XXII.
MR. BENTON'S ADVENTURE.
One evening, about a fortnight after his entrance into Smith &Thompson's employment, Paul was putting up the shutters, the businessof the day being over. It devolved upon him to open and close the store,and usually he was the last one to go home.
This evening, however, Mr. Nicholas Benton graciously remained behindand assisted Paul in closing the store. This was unusual, and surprisedPaul a little. It was soon explained, however.
"Good-night, Nicholas,--I mean, Mr. Benton," said Paul.
"Not quite yet. I want you to walk a little way with me this evening."
Paul hesitated.
"Come, no backing out. I want to confide to you a very importantsecret."
He looked so mysterious that Paul's curiosity was aroused, andreflecting that it was yet early, he took his companion's proffered arm,and sauntered along by his side.
"What's the secret?" he asked at length, perceiving that Nicholas wassilent.
"Wait till we get to a more retired place."
He turned out of Broadway into a side street, where the passers wereless numerous.
"I don't think you could guess," said the young man, turning towards ourhero.
"I don't think I could."
"And yet," continued Benton, meditatively, "it is possible that you mayhave noticed something in my appearance just a little unusual, withinthe last week. Haven't you, now?"
Paul could not say that he had.
Mr. Benton looked a little disappointed.
"Nobody can tell what has been the state of my feelings," he resumedafter a pause.
"You ain't sick?" questioned Paul, hastily.
"Nothing of the sort, only my appetite has been a good deal affected.I don't think I have eaten as much in a week as you would in a day," headded, complacently.
"If I felt that way I should think I was going to be sick," said Paul.
"I'll let you into the secret," said Mr. Benton, lowering his voice, andlooking carefully about him, to make sure that no one was within hearingdistance--"I'M IN LOVE."
This seemed so utterly ludicrous to Paul, that he came very near losingMr. Benton's friendship forever by bursting into a hearty laugh.
"I didn't think of that," he said.
"It's taken away my appetite, and I haven't been able to sleep nights,"continued Mr. Benton, in a cheerful tone. "I feel just as HowardCourtenay did in the great story that's coming out in the Weekly Budget.You've read it, haven't you?"
"I don't think I have," said Paul.
"Then you ought to. It's tiptop. It's rather curious too that the ladylooks just as Miranda does, in the same story."
"How is that?"
"Wait a minute, and I'll read the description."
Mr. Benton pulled a paper from his pocket,--the last copy of the WeeklyBudget,--and by the light of a street lamp read the following extract tohis amused auditor.
"Miranda was just eighteen. Her form was queenly and majestic. Tall andstately, she moved among her handmaidens with a dignity whichrevealed her superior rank. Her eyes were dark as night. Her luxurianttresses,--there, the rest is torn off," said Mr. Benton, in a tone ofvexation.
"She is tall, then?" said Paul.
"Yes, just like Miranda."
"Then," said our hero, in some hesitation, "I should think she would notbe very well suited to you."
"Why not?" asked Mr. Benton, quickly.
"Because," said Paul, "you're rather short, you know."
"I'm about the medium height," said Mr. Benton, raising himself upon histoes as he spoke.
"Not quite," said Paul, trying not to laugh.
"I'm as tall as Mr. Smith," resumed Mr. Benton, in a tone which warnedPaul that this was a forbidden subject. "But you don't ask me who sheis."
"I didn't know as you would be willing to tell."
"I shan't tell any one but you. It's Miss Hawkins,--firm of Hawkins &Brewer. That is, her father belongs to the firm, not she. And Paul,"here he clutched our hero's arm convulsively, "I've made a declarationof my love, and--and----"
"Well?"
"She has answered my letter."
"Has she?" asked Paul with some curiosity, "What did she say?"
"She has written me to be under her window this evening."
"Why under her window? why didn't she write you to call?"
"Probably she will, but it's more romantic to say, 'be under mywindow.'"
"Well, perhaps it is; only you know I don't know much about suchthings."
