had just seized the house. Gilbert rushed down stairs, shouting the alarm, and in a moment every sleeper was awake. The family worked valiantly to put out the fire, but in vain. A fresh wind was blowing, and in half an hour the house and all the outbuildings belonging to Mr. Gardiner ] Svero in ruins. The good old man and his wife were homeless. "It carne hard to pay the interest on the mortgage," said Mr. Gardiner, in a hollow tone, " and now we haven't a place to lay our heads." "God will provide," responded Mrs. Gardiner, trying for his sake to stifle her ora sadness. "You have me left to you," said Gilbert, tenderly. "I am strong to work, and you shall never want while I live." A portion of the furniture had been ; saved. This Gilbert removed to a little unpainted house offered by a neighbor, and the old couple were made as comfortable as circumstances would permit. j A month later the following letter was received : Fbiend Gaudiner- If the boy wlio calletl himself Gilbert Hensbaw is with you, or you know anylhing of his whereabouts, ploaso inform him that his great-uncle, Joshua Bradlcy, ha.s Istelj dicd iu fit. Louis, without family, and has Jeft iio will. By law he is one of theneirs to 1he propeity. I rogret your loss by fire, and i believe me, trïüy your friend, Peter Harrington. The next d;iy Gilbert started for Stony Braok, and' was absent. two weeks. Then again bis happy face brightened the old people's liumble home. " I have news fot1 yon." he said, " wl'ich will give you both iiain and pleasüre. " ( iive us the worst first, and the ter last," said Mrs. Gardiner, smiling. "I have a secret to divulge whieh will distrosx and astojiish you. In all the time I luwe, been with you, I have never told yon my real name or paren tage. I am not Gilbert Hcnshaw. I am-n f V3T i "We know who yon are.!" exclaimed Mr. Gardiner. "You ure Wulter Bradlcy, son of Asa Bradley." A look of ntter astonishment overspread Gilbert'B face. How had they fathomcd his secret? "Mr. Harrington told us all aboutyou five years ago," said Mrs. Gardiner. "And you have given me a home, and love, and sympathy] luiowing all this time I was the son of your brother's murderer!" said Gilbert, with moistening eyes-ijtXJ 53l ' Ppear' loy," returned Mrs. Gardiner, fondly, "wc could not drive you from uh for youv i'athor's sin! You have been a constant comfort aud blessing to us - the child of our old age, givon us by (he Lord." "And I shall not forget your generous kindiiess and tniê love. My share in Únele Joshua's estáte is $5,000. We will build a new hoiwe on the old site with our money," said Gilbert. The worthy pair looked at him in delighted wonder, rrrf TT A J" "Yotr money, rhj ,boy," they both said. "No, ours. Whjit is mine belongs to you - to my second ikrents, who made my hai)less, forsaken ufe happy again." In a few months a commodious house was erected where the former home of the Givrdiners lüwl-stood, and the old couple moved into it with their "son." Gilbert gained a right to his adopted name by making applicátion through the form of law, and hc is now a prósperous farmer, a generous, noble-minded man, in whom the unfortunate and destitute always find a friend. The aged people lived several years to enjoy their new home, and their consideration and charity for the boy in his sore need returned to them an ampie reward. -