Driven from Home: Carl Crawford's Experience

A startling discovery.

“Well,” thought Carl, as he left the house where he had been so hospitably entertained, “I shall not lack for business.  Miss Norris seems to have a great deal of confidence in me, considering that I am a stranger.  I will take care that she does not repent it.”

“Can you give a poor man enough money to buy a cheap meal?” asked a plaintive voice.

Carl scanned the applicant for charity closely.  He was a man of medium size, with a pair of small eyes, and a turnup nose.  His dress was extremely shabby, and he had the appearance of one who was on bad terms with fortune.  There was nothing striking about his appearance, yet Carl regarded him with surprise and wonder.  Despite the difference in age, he bore a remarkable resemblance to his stepbrother, Peter Cook.

“I haven’t eaten anything for twenty-four hours,” continued the tramp, as he may properly be called.  “It’s a hard world to such as me, boy.”

“I should judge so from your looks,” answered Carl.

“Indeed you are right.  I was born to ill luck.”

Carl had some doubts about this.  Those who represent themselves as born to ill luck can usually trace the ill luck to errors or shortcomings of their own.  There are doubtless inequalities of fortune, but not as great as many like to represent.  Of two boys who start alike one may succeed, and the other fail, but in nine cases out of ten the success or failure may be traced to a difference in the qualities of the boys.

“Here is a quarter if that will do you any good,” said Carl.

The man clutched at it with avidity.

“Thank you.  This will buy me a cup of coffee and a plate of meat, and will put new life into me.”

He was about to hurry away, but Carl felt like questioning him further.  The extraordinary resemblance between this man and his stepbrother led him to think it possible that there might be a relationship between them.  Of his stepmother’s family he knew little or nothing.  His father had married her on short acquaintance, and she was very reticent about her former life.  His father was indolent, and had not troubled himself to make inquiries.  He took her on her own representation as the widow of a merchant who had failed in business.

On the impulse of the moment—­an impulse which he could not explain—­Carl asked abruptly—­“Is your name Cook?”

A look of surprise, almost of stupefaction, appeared on the man’s face.

“Who told you my name?” he asked.

“Then your name is Cook?”

“What is your object in asking?” said the man, suspiciously.

“I mean you no harm,” returned Carl, “but I have reasons for asking.”

“Did you ever see me before?” asked the man.

“No.”

“Then what makes you think my name is Cook?  It is not written on my face, is it?”

“No.”

“Then how——­”

Carl interrupted him.

“I know a boy named Peter Cook,” he said, “who resembles you very strongly.”

“You know Peter Cook—­little Peter?” exclaimed the tramp.

“Yes.  Is he a relation of yours?”

“I should think so!” responded Cook, emphatically.  “He is my own son—­that is, if he is a boy of about your age.”

“Yes.”

“Where is he?  Is his mother alive?”

“Your wife!” exclaimed Carl, overwhelmed at the thought.

“She was my wife!” said Cook, “but while I was in California, some years since, she took possession of my small property, procured a divorce through an unprincipled lawyer, and I returned to find myself without wife, child or money.  Wasn’t that a mean trick?”

“I think it was.”

“Can you tell me where she is?” asked Cook, eagerly.

“Yes, I can.”

“Where can I find my wife?” asked Cook, with much eagerness.

Carl hesitated.  He did not like his stepmother; he felt that she had treated him meanly, but he was not prepared to reveal her present residence till he knew what course Cook intended to pursue.

“She is married again,” he said, watching Cook to see what effect this announcement might have upon him.

“I have no objection, I am sure,” responded Cook, indifferently.  “Did she marry well?”

“She married a man in good circumstances.”

“She would take good care of that.”

“Then you don’t intend to reclaim her?”

“How can I?  She obtained a divorce, though by false representations.  I am glad to be rid of her, but I want her to restore the two thousand dollars of which she robbed me.  I left my property in her hands, but when she ceased to be my wife she had no right to take possession of it.  I ought not to be surprised, however.  It wasn’t the first theft she had committed.”

“Can this be true?” asked Carl, excited.

“Yes, I married her without knowing much of her antecedents.  Two years after marriage I ascertained that she had served a year’s term of imprisonment for a theft of jewelry from a lady with whom she was living as housekeeper.”

“Are you sure of this?”

“Certainly.  She was recognized by a friend of mine, who had been an official at the prison.  When taxed with it by me she admitted it, but claimed that she was innocent.  I succeeded in finding a narrative of the trial in an old file of papers, and came to the conclusion that she was justly convicted.”

“What did you do?”

“I proposed separation, but she begged me to keep the thing secret, and let ourselves remain the same as before.  I agreed out of consideration for her, but had occasion to regret it.  My business becoming slack, I decided to go to California in the hope of acquiring a competence.  I was not fortunate there, and was barely able, after a year, to get home.  I found that my wife had procured a divorce, and appropriated the little money I had left.  Where she had gone, or where she had conveyed our son, I could not learn.  You say you know where she is.”

“I do.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Mr. Cook,” said Carl, after a pause for reflection, “I will tell you, but not just at present.  I am on my way to Chicago on business.  On my return I will stop here, and take you with me to the present home of your former wife.  You will understand my interest in the matter when I tell you that she is now married to a relative of my own.”

“I pity him whoever he is,” said Cook.

“Yes, I think he is to be pitied,” said Carl, gravely; “but the revelation you will be able to make will enable him to insist upon a separation.”

“The best thing he can do!  How long before you return to Albany?”

“A week or ten days.”

“I don’t know how I am to live in the meantime,” said Cook, anxiously.  “I am penniless, but for the money you have just given me.”

“At what price can you obtain board?”

“I know of a decent house where I can obtain board and a small room for five dollars a week.”

“Here are twelve dollars.  This will pay for two weeks’ board, and give you a small sum besides.  What is the address?”

Cook mentioned a number on a street by the river.

Carl took it down in a notebook with which he had provided himself.

“When I return to Albany,” he said, “I will call there at once.”

“You won’t forget me?”

“No; I shall be even more anxious to meet you than you will be to meet me.  The one to whom your former wife is married is very near and dear to me, and I cannot bear to think that he has been so wronged and imposed upon!”

“Very well, sir!  I shall wait for you with confidence.  If I can get back from my former wife the money she robbed me of, I can get on my feet again, and take a respectable position in society.  It is very hard for a man dressed as I am to obtain any employment.”

Looking at his shabby and ragged suit, Carl could readily believe this statement.  If he had wished to employ anyone he would hardly have been tempted to engage a man so discreditable in appearance.  “Be of good courage, Mr. Cook,” he said, kindly.  “If your story is correct, and I believe it is, there are better days in store for you.”

“Thank you for those words,” said Cook, earnestly.  “They give me new hope.”