A Boy's Fortune

"You know Miss Jayne, then, Miss Beaufort," said Randall.

"Yes, slightly, and you?"

"I have met her in society."

"She is a niece of Mrs. Tilton, to whose daughters I am giving music-lessons."

"Indeed! I know Mrs. Tilton – I am to attend her party next week. Shall you be there?"

"I believe so – not as a guest, however. She has invited me to play on the piano for the entertainment of the guests. You will probably dance to my music."

"I would rather dance with you to the music of another player, Miss Beaufort."

"You forget, Mr. Randall, that I am a poor music-teacher."

"I don't think of it at all. It makes no difference in your claims to consideration."

"The world does not agree with you, Mr. Randall."

"Then it ought. By the way, Miss Beaufort, has your elderly admirer renewed his proposals?"

"Mr. Parkinson? No, I have not met him since."

"You are sure you won't relent, and make him a happy man?"

"I don't think it at all likely," said Rose, laughing.

Meanwhile Rose had made an enemy without being aware of it.

Miss Arethusa Jayne had long looked upon Clinton Randall with eyes of partiality, not alone on account of his good looks, but because he was wealthy, socially distinguished, and in all respects a desirable parti. In her vanity she had thought that he was not indifferent to her attractions. When, therefore, she saw him walking with her aunt's music-teacher, she was not only angry but jealous. She reluctantly admitted that Rose was pretty, though she considered herself still more so. After this meeting she changed her plans, and went straight to her aunt.

"Aunt," she said, "whom do you think I met on Broadway just now?"

"I am sure I can't tell, Arethusa. I suppose all the world and his wife are out this fine day."

"Your music-teacher, Miss Beaufort, and Clinton Randall."

"You don't say so!" ejaculated Mrs. Tilton. "How should she know him?"

"I have no idea they were ever introduced," said Arethusa, sneering. "Probably she isn't particular how she makes acquaintance with gentlemen. I always thought her forward."

"I can't say I ever did, Arethusa."

"Oh, she covers it up with you; but I ask you, Aunt Lucy, how could she otherwise get acquainted with a gentleman of Mr. Randall's position?"

"I don't know. Was she actually walking with him?"

"Certainly, and laughing and talking in a boisterous, unladylike way."

Of course this was untrue, but a jealous woman is not likely to consider her words.

"I thought you ought to know it, aunt, so I came and told you."

"Do you think I ought to do anything, Arethusa?"

"I would not allow such a girl to teach my children."

"But she is an excellent teacher, and is recommended by Miss Wilmot."

"Probably Miss Wilmot does not know how she conducts herself. No doubt she carefully conceals her forwardness from that lady."

"But I can't discharge her without giving reasons."

"True, aunt. By the way, Mr. Randall comes to your party, does he not?"

"He has sent an acceptance."

"And you mean to have Miss Beaufort there to play dancing-tunes?"

"Yes; she comes a good deal cheaper than a professional," said Mrs. Tilton, who, even in her pleasures, was thrifty.

"That is well. Then you will have an opportunity to see how the two go on together, and can quietly signify to Miss Beaufort, the next day, your opinion of her conduct."

"But, Arethusa," said Mrs. Tilton, who was not jealous, like her niece, "I can't think there is anything out of the way. Miss Beaufort has always seemed to me a model of propriety."

"Oh, you dear, unsuspicious aunt! How easily you are deceived! Do you want to know my opinion of Miss Propriety – the opinion I formed when I first saw her?"

"Well, Arethusa?"

"I saw at once that she was bold and sly, and I really think it is taking a great risk to permit your children to be under the instruction of such a girl."

"Well, Arethusa, I will take your advice and watch them both at the party."

"That is all I ask, Aunt Lucy."

"I will get aunt to discharge her yet," said Miss Jayne to herself, with satisfied malice.

CHAPTER XXXV.

A Woman's Jealousy

Mrs. Tilton's house was ablaze with light, for it was the evening of the great party. Ambitious of social distinction, she took care to do things on a handsome scale, though she was not averse to saving money where it would not attract attention.

