“Because I see no reason for your words. I thought all the world of you; the greatest pleasure of my life was to write to you and to receive your letters in return. All at once you stopped writing; I sent you three letters, and you paid no attention——”
“Ben, how dare you! It was you who laughed at my letters, and took no notice of them, except to show them to your friends and ridicule what I put on paper.”
Ben Mayberry sprang to his feet. Like a flash it came upon him that some dreadful misunderstanding had been brought about by other parties, for which Dolly was not to blame.
“Tell me the whole story, Dolly,” he said in a kinder voice than he had used since they met, as he resumed his seat.
“Well,” said she, beginning to feel the same suspicion that thrilled her companion, “there is a good deal to say, but I will make it short. You know my father and Mr. Grandin are cousins, so the girls are really my second cousins. Rutherford Richmond is the son of an old friend of father, who lives in Boston. Father has a large insurance office, and he agreed to take Rutherford until he learned the business, so as to take charge of the same kind of office in Boston, which his father is going to fix up for him. That’s how it is Rutherford has been living with us for some months.
“Well, a good while ago, I wrote you a letter, begging you to come and visit me; father said I might do so. You didn’t accept the invitation. I wrote you again and got no answer to it; I was frightened, and thought maybe you were ill, and wrote once more, but there was no answer to it. I would have sent a letter to Cousin Jane to find out about you, but she was in Europe. After a while I sent a fourth letter, very long, and full of things which I wouldn’t have anyone else know for the world. I sent——”
“Who by?”
“Rutherford took it and several other letters, and placed them in the mail-box at father’s office, so they were sure to go. But there was no answer to the last, and then I gave up. I felt awful bad; but I was nearly wild when Rutherford came to me one day and said he had something which he thought he ought to tell me. When he said it was about you, I was dreadfully excited. He told me that he had made the acquaintance of a young man from Damietta, who was a close friend of yours. That young person, whose name Rutherford would not give, said that you showed all my letters to him and several others, and made fun of them. I wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t proved what he said?”
“How did he prove it?”
“By repeating what I had written; he gave me half of what was in that last letter, which he said was repeated to him by the person you told. He had them so exactly that my face burned like fire, and I was never so angry in all my life. I knew you must have done what Rutherford said, for how could he know what I had written you?”