Driven From Home

by Horatio Alger, Jr.

  “Yes; he said he would rather go than obey ma.”

  “I suppose he receives an allowance from his father?”

  “No; he wanted one, but ma put her foot down and said he shouldn't have one.”

  “Your mother seems to be a woman of considerable firmness.”

  “You bet, she's firm. She don't allow no boy to boss her.”

  “Really, this boy is a curiosity,” said Reuben Ashcroft to himself. “He doesn't excel in the amiable and attractive qualities. He has a sort of brutal frankness which can't keep a secret.”

  “How did you and Carl get along together?” he asked, aloud.

  “We didn't get along at all. He wanted to boss me, and ma and I wouldn't have it.”

  “So the upshot was that he had to leave the house and you remained?”

  “Yes, that's the way of it,” said Peter, laughing.

  “And Carl was actually sent out to earn his own living without help of any kind from his father?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is he doing?” asked Ashcroft, in some excitement. “Good heavens! he may have suffered from hunger.”

  “Are you a friend of his?” asked Peter, sharply.

  “I am a friend of anyone who requires a friend.”

  “Carl is getting along well enough. He is at work in some factory in Milford, and gets a living.”

  “Hasn't he been back since he first left home?”

  “No.”

  “How long ago is that?”

  “Oh, 'bout a year,” answered Peter, carelessly.

  “How is Dr. Crawford? Is he in good health?”

  “He ain't very well. Ma told me the other day she didn't think he would live long. She got him to make a will the other day.”

  “Why, this seems to be a conspiracy!” thought Ashcroft. “I'd give something to see that will.”

  “I suppose he will provide for you and your mother handsomely?”

  “Yes; ma said she was to have control of the property. I guess Carl will have to stand round if he expects any favors.”

  “It is evident this boy can't keep a secret,” thought Ashcroft. “All the better for me. I hope I am in time to defeat this woman's schemes.”

  “There's the house,” said Peter, pointing it out.

  “Do you think Dr. Crawford is at home?”

  “Oh, yes, he doesn't go out much. Ma is away this afternoon. She's at the sewing circle, I think.”

  “Thank you for serving as my guide,” said Ashcroft. “There's a little acknowledgment which I hope will be of service to you.”

  He offered a half dollar to Peter, who accepted it joyfully and was profuse in his thanks.

  “Now, if you will be kind enough to tell the doctor that an old friend wishes to see him, I shall be still further obliged.”

  “Just follow me, then,” said Peter, and he led the way into the sitting-room.

  CHAPTER XXXVIII.

  DR. CRAWFORD IS TAKEN TO TASK.

  AFTER the first greetings, Reuben Ashcroft noticed with pain the fragile look of his friend.

  “Are you well?” he asked

  “I am not very strong,” said Dr. Crawford, smiling faintly, “but Mrs. Crawford takes good care of me.”

  “And Carl, too--he is no doubt a comfort to you?”

  Dr. Crawford flushed painfully.

  “Carl has been away from home for a year, he said, with an effort.

  ``That is strange your own son, too! Is there anything unpleasant? You may confide in me, as I am the cousin of Carl's mother. '

  ``The fact is, Carl and Mrs. Crawford didn't hit it off very well.”

  “And you took sides against your own son, said Ashcroft, indignantly.

  ``I begin to think I was wrong, Reuben. You don't know how I have missed the boy.

  ``Yet you sent him out into the world without a penny.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Dr. Crawford quickly.

  “I had a little conversation with your stepson as I came to the house. He spoke very frankly and unreservedly about family affairs; He says you do whatever his mother tells you.

  Dr. Crawford looked annoyed and blushed with shame.

  ``Did he say that?” he asked.

  “Yes; he said his mother would not allow you to help Carl.”

  “He--misunderstood ”

  “Paul, I fear he understands the case only too well. I don't want to pain you, but your wife is counting on your speedy death.”

  “I told her I didn't think I should live long.”

  “And she got you to make a will?”

