"I went to bed a rich man, but when I rose in the morning I had not
enough to pay a week's board. Everything had been swept away."
"A merchant?" Trove inquired.
"A partner in the great Star Mill on East River," said the man. "I
could have got a fortune for my share--at least a hundred thousand
dollars--and I had worked hard for it."
"And were you not able to succeed again?"
"No," said the traveller, sadly, shaking his head. "If some time
you have to lose all you possess. God grant you still have youth
and a strong arm. I tried--that is all--I tried."
The boy looked up at him, his heart touched. The man was near
sixty years of age; his face had deep lines in it; his voice the
dull ring of loss, and failure, and small hope. The woman covered
her face and began to sob.
"There, mother," said the man, touching her head; "we'd better
forget. I'll never speak of that again--never. We're going to
seek our fortune. Away in the great west we'll seek our fortune."
His effort to be cheerful was perhaps the richest colour of that
odd scene there in the still woods and the firelight.
"We're going to take a farm in the most beautiful country in the
world. It's easy to make money there.
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