OLD BEN HAS A VISITOR.
St. John Ruthven was a young man of twenty-five, tall, thin, and with a
face that was a mixture of craftiness and cowardice. He was the son of a
half-brother to the late Colonel Ruthven and could boast of but few of
the good traits of Marion's family. He lived on a plantation half a mile
from the bay and spent most of his time in attention to his personal
appearance and in horseback riding, of which, like many other
Southerners, he was passionately fond.
It was commonly supposed that St. John Ruthven was rich, but this was
not true. His father had left him a good plantation and some money in
the bank, but the young planter was a spendthrift and his mother, who
doted on her son, was little better, and soon nearly every dollar which
had been left by the husband and father had slipped through their
fingers. More than this, St. John took but little interest in the
plantation, which gradually ran down until it became almost worthless.
"St. John, my dear, we must do something," the mother would say, in her
helpless way. "We cannot live like this forever."
"What shall I do?" would be the son's reply. "The plantation isn't worth
working and I have no money with which to buy another place. The niggers
are getting so they are not worth their keep."
"But you told me yesterday that we had less than a thousand dollars left
in the bank."
"It's true, too."
"What do you propose doing when that is gone?"
"Oh! our credit is still good," was the lofty answer.
"But that won't last forever, St. John."
"Something may turn up."
"Everything seems to prosper at Alice's place," went on Mrs. Mary
Ruthven, referring to the home of Marion and Jack.
"I know that."
"And we are continually running behind. St. John, you ought to get after
the niggers and other help."
"I wasn't cut out for work, mother," was the sour answer.
"But we really must do something," was the half-desperate response.
"I've got an idea in my head, mother. If it works, we'll be all right."
"What is the idea?"
"I think a good deal of Marion. Why shouldn't we marry and join the two
plantations? That would give us both a good living."
"I have thought of such a plan myself, St. John. But there may be an
objection."
"Do you think Marion would refuse me?"
"She might. In some respects Alice's daughter is rather peculiar."
"But I don't see why she should refuse me. Am I not her equal in social
position?"
"What a question! Of course you are. Still she may have her eyes set
upon somebody else."
"I know of nobody. Marion is still young."
"Have you sounded her on the subject?"
"Not yet, but I will soon. She has Jack around so much I never get half
a chance to talk to her."
"Always that boy! When I visited Alice last I declare she talked of that
nobody the whole time,--what a wonderful man she hoped he would
make,--and all that. Just as if he was her own flesh and blood!" and
Mrs. Mary Ruthven tossed her head disdainfully.
"She was foolish to allow that nobody to think himself a Ruthven. But I
have put a spoke into his wheel, I reckon."
"What do you mean? Did you tell Jack the truth?"
"Not exactly. But I gave a pretty broad hint to his intimate friend
Darcy Gilbert, and Darcy, of course, will carry the news straight to
Jack."
"Oh, St. John! that may cause trouble. Your aunt wished to keep the
truth from the boy as long as possible. She told me she did not wish to
hurt his feelings."
"He had to learn the truth sooner or later. Besides, I didn't want him
to think himself a Ruthven and the equal of Marion and myself," went on
St. John loftily.
There was a moment of silence and Mrs. Mary Ruthven gave a long sigh.
"Well, I would not delay speaking to Marion too long," she observed.
"Something must be done, that's sure, and if you wait, Marion and her
mother may find out how hard up we really are, and then Marion may
refuse you on that account."
"I shall see her before long," answered the son.
He had his mind bent on a horseback ride, and was soon in the saddle and
off on a road leading along the shore of the bay. He hoped to find
Marion in the vicinity of the old boathouse, but when he arrived there
nobody was in sight but Old Ben, who was mending one of his fishing
nets.
"Ha, Ben! are you alone?" he said, as he dismounted and came into the
boathouse.
"Yes, Massah St. John, I'm alone unless there's some ghostes hidin'
around yeah!" and the old negro smiled broadly. He understood St. John's
character pretty thoroughly and despised him accordingly.
"I thought Marion might be around here."
"She aint been yeah to-day, sah. She an' Jack was out on de bay in dat
awful storm yesterday and I reckon it was most too much fo' dem."
"Out in that awful storm! It's a wonder the boat didn't upset."
"Da was ober to de wrack when de big blow came."
"Did they stay there?"
"I went ober after 'em an' da come in dis mornin', Massah St. John."
"Humph! I am surprised that my aunt should trust Marion with that boy."
"Why not, Massah St. John? Jack can manage a boat as well as I can."
St. John tossed his head and flung himself down upon a seat. "I think my
aunt makes a fool of herself about that boy. Who is he, anyway? He's
only an ocean waif; of low birth, very probably."
"Dat he isn't!" said Old Ben indignantly. "He's a young gen'man, Jack
is, an' so was his father."
"Bah! what do you know about his father?"
"He couldn't be Jack's father without bein' a gen'man--dat's wot I
know," went on Ben stoutly. "Why, look at de deah chile! How noble
an'--an'--handsome he is!"
"Oh, pshaw, Ben! you had better stick to your nets. What do you know
about a gentleman?"
"I knows one when I sees one, Massah St. John," was the somewhat
suggestive response.
"Oh, do you? And I know an impudent nigger when I see one!" cried St.
John angrily.
"No offense, Massah St. John."
"Then be a little more careful of what you say." St. John tugged at the
ends of his stubby mustache. "I wish I had that boy under my care," he
went on.
"S'posin' you had, sah?"
"I'd teach him his place. Why should he be reared as a gentleman--he, a
poor waif of the sea? Probably he is the son of some low mechanic,
perhaps of a Northern mudsill, and my aunt--think of it, my aunt--must
bring him up as a Southern gentleman!" The young man leaped up and began
to pace the boathouse floor nervously. "I suppose she'll leave him a
large legacy in her will."
"I 'spect you is right, Massah St. John; dat boy will be pervided for,
suah as my name's Ben."
"You talk as if you already knew something of this?" said St. John
quickly.
"I does know somet'ing, sah."
"Has my aunt ever spoken to you on the subject, Ben?"
"I don't know as I ought to answer dat dar question, Massah St. John."
"Then she has spoken. What did she say?"
The colored man hesitated.
"As I said befo', sah, I don't rackon I ought to answer dat dar
question."
"But you must answer me, Ben--to keep silent is foolish. Rest assured I
have the best interests of my aunt and Marion at heart. Now what did she
say?"
"Well, sah, if yo' must know, she said as how she was gwine to leave
Massah Jack half de prop'ty."
St. John leaped back in amazement.
"You don't mean that, Ben!" he gasped.
"Yes, sah, I does mean it."
"Half the property?"
"Yes, sah."
"He doesn't deserve it!"
At this the old negro shrugged his huge shoulders.
"Rackon de missus knows what she wants to do."
"But it is not right--to give the boy half the estate. I suppose the
other half will go to Marion."
"Yes, sah."
The young man's face grew pale, and he began to pace the floor again.
"She never mentioned me in connection with this, did she?"
"No, sah."
"And yet I am her nephew."
"Rackon she dun thought yo' was rich enough, Massah St. John."
"Perhaps I am, Ben. But it is strange that my own flesh and blood should
forget me, to take up with a nobody. Did my aunt ever speak of the
particulars of what she intended to do?"
"No, sah."
"Humph! It's strange. I must look into this." And a few minutes later
St. John Ruthven was off on horseback, in a frame of mind far from
pleasant.