Chapter XXXIX. A Man of Energy.

Driven From Home

by Horatio Alger

The next morning Ashcroft said to his host: "Paul, let us take a
walk to the village."

Dr. Crawford put on his hat, and went out with his friend.

"Now, Paul," said Ashcroft, when they were some rods distant
from the house, "is there a lawyer in Edgewood?"

"Certainly, and a good one."

"Did he indite your will?"

"No; Mrs. Crawford wrote it out. She was at one time copyist for
a lawyer."

"Take my advice and have another drawn up to-day without
mentioning the matter to her. She admits having mislaid the one made
yesterday."

"It may be a good idea."

"Certainly, it is a prudent precaution. Then you will be sure
that all is safe. I have, myself, executed a duplicate will. One I
keep, the other I have deposited with my lawyer."

Ashcroft was a man of energy. He saw that Dr. Crawford, who was
of a weak, vacillating temper, executed the will. He and another
witnessed it, and the document was left with the lawyer.

"You think I had better not mention the matter to Mrs.
Crawford?" he said.

"By no means--she might think it was a reflection upon her for
carelessly mislaying the first."

"True," and the doctor, who was fond of peace, consented to his
friend's plan.

"By the way," asked Ashcroft, "who was your wife what was her
name, I mean--before her second marriage?"

"She was a Mrs. Cook."

"Oh, I see," said Ashcroft, and his face lighted up with
surprise and intelligence

"What do you see?" inquired Dr. Crawford. "I thought your wife's
face was familiar. I met her once when she was Mrs. Cook."

"You knew her, then?"

"No, I never exchanged a word with her till I met her under this
roof.

"How can I tell him that I first saw her when a visitor to the
penitentiary among the female prisoners?" Ashcroft asked himself. "My
poor friend would sink with mortification."

They were sitting in friendly chat after their return from their
walk, when Mrs. Crawford burst into the room in evident
excitement.

"Husband," she cried, "Peter has brought home a terrible report.
He has heard from a person who has just come from Milford that Carl
has been run over on the railroad and instantly killed!"

Dr. Crawford turned pale, his features worked convulsively, and
he put his hand to his heart, as he sank back in his chair, his face
as pale as the dead.

"Woman!" said Ashcroft, sternly, "I believe you have killed your
husband!"

"Oh, don't say that! How could I be so imprudent?" said Mrs.
Crawford, clasping her hands, and counterfeiting distress.

Ashcroft set himself at once to save his friend from the result
of the shock.

"Leave the room!" he said, sternly, to Mrs. Crawford.

"Why should I? I am his wife."

"And have sought to be his murderer. You know that he has heart
disease. Mrs. --Cook, I know more about you than you suppose."

Mrs. Crawford's color receded.

"I don't understand you," she said. She had scarcely reached
the door, when there was a sound of footsteps outside and Carl dashed
into the room, nearly upsetting his stepmother.

"You here?" she said, frigidly.

"What is the matter with my father?" asked Carl.

"Are you Carl?" said Ashcroft, quickly.

"Yes."

"Your father has had a shock. I think I can soon bring him
to."

A few minutes later Dr. Crawford opened his eyes.

"Are you feeling better, Paul?" asked Ashcroft, anxiously.

"Didn't I hear something about Carl--something terrible?"

"Carl is alive and well," said he, soothingly;

"Are you sure of that?" asked Dr. Crawford, in excitement.

"Yes, I have the best evidence of it. Here is Carl himself."


Carl came forward and was clasped in his father's arms.

"Thank Heaven, you are alive," he said.

"Why should I not be?" asked Carl, bewildered, turning to
Ashcroft.

"Your stepmother had the--let me say imprudence, to tell your
father that you had been killed on the railroad."

"Where could she have heard such a report?"

"I am not sure that she heard it at all," said Ashcroft, in a
low voice. "She knew that your father had heart disease."