"Of course not, Paul," said Mr. Benton; "you're only a boy, you know."
"Are you going to be under her window, Nich,--I mean Mr. Benton?"
"Of course. Do you think I would miss the appointment? No earthly powercould prevent my doing it."
"Then I had better leave you," said Paul, making a movement to go.
"No, I want you to accompany me as far as the door. I feel--a littleagitated. I suppose everybody does when they are in love," added Mr.Benton, complacently.
"Well," said Paul, "I will see you to the door, but I can't stay, forthey will wonder at home what has become of me."
"All right."
"Are we anywhere near the house?"
"Yes, it's only in the next street," said Mr. Benton, "O, Paul, how myheart beats! You can't imagine how I feel!"
Mr. Benton gasped for breath, and looked as if he had swallowed a fishbone, which he had some difficulty in getting down.
"You'll know how to understand my feelings sometime, Paul," said Mr.Benton; "when your time comes, I will remember your service of to-night,and I will stand by you."
Paul inwardly hoped that he should never fall in love, if it was likelyto affect him in the same way as his companion, but he thought it bestnot to say so.
By this time they had come in sight of a three-story brick house, withBenjamin Hawkins on the door-plate.
"That's the house," said Mr. Benton, in an agitated whisper.
"Is it?"
"Yes, and that window on the left-hand side is the window of herchamber."
"How do you know?"
"She told me in the letter."
"And where are you to stand?"
"Just underneath, as the clock strikes nine. It must be about the time."
At that moment the city clock struck nine.
Mr. Benton left Paul, and crossing the street, took up his positionbeneath the window of his charmer, beginning to sing, in a thin, pipingvoice, as preconcerted between them--
"Ever of thee, I'm fo-o-ondly dreaming."
The song was destined never to be finished.
From his post in a doorway opposite, Paul saw the window softly open. Hecould distinguish a tall female figure, doubtless Miss Hawkins herself.She held in her hand a pitcher of water, which she emptied withwell-directed aim full upon the small person of her luckless admirer.
The falling column struck upon his beaver, thence spreading on allsides. His carefully starched collar became instantly as limp as a rag,while his coat suffered severely from the shower.
His tuneful accents died away in dismay.
"Ow!" he exclaimed, jumping at least a yard, and involuntarily shakinghimself like a dog, "who did that?"
There was no answer save a low, musical laugh from the window above,which was involuntarily echoed by Paul.
"What do you mean by laughing at me?" demanded Mr. Benton, smarting withmortification, as he strode across the street, trying to dry his hatwith the help of his handkerchief, "Is this what you call friendship?"
"Excuse me," gasped Paul, "but I really couldn't help it."
"I don't see anything to laugh at," continued Mr. Benton, in a resentfultone; "because I have been subjected to unmanly persecution, you mustlaugh at me, instead of extending to me the sympathy of a friend."
"I suppose you won't think of her any more," said Paul, recoveringhimself.
"Think of her!" exclaimed Mr. Benton, "would you have me tear her frommy heart, because her mercena
ry parent chooses to frown upon our love,and follow me with base persecution."
"Her parent!"
"Yes, it was he who threw the water upon me. But it shall not avail,"the young man continued, folding his arms, and speaking in a tone ofresolution, "bolts and bars shall not keep two loving hearts asunder."
"But it wasn't her father," urged Paul, perceiving that Mr. Benton wasunder a mistake.
"Who was it, then?"
"It was the young lady herself."
"Who threw the water upon me? It is a base slander."
"But I saw her."
"Saw who?"
"A tall young lady with black hair."
"And was it she who threw the water?" asked Mr. Benton, aghast at thisunexpected revelation.
"Yes."
"Then she did it at the command of her proud parent."
Paul did not dispute this, since it seemed to comfort Mr. Benton. It isdoubtful, however, whether the young man believed it himself, since hestraightway fell into a fit of gloomy abstraction, and made no responsewhen Paul bade him "good-night."
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