章节正文
Mrs. Brent with sarcasm.
"In such a matter as that I believe no one's
word," said Phil. "I ask for proof."
"Well, I am prepared to satisfy you. Sit down
and I will tell you the story."
Philip sat down on the nearest chair and regarded
his step-mother fixedly.
"Whose son am I," he demanded, "if not Mr.
Brent's?"
"You are getting on too fast. Jonas," continued
his mother, suddenly turning to her hulking son, on
whose not very intelligentcountenance there was
an expression of greedycuriosity, "do you understand
that what I am going to say is to be a secret,
not to be spoken of to any one?"
"Yes'm," answered Jonas readily.
"Very well. Now to proceed. Philip, you have
heard probably that when you were very small your
father--I mean Mr. Brent--lived in a small town in
Ohio, called Fultonville?"
"Yes, I have heard him say so."
"Do you remember in what business he was then
engaged?"
"He kept a hotel."
"Yes; a small hotel, but as large as the place
required. He was not troubled by many guests. The
few who stopped at his house were business men
from towns near by, or drummers from the great
cities, who had occasion to stay over a night. One
evening, however, a gentleman arrived with an
unusual companion--in other words, a boy of about
three years of age. The boy had a bad cold, and
seemed to need womanly care. Mr. Brent's
wife----"
"My mother?"
"The woman you were taught to call mother,"
corrected the second Mrs. Brent, "felt compassion
for the child, and volunteered to take care of it for
the night. The offer was gladly accepted, and you--
for, of course, you were the child--were taken into
Mrs. Brent's own room, treated with simple remedies,
and in the morning seemed much better. Your
father--your real father--seemed quite gratified,
and preferred a request. It was that your new
friend would take care of you for a week while he
traveled to Cincinnati on business. After dispatching
this, he promised to return and resume the care
of you, paying well for the favor done him. Mrs.
Brent, my predecessor, being naturally fond of
children, readily agreed to this proposal, and the child
was left behind, while the father started for Cincinnati."
Here Mrs. Brent paused, and Philip regarded her
with doubt and suspense
"Well?" he said.
"Oh, you want to know the rest?" said Mrs. Brent
with an ironical smile. "You are interested in the
story?"
"Yes, madam, whether it is true or not."
"There isn't much more to tell," said Mrs. Brent.
"A week passed. You recovered from your cold,
and became as lively as ever. In fact, you seemed
to feel quite at home among your new surroundings,
which was rather unfortunate, FOR YOUR FATHER NEVER
CAME BACK!"
"Never came back!" repeated Philip.
"No; nor was anything heard from him. Mr.
and Mrs. Brent came to the conclusion that the
whole thing was prearranged to get rid of you.
Luckily for you, they had become attached to you,
and, having no children of their own, decided to
retain you. Of course, some story had to be told to
satisfy the villagers. You were represented to be
the son of a friend, and this was readily believed.
When, however, my late husband left Ohio, and
traveled some hundreds of miles eastward to this
place, he dropped this explanation and represented
you as his own son. Romantic, wasn't it?"
Philip looked searchingly at the face of his step-
mother, or the woman whom he had regarded as
such, but he could read nothing to contradict the
story in her calm, impassive countenance. A great
fear fell upon him that she might be telling the
truth. His features showed his contending
emotions. But he had a profounddistrust as well as
dislike of his step-mother, and he could not bring
himself to put confidence in what she told him.
"What proof is there of this?" he asked, after a
while.
"Your father's word. I mean, of course, Mr.
Brent's word. He told me this story before I married
him, feeling that I had a right to know."
"Why didn't he tell me?" asked Philip incredulously.
"He thought it would make you unhappy."
"You didn't mind that," said Philip, his lips curling.
"No," answered Mrs. Brent, with a curious smile.
"Why should I? I never pretended to like you, and
now I have less cause than ever, after your brutal
treatment of my boy."
Jonas endeavored to look injured, but could not at
once change the expression of his countenance.
"Your explanation is quite satisfactory, Mrs.
Brent," returned Philip. "I don't think I stood
much higher in your estimationyesterday than today,
so that I haven't lost much. But you haven't
given me any proof yet."
"Wait a minute."
Mrs. Brent left the room, went up-stairs, and
speedily returned, bringing with her a small
daguerreotype, representing a boy of three years.
"Did you ever see this before?" she asked.
"No," answered Philip, taking it from her hand
and eying it curiously.
"When Mr. and Mrs. Brent decided that you were
to be left on their hands," she proceeded, "they had
this picture of you taken in the same dress in which
you came to them, with a view to establish your
identity if at any time afterward inquiry should be
made for you."
