THE LOST NOTES.
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BY MRS. HUGHS.
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“You could not have made your application at a more apropos time, my good fellow,” said a pale, emaciated invalid, who was seated on an easy chair in his own chamber, addressing a fine, intelligent-looking young man near him; “I had exactly the sum you want paid to me very unexpectedly yesterday. I had the good fortune some years ago to assist a friend with a few hundred dollars, but though the money was serviceable at the time, he eventually became a bankrupt, and as I had only his note for the loan, I never expected to receive any thing from him. Yesterday, however, he came and put into my hand two bank notes of a thousand dollars each, which was the amount of my own money and the legal interest upon it. I am very happy to be able to accommodate you, though I am sorry at the same time to find you are under the necessity of borrowing.”
“It is a painful circumstance,” replied the other, “but happily it does not arise from any fault of my own.”
“I never imagined it did,” returned the master of the house, “and consequently had no hesitation in promising to assist you. But pray, may I ask what has occasioned so painful a necessity?”
“I came with the full intention of explaining it to you,” said the young man, whom we will here introduce to our readers by the name of Norman Horton. “Do not leave the room, Lucy, I beg,” he continued, addressing a lovely girl, who had hitherto sat sewing at a distant window, but who at this moment rose to quit the apartment. “I have nothing to say that I would not wish you to hear.”
“I am sure you have not,” said Mr. Woodford, “so sit still, Lucy dear.” Then turning, as his daughter resumed her seat and her work, to Horton, he added, “My lease of life is so nearly expired that I am afraid to let my nurse leave me even for a few minutes, lest my warning to quit should come when she is away from me. The spasms to which I have for some time been subject have of late increased so much in violence, that I believe my physicians have little hope of my surviving another. But I am interfering with your explanation, which I am anxious to hear; for, though so nearly done with this world myself, I still retain my interest in the welfare of those I esteem. So go on, Norman, and let me hear what you were going to say.”
“You are aware,” returned Horton, with an expression of countenance that proved the subject to be a painful one to him, “that my poor father frequently involved himself in difficulties. At one time he became so embarrassed that his farm was condemned by the court, and would have been sold by the sheriff, had not his friends, for my mother’s sake, made great efforts in his favor. It is unnecessary for me to trouble you with all the particulars; suffice it to say, that the person who had intended to sell took a mortgage on the place, for two thousand dollars, still retaining the right which the court had given, of making a sale at any moment that he chose. This mortgage and privilege he last year transferred to old Hinkley, and he, though his interest has been regularly paid, and though he has never even asked for the principal, is, I find, about to seize upon and sell the property.”