"Of course, these letters will tell Cliff a lot that I may never know anything about, and what is none o' my business," she mused, but with a yearning curiosity to know their contents, nevertheless. "I only hope, if the squire has been trying to cheat him out o' anything that belongs to him, they'll help to set him right."

Having restored all that she thought belonged there to the box, she set it one side, then finished packing the trunk, replaced the cover, and, rising, drew it to the corner where it was accustomed to stand.

Then taking the exhumed "skeleton" under her arm she marched straight down to her own room, where she locked it safely away in her own trunk and hid the key.

She was quite upset by the exciting discovery of the afternoon, and for the first time in many years lay awake until after midnight nervously conning the matter over in her mind, and trying to decide just what she ought to do about it. It proved to be a perplexing question, and she chewed the cud of indecision industriously for the next two weeks, while she scrubbed and cleaned, took up and put down carpets, washed, ironed, and hung curtains, and performed the manifold duties that throng upon the busy matron during house-cleaning time.

Half a dozen times she began a letter to Cliff asking him to come to Cedar Hill, as she had something important to tell him, but she tore each one up, her sense of loyalty to the squire making her feel that she ought to tell him of her discovery first; while, too, she doubted the wisdom of asking Cliff to leave his business and be at the expense of such a journey. Once she thought she would go to a lawyer and tell him the whole story, for she had a suspicion that there might be some property coming to Cliff if his ident.i.ty could be proven. But such a measure did not quite commend itself to her, for she thought he might not care to have another party let into the secrets of his origin and his mother's domestic troubles, while she also reasoned that it would be only fair to give the squire a chance to voluntarily right the wrong he had committed.

The two weeks lengthened into a month, and she was no nearer a decision than on the day of her discovery.

Meantime, however, Providence was opening the way for her to be relieved of the burden which she felt was fast becoming too heavy to be borne.

Squire Talford, on arriving in Washington, took a room in a boarding-house in a quiet street. He did not like hotel-life for numerous reasons, the chief one being that he was too economically inclined to spend his money in that way, while he also objected to the constant change, rush, and excitement of such a place.

Now, it happened, strangely enough, that Clifford had a room in a house adjoining Squire Talford's boarding-place, although he took his meals farther down on the same street.

Thus it naturally came about that the whilom bound boy and his former master ran up against each other only a few days after the arrival of the latter in the nation's capital. The encounter occurred on Sunday, about the middle of the afternoon, when Clifford, with a red moss-rosebud on his coat, started forth for the Lamonti mansion, where he was to dine with the Heatherfords.

The squire had been out to post some letters at the nearest box, and was returning to his boarding-place when the two met on a corner.

Clifford flushed slightly, and was greatly surprised to see the man so far from home, but with the politeness which always characterized him, lifted his hat and cordially saluted him. The man shot a frowning glance at him and pa.s.sed on without a word, as if he had been a total stranger to him. Possibly, if Clifford had been shabbily clad and had not looked so prosperous, happy, and handsome, he might not have been quite so churlish; but it made him secretly furious to see him clothed better than himself, a fact which plainly indicated to him that he was still making his way steadily upward, while his buoyant air and alert, energetic step told of perfect health and a heart at peace with the world.

The slight stung Clifford for the instant, but, replacing his hat and straightening himself with an air of conscious superiority, he went on his way, and half an hour later had forgotten the existence of the man.

He had far more interesting things to think about just then, for he and Mollie were laying their plans for the most important event of their lives--their marriage, which it had been decided should take place some time during the latter part of January.

Several times during the next three weeks Clifford met the squire, and, out of respect for his years, invariably saluted him in a gentlemanly manner, but always with the same result--the man as often pa.s.sed him with a cold stare and without moving a muscle of his hard, forbidding face.

"I wonder why he has always hated me so?" Clifford mused upon one of these occasions. "I served him faithfully during the four years that I lived with him--my conscience is clear of ever having once wilfully disobeyed him or neglected my work. I cannot understand how one human being can entertain such an unreasonable grudge against another. I am sure I have no desire to exchange places with him, rich as he is, for I think it must be very uncomfortable to hate one as he seems to me. I wish Mollie could meet him--she reads faces like books, and I really would like to know what her a.n.a.lysis of his character would be."

He had his wish granted not very long afterward. Squire Talford stepped into a stationery-store one afternoon on his way home to dinner, to lay in a fresh supply of paper and envelopes. He had observed before entering that a very handsome equipage was standing before the door, for being fond of fine horses, and a good judge of them, as well, he never pa.s.sed them unnoticed.

