I took the letter from him as he spoke. The seal had been broken when it was found. The address immediately arrested my attention. It was really a very singular coincidence, and I could hardly believe my eyes when I opened it. The letter was from my most intimate college friend to his father. I had not seen him for full two years, but in that interval I had corresponded with him freely, and I knew his present situation and something of his family history. His father resided in the far west. The son was at the east. He had remained at college when we parted, where he was still preparing himself for the bar, and the post-mark showed that it had been written at that place.
My first impulse, on seeing the signature, was one of honorable delicacy, and I had half folded the letter to return it to the officer, when it occurred to me that it had, no doubt, been already read and re-read; that it would necessarily form part of the chain of the testimony against the accused; that it would be exposed to inspection by bench, bar, and jury, and might at length find its way even to the public papers.
These thoughts decided me, and I opened it and read it. It surprised me somewhat; and though it may be made a question whether I was right or wrong in my mode of settling the point of delicacy, there is nothing which should prevent me now from placing it before the reader as accurately as my memory will allow after so long a lapse of time. It will not interest him as it did me, but its contents bear upon other parts of my story.
It was as follows:
“My Dear Father,—I received your letter of the — instant in regular course of mail. I was sincerely glad to hear that you had so far recovered from an indisposition which at first threatened to be serious.
“I am sorry that my reply will convey news which must distress you. George has returned from sea. I met him in the street a few days ago with an ill-looking companion. He came upon me suddenly. I am never very self-possessed, and I was extremely doubtful how to treat him. He saw me, however—knew me at once—seized me by the hand and drew me into a public room which opened upon the place where we stood. I could not break away from him without attracting attention. He affected a pleasure which I suppose was assumed, in order to overcome a repulsiveness of manner that he could not fail to notice, and which I could not help. He asked about you and Mary, and told me he was utterly destitute, and needed money for his necessary wants. I gave him a small sum to keep him from starving, and tried to shake him off. This, however, I could not easily do. He went on to say that he had determined to see you again, and throw himself on your charity, and was then actually on his way to the west. I told him that your feelings had not changed, and that his appearance would only make trouble and give you pain. His resolution, notwithstanding what I said, seemed unaltered, and I am afraid his presence will soon annoy you.
“His appearance shocked me excessively. He looks bloated and depraved beyond description, and I fear from the expression of his face, and the air of his companion, that he has gone far in vice since he left you.
“I wish Mary could have seen him as I saw him. She has been so unreasonable already, however, that it might be well to send her from home in anticipation of the threatened visit. Unless she is kept in ignorance of it in this, or some other way, she may yet give us much trouble and anxiety. “Give my love to her, and believe me
“Your affectionate son,
“Henry Eagleton, Jr.”