Newspaper Page Text
. . .By HO WA'R
ERE are two matters which
may help to give me a nook
of your mind for a few min
utes. If you haven't heard of
one, you very likely have heard of the
First, I am the only original sur
vivor of the Delphic, that was lost at
sea in May of 1887; second, in partner
ship with Tom Campbell I discovered
the Golden Bush mine in Idaho. The
wreck of the Delphic figures in this!
story; the Gold
en Bush mine
merely stands in
as a source, of
I was five
years old when f
the Delphic was
lost. With my
father and moth
er and infant
sister I had sail
'ed from Liver
pool in this ill --
which was in
collision before THE sHOULDER.B
she got out oi.
sight of the harbor. She returned
and was laid up for several days,
not very much damaged, but most
of the passengers were sent forward
by another ship. My parents chose to
stay by the Delphic, I know iot why.
It has always been supposed that
she struck an iceberg off the banks.
I can -tell you only that the disaster
was at night. I remember the awak
ening, the thrill of half realized ter
ror, the wild noises and the trampling.
My father was carrying me, wrapped
in a coat, my mother following with
little Hilda. Then something crashed.
I recall no feeling of a blow, but my
consciousness went out like a candle.
The next thing I knew it was dawn
and I was in a boat with one sailor
who had a wounded head and was cov
ered with blood. It has been sup
posed that this boat was lowered end
foremost in true panic style and all
aboard her were pitched out except the
wounded sailor and myself.
Eventually we were picked up by a
sailing vessel, my companion uncon
scious and dying. I was taken to Bos
ton and sent on thence to an uncle in
New York, by whom I was reared. He
died when I was thirteen, leaving a
small property In trust. I attended Co
lumbia college and school of mines
and eventually took my inheritance and
went west Two years later came the
affair of the Golden Bush, and I was
The larger part of the year 1907 1
spent in New York and thereabouts. I
had everything except a home. On uie
23d of Degember of that year I was
lyving in luxurious bachelor apart
ments, more lonely than I was in the
week that I spent on the Golden Bush
ch.im with only the haggard faces of
the mountains for company.
On the evening of the day that ii
have named I returned from a rather
early and very lonesome dinner and
found a young man named Connor
waiting for me. I had never met him
before. He was a sturdy, pleasant fel
low, Celtic and Dutch on the face of
,and he introduced himself by pre
- senting a letter
from a very es
timable an d
ma tro n, Mrs.
ME l' Leslie Gil bert.
Km charities had oc-j
L ~ casionally ap
I' pealed to my1
1will tell you a
'1 surprising sto
Al r, wrote this
have liked to tell
at - . youmyefbu
BROTHER!" SAID he insists upon
SHE' his right. He -S
journalist, and this is his story. My
In my apartments the tables were
ttered with photographs, as they al-'
ays are. My fad since I was a boy
as been the study of the different!
inds of men and the faces that they
ear. I do not study horses,, but it
ppened that I had some photographs
at had been sent up from a friend's
ock farm in Kentucky, and it seem-!
to me that. Connor saw these beforei
fairly got into the room. He did
t notice any of the portraits of peo
e, but plumped straight down upon
e picture of a horse which he recog
ed Instantly, though there was no
ering on It.
'Humbert'" he cried and went on to
e me the horse's pedigree-Bertram
one side and Humble on the other,
all the rest off it-but suddeu!y
ke off this strain :mnd came to the
iness that had brought him there.
'rst, with inimitable brevity and
he sketched the wreck of the
." said he in closing, "were the
D FIE L7 IVG .. .
