In Search of a Son by William Shepard Walsh
Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Stephanie Kovalchik and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's note:
1. Small cap has been tagged with = sign.
2. When there were inconsistencies in hyphenation, the less frquentvariant was replaced with the most frequent, e.g. "ship-board" waschanged to "shipboard".
=In Search of a Son.=
=BY=
=UNCLE LAWRENCE,=
=AUTHOR OF "YOUNG FOLKS' WHYS AND WHEREFORES," ETC.=
=PHILADELPHIA:=
=J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY.=
1890.
Copyright, 1889, by J. B. Lippincott Company.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Page CHAPTER I.
The Despatch 9
CHAPTER II.
Two Friends 18
CHAPTER III.
Monsieur Roger 26
CHAPTER IV.
Monsieur Roger's Story 32
CHAPTER V.
Fire at Sea 39
CHAPTER VI.
Miss Miette's Fortune 46
CHAPTER VII.
Vacation 53
CHAPTER VIII.
A Drawing Lesson 59
CHAPTER IX.
The Tower of Heurtebize 66
CHAPTER X.
Physical Science 75
CHAPTER XI.
The Smoke Which Falls 84
CHAPTER XII.
At the Centre of the Earth 92
CHAPTER XIII.
Why Lead Is Heavier Than Cork 99
CHAPTER XIV.
The Air-Pump 104
CHAPTER XV.
Drops of Rain and Hammer of Water 114
CHAPTER XVI.
Amusing Physics 119
CHAPTER XVII.
Why the Moon does not Fall 127
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Mysterious Resemblance 138
CHAPTER XIX.
The Fixed Idea 146
CHAPTER XX.
Fire 152
CHAPTER XXI.
Saved 161
CHAPTER XXII.
George! George! 167
CHAPTER XXIII.
A Proof? 178
CHAPTER XXIV.
The Air and the Lungs 184
CHAPTER XXV.
Oxygen 190
CHAPTER XXVI.
Why Water Puts out Fire 200
CHAPTER XXVII.
Paul or George? 214
CHAPTER XXVIII.
My Father 222
IN SEARCH OF A SON.
CHAPTER I.
THE DESPATCH.
In the great silence of the fields a far-off clock struck seven. Thesun, an August sun, had been up for some time, lighting up and warmingthe left wing of the old French chateau. The tall old chestnut-trees ofthe park threw the greater part of the right wing into the shade, and inthis pleasant shade was placed a bench of green wood, chairs, and astone table.
The door of the chateau opened, and a gentleman lightly descended thethreshold. He was in his slippers and dressing-robe, and under thedressing-robe you could see his night-gown. After having thrown asatisfied look upon the beauty of nature, he approached the green seat,and seated himself before the stone table. An old servant came up andsaid,--
"What will you take this morning, sir?"
And as the gentleman, who did not seem to be hungry, was thinking whathe wanted, the servant added,--
"Coffee, soup, tea?"
"No," said the gentleman; "give me a little vermouth and seltzer water."
The servant retired, and soon returned with a tray containing the order.The gentleman poured out a little vermouth and seltzer water, thenrolled a cigarette, lighted it, and, leaning back upon the rounded seatof the green bench, looked with pleasure at the lovely scene around him.On the left, in a small lake framed in the green lawn, was reflected onewing of the old chateau, as in a mirror. The bricks, whose colors werelighted up by the sun, seemed to be burning in the midst of the water.The large lawn began at the end of a gravelled walk, and seemed to bewithout limit, for the park merged into cultivated ground, and verdanthills rose over hills. There was not a cloud in the sky.
The gentleman, after gazing for some minutes around him, got up andopened the door of the chateau. He called out, "Peter!" in a subduedvoice, fearing, no doubt, to waken some sleeper.
The servant ran out at once.
"Well, Peter," said the gentleman, "have the papers come?"
"No, sir; they have not yet come. That surprises me. If you wish, sir, Iwill go and meet the postman."
And Peter was soon lost to sight in a little shady alley which descendedinto the high-road. In a few moments he reappeared, followed by a man.
"Sir," said he, "I did not meet the letter-carrier; but here is a manwith a telegraphic despatch."
The man advanced, and, feeling in a bag suspended at his side, hesaid,--
"Monsieur Dalize, I believe?"
"Yes, my friend."
"Well, here is a telegram for you which arrived at Sens last night."
