"
"It is a bitter sorrow, but I shall make the best of it," said
Trove.
"Ay, make the best of it. Thou'rt now in the deep sea, an' God
guide thee."
"But I ask your help--will you read that?" said Trove, handing him
the mysterious note that came with the roll of money.
"An' how much came with it?" said Darrel, as he read the lines.
"Three thousand dollars. Here they are; I do not know what to do
with them."
"'Tis a large sum, an' maybe from thy father," said Darrel, looking
down at tile money. "Possibly, quite possibly it is from thy
father."
"And what shall I do with the money? It is cursed; I can make no
use of it."
"Ah, boy, of one thing be sure; it is not the stolen money. For
many years thy father hath been a frugal man--saving, ever saving
the poor fruit of his toil. Nay, boy, if it come o' thy father,
have no fear o' that. For a time put thy money in the bank."
"Then my father lives near me--where I may be meeting him every day
of my life?"
"No," said Darrel, shaking his head. Then lifting his finger and
looking into the eyes of Trove, he spoke slowly and with deep
feeling. "Now that ye know his will I warn ye, boy, seek him no
more.
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