“This thou perceivest, which makes
thy love more strong—
To love that well which thou must leave
ere long!”
There was a silence, and then Thor slowly drew out
a letter from its envelope, scanning the scrawl across
its pages. A few moments, while its meaning seemed
to seep into his slow-acting mind, and then a look
of helpless bewilderment, as though the stolid Freshman
just could not understand at all, came to his face;
a minute John Thorwald stood, as in a trance, staring
dully at the letter.
“Thor! Thor! What’s the matter?
What’s wrong?” quavered the alarmed Theophilus,
“Have you gotten bad news?”
“Read it, read it,” said the big Freshman
lifelessly, extending the letter to the startled Senior.
“It’s all over, I suppose, and I’ve
got to go to work again. I’ve got to leave
college, and toil once more, and save. My promise
to my mother can’t be fulfilled—yet.
And just as I was getting fairly started.”
Theophilus Opperdyke hurriedly perused the message,
which had come to Thor in that night’s mail
but which the blond giant had let lie unnoticed while
he tackled his geometry. With difficulty Theophilus
deciphered the scrawl on an official letterhead:
(New York Offices)
Nov. 4, 19—.
DEAR SON:
I am writing to tell you that I’ve run into
a sort of hurricane, and you and I have got a hard
blow to weather. I started you at college on the
$5,000 received from the heirs of Henry B. Kingsley,
on whose yacht, as you know, I was wrecked in the
South Seas, and marooned for ten years. I figured
on giving you an education with that sum, eked out
by my wages, and what you earn in vacations.
I had the $5,000, untouched, in a New York bank, and
I wanted to take it over to Christiania; when I was
about to sail on my last voyage, I drew out the sum,
and put it in care of the Purser of the </i>Norwhal</i>,
on which I was mate, intending, of course, to get
it on docking, and deposit it in Christiania.
At the last hour I was transferred to the </i>Valkyrie</i>,
to sail a few days later, and I knew the </i>Norwhal’s</i>
purser would leave the $5,000 for me in the Company’s
Christiania offices, so I did not bother to transfer
it to the </i>Valkyrie</i>.
Perhaps you read in the newspapers that the </i>Norwhal</i>
struck a floating mine, and went down with a heavy
loss of life. The Purser was among those lost,
and none of the ship’s papers were saved; my
$5,000, of course, went down also.
I am sorry, John, but there seems nothing to do but
for you to leave college and work. For your mother’s
sake, I wish we could avoid it; but we must wait and
work and tackle it again. Your first term expenses
are paid, so stay until the term is out. Perhaps
Mr. Hicks can give you a job in one of his steel mills
again, but we must work our own way, son. Don’t
lose courage, we’ll fight this out together
with the memory of your promise to your dying mother
to spur you on. The road may be long and rocky
but we’ll make it. Just work and save,
and in a year or two you can start at college again.
You can study at night, too, and keep on learning.