"A telegram?" said Monsieur Dalize, knitting his brows, his eyes showingthat he was slightly surprised, and almost displeased, as if he hadlearned that unexpected news was more often bad news than good.Nevertheless, he took the paper, unfolded it, and looked at once at thesignature.
"Ah, from Roger," he said to himself.
And then he began to read the few lines of the telegram. As he read, hisface brightened, surprise followed uneasiness, and then a great joytook the place of discontent. He said to the man,--
"You can carry back an answer, can you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Peter, bring me pen and ink at once."
Peter brought pen, ink, and paper, and Monsieur Dalize wrote histelegram. He gave it to the man, and, feeling through his pockets,pulled out a louis.
"Here, my good fellow," said he: "that will pay for the telegram andwill pay you for your trouble."
The man looked at the coin in the hollow of his hand in an embarrassedway, fearing that he had not exactly understood.
"Come, now,--run," said Monsieur Dalize; "good news such as you havebrought me cannot be paid for too dearly; only hurry."
"Ah, yes, sir, I will hurry," said the man; "and thank you very much,thank you very much."
And, in leaving, he said to himself, as he squeezed the money in hishand,--
"I should be very glad to carry to him every day good news at such aprice as that."
When he was alone, Monsieur Dalize reread the welcome despatch. Then heturned around, and looked towards a window on the second floor of thechateau, whose blinds were not yet opened. From this window his lookstravelled back to the telegram, which seemed to rejoice his heart
"At last!"
"Oh, my friend," said the voice of a lady, in good-natured tones. "Areyou reproaching me for waking up too late?"
"It is no reproach at all, my dear wife," said Monsieur Dalize, "as youwere not well yesterday evening."
"Ah, but this morning I am entirely well," said Madame Dalize, restingher elbows on the sill of the window.
"So much the better," cried Mr. Dalize, joyfully, "and again so much thebetter."
"What light-heartedness!" said Madame Dalize, smiling.
"That is because I am happy, do you know, very happy."
"And the cause of this joy?"
"It all lies in this little bit of paper," answered Monsieur Dalize,pointing to the telegram towards the window.
"And what does this paper say?"
"It says,--now listen,--it says that my old friend, my best friend, hasreturned to France, and that in a few hours he will be here with us."
Madame Dalize was silent for an instant, then, suddenly remembering, shesaid,--
"Roger,--are you speaking of Roger?"
"The same."
"Ah, my friend," said Madame Dalize, "now I understand the joy youexpressed." Then she added, as she closed the window, "I will dressmyself and be down in a moment."
Hardly had the window of Madame Dalize's room closed than a little girlof some ten years, with a bright and pretty face surrounded by blackcurly hair, came in sight from behind the chateau. As she caught sightof Monsieur Dalize, she ran towards him.
"Good-morning, papa," she said, throwing herself into his open arms.
"Good-morning, my child," said Monsieur Dalize, taking the little girlupon his knees and kissing her over and over again.
"Ah, papa," said the child, "you seem very happy this morning."
"And you have noticed that too, Miette?"
"Why, of course, papa; any one can see that in your face."
"Well, I am very happy."
Miss Mariette Dalize, who was familiarly called Miette, for short,looked at her father without saying anything, awaiting an explanation.Monsieur Dalize understood her silence.
"You want to know what it is that makes me so happy?"
"Yes, papa."
"Well, then, it is because I am going to-day to see one of myfriends,--my oldest friend, my most faithful friend,--whom I have notseen for ten long years."
Monsieur Dalize stopped for a moment.
"Indeed," he continued, "you cannot understand what I feel, my dearlittle Miette."
"And why not, papa?"
"Because you do not know the man of whom I speak."
Miette looked at her father, and said, in a serious tone,--
"You say that I don't know your best friend. Come! is it not MonsieurRoger?"
It was now the father's turn to look at his child, and, with pleasedsurprise, he said,--
"What? You know?"
"Why, papa, I have so often heard you talk to mamma of your friend Rogerthat I could not be mistaken."
"That is true; you are right."
"Then," continued Miss Miette, "it is Mr. Roger who is going to arrivehere?"
"It is he," said Monsieur Dalize, joyously.
But Miss Miette did not share her father's joy. She was silent for amoment, as if seeking to remember something very important, then shelowered her eyes, and murmured, sadly,--
"The poor gentleman."