The daguerreotype represented a bright, handsome
child, dressed tastefully, and more as would be
expected of a city child than of one born in the
country. There was enough resemblance to Philip
as he looked now to convince him that it was really
his picture.
"I have something more to show you," said Mrs.
Brent.
She produced a piece of white paper in which the
daguerreotype had been folded. Upon it was some
writing, and Philip readily recognized the hand of
the man whom he had regarded as his father.
He read these lines:
"This is the picture of the boy who was
mysteriously left in the charge of Mr. Brent, April, 1863,
and never reclaimed. l have reared him as my own
son, but think it best to enter this record of the way
in which he came into my hands, and to preserve by
the help of art his appearance at the time he first
came to us. GERALD BRENT."
"Do you recognize this handwriting?" asked Mrs.
Brent.
"Yes," answered Philip in a dazed tone.
"Perhaps," she said triumphantly, "you will
doubt my word now."
"May I have this picture?" asked Philip, without
answering her.
"Yes; you have as good a claim to it as any one."
"And the paper?"
"The paper I prefer to keep myself," said Mrs.
Brent, nodding her head suspiciously. "I don't
care to have my only proof destroyed."
Philip did not seem to take her meaning, but with
the daguerreotype in his hand, he left the room.
"I say, mother," chuckled Jonas, his freckled face
showing his enjoyment, "it's a good joke on Phil,
isn't it?" I guess he won't be quite so uppish after
this."
CHAPTER III.
PHIL'S SUDDEN RESOLUTION.
When Phil left the presence of Mrs. Brent, he
felt as if he had been suddenly transported
to a new world. He was no longer Philip Brent,
and the worst of it was that he did not know who he
was. In his tumultuous state of feeling, however,
one thing seemed clear--his prospects were wholly
changed, and his plans for the future also. Mrs. Brent
had told him that he was whollydependent upon
her. Well, he did not intend to remain so. His home
had not been pleasant at the best. As a dependent
upon the bounty of such a woman it would be worse.
He resolved to leave home and strike out for himself,
not from any such foolish idea of independence as
sometimes leads boys to desert a good home for an
uncertain skirmish with the world, but simply be
cause he felt now that he had no real home.
To begin with he would need money, and on opening
his pocket-book he ascertained that his available
funds consisted of only a dollar and thirty-seven
cents. That wasn't quite enough to begin the world
with. But he had other resources. He owned a gun,
which a friend of his would be ready to take off his
hands. He had a boat, also, which he could
probably sell.
On the village street he met Reuben Gordon, a
young journeyman carpenter, who was earning good
wages, and had money to spare.
"How are you, Phil," said Reuben in a friendly
way.
"You are just the one I want to meet," said Phil
earnestly. "Didn't you tell me once you would like
to buy my gun?"
"Yes. Want to sell it?"
"No, I don't; but I want the money it will bring.
So I'll sell it if you'll buy."
"What d'ye want for it?" asked Reuben cautiously.
"Six dollars."
"Too much. I'll give five."
"You can have it," said Phil after a pause. "How
soon can you let me have the money?"
"Bring the gun round to-night, and I'll pay you
for it."
"All right. Do you know of any one who wants
"In such a matter as that I believe no one's
word," said Phil. "I ask for proof."
"Well, I am prepared to satisfy you. Sit down
and I will tell you the story."
Philip sat down on the nearest chair and regarded
his step-mother fixedly.
"Whose son am I," he demanded, "if not Mr.
Brent's?"
"You are getting on too fast. Jonas," continued
his mother, suddenly turning to her hulking son, on
whose not very intelligentcountenance there was
an expression of greedycuriosity, "do you understand
that what I am going to say is to be a secret,
not to be spoken of to any one?"
"Yes'm," answered Jonas readily.
"Very well. Now to proceed. Philip, you have
heard probably that when you were very small your
father--I mean Mr. Brent--lived in a small town in
Ohio, called Fultonville?"
"Yes, I have heard him say so."
"Do you remember in what business he was then
engaged?"
"He kept a hotel."
"Yes; a small hotel, but as large as the place
required. He was not troubled by many guests. The
few who stopped at his house were business men
from towns near by, or drummers from the great
cities, who had occasion to stay over a night. One
evening, however, a gentleman arrived with an
unusual companion--in other words, a boy of about
three years of age. The boy had a bad cold, and
seemed to need womanly care. Mr. Brent's
wife----"
"My mother?"
