Young Captain Jack | Page 9

John, my dear, we must do something," the mother would say, in
her helpless way. "We cannot live like this forever."
"What shall I do?" would be the son's reply. "The plantation isn't worth
working and I have no money with which to buy another place. The
niggers are getting so they are not worth their keep."
"But you told me yesterday that we had less than a thousand dollars left
in the bank."
"It's true, too."
"What do you propose doing when that is gone?"
"Oh! our credit is still good," was the lofty answer.
"But that won't last forever, St. John."
"Something may turn up."
"Everything seems to prosper at Alice's place," went on Mrs. Mary
Ruthven, referring to the home of Marion and Jack.

"I know that."
"And we are continually running behind. St. John, you ought to get
after the niggers and other help."
"I wasn't cut out for work, mother," was the sour answer.
"But we really must do something," was the half-desperate response.
"I've got an idea in my head, mother. If it works, we'll be all right."
"What is the idea?"
"I think a good deal of Marion. Why shouldn't we marry and join the
two plantations? That would give us both a good living."
"I have thought of such a plan myself, St. John. But there may be an
objection."
"Do you think Marion would refuse me?"
"She might. In some respects Alice's daughter is rather peculiar."
"But I don't see why she should refuse me. Am I not her equal in social
position?"
"What a question! Of course you are. Still she may have her eyes set
upon somebody else."
"I know of nobody. Marion is still young."
"Have you sounded her on the subject?"
"Not yet, but I will soon. She has Jack around so much I never get half
a chance to talk to her."
"Always that boy! When I visited Alice last I declare she talked of that
nobody the whole time,--what a wonderful man she hoped he would
make,--and all that. Just as if he was her own flesh and blood!" and Mrs.

Mary Ruthven tossed her head disdainfully.
"She was foolish to allow that nobody to think himself a Ruthven. But I
have put a spoke into his wheel, I reckon."
"What do you mean? Did you tell Jack the truth?"
"Not exactly. But I gave a pretty broad hint to his intimate friend Darcy
Gilbert, and Darcy, of course, will carry the news straight to Jack."
"Oh, St. John! that may cause trouble. Your aunt wished to keep the
truth from the boy as long as possible. She told me she did not wish to
hurt his feelings."
"He had to learn the truth sooner or later. Besides, I didn't want him to
think himself a Ruthven and the equal of Marion and myself," went on
St. John loftily.
There was a moment of silence and Mrs. Mary Ruthven gave a long
sigh.
"Well, I would not delay speaking to Marion too long," she observed.
"Something must be done, that's sure, and if you wait, Marion and her
mother may find out how hard up we really are, and then Marion may
refuse you on that account."
"I shall see her before long," answered the son.
He had his mind bent on a horseback ride, and was soon in the saddle
and off on a road leading along the shore of the bay. He hoped to find
Marion in the vicinity of the old boathouse, but when he arrived there
nobody was in sight but Old Ben, who was mending one of his fishing
nets.
"Ha, Ben! are you alone?" he said, as he dismounted and came into the
boathouse.
"Yes, Massah St. John, I'm alone unless there's some ghostes hidin'
around yeah!" and the old negro smiled broadly. He understood St.

John's character pretty thoroughly and despised him accordingly.
"I thought Marion might be around here."
"She aint been yeah to-day, sah. She an' Jack was out on de bay in dat
awful storm yesterday and I reckon it was most too much fo' dem."
"Out in that awful storm! It's a wonder the boat didn't upset."
"Da was ober to de wrack when de big blow came."
"Did they stay there?"
"I went ober after 'em an' da come in dis mornin', Massah St. John."
"Humph! I am surprised that my aunt should trust Marion with that
boy."
"Why not, Massah St. John? Jack can manage a boat as well as I can."
St. John tossed his head and flung himself down upon a seat. "I think
my aunt makes a fool of herself about that boy. Who is he, anyway?
He's only an ocean waif; of low birth, very probably."
"Dat he isn't!" said Old