CLARENCE BRADFORD.
"My dear little Flora!" exclaimed Clarence, as he glanced from me to
her, after he entered the room.
He sprang to her chair, and embraced and kissed her. I perceived that he
was winking rapidly, as though an unmanly weakness was getting
possession of him.
"Buck!" he added, extending his hand to me, "what does all this mean? I
supposed you were both in Torrentville."
"We are not. We couldn't stand it any longer," I replied.
"Stand what?" he demanded, sternly.
"The way that Captain Fishley's folks treated us."
"You don't mean to say they abused you!"
"That's just what I mean to say. I thought I spoke plain enough in my
letters for you to understand me."
"I had no idea that you were actually abused. Boys are always grumbling
and complaining, and some of them think their lot is a great deal harder
than it is. Flora didn't say anything in her letters; she didn't
complain."
"She wouldn't have said anything if they had killed her," I replied. "I
am not one of the grumbling sort, and I didn't say anything till they
picked upon me so that I couldn't stand it. I was kept at home from
school half the time to work; and then I was the old man's servant, the
old woman's servant, and Ham's servant. I was kept on the jump by some
of them all the time."
"But you were only to take care of the horse, and go for the mail every
evening; and I thought you rather liked that," he added; and he wore a
look of astonishment and indignation.
"I did like it; but I had to work in the garden, feed the pigs, make the
fires, do chores about the house, run of errands, and work in the store.
I was kept busy from morning till night."
"That wasn't the bargain I made with them."
"I wouldn't have made any row about the work, if they hadn't treated me
so meanly. Ham used me like a dog, and ordered me around as though I had
been his nigger servant. It was 'Buck, do this,' and 'Buck, do that, and
be quick about it.' It was 'Buck, black my boots,' in surly tones."
"Black his boots!" exclaimed Clarence.
"Yes, black his boots; and I was fool enough to do it until I found I
only got kicked for minding. Mrs. Fishley used to snarl at me from
morning till night. I never did anything right, and was never in the
place where I ought to be. But, Clarence, I should have staid there, I
suppose, till the time you named, if they had not abused Flora."
"Flora!" said he, knitting his brow, as he glanced at her.
I told him that our female tyrant had actually shaken her several times,
to say nothing of the constant scolding to which she was subjected. He
was indignant, and assured me, if he had supposed the case was half as
bad as I had represented, he should have hastened to Torrentville and
removed us at once. He thought my complaints were simply boyish
dissatisfaction, and the situation nothing more than simply unpleasant.
"But you haven't told the worst of the story," interposed Mr. Goodridge.
"I will tell that now, for it was the final cause of our leaving," I
continued. "A certain gentleman, whose name I cannot mention, gave me
one hundred dollars for something I did for him."
"Who was he?" asked Clarence.
"I can't tell you, or anybody, who he was. About this time Ham Fishley
robbed a letter of forty dollars, and when the money was missed, he laid
it to me."
"How do you know he did it?" demanded Clarence.
"I saw him do it. I saw him break the seal, take out the money, and burn
the letter;" and I explained fully the circumstances. "Ham saw me
counting my money, and his father wanted me to tell where I got it. I
couldn't do that. They sent for a constable; but I took to the swamp.
Now, I had either to tell where I got the money,--which I couldn't
do,--or go to jail. Instead of doing either, I took Flora on the raft
with me, and came down the river."
"This is a very strange story, Buck; and I don't much blame Captain
Fishley for not believing it," said Clarence. "Somebody gave you a
hundred dollars, and you would not tell who, even to save yourself from
going to jail. I can't blame him."
"Nor I either, so far as that was concerned; but I do blame Ham, for he
knew very well that I did not rob the mail."
"But why can't you tell who gave you the money?"
"Because I promised not to do so, and because my telling would do an
injury to the person who gave it to me."
"I don't like the looks of this thing, Buck," added Clarence, shaking
his head.
"I know it don't look very well," I replied, rather sheepishly, for I
realized that my brother had his suspicions.
"Why should a man give you a hundred dollars?"
"Because I saved his life," I answered, desperately.
"If you did, he ought to be the first one to give you the credit for the
noble deed."
"There's the hitch."
"So I think," said my brother, shaking his head.
"Clarence, I know Buckland is honest and true," interposed Flora. "He is
the best brother that ever was, and you mustn't think hard of him."
"Perhaps you know more about it than I do, Flora; but it looks bad for
him. Why a man should give him a hundred dollars for saving his life,
and then not be willing that he should mention his name, passes my
comprehension."
"The gentleman had been drinking a little too much, and that was what
made him fall into the water," I added, goaded on to reveal thus much by
the doubts and suspicions of my brother.