"The woman you were taught to call mother,"
corrected the second Mrs. Brent, "felt compassion
for the child, and volunteered to take care of it for
the night. The offer was gladly accepted, and you--
for, of course, you were the child--were taken into
Mrs. Brent's own room, treated with simple remedies,
and in the morning seemed much better. Your
father--your real father--seemed quite gratified,
and preferred a request. It was that your new
friend would take care of you for a week while he
traveled to Cincinnati on business. After dispatching
this, he promised to return and resume the care
of you, paying well for the favor done him. Mrs.
Brent, my predecessor, being naturally fond of
children, readily agreed to this proposal, and the child
was left behind, while the father started for Cincinnati."
Here Mrs. Brent paused, and Philip regarded her
with doubt and suspense
"Well?" he said.
"Oh, you want to know the rest?" said Mrs. Brent
with an ironical smile. "You are interested in the
story?"
"Yes, madam, whether it is true or not."
"There isn't much more to tell," said Mrs. Brent.
"A week passed. You recovered from your cold,
and became as lively as ever. In fact, you seemed
to feel quite at home among your new surroundings,
which was rather unfortunate, FOR YOUR FATHER NEVER
CAME BACK!"
"Never came back!" repeated Philip.
"No; nor was anything heard from him. Mr.
and Mrs. Brent came to the conclusion that the
whole thing was prearranged to get rid of you.
Luckily for you, they had become attached to you,
and, having no children of their own, decided to
retain you. Of course, some story had to be told to
satisfy the villagers. You were represented to be
the son of a friend, and this was readily believed.
When, however, my late husband left Ohio, and
traveled some hundreds of miles eastward to this
place, he dropped this explanation and represented
you as his own son. Romantic, wasn't it?"
Philip looked searchingly at the face of his step-
mother, or the woman whom he had regarded as
such, but he could read nothing to contradict the
story in her calm, impassive countenance. A great
fear fell upon him that she might be telling the
truth. His features showed his contending
emotions. But he had a profounddistrust as well as
dislike of his step-mother, and he could not bring
himself to put confidence in what she told him.
"What proof is there of this?" he asked, after a
while.
"Your father's word. I mean, of course, Mr.
Brent's word. He told me this story before I married
him, feeling that I had a right to know."
"Why didn't he tell me?" asked Philip incredulously.
"He thought it would make you unhappy."
"You didn't mind that," said Philip, his lips curling.
"No," answered Mrs. Brent, with a curious smile.
"Why should I? I never pretended to like you, and
now I have less cause than ever, after your brutal
treatment of my boy."
Jonas endeavored to look injured, but could not at
once change the expression of his countenance.
"Your explanation is quite satisfactory, Mrs.
Brent," returned Philip. "I don't think I stood
much higher in your estimationyesterday than today,
so that I haven't lost much. But you haven't
given me any proof yet."
"Wait a minute."
Mrs. Brent left the room, went up-stairs, and
speedily returned, bringing with her a small
daguerreotype, representing a boy of three years.
"Did you ever see this before?" she asked.
"No," answered Philip, taking it from her hand
and eying it curiously.
"When Mr. and Mrs. Brent decided that you were
to be left on their hands," she proceeded, "they had
this picture of you taken in the same dress in which
you came to them, with a view to establish your
identity if at any time afterward inquiry should be
made for you."
The daguerreotype represented a bright, handsome
child, dressed tastefully, and more as would be
expected of a city child than of one born in the
country. There was enough resemblance to Philip
as he looked now to convince him that it was really
his picture.
"I have something more to show you," said Mrs.
Brent.
She produced a piece of white paper in which the
daguerreotype had been folded. Upon it was some
writing, and Philip readily recognized the hand of
the man whom he had regarded as his father.
He read these lines:
"This is the picture of the boy who was
mysteriously left in the charge of Mr. Brent, April, 1863,
and never reclaimed. l have reared him as my own
son, but think it best to enter this record of the way
in which he came into my hands, and to preserve by
the help of art his appearance at the time he first
came to us. GERALD BRENT."
"Do you recognize this handwriting?" asked Mrs.
Brent.
"Yes," answered Philip in a dazed tone.
"Perhaps," she said triumphantly, "you will
doubt my word now."
"May I have this picture?" asked Philip, without
answering her.
"Yes; you have as good a claim to it as any one."
"And the paper?"
"The paper I prefer to keep myself," said Mrs.
Brent, nodding her head suspiciously. "I don't
care to have my only proof destroyed."
Philip did not seem to take her meaning, but with
the daguerreotype in his hand, he left the room.
"I say, mother," chuckled Jonas, his freckled face
showing his enjoyment, "it's a good joke on Phil,
isn't it?" I guess he won't be quite so uppish after
this."
CHAPTER III.
PHIL'S SUDDEN RESOLUTION.
