SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITYCHAPTER I.
SHADOWS OF A GREAT CITY
Three children were hopping among the daisies in a beautiful grove near a stone mansion covered with ivy. Their happy shouts and merry laughter filled the air until the birds in the branches twittered back from very happiness.
Two boys and one little girl made up the number, and the girl was clapping her hands wildly, watching the boys as they wrestled in the grass.
The larger of them brought the other down upon his face and made him admit that the match was over.
“I had you foul when I wound my leg aboutyours,” explained he. “You cannot expect to down a big fellow like me,” and the boy straightened himself with a chuckle.
The girl ceased her laughing and came forward.
“Well, I don’t care, George Benson; Tom’s as good as you are any day. That’s what he is.”
“Nobody said he wasn’t,” contemptuously replied the lad, “but he can’t fight.”
Tom was watching George out of the corner of his eye, trying to determine whether it would be well to go at it again, when the girl spoke:
“Never you mind, Tommy; you come with me, and I’ll ask papa for twenty-five cents, and then we will go to the candy store.”
The boy addressed as George Benson followed Tom and the girl.
“You needn’t be a tight-wad,” exclaimed he; “stingy, stingy, stingy.”
“She ain’t stingy, George,” snapped Tom, “and if you say she is stingy again, I’ll knuckle your pate.”
“Stingy cat Annie, stingy cat Annie,” shoutedGeorge loudly. “There now, here’s my head, you knuckle it if you dare!”
With a bound Tom was up on the back of George and was rubbing the curly head with a vengeance. Back and forth they tottered upon the lawn until the girl shouted:
“There, that’s enough now, Tom; just you show him that you can lick him. Now, Mr. George, if you’ll be good, you can go to the candy store with us.”
“Don’t want none of your old candy,” sulkily replied the other. “I wouldn’t eat it fer nothing, and I’ll get even with you, Mr. Tom, for knuckling my pate.”
“Come on now and get even,” exclaimed Tom; “you ain’t the only plug in the world.”
But George did not seem anxious to get even, and he sent a stone flying after Annie Benson and Tom Cooper.
“George can be so mean when he wants to be,” sighed the girl.
“So he can. Now, why didn’t he come to thestore after the fight? He had no right to call you stingy.”
“No, for I always give him half of what I have, after he spends his allowance that father gives him.”
They were silent for a few moments, and then the girl continued:
“I sometimes think that George is jealous of you and me, and he ought not to be, for father does as much for him as for any one else, and I am papa’s own child.”
“Of course you are, Annie, while I am only a little boy Mr. Benson was so good to. Never mind, when I get big I’m going to marry you.”
“Oh, you can’t, Tom,” replied Annie, “for I am four years older than you are. You would not want to have your wife boss you, would you, Tom, and I would have to if I was older than you.”
“Oh, not always. I read in a book once,” proceeded Tom earnestly, “about a man and a woman, and she was ten years older than her husband, and they were very happy.”
“Were they, really? I never heard of such athing. I thought the husbands had to be at least twenty years older than the wife.”
“Pshaw, no, and I’m going to have you for my wife.”
Again there was silence. The girl was about twelve, while the boy, although large for his age, was but eight.
“George said he was going to marry me,” said Annie after a while. “He said that my father was very rich and that he being my cousin ought to have the right to look after my money.”
“George ain’t good enough for you, Annie,” hesitated Tom. “If you won’t tell I’ll tell you something.”
“I promise, and cross my heart,” replied Annie.
“I saw Tom take money from your father’s safe.”
“Oh, Tom, you really didn’t?”
“I really did,” answered the boy, hanging his head.
“How could George be so wicked when papa is so good to him. Why, he has had no father ormother for many years. He and I are the same age. My father and his are brothers.”
The girl’s mouth drooped at the corners and her little face worked painfully, for as much as she scolded her big cousin she loved him.
She never had had a brother, and now to find this young lad whom she had taken into her heart like one should be found wanting was hard to bear.
“You are sure, Tommy dear?” asked she plaintively.
“More than sure, for he offered me five dollars and I wouldn’t take it.”
