"Matt's in St. Louis. You'll see him, as you're going there. But you'll not mention me, Mr. Humphreys? Matt often wanted me to join them. Matt's kind; but I'll wait for my rights. It's long since he heard from me, and I'd rather you would not mention me."
I gave the promise, and he rose to go. My face burned as I offered him money, not knowing what the effect would be on him; but he took it eagerly,—not for the first time, I saw.
"Are you comfortably quartered, Steadman?" I asked, when we reached the door.
His lank jaws did redden at this.
"Yes, very comfortably, very; I have a——friends."
Graves, the landlord, laughed as he hurried down the street, and told me that the poor wretch had been for two years in the county almshouse, at times helpless from imbecility.
"He has days of sense," said Graves. "To-night was the best I've knowed. Seeing you revived him like."
In St. Louis I found Matt Steadman head of a machine-foundry. His house, a pretty, tasteful home, was back in the French quarter. I found Jane there, pink-cheeked, bustling, cheery as ever,—and old Mrs. Steadman, a placid old lady, in the corner, watching jealously over her grandchildren.
"I told you no lady in the land would look like mother, when her turn came to wear silks and laces," said Matt. "None does—to me,"—patting her cheek tenderly.
Matt was the firm, tight-built, alert fellow of old, looking out of the same shrewd, kindly eyes; but he talked pure English now, and put broad, liberal views and true creeds into his vigorous Saxon, and, better still, into his life. It was a good, wholesome home, even to look into as I did; and I carried out of it a stronger breath and a warmer feeling for my fellow-men. They talked of their brother often, but thought him dead. I did not enlighten them; I kept my promise: and besides, I would not raise in their house the evil spirit of the Luck of Abel Steadman.