by C. N. Lurie
"I have found another," said he
"There floated away from that wretch- (
ed vessel, heaven knows how, a sort
of life raft, very small and not prop- r
erly a part of the regular equipment u
of the ship, though It was stenciled i
with her name. There is a tradition c
that one of the officers of the Delphic a
invented this style of raft or was in- I
terested In it in some way. Anyhow. n
it was aboard, and it floated and was o
picked up by a fishing schooner out of j
Newfoundland. It bore the dead body e
of a man and a living child. The man
had saved this child even after his h
own death, for his stiffened arms held p
it. A little girl"
T took Connor by the shoulder. s
"You are going to tell me," said I, r
"that this girl was my sister. Don't 1i
do it unless you're sure. I am very a
much alone in the world. A sister b
would mean to me-well, perhaps rath- C
er more than you could easily believe." c
He took some sheets of paper from k
his pocket. They were folded and fas- n
tened together at a corner. a
"Tbere's a list," said he, "of every g
human being on the Delphic. I told a
you that nearly all the original pas- a
sengers -. ere transferred to another p
vessel. What resulted? Why. just
this-there was only one girl baby on
The simplicity and force of this
statement staggered me. There re
mained, of course, many questions. but
I was unable for the moment to frame
"Let me tell you," said he, "how I
first got on the track of this. It was
through Mrs. Gilbert. She is interested
in the Woman's Exchange, as you're
aware, and thus she came to know a
very beautiful and charming girl who
brought embroideries to the exchange
to be sold. This girl fell ill, and-well,
she was pretty hard up; that's the fact
The tears rushed to my eyes. Ill and
destitute, my sister, and I so rich that
people pointed me out In public places
as the Golden Bush man!
"Mrs. Gilbert was very good4to her,"
continued Connor, "but I guess the
best thling she did for her was to tell
me that the young lady was a survivor
of the Delphic and had been brought
up by foster parents at a place in
NewfoundIEnd. I thought I saw a
story, and I telegraphed to our corre
spondent in Newfoundland on my own
account. When I got his answer
which was, a peach, as you'll see-I
made some investigations here through
the agents of the line to which the
Dephic belonged and had the luck to'
tumble straight on one old fellow who
knew everything and had records and j
all that. Then I went to Mrs. Gilbert
and told her what I had learned. You ..
may imagine her surprise in view of
her acquaintance with you and thef
fact that she didn't know that you
were the original T)elphic survivor." e
"I never told her," said I, "but I sup
posed she knew. It has been printed ~
often enough." b
"Mrs. C:ibert says she never reads t<
the papers." replied Connor. "There 1
was only one kink in the story, and
that was the reason why the rescue g
of your sister was kept so extraor
dinarily quiet. Why didn't your unc]e t
hear of it? I don't know yet, but that
can't alter the fact As to her being cg
a survivor of the Delphic, my man in
Newfoundland says there is no shadow
of doubt whatever. You will see in
He was interrupted by a ring at my
telephone. I heard the voice of Mrs. -.
"Oh, Mr. Owen, is that you? Has
he told you ?"
"Yes," .1 answered. d
"Isn't it wonderful? isn't it beauti- ri
ful? I've told her! You must come
up-you must come right up. Take i
an electric, you and Mr. Connor. I'll
wait for you right here. The doctor he
is with her now." h
This overwhelmed me, accustomed
as I was to Mrs. Gilbert's exuberant
style of conversation> I could only
gasp, "Where are you ?"I
"At the drug store on the corner,"
she replied. "Mr. Connor will know. t
It appeared that Mr. Connor really e
did know, and we obeyed instructions
and hurried. We found Mrs. Gilbert'.t
and she led us a little way along a
rather poor street, but not squalid, and si
into a bleak hall bedroom in a lodging
That was the room my sister had
used before Mrs. Gilbert had trans
ferred her to a better one. It was a a:
"hall room," somewhat larger than a
prison cell, sparely but neatly furnish- e
ed, unprovided with any means for
heating except a wretched apparatus
fitted to the gas fixture. My sister had tu
lived there. She had lain ill in that
narrow bed without care. without at- bl
tendance. doubtless poorly fed. I
thought of it. and I remnembe,red that T~
evenings extravagant dininer with nau- e
I am not ashamed to say that my
knees shook under me when I was
summoned to the larger' room. There og
was a bed with its head against the vy
wall opposite the door. I saw only a.I
part+ of it, ust a whieness of piled
1ore like feeling il.11 . Viig. I Ier
eived the doctor in the shadows be
ond the bed, watching.
The girl's eyes were blue. They
eemed very large in her pale and thin
ace. They spoke to me in a silent an
uage that I knew. They reached out
i my soul with a natural, deep long
I extended my hand to her. and she I
rasped it with a quick. childish clutch. I
"My brother!" said she. and the tears
ushed from her eyes.
