A little retrospect
It will be remembered that a merchant
in Albany, Mr. John Campbell, was the guardian of
Miss Florence Douglas, whom our hero, Ben, had escorted
from New York to San Francisco.
The disappearance of his ward was
exceedingly annoying, since it interfered with plans
which he had very much at heart. He had an only
son, Orton Campbell, now a young man of twenty-eight.
He was young in years only, being a stiff, grave,
wooden-faced man, who in his starched manners was
a close copy of his father. Both father and son
were excessively fond of money, and the large amount
of the fortune of the young lady, who stood to the
father in the relation of ward, had excited the covetousness
of both. It was almost immediately arranged between
father and son that she should marry the latter, either
of her own free will or upon compulsion.
In pursuance of this agreement, Mr.
Orton Campbell took advantage of the ward’s
residence in his father’s family to press upon
her attentions which clearly indicated his ultimate
object.
Florence Douglas felt at first rather
constrained to receive her guardian’s son with
politeness, and this, being misinterpreted, led to
an avowal of love.
Orton Campbell made his proposal in
a confident, matter-of-fact manner, as if it were
merely a matter of form, and the answer must necessarily
be favorable.
The young lady drew back in dignified
surprise, hastily withdrawing the hand which he had
seized. “I cannot understand, Mr. Campbell,”
she said, “what can have induced you to address
me in this manner.”
“I don’t know why you
should be surprised, Miss Douglas,” returned
Orton Campbell, offended.
“I have never given you any
reason to suppose that I regarded you with favor.”
“You have always seemed glad
to see me, but perhaps that was only coquetry,”
said Orton, in a disagreeable manner.
“I certainly have never treated
you with more than ordinary politeness, except, indeed,
as my residence in your father’s house has necessarily
brought us nearer together.”
“I don’t think, Miss Douglas,
you would find me a bad match,” said the young
man, condescending to drop his sneering tone and plead
his cause. “I am already worth a good sum
of money. I am my father’s partner, and
I shall become richer every year.”
“It is not a matter of money
with me, Mr. Campbell. When I marry, that will
be a minor consideration.”
“Of course, because you have a fortune of your
own.”
“Yes,” said Florence,
regarding him significantly, for she suspected that
it was rather her fortune than herself that he desired,
being no stranger to his love of money.
Perhaps he understood her, for he
continued: “Of course I don’t care
for that, you know. I should offer myself to you
if you had nothing.”
This Florence Douglas thoroughly disbelieved.
She answered coldly, “I thank you for the compliment
you pay me, but I beg you to drop the subject.”
“I will wait.”
“You will wait in vain.
I will look upon you as a friend if you desire it,
but there can be nothing more than friendship between
us.”
Orton Campbell was very much chagrined,
and reported the result of his suit to his father.
“I will speak to her myself,”
said the father. “As her guardian I ought
to have some influence with her.”
He soon ascertained, however, that
Florence Douglas had a will of her own.
After a time he dropped persuasion
and had recourse to threats. “Miss Douglas,”
he said, “I shall have to remind you that I am
your guardian.”
“I am quite aware of that fact, sir.”
“And I shall remain in that
position till you have completed your twenty-fifth
year.”
“That is quite true, sir.”
“If you take any imprudent steps
I shall think it necessary to interfere.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“I shall not allow you to fall a prey to any
designing fortune-hunter.”
“You need not fear, sir: I am in no danger.”
“I am of a different opinion.
I am quite aware that Richard Dewey has been seeking
to ingratiate himself with you.”
“Then,” said his ward
with dignity, “I have no hesitation in informing
you that he has succeeded.”
“Ha! I thought so. That is why you
rejected my son.”
“Excuse me, sir: you are
quite mistaken. I should refuse your son if there
were no other man in the world likely to marry me.”
“And what is the matter with
my son, Miss Douglas?” demanded her guardian,
stiffly.
Florence might have answered that
he was too much like his father, but she did not care
to anger her guardian unnecessarily, and she simply
answered, “It would be quite impossible for me
to regard him as I wish to regard the man whom I hope
to marry.”
“But you could regard Richard
Dewey in that way,” sneered Campbell. “Well,
Miss Douglas, I may as well tell you that he asked
my permission yesterday to address you, and I ordered
him out of my presence. Moreover, I have charged
the servants not to admit him into the house.”
“So you have insulted him, Mr.
Campbell?” said his ward, her eyes flashing
with resentment.
“It was the treatment which
he deserved as an unscrupulous fortune-hunter.”
“That word will better apply
to your son,” said the young lady, coldly.
“I shall not remain here to have Mr. Dewey insulted.”
“You will repent this, Miss
Douglas,” said her guardian, with an ugly frown.
“Mark my words: I will keep you and Dewey
apart. I have the power, and I will exert it.”
Two weeks later Richard Dewey sailed
for California in search of fortune, and five months
later Miss Douglas, fearing that her guardian might
imprison her in a mad-house, escaped from his residence,
and, aided by Ben, also managed to reach California.
For a time Mr. Campbell was entirely ignorant of her
place of refuge. The next chapter will show how
he discovered it.