He even turned to take a second look out of the window of the store before making his purchase, and found himself wondering who could be the fortunate owner of the blooded pair, while his appreciative eyes also took in the elegant appointments of the carriage and harness and the liveried coachman and footman.

Presently he turned to the counter, and found himself standing beside a beautiful girl, very richly attired. She was sitting on a stool, evidently waiting for something, and after giving his own order, Squire Talford's glance wandered again to the vision of loveliness beside him, noting her delicate, high-bred features, her wonderfully blue eyes, and hair of shining gold.

A clerk came to her after a moment or two and apologized for the necessity of keeping her waiting still longer--something seemed to have gone wrong with the order she had given.

"Never mind," said Mollie--for it was she--with the rarest of smiles and in sweetest tones. "I am not in any hurry, and do not mind waiting in the least."

"Humph" grunted the squire to himself, as he took his package and left the place.

The little incident had somehow jarred upon him and set him thinking, for he well knew that if he had been kept waiting like that, whether he had been in a hurry or not, he would have fretted and fumed and taken pains to make the clerk as uncomfortable as possible; but the lovely girl had unconsciously given him a lesson in true courtesy and charity.

He could not resist the temptation to pause on the sidewalk as he went out and take another look at the beautiful horses which he had previously admired.

"A fine pair you have there," he observed to the coachman.

"Yes, sir," replied the man, but looking neither to the right nor left, nor unbending from his stiff, upright position a hairsbreadth.

"Morgan?"

"Yes, sir," with the same rigidity as before.

"How old are they?"

"Six years, or thereabouts."

The squire eyed them yearningly a moment, then, turning, was about to proceed on his way when a pa.s.ser-by jostled him, and, as he was just on the edge of the curb, caused him to lose his balance, when he nearly fell inside the carriage, which was a victoria.

He recovered himself almost immediately, however, and, after brushing the dust from his clothing, pa.s.sed on, but grumbling over the rudeness and carelessness of him who had caused his discomfort.

Three minutes later Mollie emerged from the store, stepped into her carriage, and gave the order to be driven "home."

As the vehicle drew up before her door and she was about to alight, her foot came in contact with some object upon the floor. Stooping to ascertain what it was, she was greatly surprised to find a gentleman's wallet lying upon the mat just inside the carriage.

"Why, I wonder how this could have come here?" she exclaimed. Upon opening it she found several papers neatly arranged in one pocket and a number of bank-notes of various denominations, together with a slip of paper bearing the name, "A. H. Talford, No. ---- Twelfth Street, N. E.,"

in another.

"Talford!" she repeated thoughtfully.

Where had she heard that name before? she wondered.

"Walker," she said, holding the wallet up for her coachman to see, "do you know anything about this? I have just found it on the floor."

The man thought a moment, and then told her of the elderly gentleman who had admired the horses, and then, making a misstep, had almost fallen into the carriage.

"Ah! Then the wallet must be his. Walker, you may turn around and drive me to No. ---- Twelfth Street, N. E.," said Mollie, as she resumed her seat.

The man swung his horses around, and they went trotting down-town again.

Arriving at the residence corresponding to the number on the slip, Mollie alighted and inquired of the maid who responded to her ring if Mr. Talford was in.

"Yes," the girl replied, with a peculiar smile, for the man had discovered his loss only a few moments before, and was turning the house upside down in his efforts to discover the missing wallet. Mollie pa.s.sed the maid her card, and told her to say to the gentleman that she would like to see him.

She waited in the parlor nearly five minutes before the squire made his appearance, and then he seemed to be greatly excited and in a very unhappy frame of mind. He started upon finding himself face to face with the beautiful girl whom he had seen in the stationer's store, and searched her face curiously.

Mollie arose as he entered, and, approaching him, extended the wallet.

She said afterward she never saw a more avaricious expression on any human face.

"I found this in my carriage, sir, after leaving the store where I met you a short time ago," she said. "My coachman thinks it must have slipped from your pocket as you stumbled and almost fell close beside the vehicle."

The man sprang forward and seized the purse with a greedy look and grasp.

"Yes, it is mine," he exclaimed in eager, tremulous accents. "My address is inside--I will show you."

"That is not necessary, Mr. Talford," Mollie pleasantly returned. "I took the liberty of opening the wallet, and found it, or I should not have known to whom to return it."

"Yes, yes; of course," said the squire, with some embarra.s.sment, as he whipped it open and began to finger the bills nervously. Mollie's red lips curled slightly at the act, for she read his thoughts like a printed page. She saw that it was his nature to distrust every one, and a fear that he would be overreached by those with whom he came in contact that he was wondering, even then, whether he should find his precious money intact.