Frank and Fearless | Page 8

risk of being laughed at for having started on a "wild-goose chase" if only his fears could be relieved. But, after all, there was the possibility--nay, the probability, considering what he knew of Miss Thorne--that Thorne's story was all true.
The cars stopped for a brief minute at the depot in Morton, Jasper's destination, and he jumped out. He looked eagerly about him to see if there was anyone of whom he could ask information. To his joy he caught sight of John, a serving-man in his father's employ.
"Halloo, John!" he cried, "give me a hand with my valise!"
"Why, Master Jasper!" returned John, in evident surprise, "I didn't know you were coming home."
"I am not expected," said Jasper. "I came at a moment's notice."
"You're too late for the wedding, Master Jasper."
"For the wedding!" repeated Jasper, his heart sinking at this confirmation of his worst fears.
"Yes; didn't you know of it?"
"I heard something, but not much. Tell me about it. When did it take place?"
"At ten o'clock this morning."
"At the house?"
"No; your father and the governess walked over to the church, and were married private like. There was nobody invited, but we were all surprised that you didn't come to it."
"I knew nothing about it," said Jasper, sadly.
"It was Miss Thorne's doings, then--leastways, I must say Mrs. Kent's, now."
"I know it, John. My father would not have treated me that way. How long has it been going on--the--"
"The courtship? Well, that was all on the side of Miss Thorne, I'm thinkin'. She wheedled your father into marrying her."
"I wish I had been here."
"Poor man! he felt too weak to resist, and he did it only because she teased him. I can take my oath of that."
"It is infamous!" said Jasper. "Have they gone away?"
"No; they ain't goin', I've heard. Your father don't feel able to travel, and the governess--I mean your step-mother--she don't care much. They're at home now."
"Then I will go up. I suppose they will be surprised to see me."
"Yes, they will, but your father'll be glad. He sets the world by you, Master Jasper."
"I believe he does, John," said Jasper. "I wish I could have saved him from this misfortune."
"It's too late now entirely."
"You are right. I don't know but it might be best for me to turn round and go back again to school without going to the house at all; but I must face this thing, and see for myself. If you've got nothing else to do, John, you may carry my valise."
"I'll do it, Master Jasper, directly. You go up to the house, and I'll be there in a jiffy."
So Jasper walked thoughtfully and sadly homeward.
We must precede him.
In a sunny sitting-room on the second-floor sat Jasper Kent's father in a luxurious arm-chair. He was barely fifty, but evidently a chronic invalid. His constitution had been undermined years before by a residence of several years in Central America, where he had acquired a fortune, but paid a costly price therefor in the loss of his health.
For years he had done no business other than to take care of his property, which was amply sufficient to enable him to live luxuriously. Yet he did not find the time hanging heavily upon his hands. Of a studious taste, he had surrounded himself with books and pictures. He received regularly a New York daily paper, and the leading magazines and reviews, and barring his ill-health, and occasional seasons of pain, passed his time in a placid and agreeable manner. Circumstances, perhaps, had fostered a disposition to indolence, and made it more difficult to resist the artful schemes of Miss Thorne, whom he had admitted into the house as governess of his little niece, Florence Grantley, but who had from the first cherished the ambitious design of making herself mistress of the establishment.
It is needless to recapitulate the steps she took in this direction. It is enough to chronicle her ultimate success.
We introduce the newly-married pair, as they sit conversing in the pleasant sitting-room already referred to.
"I think Jasper ought to be at once informed of our marriage," said Mr. Kent.
"There is no need of haste, in my opinion, my dear," said Mrs. Kent.
"Indeed, he ought to have been present at the ceremony. I am afraid the poor boy will feel hurt that I should have left him wholly in the dark."
Mrs. Kent's lip curled. Evidently she had no particular feeling for the "poor boy."
"Lay the whole blame upon me, Mr. Kent," she said. "It was I who advised it, and I am willing to take the responsibility."
"I know you advised it, my dear," said Mr. Kent, to whom this phrase was yet new; "but I could not understand why."
"I will explain, and I think you will consider my explanation a good one. It would have taken Jasper's attention from