I have since been informed that I
equitted myself admirably. Three
6itnesses have testified in my favor
our, indeed, if I include my sister.
vhose emotional state may be held to
npair the value of her testimony.
"You were a dear," declared Mrs.
rilbert. 'I could have hugged you."
But this is the way it appeared to
ae: That I was confronted by a sit
ation utterly impossible and beyond
aortal tact and discretion; that of two
ourses open to me I chose the worse
nd might have done much better than
did even with that. You must take
2y evidence against that of all the
thers, for I alone was competent to
adge of my conduct., as you will pres
My sister told me that she had been
:nown as Della Gray. the first name
robably- having been derived from'
)elphie. Gray was the name of the
kipper of the fishing vessel that had
esened her. In his home she hlO
ved until her ninth year. when a lady.
summer visitor in Newfoundland.
ad taken her away to the town of
ha'ham, N. H. Why the Grays had i
onsented to have her go she did not
now, but it was something about
oney. The lady from Chatham was
Mrs. Lawrence, and she lived in a
ood home. At her death two years
go my sister had come to New 'York
nd had been employed -e- a stenogra
her in the office of a lawyez, a cousin
[ARDENBERG AN~D CONNOR BOTi
f her late patron. He dieaI wrtnm a
aw months, and then began the days1
t dire; poverty, the days of embroid
Mrs. Gilbert described her meeting
ith my sister and spoke with tears in
er eyes of the efforts she had made 1
induce my sister to accept "the least
"She won't let anybody do anything1
r her." she declared.
"Except her brother," said!I. and the
uin hand that still lay in 'ine thrilled
-Rh happiness as it answered my,
Then I told her that her real uame
-as Hilda Owen and that if there was
nything in the world that she wanted'i
er big brother Bob would go right 1
t and get it. To which she replied
y saying "Robert" several times very 1
ftly and sweetly.
The hour was up, and we were all
cluded, leaving Hilda with Dr. Har
enberg and a nurse who had just ar
ved. Mrs. Gilbert rode home in her
Rr, while Connor and I walked aim
~ssly for a matter of half an hour.
hen I led him to Dr. Hardenberg's
use. The doctor was at work with
"This is the best result I've had," he t
tid. "This Is absolutely confirmatory."
He had been studying a part of a 1
rop of blocd 1aken from my' sister's
nger tip. wherein he saw the germ,
e infinitesimal enemy that warred t
~ainst her health, and recognized the
-eature by its aspect.
"Doctor" said 1, "you have permit
d me to hold a somewhat exciting 1
iterview with your patient. I hope <
2e has taken no harm." t
"Harm!" he cried. "I should think
ot. She'll get well in half the time." e
"What result would follon,-' I ask- I
, "if she should now be told that I
c not her brother?" r
Hardenberg and Connor both start- r
back from me, staring.
"Good heavens!" cried the doctor. I
What do you mean? I wouldn't have! s
at happen for a mint of money!"
But you know that I'm not her
rother, don't you ?"r
"I?" he gasped. "No. You must be.
here was no other female child ex
at your sister1 on that ship. TIow,
in we doubt?'
"You have seen us bot:h." said 1-- n
you who can recognize the features t
that iflcrosco'pie''-creature which (
ou have to magnify a thousand times,.
suppose, in order to see it at all." t
"I'v go t 1,50 on It tonight," said '*
tmat.chbox. But W11at of it N
"If you meau that she doesu't look e
Ike you," said Connor, "I tell you
-ou're dead wrong. There's a strong i
amily resemblance." r
"'And you're the man," said 1, "who
;aw a horse for a few minutes two
ears ago and spotted a photograph of
lim tonight at a glance. Do you sup
>ose I could go to the nearest stable
md buy a horse-and a good one, too
-and pass him off on you as a son of1
Bertran and Humble?"
"But your sister isn't a horse," pro
:ested Connor. "She's a human being.
r'here's a thundering sight of differ
"There's this difference," said I
'that it's easy to find a man who
inows something about a horse. And
iow let me tell you what this young C
ady is whom 1 have had the peculiar
peasure of meeting tonight. She is a
horoughbred Saxon, the last one left
dlive. I should suppose; certainly the
nost beautiful example. it what
"English," said 'Connor promptly.