“Good for you, Tom,” replied the girl, “and for that I’ll marry you when you get to be a man. You are a good fellow, Tommy.”
Annie Benson was the only child of her father, her mother having died long ago.
The millionaire had taken under his control his nephew, who had been left an orphan, also another boy called Tom Cooper, the son of an old friend. These three children had grown up together and were like brothers and sister.
There was much love between them, with the exception of George, who hated Tom Cooper and wanted his cousin to himself.
“I’ll get even with him for knuckling my nut,” grumbled the lad as he watched the other two run away. “I suppose he thinks he’s smart because Annie’s going to buy candy. She ain’t the only one; just look at that coin,” and he took out a handful of money and pretended to show it to some one. “’Taint every fellow that can show a hand like that,” and he ran and jumped over a large gatepost, evidently satisfied with himself.
Annie and Tom in the meantime climbed the mansion steps, and the girl ran ahead, shaking her golden curls in the wind.
She rapped lightly upon the library door and stood patiently until she heard a kind voice call out:
“Come in, little one, come in,” and the gentleman put out his arms and the child sprang into them.
“What does father’s baby want now?” asked he lovingly.
“Some money to go to the store for bon-bons with Tommy. I don’t like Cousin George as much as I do Tom and father,” and here the child hesitated. “I have promised to marry Tom.”
This astounding statement caused the man to throw back his head and give a great laugh.
“You needn’t laugh, father,” said the child, wriggling from his arms and pouting a little; “if Tommy and I want to get married, can’t we?”
Again the rich man chuckled, drawing the child closely and looking into her eyes, and then saying solemnly:
“Do you want to leave your father all alone, without any one to love him?”
How many times in the future did the girl remember these words! How many tears had she shed over the remembrance of the loving embrace he had given her when he told her that she could not give away his baby, that she did not belong to herself and was his own sweet child!
Annie Benson leaned confidently against her father’s breast.
“I’m so glad that you want me, father,” sighedshe. “I love you very much indeed, and I’ll tell Tom that I can’t marry him.”
With two coins in her hand and tender kisses upon her lips, the girl scampered out to join the waiting youngster upon the porch.
“Can’t marry you, Tom,” she shouted, “for father says I belong to him and have no right to give myself away.”
“Oh, pshaw, why did you tell him yet? Of course we are too little. Did he laugh?”
“Not only did he laugh,” replied Annie, “but he shouted.”
“Mean of him,” muttered the lad, tears rising in his eyes. “I suppose he thinks because I’m but eight years old that I never will be a man, but, never mind, I’ll show him.”
After that the children got their candy, but neither the boy nor girl seemed to relish it much, and when they reached home Annie’s father was talking with George in the library.
“The master wants to see Master Tom for a few moments,” said the butler.
The little lad tremblingly went to his benefactor.
“You wanted me, sir?” asked he softly.
“Yes. Come here, lad. Would you like to go away to a good school for boys?”
“And leave Annie?” faltered the boy.
“Of course,” replied Benson; “but you don’t always want to be around with girls, do you?”
“Is George going?”
“Yes.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to go,” sobbed Tommy; “but I don’t want to leave Annie.”
“Annie will go to school herself very soon,” said the millionaire, “and then you would be left alone.”
Gloom seemed to settle over the childish hearts in the home as both boys vied with each other for most of Annie’s attention, and Tom won out, for the little girl could not forget that George had taken money from her dear father, and the lad pondered long over his cousin’s changed attitude.
The children all went away to school, the millionaire thinking it best to keep his girl from the two boys, who might captivate her childish heart, but little he thought that his ambitions for her would be dashed to the ground by one wave of the tiny white hand.
For four years the children met only in summer, when the girl went traveling with a chaperone and the boys stayed at home upon the estate. Scarcely ever did they go to New York city to live in the mansion excepting at Christmas, when the family were in the city.
One holiday Annie came home in a different mood than ever before, and her face would color up when spoken to sharply or when surprised.
Her father and the boys noticed the difference, but not one could understand the cause.
She had very little to say to any one, and one afternoon her father called her to his study.
