Horatio Alger - Making His Mark

Gerald Lane rose from the breakfast table and was about to leave the room, when his stepmother addressed him:

"Stop a minute, Gerald, I have something to say to you."

Mrs. Lane was a thin woman, rather above the usual height, with a prominent nose and thin lips. It was easy to see that she was not Gerald's mother. He was a strong, well-made boy, with red cheeks and a pleasant face, but his expression at this moment was grave and sad.

He paused and looked inquiringly at his stepmother.

"Sit down," she said, "I have considerable to say to you."

Gerald drew a chair from the table and seated himself.

"Your father's sad death," began Mrs. Lane, "will, of course, make a difference in the family arrangements."

"It makes a great difference to me," said Gerald, bitterly. "I am disinherited and I have no prospects."

"Ahem! I hope you don't reproach your father so soon after his death. It is unbecoming to say the least."

"I don't reproach him, but I can't understand why he should leave all his property to you, and nothing to me."

"That statement is misleading."

"Isn't it true?"

"Yes, he has shown his confidence in me sufficiently to leave the property in my hands, but he commends you to my care. Therefore, you cannot be said to be disinherited."

"I am left dependent upon you," said Gerald, with a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

"So you were dependent upon him."

"That was different. He was my father."

"And I am your mother."

"My stepmother."

"At any rate, I was your father's wife, and I am ready to do my duty by you. I have been carefully considering what was my duty, and I have asked you to stop after breakfast in order to talk over my plans for you."

"I am listening."

"I think I shall withdraw you from the academy, as under present circumstances it would be impossible to send you to college, and you already have a good education."

"Why impossible?"

"It would be very expensive."

"My father intended to send me to college."

"That may be, but he was earning an income apart from his property, and I am not."

"What is your plan for me, then?"

"I think it will be well for you to go to work at once."

"Mrs. Lane, will you allow me to say a word?"

"Go on," she said coldly.

"I have reason to think that my father left a good deal of property. I have heard it estimated at fifty thousand dollars."

"Property is almost always very much over-estimated."

"Call it thirty thousand, then. If I go to Bowdoin, my father's college, I will get through for fifteen hundred dollars, probably."

"That's a good deal of money."

"Not when spread over four years. I shall be ready to enter next fall."

"In the four years you were at college you might work up to a good income."

"Perhaps so. If I were a poor boy, that would be a consideration."

"It is a consideration now."

"Then you have made up your mind to deny me the education my father intended me to enjoy. Will you tell me what plans you have formed for me?"

"I don't like your tone, Gerald; you are too independent and are scarcely respectful. However, I will answer your question. Mr. Tubbs, the grocer, needs a boy to tend in his store and to help keep his books. You have studied book-keeping, I believe?"

"Yes," answered Gerald, eying his stepmother, intently.

"He will take you and pay you three dollars a week. You can stay at home, and I will allow you half your salary, but I shall expect you to buy your own clothing."

"Out of a dollar and a half a week?"

"Yes; I look upon that as a very fair income. One dollar a week will suffice for your clothes, and you will have fifty cents for spending money."

Gerald's face flushed. At this rate he would derive very slight advantage from the handsome property his father left behind him.

"Do you think, Mrs. Lane," he said, "that in making this arrangement you are carrying out my father's wishes?"

"Probably I am as well qualified to judge on that point as you," said Mrs. Lane, stiffly.

"When do you wish me to leave school?" asked Gerald, after a pause.

"Mr. Tubbs wishes you to begin work a week from next Monday. You can go to school another week, if you wish."

"I shall not care to do so. I shall want a week to think over the change in my life."

"Just as you please."

"Have you anything more to say to me?" asked Gerald rising.

"Yes."

To Gerald's surprise his stepmother's manner changed, and she seemed nervous and no longer cool and self-possessed.

"Very well."

"I am about to tell you something that may surprise you, though it was, of course, known to your father."

Gerald's curiosity was excited. It must be something of importance, or Mrs. Lane's self-possession would not be disturbed.

"Probably you are aware that when I married your father I was a widow."

"I have heard so."

"But you did not know that I have a son about your own age?"

"No, I didn't know that," returned Gerald, his face showing his amazement. "Why have I never seen the boy? Why did you not bring him here?" he asked.

"Your father thought it was not best. He thought you and Abel might not agree."

"Am I so difficult to get along with, then?"

"Ahem! You are very independent and self-opinioned."

"And Abel?"

"He has quite a proper pride. You would probably have made him feel that he was in an inferior position, and then there would have been trouble."

"Still I don't see why his existence should have been concealed from me?"

"Your father thought it best."

Gerald eyed his stepmother thoughtfully. Was this true—this statement of hers? Not about the boy's existence—he had no doubt of that—but as to his father's being in the plot to keep it secret.

"Where, then, is Abel, since he has never been here?" he asked.

"He has been at a boarding-school, fifty miles away, in the town of Fulton. I am expecting him here to-night."

"So the secret is out!" thought Gerald. "But is there not the same objection as before?" he asked. "Perhaps we may not agree."

"The circumstances are changed. He will no longer be in an inferior position."

"I don't understand."

"As my son, he will take precedence of you," said Mrs. Lane, with a triumphant smile.

"But the money belonged to my father."

"It belongs to me, now," said his stepmother, sharply.

Gerald was thunderstruck. It was not enough that his stepmother should appropriate the property which he felt ought properly to be his, but this unknown boy whom he had not yet seen, and of whose existence he thought it not improbable that his father had been ignorant, was to be invested with a right superior to his own. He remained silent for a moment. Then he said:

"I hope Abel and I will be friends."

"It will be wise for you to treat him well," said his stepmother.

"When do you expect him here?"

"Some time this afternoon."

"Have you any more to say to me?"

"Not at present."

Gerald rose slowly and left the house. He felt crushed and humiliated. He felt that his stepmother had the upper hand. He remembered well the day, only two years before, when Mrs. Ruth Tyler entered their home as his father's wife. She had come to Portville and opened a milliner's shop on a very small scale. She attended the same church as his father, and in a short time managed to make his acquaintance. She consulted him on business matters, and exerted herself to please him. Finally, marriage followed. During his father's life Gerald had no fault to find with her treatment of him, but since the funeral she had thrown off the mask. Gerald could only think of her as one who had defrauded him of his rightful inheritance.