DECEITFUL HOSPITALITY.
Jasper was now thoroughly enlisted in his father's plans. Almost any
boy of his age would have shuddered at the prospect of a violent death
which, through the united agency of his father and himself, impended
over his young guest. But Jasper was thoroughly selfish, and what his
father had communicated to him had inspired in him a feeling of alarm.
He could not endure the thought of surrendering his inheritance to
Gilbert, and was ready, young as he was, to go to any extremity rather
than to do it.
According to the suggestion his father had made, when dinner was over,
at which both Jasper and his father had exerted themselves to be
particularly agreeable, the former, turning to his cousin, said:
"If you like, I will take you out in the carriage. You might like to
see something of the country round here."
"I should like it very much," said Gilbert, "but I hope you won't put
yourself to too much trouble."
"It will be no trouble. I shall enjoy driving with some one who is new
to the country. It is dull work driving alone."
"I will go with pleasure, then, and thank you for the offer."
James Grey listened with complacent approval.
"Really," he thought, "I didn't imagine Jasper could be so polite and
agreeable. He doesn't often show these qualities in his intercourse
with me."
When Gilbert went up to prepare for the excursion, Jasper lingered
behind.
"If I am going to do the agreeable to your company, father," he said,
"I shall need some money. I am cleaned out."
Without a word of remonstrance his father drew thirty dollars from his
pocket-book, and placed the money in his son's hands.
"Do it up handsomely, Jasper," he said. "Don't be unnecessarily
extravagant, of course, but spend your money like a gentleman."
"Yes, father," answered Jasper, as his fingers closed with satisfaction
upon the bills.
The carriage drove up to the door, and the two young men entered.
During the drive that ensued, Jasper showed himself very social and
communicative. He was unwearied in pointing out objects of interest,
and, in fact, by his easy and genial manners almost conquered the
antipathy which Gilbert secretly felt.
"I wonder," he said, at length, leaning back in the carriage and
surveying Gilbert with curiosity, "I wonder you never visited us
before."
"I did not know where you lived."
"Yet we are relations--distant relations, are we not?"
"I have reason to think that we are related."
"I have very few relations--none that I know. I believe there is a
brother of my mother living somewhere in New Mexico, but with that
exception, I know of no relations except you. Where do you live?"
"In Cincinnati."
"I used to live there. Why did we not meet then?"
"I have only been there for the last three years--that is, lately. I
have been in Australia, and later in New York."
"In Australia!" echoed Jasper, in considerable surprise.
"Yes, I was there for a while."
"You have been quite a traveler. How nearly are you related to us?"
"That matter is not settled yet. I am not quite sure whether your
father would like me to tell."
Gilbert said this, understanding the embarrassment of intimating to a
son that his father had defrauded him of the property that was
rightfully his. He thought it best to let his uncle reveal the secret
himself.
They drove ten miles, reaching a considerable town, boasting a large
hotel.
"Let us go in and have a game of billiards," suggested Jasper.
"Very well, but you won't find me much of a player."
"I must get father to put a billiard table in the house. I like the
game, but I get no chance to practice."
They adjourned to the bar-room, in which there was a solitary table.
This happened to be unoccupied, and they accordingly played two games,
which lasted about an hour and a half. The reader will judge that
neither was very expert in the game.
"Now," said Jasper, who paid for both games, despite Gilbert's
remonstrances, "we will order a little lunch, and then start for home."
"I don't feel hungry."
"Nonsense! one can always eat. Besides, I want to patronize the hotel."
"Did you have a pleasant drive?" asked James Grey, meeting them on
their return.
"Very pleasant," responded Gilbert.
"I hope Jasper was attentive."
"He could not have been more so. I am much obliged to him."
"I am glad enough to have company," said Jasper, with an assumption of
frank cordiality. "I don't often enjoy a drive, but I did this
afternoon."
"I think I shall have to invite Gilbert to stay here as our permanent
guest," said Mr. Grey, pleasantly.
While he spoke Gilbert could not help wondering what had come over him
to make him so different from what he was in Cincinnati. There he was
rough, insulting, and abusive. Now he was the model of courtesy. It was
hard to believe him the same man. Gilbert was not very credulous, but
he was thoroughly deceived by his altered manner.
"I suppose he really believed me an impostor when we met in
Cincinnati," said he to himself. "Now he begins to think that he was
mistaken, and is trying to make it up to me."
Nevertheless, there were one or two things which interfered with this
view. Why should his uncle have schemed so eagerly to get dishonest
possession of the confession unless he believed it to be genuine, and
therefore dangerous? That did not seem honorable. What had happened
since to change him?
After reflection, this was the conclusion to which our hero came: His
uncle had made up his mind that he (Gilbert) had a strong case, and
meant to conciliate him in the hope of a favorable compromise.
Otherwise what object could he have in treating him with so much
politeness and attention?
Gilbert was a smart boy, or perhaps I should say, young man, but he was
not yet acquainted with the "ways that are dark, and the tricks that
are vain," to which human craft is often led to resort. Least of all
did he suspect any danger to himself from the uncle and cousin, who
seemed to vie with each other in ministering to his enjoyment.
"Well, Jasper," said his father, the next morning, as they were seated
at breakfast, "what plans have you for the enjoyment of our guest?"
"You ride on horseback, don't you, Gilbert?" inquired his cousin.
"Yes, I can ride a little."
"Wouldn't you like a gallop after breakfast?"
Gilbert responded readily in the affirmative. He had taken riding
lessons in the city, and was accustomed to ride, whenever he had a
chance, in the environs of the city. He was, in truth, an excellent
rider, having taken lessons of an accomplished teacher, who often
referred to him as one of the most proficient of his pupils. But when
Jasper questioned him he only answered that he rode a little, having a
strong disinclination to boast.
"I should think that would be an agreeable plan," said Mr. Grey. "What
horses shall you take?"
"I will ride on my own. I am used to her, and don't like to change."
"How will you mount Gilbert?"
"He might ride on Bucephalus."
"Isn't Bucephalus a little skittish?"
"That is what they say at the stable; but I am not so easily scared."
"Why not use Sidney?"
"Sidney is not very well; he has had a bad cold. Still, if Gilbert is
afraid of mounting Bucephalus"--there was an intentional covert sneer
in Jasper's tone--"he can try Sidney."
Now Gilbert was not timid, and did not like to be considered so. Had he
really known the character of the horse designed for him, his cousin's
words would still have decided him to take the risk.
"I am not in the least afraid," he said. "I'll ride Bucephalus."
"Don't you think you had better take the other horse?" urged James
Grey, hypocritically.
"No, sir," said Gilbert, with decision. "If Sidney is sick I would much
rather try Bucephalus, even if he is a trifle spirited."
"A trifle spirited," thought his uncle. "I wouldn't trust myself on the
brute for ten thousand dollars."
"If you're ready, Gilbert, we'll go out to the stable," said Jasper.
They left the house and proceeded in the direction of the stable.
"Ten to one he'll come back hurt," James Grey said to himself, "if he
comes back at all," he added, with an evil smile.