MAURICE AND BESSIE BENTON.
Gilbert could not help wondering how Maurice and Mr. James Grey were
brought together, and how it happened that the former became his
uncle's agent and accomplice. He knew, however, that Maurice never
liked him, and guessed that this had been an inducement.
"I wonder," he thought, "if there is any chance of his communicating my
plans to Mr. Grey? It will be best for me to keep him in ignorance of
my destination."
When, therefore, he was ready to start, he resolved only to tell him
that he was going to St. Louis. This was, in truth, his first
destination, but, as we know, he intended to go farther.
Maurice, who didn't before know of Gilbert's plans, was surprised when
the latter walked up to him and said:
"I must bid you good-by for a time, Maurice."
"Are you going away?" exclaimed his fellow-clerk, staring at him in
amazement.
"Yes, I am going away for a short time."
"Where?"
"To St. Louis."
"On business for Mr. Ferguson?"
"No, it is on my own business."
"I suppose it has something to do with his uncle," thought Maurice, but
he thought it most prudent not to say this.
"How long do you expect to be gone?" he asked.
"I don't know--it depends on how successful I am."
"Bessie Benton will miss you," said Maurice, sarcastically.
"So she said," answered Gilbert quietly, appreciating his motive.
"When did you see her?" asked Maurice, with a twinge of jealousy.
"Last evening."
This made Maurice feel very uncomfortable. Bessie had grown very
pretty, and he admired her more than ever, but with a strange
perversity, as he thought, she didn't appear to reciprocate the
feeling. On the other hand, she appeared to care a good deal more for
Gilbert's society than for that of Maurice. It came to him now, with a
feeling of joy, that when Gilbert was away Bessie would naturally turn
to him for companionship.
"I think I shall go up there this evening myself," he said. (It must be
explained that Maurice no longer boarded at his uncle's.) "If you have
any message to send, I can take it."
"Give Bessie my love," said Gilbert, a little mischievously, knowing
that Maurice would never carry such a message.
"I will _remember_ you to _Miss Benton_," said Maurice, with dignity.
"Oh! don't take the trouble," said Gilbert, carelessly; "it isn't at
all necessary."
"Then I won't."
"Just as you please."
"I never saw such an amount of _cheek_ in my life," said Maurice to
himself. "I've a great mind to drop a hint to Bessie. She notices him
altogether too much."
So Maurice, fulfilling his determination of calling that evening,
managed to introduce the subject.
"Gilbert Grey called on you last evening, didn't he?"
"Yes; he is going away. He came to say good-by."
"I sha'n't miss him much."
"Why not? Are you not a good deal together?"
"In the store we are together. Out of it, I don't care to keep his
company."
"Why not?"
"He isn't my style."
"If it means that he does not resemble you, Maurice, I think you are
right."
"He is very much stuck up."
"Really, Maurice--I hope you will excuse my saying it--I think that
charge could be brought against you more justly."
"Do you mean to say I am stuck up?" asked Maurice, indignantly.
"Perhaps it is only your manner."
"But do you think I seem so?"
"More than Gilbert."
"You seem very familiar with Grey, to call him Gilbert."
"Of course I am familiar with him. Why shouldn't I be?"
"It doesn't show very good taste on your part."
"I don't know about that. Gilbert is popular in society. You know that
at parties he never has any difficulty in filling up his card."
Maurice did know that at the parties when both were present, Gilbert
was received with much more favor than himself, and this was one of the
circumstances that made him angry with his fellow-clerk. Few can pardon
a wound to their self-love.
"It only shows that humbugs flourish best in the world," he said.
"Do you call Gilbert a humbug?" asked Bessie, her fair face flushed
with indignation.
"Yes, I do."
"Then," she said, spiritedly, "it only shows your jealousy and envy of
him, because he is better looking and more popular than you. Jealousy
is hateful, I think," said the little lady, tossing her head with
emphasis.
"I hope when I am jealous it will be of somebody better than Gilbert
Grey," said Maurice, angry and mortified because Bessie had referred to
Gilbert as better looking and more popular than himself.
"It seems to me you are making yourself very disagreeable to-night,
Maurice," said his cousin, pettishly.
"If you knew what an impudent message he sent to you, you might change
your mind about him."
"What impudent message did he send? I don't believe he sent any."
"Then you're mistaken. He said, with his own lips, 'Give my love to
Bessie.'"
A smile rippled over the face of Bessie Benton, and there was a little
blush, too. Evidently she was not at all displeased at the message.
"Was that the impudent message you spoke of?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Then I don't see what impudence there is in it."
"What right had he to call you Bessie?"
"Don't you call me Bessie?"
"That's different--I am your cousin."
"Well, I call him Gilbert. So we're even."
"He had no right to send you his love. It isn't proper."
"Really, Maurice, I ought to be very much obliged to you for taking
such good care of me, and teaching me what's proper, and what isn't.
But, if you don't think the message a proper one, what made you give it
to me?" she asked, smiling.
"I wish I hadn't," thought Maurice, who began to see that he had been
hurried by his anger into making a mistake.
"I thought you would resent it," he said, aloud.
"You can give Gilbert my love, when you write to him," said his cousin,
provokingly.
"I sha'n't write to him; and, if I did, I wouldn't send him that
message."
"You are very obliging."
"If you knew as much of Gilbert Grey as I do, you wouldn't think so
much of him."
"Do you know anything very dreadful about him?" asked Bessie,
incredulously.
"I know why he has gone to St. Louis."
"Is it to commit murder, or robbery, or for any other dreadful reason?"
"It is to commit robbery!"
"Don't make a fool of yourself, Maurice Walton," said Bessie, sharply.
"I don't know what else you can call it," persisted Maurice. "He is
going to try to get possession of some property that don't belong to
him."
"I don't believe it."
"He knows of a rich gentleman of the same name, and he has forged a
paper, and is trying to make out that he is his nephew, though it is
well known that the nephew died years ago."
"Is that his reason for going to St. Louis?" asked Bessie, interested.
"Yes."
"How do you know?--did he tell you?"
"I have the best authority for my statements," said Maurice, who, for
reasons known to the reader, did not like to tell how he gained the
information; "but I am not at liberty to say more."
"You are very mysterious."
"What I have told you is the truth. If you don't call it robbery, I
do."
"All I have got to say is, that if Gilbert claims to be anybody's
nephew, I have no doubt he is. He wouldn't forge a paper for anything."
"That's where you and I don't agree."
"I think it's rather mean of you, Maurice Walton, to come here to
slander a friend."
"He isn't my friend. Perhaps he is yours."
"You are right there," said Bessie, firmly. "He is my friend."
"Perhaps, when he gets that fortune, you'll marry him?" said Maurice,
sarcastically.
"He hasn't asked me yet," said Bessie, blushing.
This was too much for Maurice. He began to see that Bessie liked
Gilbert more than he suspected, and that, by his blundering, he had
only helped matters along. He sulkily bade his cousin good-night, and,
returning home, bethought himself of his promise to Mr. Grey, and,
though it was late, sat down and wrote him a letter.