Marian, he knew, was anxious to hear of his success, and not willing to keep her waiting longer than was necessary, he determined to return at once. Accordingly, while the unsuspecting inmates of Redstone Hall were discussing his late visit and singular appearance, he was on his way to the depot, where he took the first train for Frankfort, and was soon sailing down the Kentucky toward home.
CHAPTER XIII.
PLANS.
Marian was sitting by the window of her little room, looking out into the busy street below, and thinking how differently New York seemed to her now from what it did that dreary day when she wandered down Broadway, and wished that she could die. She was getting accustomed to the city roar, and the sounds which annoyed her so much at first did not trouble her as they once had done. Still there was the same old pain at her heart—a restless, longing desire to hear from home, and know if what she feared were true. She had counted the days of Ben’s absence, and she knew it was almost time for his return. She did not expect him to-day, however, and she paid no attention to the heavy footstep upon the stairs, neither did she hear the creaking of the door; but when Mrs. Burt exclaimed, “Benjamin Franklin! where did you come from?” she started, and in an instant held both his hands in hers.
Wistfully, eagerly she looked up into his face, longing, yet dreading, to ask the important question.
“Have you been there?” she managed to say at last; and Ben replied, “Yes, chicken, I have, I’ve been to Redstun Hall, and seen the hull tribe on ’em. That Josh is a case. Couldn’t understand him no more than if he spoke a furrin tongue.”
“But Frederic—did you see him, and is he—oh, Ben, do tell me—what you know I want to hear?” and Marian trembled with excitement.
“Wall, I will,” answered Ben, dropping into a chair, and coming to the point at once. “Frederic ain’t married to Isabel, nor ain’t a goin’ to be, either.”
“What made him write me that lie?” was Marian’s next question, asked so mournfully that Ben replied:
“A body’d s’pose you was sorry it warn’t the truth he writ.”
“I am glad it is not true,” returned Marian, “but it hurts me so to lose confidence in one I love. How does Frederic look?”