“I hope I shan’t have to wait too long,” thought Thomas, “but he did not give utterance to the thought.”
“Come again, Thomas, and don’t forget what I have said,” said Mrs. Bradley.
CHAPTER XI
JOHN WADE
A tall man, with a sallow complexion, and heavily-bearded face, stood on the deck of a Cunard steamer, only a few miles distant from New York harbor.
“It’s three years since I have seen America,” he said to himself, thoughtfully. “I suppose I ought to feel a patriotic fervor about setting foot once more on my native shore, but I don’t believe in nonsense. I would be content to live in Europe all my life, if my uncle’s fortune were once in my possession. I am his sole heir, but he persists in holding on to his money bags, and limits me to a paltry three thousand a year. I must see if I can’t induce him to give me a good, round sum on account—fifty thousand, at least—and then I can wait a little more patiently till he drops off.”
“When shall we reach port, captain?” he asked, as he passed that officer.
“In four hours, I think, Mr. Wade.”
“So this is my birthday,” he said to himself.