“Little maid,” said he tenderly, “is there anything your father can say to you that will make you any happier than you now are? Even Tommy noticed that you were not your usual self.”
“Tommy is only a child, father,” said the girl impetuously, “and he does not know what it means to think.”
“Neither should you, child,” replied Mr. Benson; “you are but sixteen. What have you in your life to make you so thoughtful, or I might say unhappy?”
“Not unhappy, father, not that,” cried the girl.
“Then, what?”
“Why—why—nothing. I am worried over my studies.”
Mr. Benson sighed. He would have given much to have had his child give him her confidence. Her little heart was completely locked and would not open for his knocking.
“You are positive that you are quite happy?”
“Quite positive.”
“And that you do not want for money?”
“Oh, father dear, all the girls say how generous you are with me.”
“Then there is nothing more I can say, is there?”
He said this pleadingly, because his heart wasfilled with sorrow for his darling. Suddenly she burst into tears, and the curly head dropped upon his arm and the child wept heartily.
After that there was more sympathy between them.
Annie went back to school with a heavy heart. She knew that she was keeping a weighty secret from her father.
With her hands to her face and tears in her eyes, she stepped from the train.
A young man, handsome, clever and spirited-looking came to meet her.
“Why, darling, have you been crying, and why? Did you not know that you were coming to your sweetheart, and that he would care for you?”
“Aye, dear heart, I know,” sobbed the girl, “but I had to lie to my father, and I love him so dearly, Victor.”
“I know that, dearest, but we are going to tell him just as soon as we are married. I cannot wait any longer.”
Oh, Annie Benson, beloved of your father, had you only told your handsome lover that youwould rather wait until your parent had given his consent, how much better your life would have been, but, woman-like, you could not refuse the man you love.
“I wanted to wait,” murmured she softly.
“Then you do not love me,” said the lad sadly; “you could not stay away from me for years if you did care for me.”
“But, Victor, I do love you, indeed I do, but I love father, too.”
“Then you will never be my wife, Annie.”
For a moment the girl stood thinking, and even the angels in heaven wondered if she were going to do what was right.
She simply turned with the love light shining in her eyes, and laid her hand in his.
“My darling, I am yours when you are ready.”
“Then let it be to-day. Do not go back to school, but come with me, and you will never regret it.”
Regret it? Is there ever a sin in the world committed that the sinner does not regret it?
No sooner had the marriage vow been taken, nosooner had Annie Benson promised to love, honor and obey Victor Standish, than she began to regret.
“Oh, Victor, I wish father knew,” said she, “and that I was with Martha at school. The girls will all be expecting me.”
“And you love the girls better than you do me, your own husband?”
“No, no, I love you, Victor, and I will show you what a good wife I can make.”
“And we will write to your father and tell him all about it,” said the lad, “and he will forgive, and maybe I can get something to work at in New York. Would you not like to live with him?”
“Oh, indeed I would. That is all I am worrying about, for my father loves me devotedly, and I would not wound his feelings for the world.”
So a penitent letter, filled with sobbing appeals to forgive her, arrived at the Benson mansion, on Fifth avenue, at the appointed time.
The rich man was sitting alone when the butler brought it. He read it and re-read it, and then sat down to think.
This child, whom he loved better than his life, had without his consent married some no-account.
“Victor, Victor Standish; and who is he, pray?”
Then his anger arose, and this is the letter he wrote in reply:
“My Dear Annie:“To say I was surprised and grieved would not tell my emotion when I read your letter. I have but this to say: When you feel ready to leave this vagabond, and come back to your father, he is ready to receive you. But with him you can never come. I hope I shall hear from you in a sensible way soon. Do not apply to me for money while you are this man’s wife. Until that time comes that you are free from him, I will simply sign myself,“Your Father.”
“My Dear Annie:
“To say I was surprised and grieved would not tell my emotion when I read your letter. I have but this to say: When you feel ready to leave this vagabond, and come back to your father, he is ready to receive you. But with him you can never come. I hope I shall hear from you in a sensible way soon. Do not apply to me for money while you are this man’s wife. Until that time comes that you are free from him, I will simply sign myself,
“Your Father.”