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PAGE 14

Jenny Lawson
by [?]

“No; I wished not to create hopes that might fail. But give me his release, and I will have a claim on him.”

“And you will require him to go home in acknowledgment of that claim.”

“I will not leave him till he goes back,” said Jenny.

“Is he not satisfied in the service?”

“How could he be satisfied with it?” Jenny spoke with a quick impulse, and with something like rebuke in her voice. “No! It is crushing out his very life. Think of your own son in such a position!”

There was something in this appeal, and in the way it was uttered, that decided the Secretary’s mind. A man of acute observation, and humane feelings, he not only understood pretty clearly the relation that Jenny bore to Mark and his family, but sympathised with the young man and resolved to grant the maiden’s request. Leaving her for a few minutes, he went into an adjoining room. When he returned, he had a sealed letter in his hand directed to the commander of the ship —-.

“This will procure his dismissal from the service,” said he, as he reached it towards Jenny.

“May heaven reward you!” fell from the lips of the young girl, as she received the letter. Then, with the tears glistening in her eyes, she hurriedly left the apartment.

While old Mr. Lofton was yet wondering what Jenny could want with fifty dollars, a servant came and told him that she had just heard from a neighbor who came up a little while before from the landing, that he had seen Jenny go on board of a steamboat that was on its way to New York.

“It can’t be so,” quickly answered Mr. Lofton.

“Mr. Jones said, positively, that it was her.”

“Tell Henry to go to Mr. Jones and ask him, as a favor, to step over and see me.”

In due time Mr. Jones came.

“Are you certain that you saw Jenny Lawson go on board the steamboat for New York to-day?” asked Mr. Lofton, when the neighbor appeared.

“Oh, yes, sir; it was her,” replied the man.

“Did you speak to her?”

“I was going to, but she hurried past me without looking in my face.”

“Had she anything with her?”

“There was a small bundle in her hand.”

“Strange–strange–very strange,” murmured the old man to himself. “What does it mean? Where can she have gone?”

“Did she say nothing about going away?”

“Nothing–nothing!”

Mr. Lofton’s eyes fell to the floor, and he sat thinking for some moments.

“Mr. Jones,” said he, at length, “can you go to New York for me?”

“I suppose so,” replied Mr. Jones.

“When will the morning boat from Albany pass here?”

“In about two hours.”

“Then get yourself ready, if you please, and come over to me. I do not like this of Jenny, and must find out where she has gone.”

Mr. Jones promised to do as was desired, and went to make all necessary preparations. Before he returned, a domestic brought Mr. Lofton a sealed note bearing his address, which she had found in Jenny’s chamber. It was as follows:

“Do not be alarmed at my telling you that, when you receive this, I will be on a journey of two or three hundred miles in extent, and may not return for weeks. Believe me, that my purpose is a good one. I hope to be back much sooner than I have said. When I do get home, I know you will approve of what I have done. My errand is one of Mercy.

“Humbly and faithfully yours, JENNY.”

It was some time before Mr. Lofton’s mind grew calm and clear, after reading this note. That Jenny’s absence was, in some way, connected with Mark, was a thought that soon presented itself. But, in what way, he could not make out; for he had never heard the name of the ship in which his grandson sailed, and knew nothing of her expected arrival home.

By the time Mr. Jones appeared, ready to start on the proposed mission to New York, Mr. Lofton had made up his mind not to attempt to follow Jenny, but to wait for some word from her. Not until this sudden separation took place did Mr. Lofton understand how necessary to his happiness the affectionate girl had become. So troubled was he at her absence, and so anxious for her safety, that when night came he found himself unable to sleep. In thinking about the dangers that would gather around one so ignorant of the world, his imagination magnified the trials and temptations to which, alone as she was, she would be exposed. Such thoughts kept him tossing anxiously upon his pillow, or restlessly pacing the chamber floor until day dawn. Then, from over-excitement and loss of rest, he was seriously indisposed–so much so, that his physician had to be called in during the day. He found him with a good deal of fever, and deemed it necessary to resort to depletion, as well as to the application of other remedies to allay the over-action of his vital system. These prostrated him at once–so much so, that he was unable to sit up. Before night he was so seriously ill that the physician had to be sent for again. The fever had returned with great violence, and the pressure on his brain was so great that he had become slightly delirious.