Among the young ladies present were two with whom we are especially concerned. One of them was Arethusa Jayne, who was dressed with more splendor than taste. She made a profuse display of jewelry, some of which, we may confidentially inform the reader, was borrowed from a well-known jeweler, who was handsomely paid for the favor. Of course no one suspected this, and the society young men were misled into thinking that the owner of so many diamonds must be very rich. This was precisely what Arethusa desired, for she was in the market, and had been for more years than she liked to remember.

Another young lady, still better known to us, was Rose Beaufort. She was the most plainly dressed young lady in the handsome parlors, yet she attracted an unusual share of attention.

"Who is that pretty young lady?" asked a middle-aged lady of Arethusa.

"That?" answered Miss Jayne, with a sneer. "Oh, that is Miss Beaufort, the music-teacher."

"She is very sweet-looking."

"Do you think so? I don't at all agree with you. To me she looks very artful, and I have reason to think that beneath her innocent exterior there is something quite different."

"That is a pity."

"It is not surprising. Still water runs deep, you know."

Rose kept in the background. She had no wish to make herself conspicuous at Mrs. Tilton's gay party. She would rather not have been there, but did not wish to disappoint her employer.

"Ah, here you are, Miss Beaufort," said a glad voice.

Rose looked up, and her face flushed with pleasure as she recognized Clinton Randall.

"I did not think you would find me," she said.

"I was sure to do it. I have been looking for you everywhere. Can't you spare a seat for me?"

Rose moved, and Clinton sat down beside her on the sofa. He had scarcely been there two minutes, however, when Arethusa discovered them. She went straightway to her aunt.

"Aunt Lucy," she said, in a low voice, "look at the sofa opposite."

"Well?" said Mrs. Tilton, who was rather short-sighted.

"There is your precious music-teacher monopolizing Clinton Randall. Didn't I tell you?"

"I am really shocked at her brazen ways. You were right, Arethusa."

"For goodness' sake, separate them before the whole room notices them."

"How can I do it?"

"Send her to the piano."

"Miss Beaufort," said Mrs. Tilton, coldly, "oblige me by sitting down to the piano. You may play a waltz."

"Certainly, Mrs. Tilton," said Rose.

"That woman speaks as if she owned Miss Beaufort," thought young Randall.

He was about to follow her to the piano when Arethusa came up, and with an insinuating smile, said:

"Don't look so mournful, Mr. Randall. Let me fill Miss Beaufort's place."

"Certainly," answered the young man, moving, but not with alacrity.

"I wasn't aware that you knew Miss Beaufort," said the young lady.

"I believe you saw me walking with her the other day."

"Yes, to be sure; it had escaped my mind."

Rose began to play. Her touch was fine, and her performance could hardly fail to attract attention.

"Miss Beaufort plays remarkably well," said Clinton Randall.

"Oh, it's her business," answered Arethusa, with careless hauteur. "She gives lessons to my aunt's children, you know."

"Your aunt is fortunate to secure such an accomplished pianist."

"Oh, she is very well," said Arethusa, carelessly. "Do you feel like dancing?"

"I beg your pardon. I should have suggested it."

The two moved out upon the floor and took their places among the dancers. Arethusa danced passably, her partner remarkably well. At length he led her to her seat, and, with a bow, left her, much to her chagrin.

Later in the evening some one relieved Rose at the piano. Clinton took the earliest opportunity to seek her out and ask her for a dance.

Rose hesitated.

"I have not danced for a long time," she said. "Circumstances have kept me out of society. I am afraid you won't find me a satisfactory partner."

"I will take the risk, Miss Beaufort. You won't refuse?"

She rose and took her place on the floor. Arethusa Jayne, who was dancing with one of the walking gentlemen of society, a young man who was merely invited to swell the number of guests, was not long in discovering Miss Beaufort's good luck, and her face showed her displeasure. It would have pleased her had Rose been awkward, but she was unusually graceful, in spite of her want of practice. Miss Jayne was hot with jealousy.

"You shall repent this," she said to herself, and looked so stern that her partner asked, with alarm:

"Are you not well, Miss Jayne?"

"Certainly" – you fool! she would liked to have added. "Why do you ask?"

"I thought you looked disturbed," he stammered.

"I was only a little thoughtful," she said, with a constrained smile. "But I am fatigued. Suppose we sit down."

He led her to her seat, nothing loth, and she had the satisfaction of following with her glance Clinton Randall and her rival five minutes more.