'Just as English as she is."
"Both my father and my mother
vere born In Wales." said I. "Both
iad what you would call Norman an
estry on one side and Cymric on the
>ther. I am colored like a Norman. but
io person who has made even the most
ursory study ,of the subject could fail
:o recognize my Cymric blood at a
ance. On the other hand, there is not
he faintest shadow of a possibility
:hat this youn-g lady has one drop of
:hat blood in her veins."
There was a moment's silence, then
.onnor said. almost with a sob:
"You don't like her."
It was the word of a warm hearted
[rishman. That good fellow had ear
estly rejoiced in the idea that he was
orking to make two people happy,
Lnd now he was disappointed. I took
- TREDBC FO E
2s hand, which he was not overwilling
: give me.
"I will speak to yott," said I, "as to a
'riend and to you, doctor, whom I
uave not the pleasure of knowing so!
well, as to a man of honor and discre
on. I am very deeply and strongly
Ltttracted toward this young lady. It
would be a strange and hard service
hat I would not render her, a bitter
acrifice that I should hesitate to make
or her advantage. Do I wish she were
ny sister? God knows. The question
lready begins to press upon my heart.
:n the very first instant I knew that
she was not, but when I looked into
er eyes and saw the loneliness and the
onging I would have died rather than
crieve her. So I sat there and lied." I
"Great!" said the doctor. "You're
he man for my money. You lied like
gentleman- Nobody could have done
t better. I don't know what would'
iave happened if you hadn't."
"Give me a week." cried Connor.
'and I'll prove she's your sister, noJ
natter if you're an Eskimo. Why.1
nan, it's a positive certainty."
"And meanwhile what?" said I. t
"Go right ahead." said the doctor. I
"Accept her affection upon false pre-'
enses," said I. "Cheat her into tak
ng gifts from a stranger; sit by h'er
eand help her to build air castles I
rhtevery solid foundation of my
noney. And you hav'e been so kind as
o call me a gentleman"
"If you do the other thing." said the t
octor with fervor. "I give you my C
rofessional word that the result won'ts
ook to you very much like the work
f a gentleman. If you value her safe- I
y you'li play brother."
"That's talking." said Connor. "An:,d.
nyhow,. she is your sister, so whatb
iarm can thuere be?"
When I returned to my apartments I t<
eceived word that Mrs. Gilbert had
equested me to call her up by tele- ef
ihone, whatever the hour might be.
t was then midnight. but I obeyed in
"I happened to think," said the lady',
that you'd want some help tomor
"It's very kind of you." I replied.
"Why. your presents: the things~
oull buy for fIIlldh. Of course sUe
*eeds everything, just simply every
hing, but don't you buy nece'ssitic's for
~hristmas. No woman wants themi.t
Ve want trinkets, luxuries. useless
ings. It took me five years to beat(t
ia+ into my knsband's had, and even
;uN, anh'o u m n al ts ollidt t(
rill enjoy it as cming frm u, ut i
ot as gifts. Do you understand?"
*I thought I was her brother.- said
"Aren't you proceeding on the theo- I
y that I'm her husband?"
"It wouldn't make any difference If E
'ou were her father," she declared. I t
We don't want clothes from our fn
hers. We want the ioney for them.
;ut we'll take diamonds. Ob. you must L
iuy Iilda lots of pretty things' Isn't
t lovely that you can do it? Anid isn't
he a dear?"
"I surely never dreamed of having a t
Ister like her," said 1. ; ' was sur
irised to find that I had toid the truth.
So Mrs. Gilbert and I went shoppiug
ext day at the earliest possible hour.
I had not supposed that it was possi- f
>le for a man to tell so many lies in I
,ne day. I spent the forenoon with t
Irs. Gilbert. and we talked of noth
ng but "my sister"-every word of c
nine a lie, of course. I spent the aft- I
rnoon or most of it with Hilda, whom
called by that new name, though I
:new It was not hers, and, to make
natters worse, she had fallen into a <
lublous state of mind, and I must re
tearse to her all Connor's proofs with
mn air of serene and blissful convic
ion, for if a mere shadow of doubt
ould so affect her spirits what would
he plain truth do?
