Horatio Alger - Adrift in New York - Tom and Florence Braving the World

“I didn’t see any one.”

“What were you talking about?”

“She said the old man wanted her to marry you, and she didn’t want to.”

“She told you that?” exclaimed Curtis, in displeasure.

“Yes, she did. She said she’d rather marry the dude that was here early this evenin’.”

“Mr. de Brabazon!”

“Yes, that’s the name.”

“Upon my word, she was very confidential. You are a queer person for her to select as a confidant.”

“Maybe so, sir; but she knows I’m her friend.”

“You like the young lady, then? Perhaps you would like to marry her yourself?”

“As if she’d take any notice of a poor boy like me. I told her if her uncle sent her away, I’d take care of her and be a brother to her.”

“How would Mr. Tim Bolton—that’s his name, isn’t it?—like that?”

“I wouldn’t take her to where he lives.”

“I think, myself, it would hardly be a suitable home for a young lady brought up on Madison Avenue. There is certainly no accounting for tastes. Miss Florence–”

“That’s her name, is it?”

“Yes; didn’t she tell you?”

“No; but it’s a nice name.”

“She declines my hand, and accepts your protection. It will certainly be a proud distinction to become Mrs. Dodger.”

“Don’t laugh at her!” said Dodger, suspiciously.

“I don’t propose to. But I think we may as well return to the library.”

“Well,” said Mr. Linden, as his nephew returned with Dodger.

“I have examined the boy, and found nothing on his person,” said Curtis; “I confess I am puzzled. He appears to have a high admiration for Florence–”

“As I supposed.”

“She has even confided to him her dislike for me, and he has offered her his protection.”

“Is this so, miss?” demanded Mr. Linden, sternly.

“Yes, uncle,” faltered Florence.

“Then you can join the young person you have selected whenever you please. For your sake I will not have him arrested for attempted burglary. He is welcome to what he has taken, since he is likely to marry into the family. You may stay here to-night, and he can call for you in the morning.”

John Linden closed the secretary, and left the room, leaving Florence sobbing. The servants, too, retired, and Curtis was left alone with her.

“Florence,” he said, “accept my hand, and I will reconcile my uncle to you. Say but the word, and–”

“I can never speak it, Curtis! I will take my uncle at his word. Dodger, call for me to-morrow at eight, and I will accept your friendly services in finding me a new home.”

“I’ll be on hand, miss. Good-night!”

“Be it so, obstinate girl!” said Curtis, angrily. “The time will come when you will bitterly repent your mad decision.”

Florence passed a sleepless night. It had come upon her so suddenly, this expulsion from the home of her childhood, that she could not fully realize it. She could not feel that she was taking her last look at the familiar room, and well-remembered dining-room, where she had sat down for the last time for breakfast. She was alone at the breakfast table, for the usual hour was half-past eight, and she had appointed Dodger to call for her at eight.

“Is it true, Miss Florence, that you’re going away?” asked Jane, the warm-hearted table girl, as she waited upon Florence.

“Yes, Jane,” answered Florence, sadly.

“It’s a shame, so it is! I didn’t think your uncle would be so hard-hearted.”

“He is disappointed because I won’t marry my Cousin Curtis.”

“I don’t blame you for it, miss. I never liked Mr. Waring. He isn’t half good enough for you.”

“I say nothing about that, Jane; but I will not marry a man I do not love.”

“Nor would I, miss. Where are you going, if I may make so bold?”

“I don’t know, Jane,” said Florence, despondently.

“But you can’t walk about the streets.”

“A trusty friend is going to call for me at eight o’clock; when he comes admit him.”

“It is a—a young gentleman?”

“You wouldn’t call him such. He is a boy, a poor boy; but I think he is a true friend. He says he will find me a comfortable room somewhere, where I can settle down and look for work.”

“Are you going to work for a living, Miss Florence?” asked Jane, horrified.

“I must, Jane.”

“It’s a great shame—you, a lady born.”

“No, Jane, I do not look upon it in that light. I shall be happier for having my mind and my hands occupied.”

“What work will you do?”

“I don’t know yet. Dodger will advise me.”

“Who, miss?”

“Dodger.”

“Who is he?”

“It’s the boy I spoke of.”

“Shure, he’s got a quare name.”

“Yes; but names don’t count for much. It’s the heart I think of, and this boy has a kind heart.”

“Have you known him long?”

“I saw him yesterday for the first time.”

“Is it the young fellow who was here last night?”

“Yes.”

“He isn’t fit company for the likes of you, Miss Florence.”

“You forget, Jane, that I am no longer a rich young lady. I am poorer than even you. This Dodger is kind, and I feel that I can trust him.”

“If you are poor, Miss Florence,” said Jane, hesitatingly, “would you mind borrowing some money of me? I’ve got ten dollars upstairs in my trunk, and I don’t need it at all. It’s proud I’ll be to lend it to you.”

“Thank you, Jane,” said Florence, gratefully. “I thought I had but one friend. I find I have two–”

“Then you’ll take the money? I’ll go right up and get it.”

“No, Jane; not at present. I have twenty dollars in my purse, and it will last me till I can earn more.”

“But, miss, twenty dollars will soon go,” said Jane, disappointed.

“If I find that I need the sum you so kindly offer me, I will let you know, I promise that.”

“Thank you, miss.”

At this point a bell rang from above.

“It’s from Mr. Curtis’ room,” said Jane.

“Go and see what he wants.”

Jane returned in a brief time with a note in her hand.

“Mr. Curtis asked me if you were still here,” she explained, “and when I told him you were he asked me to give you this.”

Florence took the note, and, opening it, read these lines:

“Florence: Now that you have had time to think over your plan of leaving your old home, I hope you have come to see how foolish it is. Reflect that, if carried out, a life of poverty and squalid wretchedness amid homely and uncongenial surroundings awaits you; while, as my wife, you will live a life of luxury and high social position. There are many young ladies who would be glad to accept the chance which you so recklessly reject. By accepting my hand you will gratify our excellent uncle, and make me the happiest of mortals. You will acquit me of mercenary motives, since you are now penniless, and your disobedience leaves me sole heir to Uncle John. I love you, and it will be my chief object, if you will permit it, to make you happy.

Florence ran her eyes rapidly over this note, but her heart did not respond, and her resolution was not shaken.

“Tell Mr. Waring there is no answer, Jane, if he inquires,” she said.

“Was he tryin’ to wheedle you into marryin’ him?” asked Jane.

“He wished me to change my decision.”

“I’m glad you’ve given him the bounce,” said Jane, whose expressions were not always refined. “I wouldn’t marry him myself.”

Florence smiled. Jane was red haired, and her nose was what is euphemistically called retroussé . Even in her own circles she was not regarded as beautiful, and was hardly likely to lead a rich man to overlook her humble station, and sue for her hand.