"Did you have a good time, Rose?" asked her sister Adeline, next morning, at the breakfast-table.

"Better than I dared to hope," answered Rose, with a smile.

"Did you dance?"

"Two or three times."

She had danced with two partners besides Clinton Randall, and with him a second time.

"It seemed quite like the old times," she said, after a pause, "when we were in society. Though I only appeared in the character of a governess, I enjoyed it."

"Don't you feel tired?"

"A little; but I don't go out to give lessons till afternoon."

At two o'clock Rose went to Mrs. Tilton's to give her regular lessons.

"Mrs. Tilton would like to see you," said the servant.

A little surprised, Rose remained in the parlor till that lady appeared.

"I wish to speak to you, Miss Beaufort," said Mrs. Tilton, coldly, "about your conduct last evening."

"My conduct last evening!" repeated Rose, in utter surprise. "To what do you refer?"

"To your indelicate conduct with Mr. Clinton Randall and other gentlemen."

"What do you mean? I demand an explanation!" exclaimed Rose, indignantly.

"You seem to forget your position, Miss Beaufort. As the instructress of my children, I feel I must be exacting. I do not approve of your bold flirtation with gentlemen above yourself in social position, and I beg to say that I must provide myself with another music-teacher for my girls."

"After your insulting remarks," said Rose, hotly, "nothing would induce me to remain in charge of them. Nothing in my conduct has called for such cruel charges."

"Doubtless you think so. I disagree with you," said Mrs. Tilton, coldly.

"Good-afternoon, madam!" said Rose, rising abruptly.

"Good-afternoon, Miss Beaufort."

It was like a thunderbolt to Rose, and mystified as well as made her indignant. She could recall nothing that had passed which would justify Mrs. Tilton in her strange treatment.

It was the first blow, but not the last. Arethusa Jayne, with unappeased malice, went the rounds of the families in which Rose was employed, and within a week she received notes from all the parents, expressing regret that they could no longer avail themselves of her services.

It began to look serious for poor Rose.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Rose Comes Into a Fortune

Ben and his friend had a fair passage from Liverpool, and were equally pleased to set foot on American soil. By this time they had become excellent friends. The Cuban, having no near relatives, was surprised to find how much interest he felt in his young ward.

"Well, Ben," he said, "shall we first attend to your business, or that of the young ladies whom your late employer has cheated out of their rightful inheritance?"

"My business can wait, Mr. Novarro. Let us attend to the last."

"Do you remember the office of Mr. Codicil – that was the name of the trustee, was it not?"

"Yes, sir. I can guide you there without delay."

"Then, after we are fairly established in our hotel, we will go to see him."

Meanwhile there was great despondency in the modest home of the Beauforts. To be deprived of her pupils without just cause was indeed a grievous misfortune, and, gentle as she was, Rose could not think of it without exasperation. Though she could not at first understand from whom the blow came, reflection satisfied her that Miss Arethusa Jayne was her enemy and had wrought this mischief. Her motive Rose could not penetrate, not being in the secret of Miss Jayne's admiration for Mr. Randall. To make matters worse, her constant friend, Miss Wilmot, was absent from the city, at some springs in Virginia, and was not expected home for some weeks to come. She applied for a position in answer to an advertisement, but when called upon for references her heart sank within her, as she reflected that the ladies who had recently employed her would hardly speak in her favor.

"What shall we do, Addie?" she asked, despondently. "I can't get new pupils, and I must do something. I don't like to go back to the old business of making vests."

"Don't do that, at any rate, Rose; I am sure you can do better than that."

"I wish I knew what."

"Suppose you go and see Mr. Codicil."

"He might think I wished him to give me money."

"No; ask him to use his influence to obtain you music-pupils."

Rose brightened at the suggestion.

"I believe I will follow your advice, Addie. It seems to me good."

"And if that doesn't do any good, write to Miss Wilmot, and ask her advice. You can always refer to her."

"Why, Addie, I never gave you credit for such wise counsel. Your words have inspired me with new cheerfulness. I will go to Mr. Codicil to-morrow morning."

Half an hour before the arrival of Rose Beaufort at the lawyer's office, Ben and Mr. Novarro entered.