On Christmas day Hilda woke to find
he plain room from which we dared
tot yet remove her bright with many
lowers which the nurse had softly set
n their places. This was the best day
hat Hilda had had since the beginning
if her il1ne!s. The tide of returning
iealth had begun to run strong. and so
ve were able to make it something like
real Christmas without*risk of harm.
3ut the climax was reserved for the
vening, after Hilda had had her sup
er. Then the lights were extin
mished, the door was opened and In
here walked a Christmas tree, appar
.ntly upon Its own legs, but really pro
elled by the serviceable Connor. It
lazed with candles and glittered with 1
Insel, and its boughs were well laden
)etter, indeed, than I was aware-for
he wise Mrs. Gilbert had bought some
ifts for me from Hilda that the dear i
irl might not lack the pleasure of giv
I have never seen upon the face of
my grown person such an expression
>f entrancement in pure joy as glowed
n Hilda's in the light of the shining
ree. At the sight of It I lost my sense
f shame and deception, and a child
ike faith took hold upon me that this
vould all come right and that I should
id a way to make her happy all her
By the next day, however, I had re
aovered some part of my common
;ense, and the difficulties of the sit.
iation were clear to me again, but the
ath of escape from them was not
lear at all. I spent that day chiefiy
n meditation and the next as well.
[hen a voice seemed to tell me that
[ needed the counsel of a woman, and
whom could I appeal to but Mrs. Gil
>ert? By this time Hilda had been
:ransferred to the Gilbert residence, a
~avor not too great to be accepted by I
tyoung lady whose brother owns half
>f a very productive gold mine. I se-1
ured a private Interview with Mrs.
lilbert and disclosed to her the truth.
"Oh. Impossible, impossible!" she1
tried. "Why, you semned to know each j2
>ther at the v'ery first glance!"
"As I was five years old when I last
;aw my sister and she was barely
ne.'' said I, "a recognition would not
imount to very much, even if it had1
"Ah, but there's instinct."
"Mrs. Gilbert." saidJ I gently. "there
s no more chance that I am this young1
ady's brother than if I were the beard
d noudad in the Central par-k zoo."
"But what shall we do?" she ex-'
~laimed. "Indeed, this is a ver.y deli
ate matter. We cannot tell her now.
ihe would not remain in this house. I
mow her. She has the strictest ideas
Lbout incurring obligations. She would
ather die in the street."I
At this I went into a panic and vow
d that I would keep up the deception
o my last hour on earth though it I
hould sink my soul beneath the reach 1
A few days later Connor came to
ny rooms with a very long face.
'There really Is a snag In our story,"
aid he. "Why In -blazes did those
fewfoundland Grays keep this thing I
o quiet? Why didn't your uncle find
t1 little niece? It is inconceivable
hat the Grays did not get a list of the
)elphlc's passengers. That would have
old them plainly who their foundling 4
ras. She couldn't be anybody else.I
nd surely they must have known that t
our uncle (whose name, with yours. a
ras in every account of the wreck) J
rould pay them handsomely for bring- '
1g the little girl to him. Didn't your (
nle leave any paper-s, diaries or re-c
rds of any kind which might throw I
ome light on this matter?" C
"All my uncle's private p)apers." said l
,"were taken in charge by Judge
lahlon of the supreme court. He's I
end. but I'll write to his son Jim to 11
ave the house looked over." r
I did so and received next day this
Sent volume your uncle's diary, 1887. V
ntaining full explanation of this af- C
a,ir to Mrs. Gilbert, Dec. 26. I didn't tell
ou this. Understand? J. M.
Naturally I called upon Mrs. Gilbert.,
ut the lady was from home. I would~ I
are gone away, but a be!oved voice
oated down to me as I stood in thes
"Go into the drawinz room." it said-.t
I wi!!! como to yon." t]
o I murst n eet Hilda: without kno-.v b
v'iwh't Mr's Gilbert knew. A c'old
ill Struck upon me. Dec. 2f!'rThat t
-as lays and days ago. and all th'is
me Mr's Gilbert had been urging mev
treat Hilda as a sister. Was it pos
ble that T omldl be mistaken? No;:
Le divine hai(liwork. And yet I would
e gi venl !uch for a few words with
Irs. Gilberr. It was IIilda. however,
This was the first time to my knowl
dge that she had ventured so far as
be dra wing room,. yet she walked
ithout a sign of w%eakness :nd with
nb rle crriage. And. oh. she was
S1 wore a sfri of tea gown, I Sup
s , inih n h i-e cnl4led. of green fabric.