"Well, that makes it a little more plausible," replied Clarence. "Was
there no one present when the man fell overboard?"
"I shall not say any more about it, whether you believe it or not," I
answered, rather indignantly. "I made a promise, and I intend to keep
it."
"I am satisfied the young man is honest, Mr. Bradford," said the
merchant.
"I know he is," added Emily, with an enthusiasm which was worth the
testimony of all the others.
"After the noble deed he has done, after risking his life to save that
of an entire stranger, as he did for my daughter, I know he is not
capable of robbing the mail," continued Mr. Goodridge.
"Saved your daughter?" asked Clarence, with an inquiring look at Emily
and her father.
Flora volunteered to tell the story of the events following the
steamboat explosion, and my modesty will not permit me to set down the
pleasant speeches which Emily added to the narrative.
"Well, Buck, I am willing to grant that you are a hero," said Clarence,
good-naturedly; "and you have done things for which I should have been
slow to give you the credit, if the facts were not fully attested by all
these witnesses. So you have made a voyage from Torrentville to New
Orleans on a raft?"
"I have, and brought Flora with me."
"You have proved yourself to be a smart boy, and I only wish you had
left a better reputation behind you at Torrentville."
I thought this remark was a little harsh. I do not wish to say anything
against my brother, but I was very much disappointed in the view which
he took of the robbery question. I know that he valued reputation as the
apple of his eye, and keenly felt that it was cowardice for an innocent
person to run away from the appearance of evil. I know that he was very
indignant at the treatment which the Fishleys had bestowed upon Flora
and me; but he seemed to believe that I had exaggerated it, and that I
had fled from Torrentville solely to escape the consequences of robbing
the mail.
He was not satisfied with my conduct, and declared that my character
must be cleared from all suspicion. The name he bore must not be tainted
even by the appearance of a crime. He had been an honest man; his father
had been an honest man; and he would rather have his brother sunk in the
deepest depths of the Mississippi than that the stigma of a crime
should be fastened upon him. I was awed and abashed by the dignity of
his bearing and his speech.
"Buck, dare you go back to Torrentville?" he asked.
"I should only be thrown into jail if I went."
"No matter for that. Dare you trust to your own integrity for the final
result?"
"I can't bring the gentleman into court to say that he gave me the
money, which is the only thing against me."
"Have you told the person how you are situated, and of the charge
against you?"
"No, I haven't seen him. He lives a hundred miles from Torrentville."
"I suppose so. Such witnesses are always a great way off when they are
wanted," added my brother, with an ill-concealed sneer.
"I see that you think I am guilty, Clarence," I replied, wounded beyond
measure at his severe conclusions.
"I confess that the affair looks to me like a trumped-up story."
"No, no, Clarence," interposed poor Flora, her eyes filled with tears,
as she came to my chair and put her arm lovingly around my neck. "Dear
Buckland, I know you are innocent!"
"So do I," exclaimed Emily.
"Hookie!" ejaculated Sim Gwynn, who had been sitting in silence, with
his eyes and mouth wide open, but rather nervous when the battle seemed
to be going against me.
I wanted to cry myself, for I felt that my brother was very hard upon
me. While the others were reaching conclusions through their feelings
alone, he was taking the common-sense view of the case. The facts were
stubborn, as I had been obliged to acknowledge before; and all I could
bring to attest my innocence was my simple word. But the conference was
interrupted by the coming of the family physician, who had been sent for
to see Emily. She and her father left the room.
Clarence went over the history of the robbery again; and the more he
considered, the more dissatisfied he became with me. Dear Flora pleaded
for a more gentle judgment, and told him how ill Ham and Mrs. Fishley
treated me.
"I don't blame you for leaving the Fishleys," he added. "I blame myself
for permitting you to remain there, after you complained of them; but I
had just been taken into partnership with my employers, and I could not
well be absent. But I do blame you for leaving them with a stain upon
your character. Something must be done immediately. I will not permit
them to think you are guilty, unless you are so. If you are guilty, you
are no brother of mine."
"I am not guilty," I protested.
"Then you must prove it."
"I can't prove it."
"Are you willing to take your oath before God, in court, that you saw
Ham Fishley take the money and burn the letter?"
"I am."
"Very well. Then you shall go to Torrentville, and face your accusers."
"I am willing to do what you think is best."
"I can't believe you are guilty of this crime; but you were foolish to
run away from it."
"I will write to the person who gave me the money, and he may do as he
pleases about helping me out of the scrape."
"My business is nothing compared with this matter, and I will go with
you. Now, where is this raft?"
He wished to see it, and Sim and I went with him to the levee.