"Can I see Mr. Codicil?" asked Ben.

The clerk said, doubtfully, noting Ben's youthful appearance, and judging that his business could not be of great importance:

"I will see. What name shall I mention?"

"You may say that I come from Major Grafton."

This message brought an immediate invitation to enter the lawyer's sanctum.

The old man regarded him with considerable surprise as he entered.

"I thought you were in Europe, Philip," he said. "Is your guardian with you?"

"I have just come from Europe, Mr. Codicil," answered Ben. "Major Grafton is not with me."

"How does it happen that you have left him? You have not run away, have you?"

"Yes, sir; I felt obliged to run away."

"May I ask why?" demanded the lawyer, searchingly.

"Because I was not willing to aid Major Grafton in a scheme of fraud."

Mr. Codicil pricked up his ears.

"Proceed, young man," he said. "This is becoming interesting."

"You called me Philip Grafton, and this is the name Major Grafton wished me to assume, but it is not my real name."

"Go on, go on!"

"My real name is Ben Baker. Major Grafton met me in this city, and engaged me to travel with him as his private secretary. He gave me the name of Philip Grafton, because, he said, I looked like his only son, bearing that name, who died abroad."

"The old rascal!"

"I supposed this was true, and saw no objection to the plan."

"Can you tell me what became of the boy whose name you assumed?" asked Mr. Codicil, eagerly.

"Yes, sir; he is dead."

"Poor fellow! Where did he die?"

"In Italy, last year."

"And his rascally guardian, concealing this from me, has drawn the income of his property regularly for his own use. Now tell me how you came to learn all this."

Ben gave the explanation clearly, and recited the steps taken by Major Grafton to keep him from divulging the secret.

"It was a bold game," said the lawyer; "but, thanks to your information, it has failed. I shall at once telegraph to Major Grafton that his guardianship has ceased, and I will send over an agent to obtain the necessary proof of the boy's death."

At this moment a clerk entered.

"There is a young lady who desires to see you, Mr. Codicil."

"Did she give her name?"

"Miss Beaufort."

"Send her in at once. She could not have come at a more fitting time. My young friend, go into the little room adjoining, and wait till I summon you."

Rose Beaufort entered the lawyer's presence with a grave expression on her face.

"I hope, Mr. Codicil, you will excuse my troubling you with a visit."

"So far from troubling me, I am very glad to see you. What can I do for you?"

"I am in trouble, and wish your advice."

"Proceed."

Rose unfolded her story, and concluded by asking Mr. Codicil if he would exert his influence toward obtaining her some pupils in music.

The lawyer's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles.

"I hardly know what to say to that request," he answered.

"I did not suppose you would be prejudiced against me by Mrs. Tilton's false and groundless accusations," said Rose, with a troubled air.

"I am not. That is not the point. I am only questioning the expediency of your teaching at all."

"But I know of no better way of earning a livelihood."

"Still, it is not customary for wealthy young ladies to take pupils."

"I don't understand you, Mr. Codicil," said Rose, bewildered.

"Then I will no longer keep you in suspense. Your poor cousin, Philip, is dead, and you inherit your grandfather's fortune – that is, you, your sister, and brother."

"When did poor Philip die?" asked Rose, unaffectedly shocked. "It must have been very sudden."

"On the contrary, he died last year."

"Last year! How happens it, then, that we did not know of it before?"

"Because there has been a wicked scheme to defraud you of the inheritance. Ben, come here."

Ben entered, and the story was soon told. Of course it need not be repeated.

"Now, Miss Beaufort, if you insist on taking pupils, I will do what I can to procure you some," said the lawyer.

"If I take them it will be without compensation," answered Rose, smiling. "Can you tell me how soon we may expect to come into our property? I ask, because we are near the end of our money."

"It will take perhaps two months to obtain legal proof of Philip's death, but that will not inconvenience you. I will advance you whatever money you require in the meantime."

"You are very kind. If you could let me have twenty dollars – "

"You are very modest," said the lawyer, smiling. "Suppose we say two hundred?"

"Two hundred!" ejaculated Rose.

"I think you will be able to find a use for it," said the lawyer. "Remember, though I don't want to encourage you in extravagance, that is less than two weeks' income."