I she carrial a.si1l lack 1:UOk. I
hiik my 111m 11111 uist l:lve fallei opon
ike a de:(l man's when I s.iw the fig
ires ISS7 in gilt upon the book's cover.
ly uncle's diary'
"Hilda," said I. without pause or pre
ace. "I know what that book is. Tell
ne what you have found in it. Please
ell me straight away."
Her blue eyes opened a bit wider.
he looked at me, then down at the
ook and then at me again.
"Why, I haven't found anything," she
aid. "I just got it this minute. A.
naid gave It to me. I haven't even
Mrs. Gilbert's maid, under orders,
ad been waiting for my arrival, of
course. What did
"That is a vol
..ume of ylv Un
cle's diary," said
tion we shall
find here the
answer to our
riddle. the solu
tion of all our
I took it from
should be the
IZ ones," said I and
N WALKED A CHRIST- opened the book,
MAS "'WEE. but Hilda's
tands closed suddenly upon it.
"Oh, not yet," she said faintly.
'Somehow I-I dread it."
The palms of my hands were wet,
Lnd I was swallowing air, but I man
Lged to summon up the appearance of
"What do you expect to find here?"
"Oh, you will think very meanly of
ne," she cried, "but, indeed, I have
een overpersuaded and silenced since
he very first hour. Then for just that
arliest hour I believed, but never aft
rward. And I have drifted on and
m, not knowing what to do. I could
ee no escape from the evidence, and
rou were so sure!"
"Did Mrs. Gilbert tell you that?"
"Why, yes, but I'd have known that
ou believed without a word from her.
Eou were such a good brother!" And
;he smiled through her tears. "But I
mew in my own heart"
"Listen," said I. "Answer me. Did
ou wish to believe? This may be our
ery last minute. 1 think this book
an never convince either of us, sure
y not me, unless It tells me who you
"eally are. But, remember, it may
)art us forever. I have known from
:he first instant, and I know now, and
:always shall know, that we are no
nore to each other than cousins
:hrough Adam. and so I ask you, do/
rou wish to believe?"
"I think not," she whispered, with
white lips. "The book!"
It opened under my hand at the
ages headed June 4 and June 5, and
inder the first of these dates I read
he following In my uncle's hand:
"Captain Enos Gray and hIs wife
~ame today, bringing the child. It has
lue eyes and bright golden hair. It
ould hardly be more unlike poor little
Kilda, who had my dear sister's col
ring, brown eyes and dark hair. De
scription had e
Su it e prepared u
ne for this, vet
-would take no ~Y
'isk of error and
:herefore had the
:hid brought to
ne. If this waif
eally came from
he Delphic I\
hink it is the
opposed son of
irst Officer Al
ton, whose body
vas found with
t upon the raft.
Lcording to the j'i'
ist, there were -'
>n the Delphic '
Charles Alston , .__
mrse.' I think
hat 'C h a r 1II e' "PERHAPs sHE SAW wE
tood for Char- LOVED EACH OTHER."
tte, as is common in England, and
ot for Charles. I shall institute in
uiries." Then. evidently wrin i later:
"Lieutenant Aiston seems 10 have
ad not a relative in the 'world. The
bild is undoubtedly his, but it will not
e claimed by any one. I have decided
o send $20 a month to the Grays for
s support. This will give its life an
(ded value to them, and they will
ear it more carefully."
Here were all mysteries explained.
be child was kept carefully and some
hat secretly because it was a source
f revenue. At my uncle's death the
1come ceased, and a stranger was per
itted to take the child away.
"I have a name for you at last," said
"Not my sister's. Charlotte"
"I would like Hlilda better." said she
:>ty. "You called me that first."
"Mrs. Gilbert has had this book since
1e daiy after Christmas," said I, "or
j next at the latest. Why did she
"P'erha:ps she wanted us to wait a lit
"Perhaps," said 1I, "she saw just the
ery truth, that we loved each other."
"We must always be very kind -and