But Miss Carrie's voice, rising in mingled shame and appeal, stopped me.
"Don't go," said she; "not at least until you tell me where my brother
Joseph is. Is he in this town, or has he planned this deception from a
distance? I--I am an orphan, sir, who at one blow has lost not only a
dearly beloved father but, as I fear, a brother too, in whom, up to this
hour, I have had every confidence. Tell me, then, if any support is left
for a most unhappy girl, or whether I must give up all hopes of even my
brother Joe's sympathy and protection."
"Your brother Joe," I replied, "has had nothing to do with my appearance
here. He and I are perfect strangers; but if he is a tall,
broad-shouldered, young man, shaped something like myself, but with a
ruddy cheek and light curling hair, I can tell you I saw such a person
enter the shrubbery at the southwest corner of the garden an hour or so
ago."
"No, he is here!" came in startling accents over my shoulders. And with
a quick leap Joe Benson sprang by me and stood handsome, tall, and
commanding in the centre of the room. "Hartley! Carrie! Edith! what is
this I hear? My father stricken down, my father dying or dead, and I
left to wander up and down through the shrubbery, while you knelt at his
bedside and received his parting blessing? Is this the recompense you
promised me, Hartley? this your sisterly devotion, Carrie? this your
love and attention to my interests, Edith?"
"O Joe, dear Joe, do not blame us!" Carrie made haste to reply. "We
thought you were here. A man _was_ here, that man behind you, simulating
you in every regard, and to him we gave the domino, and from him we have
learned----"
"What?" sprang in thundering tones from the young giant's throat as he
wheeled on his heel and confronted me.
"That your brother Hartley is a villain," I declared, looking him
steadily in the eye.
"God!" was his only exclamation as he turned slowly back and glanced
toward his trembling brother.
"Sir," said I, taking a step toward Uncle Joe, who, between his
eagerness to embrace the new-comer and his dread of the consequences of
this unexpected meeting, stood oscillating from one side to the other in
a manner ridiculous enough to see, "what do you think of the propriety
of uttering aloud and here, the suspicions which you were good enough to
whisper into my ears an hour ago? Do you see any reason for altering
your opinion as to which of the two sons of Mr. Benson invaded his desk
and appropriated the bonds afterward found in their common apartment,
when you survey the downfallen crest of the one and compare it with the
unfaltering look of the other?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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