Ben Pepper Part 60

Mr. King, having nothing to say, picked up a paper-cutter on his writing-table and played with it, not looking at her.

"I'll tell you the whole story, then you'll see how I've got the notion in my head," she said explosively at last. "A notion that has turned to absolute truth, as I hope and pray!" Her thin face was white and drawn.

"I shall be very glad to hear whatever you may choose to tell me," said the old gentleman, turning courteously to her, "and then if I can be of any service, Madam Van Ruypen, you may command me."

She nodded her stately head. "You knew Emily?" she asked abruptly, her sharp eyes full on his face.

"Emily?" He searched his mind diligently, but no Emily, who naturally connected herself with the lady before him, appeared. "I am afraid not,"

he reluctantly admitted.

"You cannot have forgotten my daughter," cried Madam Van Ruypen, "though to be sure she was quite a child when we took her abroad to live."

"Oh, your daughter!" cried Mr. King; "indeed, I remember her quite well, though, as you say, she was a mere child when you deserted your own country to educate her abroad. But she was not Emily in those days," he rubbed his forehead in a puzzled way; "unless my memory plays me a trick, she was Helena."

"Helena she was," a.s.sented the old lady, undisturbed. "I remember now, it was afterward we began to call her Emily,--quite for a family reason.

Well, that is neither here nor there. Now I won't go into details; enough to say that Emily, despite all her advantages, disappointed us utterly. Perhaps you remember hearing about that. Echoes, if no more, and plenty of them, reached my old home here," she added bitterly.

Mr. King bowed silently.

"You don't know that Emily married against her father's and my will; that she refused our help, and went off with her husband to share his lot. Oh, she was a proud one!" Madam Van Ruypen crushed her gloves together so tightly that the long hands within must have suffered. There was a pause, and Mr. King turned off to play with the paper-cutter again.

"And despite all our efforts, and, after Mr. Van Ruypen died, my individual attempts, we never could get any communication with her or her husband. Mr. King, I never blamed her; it was the influence of the man she married." She faced him now with blazing eyes and head erect.

Mr. King laid down the paper-cutter and turned back sympathetically; albeit several friends in the old town had kept alive for Emily Hastings's memory much commendation that she did not yield to her parents' choice of the superannuated wealthy foreigner they had selected as a husband for her.

"And he never let me know when the end was coming;" her voice did not break--she was to keep herself in hand until through. "Word was sent only after she had gone from this earth. Mr. King, who is that Pip you have with you?"

The transition was so sudden that the old gentleman started nearly out of his chair, stared at her, and gasped, "Pip--my dear Madam--"

"Tell me." He could see she was suffering now. The little beads of moisture ran down below the white puffs, and her eyes were fairly hungry for the reply.

"Pip--why, Pip--" stammered Mr. King.

"Tell me," she commanded peremptorily, "his name."

"It's--let me see, we have called him Pip constantly--" he groped for the rest of the recital Jasper had given him one day concerning the lad so thrown upon their sympathy. "I shall think of it presently,--or I can ask Jasper, or Ben," starting out of his chair.

"Stay," she laid a detaining hand upon his arm; "where did he live?"

"I recall that--South America," replied the old gentleman, promptly.

A spasm pa.s.sed over her face.

"His--his father is dead?" It was almost a whisper in which these words came.

"Yes," said Mr. King, decidedly, "that is the reason that the poor little lad is under Dr. Presbrey's care."

The first gleam of comfort swept over the long, white face. "But the name,--you cannot think of it?" she begged piteously.

"Let me see,"--the old gentleman drummed on the writing-table, rubbing his white hair with an absorbed hand,--"Lef--Lef? Yes, I am quite sure, Leffingwell is Pip's name. Why, my dear Madam!"--he started and put out a strong hand to catch her as she swayed in her chair,--"what is it?

What can be the matter?"

She recovered herself immediately and sat erect. "I am convinced that he is Emily's child."

"Impossible!" Old Mr. King started back and held up both hands incredulously.

She twitched her black bonnet strings apart with a hasty hand, as if finding it difficult to breathe.

"So I thought at first, and I have battled the idea as absurd. But it has conquered me to-day to come here and ask you about his history. And now I _know_ he is Emily's child."

"I did not hear that she had a son," said old Mr. King, as something seemed to be required of him.

"I did not know it until after his mother died," said Madam Van Ruypen, her voice breaking, "then chance report brought me the news. But I could never get in touch with his father, though I tried many a time.

Cornelius Leffingwell was--"

"Cornelius?" broke in Mr. King.

"The name of Emily's husband," said the old lady.

"That is Pip's name, too," said the old gentleman.

XXVIII

BEN DECIDES THE MATTER FOR HIMSELF

Ben walked back and forth, his hands thrust deeply in his pockets. "It's no use, Mamsie," he came now and stood straight before her, his blue eyes fastened steadily upon her face; "I've just _got_ to do it."

"There is no need for you to say that, Ben." Mrs. Fisher's tone was quiet, but the blood was leaping in her veins. "You're my oldest child,"

then her voice broke.

"And that's the reason." Ben threw his head back and took his hands out of his pockets to clench them together hard. "It would be mean as--mean as anything to let Grandpapa do anything more for me, and--"

"There's where you are wrong, Ben," cried his mother, eagerly, and guilty of interrupting, "it is Mr. King's dearest wish to provide an education for you children; you can pay him back afterward. I have accepted for the others; why not for you?"

"Because,--look at Polly. Oh, mother, think what Polly can do with her music!" His whole face was working now, and his eyes shone.

"I know it," cried Mrs. Fisher, proudly. "Polly will be able to pay him back, there is no doubt about that."

"But I'm different," added Ben, quickly, "such a dull, plodding fellow.

Oh, Mamsie, what would a college education amount to for me? I'm best to buckle right down to business."

"Ben, Ben!" Mother Fisher's tone was quite reproachful now, and she seized his hand and covered it with her two strong ones. "Any one can accomplish what he sets out to. You can amount to whatever you put your mind on; and you deserve a college education if ever a boy did." She broke down now and was sobbing on his shoulder.

Ben didn't say anything, this being quite beyond him, to see his mother cry. But he patted the smooth black hair with an unsteady hand.