  “Yes; did Peter tell you that?”

  “He said his mother was to have control of the property, and Carl would get nothing if he didn't act so as to please her.”

  “There is some mistake here. By my will --made yesterday--Carl is to have an equal share, and nothing is said about his being dependent on anyone.”

  “Who drew up the will?”

  “Mrs. Crawford.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “Yes.”

  Ashcroft looked puzzled.

  “I should like to read the will myself,” he said, after a pause. “Where is it now?”

  “Mrs. Crawford has charge of it.”

  Reuben Ashcroft remained silent, but his mind was busy.

  “That woman is a genuis of craft,” he said to himself. “My poor friend is but a child in her hands. I did not know Paul would be so pitiably weak.”

  “How do you happen to be here in Edgewood, Reuben?” asked the doctor.

  “I had a little errand in the next town, and could not resist the temptation of visiting you.”

  “You can stay a day or two, can you not?”

  “I will, though I had not expected to do so.”

  “Mrs. Crawford is away this afternoon. She will be back presently, and then I will introduce you.”

  At five o'clock Mrs. Crawford returned, and her husband introduced her to his friend.

  Ashcroft fixed his eyes upon her searchingly.

  “Her face looks strangely familiar,” he said to himself. “Where can I have seen her?”

  Mrs. Crawford, like all persons who have a secret to conceal, was distrustful of strangers. She took an instant dislike to Reuben Ashcroft, and her greeting was exceedingly cold.

  “I have invited Mr. Ashcroft to make me a visit of two or three days, my dear,” said her husband. “He is a cousin to Carl's mother.”

  Mrs. Crawford made no response, but kept her eyes fixed upon the carpet. She could not have shown more plainly that the invitation was not approved by her.

  “Madam does not want me here,” thought Ashcroft, as he fixed his gaze once more upon his friend's wife. Again the face looked familiar, but he could not place it.

  “Have I not seen you before, Mrs. Crawford?” he asked, abruptly.

  “I don't remember you,” she answered, slowly. “Probably I resemble some one you have met.”

  “Perhaps so,” answered Ashcroft, but he could not get rid of the conviction that somewhere and some time in the past he had met Mrs. Crawford, and under circumstances that had fixed her countenance in his memory.

  After supper Dr. Crawford said: “My dear, I have told our guest that I had, as a prudential measure, made my will. I wish you would get it, and let me read it to him.”

  Mrs. Crawford looked startled and annoyed.

  “Couldn't you tell him the provisions of it?” she said.

  “Yes, but I should like to show him the document.”

  She turned and went upstairs. She was absent at least ten minutes. When she returned she was empty-handed.

  “I am sorry to say,” she remarked, with a forced laugh, “that I have laid away the will so carefully that I can't find it.”

  Ashcroft fixed a searching look upon her, that evidently annoyed her.

  “I may be able to find it to-morrow,” she resumed.

  “I think you told me, Paul,” said Ashcroft, turning to Dr. Crawford, �
�that by the will your estate is divided equally between Carl and Mrs. Crawford.”

  “Yes.”

  “And nothing is said of any guardianship on the part of Mrs. Crawford?”

  “No; I think it would be better, Ashcroft, that you should be Carl's guardian. A man can study his interests and control him better.”

  “I will accept the trust,” said Ashcroft, “though I hope it may be many years before the necessity arises.”

  Mrs. Crawford bit her lips, and darted an angry glance at the two friends. She foresaw that her plans were threatened with failure.

  The two men chatted throughout the evening, and Dr. Crawford had never of late seemed happier. It gave him new life and raised his spirits to chat over old times with his early friend.

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  A MAN OF ENERGY.

  THE next morning Ashcroft said to his host: “Paul, let us take a walk to the village.”

  Dr. Crawford put on his hat, and went out with his friend.

  “Now, Paul,” said Ashcroft, when they were some rods distant from the house, “is there a lawyer in Edgewood?”

  “Certainly, and a good one.”

  “Did he indite your will?”