There was great joy in the Beaufort household when Rose carried home the great news, though it was mingled with sorrow for the untimely fate of poor Philip.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Ben Meets His Cousin

Ben supposed that his new guardian would be in favor of making an immediate call upon his uncle, but the Cuban counselled delay.

"First," he said, "I wish to find, if I can, the broker through whom your uncle sold the securities of which he robbed your father. We can make out a case without it, but with this our case will be complete."

"Won't it be difficult to find out, Mr. Novarro?" asked Ben.

"Difficult, but not impossible. To begin with, I know the date of probable transfer. Next, I know the securities. By visiting the offices of different brokers I may obtain some information. At any rate, I have mapped out my plan of procedure, and hope within a week to obtain a clew."

Ben asked no questions, feeling that he could safely leave the whole matter in the hands of so experienced a business man as his new guardian.

They did not go to a hotel, but to a boarding-house kept by a Cuban lady, a friend of his guardian, which they found quite as comfortable and more homelike than the Metropolitan or the Windsor.

Meanwhile Ben thought it best not to make a call at the office of his uncle. Indeed, remembering the cruel way in which he had wronged his mother, he would have found it disagreeable to meet him.

But one day, on Broadway, he met his cousin, Clarence Plantagenet. He would have avoided the encounter, but it was too late, for Clarence had seen him.

"What! Ben!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea you were back in New York. When did you arrive?"

"Three days since," answered Ben.

"Where are you staying?"

"At a boarding-house in Forty-second street."

"How is Major Grafton?"

"I don't know; I am no longer with him."

"What!" exclaimed Clarence, pricking up his ears. "You are no longer in his employ?"

"No."

"Where is he?"

"I left him in Europe."

"What did he discharge you for?" asked Clarence, cheerfully.

"He didn't discharge me. He was opposed to my leaving him, but we couldn't agree."

"I think you are a fool!" said Clarence, bluntly. "With him you could live like a gentleman. You haven't got another place, have you?"

"No."

"And you won't get one very soon, I can tell you that, except as a boy at three or four dollars a week."

Ben smiled.

"I can look round, at any rate," he answered.

"That's all the good it'll do. You mustn't expect my father to help you."

"I don't. If I had, I should have called before this."

"After throwing up a good place, if you were not discharged, you don't deserve help."

"I am not sure that I shall look for another place," said Ben.

"You are not?" asked Clarence, mystified.

"No; I may go to school a little longer. I haven't as good an education as I should like."

"But how are you going to live while you are doing all this?"

"Don't you think your father would give me a home in his family and let me attend school in the city?"

"Well, Ben Baker, you have got cheek, I declare! If that is what you are counting on, you may as well give it up."

"It's as well to know the worst," said Ben, tranquilly.

"I shall have to be going along," said Clarence, coldly.

He told his father at dinner about his meeting with Ben.

"I'll tell you what, father," he said. "I couldn't account at first for Ben's seeming so cool and independent. I think I understand it now."

"Well, suppose you explain, then."

"I think he's robbed Major Grafton of a sum of money and taken French leave. He said he was not 'bounced' and that the major did not want him to leave."

"I hope you are wrong, my son. I haven't the highest opinion of your cousin, but I earnestly hope he is honest. To have him guilty of such a crime would be a disgrace to our family. Always be honest, Clarence! Depend upon it, honesty is the best policy, and a boy or man makes a great mistake who appropriates what is not his own."

"Of course, pa, I know all that. Do you think I would steal? As to Ben Baker, that's a different matter. He's always been poor, and I suppose the temptation was too strong for him."

"Let us hope not. Dishonesty I could not overlook, even in a relation."

Who would imagine that this man, so strict in his ideas of honesty, had deliberately stolen a hundred thousand dollars from his widowed sister and her son!

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

M. Bourdon Has a Bad Quarter of an Hour

Major Grafton was quite easy in mind after consigning Ben to the safe custody of an insane asylum.

"Serves the boy right!" he said. "What business had he to interfere with my plans? M. Bourdon will see that he does not annoy me any further."

His confidence in the wisdom of his plan was maintained by the frequent letters he received from the director of the asylum, in all of which he spoke encouragingly of the effect of discipline upon Ben. Major Grafton regularly transmitted the compensation agreed on between them.