Had he made known to her the contemplated robbery, or his own narrow escape from assault, she would have become nervous and alarmed.
Ben did not tell her about the affray with Rutherford Richmond and his companion, for it would only have distressed her without accomplishing any good.
He saw that his terrible adventure the preceding winter, on the wrecked bridge, had shocked her more than many supposed, and more than she suspected herself. The consequences became apparent months afterward, and caused Ben to do his utmost to keep everything of a disquieting nature from his beloved mother.
On the morrow Ben told me the whole particulars of his adventures on the way home, and asked me what I made of it.
“I give it up,” I answered. “It’s beyond my comprehension.”
“Do I look like a wealthy youth?” he asked, with a laugh.
“It is not that; they have some other purpose.”
“Do they imagine I carry the combination to some safe in the city, and do they mean to force it from me?”
“Nothing of that sort, as you very well know. It looks as if they really meditated doing you harm.”
“There is no room for doubt; and it was a lucky thing, after all, that the night was so dark, and the city don’t furnish many lamps in that part of the town. Do you think I ought to tell the mayor or some officer about this?”