  “No; Mrs. Crawford wrote it out. She was at one time copyist for a lawyer.”

  “Take my advice and have another drawn up to-day without mentioning the matter to her. She admits having mislaid the one made yesterday.”

  “It may be a good idea.”

  “Certainly, it is a prudent precaution. Then you will be sure that all is safe. I have, myself, executed a duplicate will. One I keep, the other I have deposited with my lawyer.”

  Ashcroft was a man of energy. He saw that Dr. Crawford, who was of a weak, vacillating temper, executed the will. He and another witnessed it, and the document was left with the lawyer.

  “You think I had better not mention the matter to Mrs. Crawford?” he said.

  “By no means--she might think it was a reflection upon her for carelessly mislaying the first.”

  “True,” and the doctor, who was fond of peace, consented to his friend's plan.

  “By the way,” asked Ashcroft, “who was your wife what was her name, I mean--before her second marriage?”

  “She was a Mrs. Cook.”

  “Oh, I see,” said Ashcroft, and his face lighted up with surprise and intelligence.

  “What do you see?” inquired Dr. Crawford. “I thought your wife's face was familiar. I met her once when she was Mrs. Cook.”

  “You knew her, then?”

  “:No, I never exchanged a word with her till I met her under this roof.

  “How can I tell him that I first saw her when a visitor to the penitentiary among the female prisoners?” Ashcroft asked himself. “My poor friend would sink with mortification.”

  They were sitting in friendly chat after their return from their walk, when Mrs. Crawford burst into the room in evident excitement.

  “Husband,” she cried, “Peter has brought home a terrible report. He has heard from a person who has just come from Milford that Carl has been run over on the railroad and instantly killed!”

  Dr. Crawford turned pale, his features worked convulsively, and he put his hand to his heart, as he sank back in his chair, his face as pale as the dead.

  “Woman!” said Ashcroft, sternly, “I believe you have killed your husband!”

  “Oh, don't say that! How could I be so imprudent?” said Mrs. Crawford, clasping her hands, and counterfeiting distress.

  Ashcroft set himself at once to save his friend from the result of the shock.

  “Leave the room!” he said, sternly, to Mrs. Crawford.

  “Why should I? I am his wife.”

  “And have sought to be his murderer. You know that he has heart disease. Mrs.--Cook, I know more about you than you suppose.”

  Mrs. Crawford's color receded.

  “I don't understand you,” she said. She had scarcely reached the door, when there was a sound of footsteps outside and Carl dashed into the room, nearly upsetting his stepmother.

  “You here?” she said, frigidly.

  “What is the matter with my father?” asked Carl.

  “Are you Carl?” said Ashcroft, quickly.

  “Yes.”

  “Your father has had a shock. I think I can soon bring him to.”

  A few minutes later Dr. Crawford opened his eyes.

  “Are you feeling better, Paul?” asked Ashcroft, anxiously.

  “Didn't I hear something about Carl-- something terrible?”

  “Carl is alive and well,” said he, soothingly;

  “Are you sure of that?” asked Dr. Crawford, in excitement.

  “Yes, I have the best evidence of it. Here is Carl himself.”

  Carl came forward and was clasped in his father's arms.

  “Thank Heaven, you are alive,” he said.

  “Why should I not be?” asked Carl, bewildered, turning to Ashcroft.

  “Your stepmother had the--let me say imprudence, to tell your father that you had been killed on the railroad.”

  “Where could she have heard such a report?”

  “I am not sure that she heard it at all,” said Ashcroft, in a low voice. “She knew that your father had heart disease.”

  CHAPTER XL.

  CONCLUSION.

  AT this moment Mrs. Crawford re-entered the room.

  “What brings you here?” she demanded, coolly, of Carl.

  “I came here because this is my father's house, madam.”

  “You have behaved badly to me,” said Mrs. Crawford. “You have defied my authority, and brought sorrow and distress to your good father. I thought you would have the good sense to stay away.”

