“I doubt it not. Yet it would be a satisfaction if I, who have done the wrong, could have the privilege of repairing it during my life. Oh, that I might have the joy and blessing of seeing my son once more if he yet lives—that I might ask his forgiveness for the wrong I have done him!”
Lewis was seriously troubled at his uncle’s pertinacity, and still more by the inquiry which followed.
“Don’t you think, Lewis, it would be well to advertise in the daily papers, for Robert Rand or his descendants, if he should have any?”
“It would be useless,” said Lewis, shaking his head. “It would only be throwing the money away.”
“And what is money to me? Nothing, nothing, compared with the thought I have done something, however little, towards expiating my injustice. I wish, Lewis, you would draw up an advertisement, and see it inserted.”
However distasteful this proposal was to Lewis, it would not do to object. He therefore, with an appearance of alacrity, procured writing materials, and prepared such an advertisement as his uncle desired. He read it to the sick man who signified his approval, and requested Lewis to procure its insertion in the principal daily papers forthwith. This Lewis undertook to do.
But the advertisement never appeared!
Lewis dared not permit this, knowing that his cousin was actually in the city, and that it would be likely to meet his eye.
Had his uncle been in the habit of reading the daily papers, it could not safely have been suppressed. But he was too sick for that, and there was no prospect of his becoming better. He had of course no suspicion of Lewis’s double dealing, but trusted implicitly to him. Day after day he inquired anxiously if there was any answer to the advertisement. As often Lewis replied in the negative, and Mr. Rand would sink back upon his pillow with a sigh of disappointment.
Once Lewis ventured to suggest that it would be well to discontinue the advertisement.