Home > Authors Index > Horatio Alger > Ben's Nugget: A Boy's Search For Fortune > This page
Ben's Nugget: A Boy's Search For Fortune, a fiction by Horatio Alger |
||
Chapter 25. Walking Into A Trap |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XXV. WALKING INTO A TRAP The thought that she was so soon to see Richard Dewey, and to minister to his comfort, was a source of pleasure to Florence. Her patient waiting was at length to be rewarded. What mattered it to her that he was poor and sick? He had all the more need of her. "It's a long ride, miss," said Jones as he closed the carriage-door. "I hope you won't be tired before we get there." "I shall not mind it," said Florence. "How far is it?" "I don't rightly know. It's a matter of ten miles, I'm thinkin'." "Very well." Jones resumed his seat, and Florence gave herself up to pleasant thoughts. She felt thankful that she was blessed with abundant means, since it would enable her to spare no expense in providing for the sick man. Others might call him a fortune-hunter, but that produced no impression upon her, except to make her angry. She had given her whole love and confidence to the man whom her heart had chosen. The carriage rolled onward rapidly: as from time to time she glanced out of the window, she saw that they had left behind the town and were in the open country. She gave herself no concern, however, and did not question Jones, taking it for granted that he was on the right road, and would carry her to the place where Richard Dewey had found a temporary refuge. "It is some poor place, probably," she reflected, "but if he can be moved I will have him brought into town, where he can see a skilful doctor daily." At the end of an hour and a half there was a sudden stop. Florence looked out of the carriage-window, and observed that they were in front of a shabby-looking dwelling of two stories. Jones leaped from his elevated perch and opened the door of the carriage. "This is the place, miss," he said. "Did you get tired?" "No, but I am glad we have arrived." "It's a poor place, miss, but Mr. Dewey was took sick sudden, so I was told, and it was the best they could do." "It doesn't matter. Perhaps he can be moved." "Perhaps so. Will you go in?" "Yes." The door was opened, and a slatternly-looking woman of sinister aspect appeared at the threshold. Florence took no particular notice of her appearance, but asked, hurriedly, "How is he?" "Oh, he'll get along," answered the woman, carelessly. "Will you come in?" "He is not dangerously sick, then?" said Florence, relieved. "He's got a fever, but ain't goin' to die this time." "This is Mrs. Bradshaw, Miss Douglas," said Jones, volunteering an introduction. "I thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw, for your kindness to a sick man and a stranger," said Florence, earnestly. "Can I see him now?" "Yes, miss, if you'll just walk up stairs. I hope you'll excuse the looks of things; I haven't had time to fix up." "Oh, don't mention it." In a tumult of emotion Florence followed her guide up a rough staircase. On the landing Mrs. Bradshaw opened a door and, standing aside, invited Florence to enter. On a sofa, with his back to her, lay the figure of a man covered with a shawl. "Richard!" said the visitor, eagerly. The recumbent figure slowly turned, and revealed to the dismayed Florence, not the face of the man she expected to see, but that of Orton Campbell. "Mr. Campbell!" she ejaculated, in bewilderment. "I see you know me, Miss Douglas," said Orton Campbell, throwing off the shawl and rising from the couch. For the first time it dawned upon Florence that she had walked into a trap. She hurried to the door and strove to open it, but Mrs. Bradshaw had locked it. "What does this mean, Mr. Campbell?" she demanded with spirit, in spite of her terror. "Is this unworthy trick of your devising?" "I am afraid I must confess that it is," said Orton, coolly. "And it was all a falsehood about Richard Dewey's sickness?" "Yes." "And the note?" "I wrote it myself." "Then, sir, you have acted shamefully," said Florence, indignantly. "I am afraid I have," said Orton Campbell, smiling, "but I couldn't help it!" "'Couldn't help it'?" repeated Miss Douglas. "No; you would not receive me, and I had to contrive an interview." "Do you know anything of Richard Dewey?" "No; he is perfectly well, so far as I know, or he may be dead. Pray be seated." "I would rather stand. May I ask what you expect to gain by this base deception?" "Your consent to a marriage with me." "Then it is clear you don't know me, Orton Campbell." "It is quite as clear, Miss Florence Douglas, that you don't know me." "I believe you capable of any atrocity." "Then you do know me. I am capable of anything that will break down your opposition to my suit." "Do you propose to keep me here?" "Yes, until you give me a favorable answer." "That will never be." "Then you will stay here an indefinite period." "Are there no laws in California?" "None that will interfere with me. The people who live here are devoted to my interests, as you will find. I don't wish to hurry you in your decision, and will therefore leave you for the present. Your meals will be sent you at regular times, and I will call again to-morrow." He drew a key from his pocket, opened the door, and left the room, locking the door behind him. Florence sank into a chair, almost in despair. _ |
||