  “Do you indorse this, father?” asked Carl, turning to Dr. Crawford.

  “No!” answered his father, with unwonted energy. “My house will always be your home.”

  “You seem to have changed your mind, Dr. Crawford,” sneered his wife.

  “Where did you pick up the report of Carl's being killed on the railroad?” asked the doctor, sternly.

  “Peter heard it in the village,” said Mrs. Crawford, carelessly.

  “Did it occur to you that the sudden news might injure your husband?” asked Ashcroft.

  “I spoke too impulsively. I realize too late my imprudence,” said Mrs. Crawford, coolly. “Have you lost your place?” she asked, addressing Carl.

  “No. I have just returned from Chicago.”

  His stepmother looked surprised.

  “We have had a quiet time since you left us,” she said. “If you value your father's health and peace of mind, you will not remain here.”

  “Is my presence also unwelcome?” asked Ashcroft.

  “You have not treated me with respect,” replied Mrs. Crawford. “If you are a gentleman, you will understand that under the circumstances it will be wise for you to take your, departure.”

  “Leaving my old friend to your care?”

  “Yes, that will be best.”

  “Mr. Ashcroft, can I have a few minutes' conversation with you?” asked Carl.

  “Certainly.”

  They left the room together, followed by an uneasy and suspicious glance from Mrs. Crawford.

  Carl hurriedly communicated to his father's friend what he had learned about his stepmother.

  “Mr. Cook, Peter's father, is just outside,” he said. “Shall I call him in?”

  “I think we had better do so, but arrange that the interview shall take place without your father's knowledge. He must not be excited. Call him in, and then summon your stepmother.”

  “Mrs. Crawford,” said Carl, re-entering his father's room, “Mr. Ashcroft would like to have a few words with you. Can you come out?”

  She followed Carl uneasily.

  “What is it you want with me, sir?” she asked, frigidly.

  “Let me introduce an old acquaintance of yours.”

  Mr. Cook, whom Mrs. Crawford had not at first
observed, came forward. She drew back in dismay.

  “It is some time since we met, Lucy,” said Cook, quietly.

  “Do you come here to make trouble?” she muttered, hoarsely.

  “I come to ask for the property you took during my absence in California,” he said. “I don't care to have you return to me----”

  “I obtained a divorce.”

  “Precisely; I don't care to annul it. I am thankful that you are no longer my wife.”

  “I--I will see what I can do for you. Don't go near my present husband. He is in poor health, and cannot bear a shock.”

  “Mrs. Crawford,” said Ashcroft, gravely, “if you have any idea of remaining here, in this house, give it up. I shall see that your husband's eyes are opened to your real character.”

  “Sir, you heard this man say that he has no claim upon me.”

  “That may be, but I cannot permit my friend to harbor a woman whose record is as bad as yours.”

  “What do you mean?” she demanded, defiantly.

  “I mean that you have served a term in prison for larceny.”

  “It is false,” she said, with trembling lips.

  “It is true. I visited the prison during your term of confinement, and saw you there.”

  “I, too, can certify to it,” said Cook. “I learned it two years after my marriage. You will understand why I am glad of the divorce.”

  Mrs. Crawford was silent for a moment. She realized that the battle was lost.

  “Well,” she said, after a pause, “I am defeated. I thought my secret was safe, but I was mistaken. What do you propose to do with me?”

  “I will tell you this evening,” said Ashcroft. “One thing I can say now--you must not expect to remain in this house.”

  “I no longer care to do so.”

  A conference was held during the afternoon, Dr Crawford being told as much as was essential. It was arranged that Mrs. Crawford should have an allowance of four hundred dollars for herself and Peter if she would leave the house quietly, and never again annoy her husband. Mr. Cook offered to take Peter, but the latter preferred to remain with his mother. A private arrangement was made by which Dr. Crawford made up to Mr. Cook one-half of the sum stolen from him by his wife, and through the influence of Ashcroft, employment was found for him. He is no longer a tramp, but a man held in respect, and moderately prosperous.