When Phil left the presence of Mrs. Brent, he
felt as if he had been suddenly transported
to a new world. He was no longer Philip Brent,
and the worst of it was that he did not know who he
was. In his tumultuous state of feeling, however,
one thing seemed clear--his prospects were wholly
changed, and his plans for the future also. Mrs. Brent
had told him that he was whollydependent upon
her. Well, he did not intend to remain so. His home
had not been pleasant at the best. As a dependent
upon the bounty of such a woman it would be worse.
He resolved to leave home and strike out for himself,
not from any such foolish idea of independence as
sometimes leads boys to desert a good home for an
uncertain skirmish with the world, but simply be
cause he felt now that he had no real home.
To begin with he would need money, and on opening
his pocket-book he ascertained that his available
funds consisted of only a dollar and thirty-seven
cents. That wasn't quite enough to begin the world
with. But he had other resources. He owned a gun,
which a friend of his would be ready to take off his
hands. He had a boat, also, which he could
probably sell.
On the village street he met Reuben Gordon, a
young journeyman carpenter, who was earning good
wages, and had money to spare.
"How are you, Phil," said Reuben in a friendly
way.
"You are just the one I want to meet," said Phil
earnestly. "Didn't you tell me once you would like
to buy my gun?"
"Yes. Want to sell it?"
"No, I don't; but I want the money it will bring.
So I'll sell it if you'll buy."
"What d'ye want for it?" asked Reuben cautiously.
"Six dollars."
"Too much. I'll give five."
"You can have it," said Phil after a pause. "How
soon can you let me have the money?"
"Bring the gun round to-night, and I'll pay you
for it."
"All right. Do you know of any one who wants
- intelligent [in´telidʒənt]
a.聪明的；理智的 (初中英语单词) - countenance [´kauntinəns] n.面部表情；脸色；面容 (初中英语单词)
- greedy [´gri:di] a.贪婪的；馋的 (初中英语单词)
- curiosity [,kjuəri´ɔsiti] n.好奇；奇事；珍品 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- readily [´redili] ad.乐意地；容易地 (初中英语单词)
- lively [´laivli] a.活泼的；热烈的 (初中英语单词)
- unfortunate [ʌn´fɔ:tʃunit] a.不幸的，运气差的 (初中英语单词)
- conclusion [kən´klu:ʒən] n.结束；结论；推论 (初中英语单词)
- explanation [,eksplə´neiʃən] n.解释；说明；辩解 (初中英语单词)
- romantic [rəu´mæntik] a.传奇(式)的；浪漫的 (初中英语单词)
- satisfactory [,sætis´fæktəri] a.令人满意的 (初中英语单词)
- yesterday [´jestədi] n.&ad.昨天；前不久 (初中英语单词)
- inquiry [in´kwaiəri] n.询问；质询；调查 (初中英语单词)
- convince [kən´vins] vt.使确信；使认识错误 (初中英语单词)
- charge [tʃɑ:dʒ] v.收费；冲锋 n.费用 (初中英语单词)
- preserve [pri´zə:v] v.保藏 n.保藏物 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- independence [,indi´pendəns] n.独立，自主，自立 (初中英语单词)
- carpenter [´kɑ:pintə] n.木工 vi.做木工活 (初中英语单词)
- gladly [´glædli] ad.愉快地，高兴地 (高中英语单词)
- cincinnati [,sisin´næti] n.辛辛那提 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- profound [prə´faund] a.深奥的；渊博的 (高中英语单词)
- distrust [dis´trʌst] n.&vt.不信任，怀疑 (高中英语单词)
- resemblance [ri´zembləns] n.类似；肖像；外表 (高中英语单词)
- enjoyment [in´dʒɔimənt] n.享受；愉快；乐趣 (高中英语单词)
- dependent [di´pendənt] a.依赖的；从属的 (高中英语单词)
- bounty [´baunti] n.慷慨；恩惠；赠物 (高中英语单词)
- predecessor [´pri:disesə] n.前任；前辈 (英语四级单词)
- eastward [´i:stwəd] a.&ad.向东(的) (英语四级单词)
- contradict [,kɔntrə´dikt] v.反驳；否认 (英语四级单词)
- triumphantly [trai´ʌmfəntli] ad.胜利地；洋洋得意地 (英语四级单词)
- freckled [´frekld] a.有雀斑的，有斑点的 (英语四级单词)
- resolved [ri´zɔlvd] a.决心的；坚定的 (英语四级单词)
- skirmish [´skə:miʃ] n.小战斗 vi.打小仗 (英语四级单词)
- estimation [,esti´meiʃən] n.估计；评价；判断 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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