A Boy's Fortune

"You don't mean to say you are struck at last, Randall – you who have so long been the despair of manœuvering mammas? Come, that would be news, indeed!"

"I am not at all sure but I am. Tudor, I will say one thing, that I never saw a sweeter face in all my wanderings."

"That's saying a good deal, for you have been all over the world. And you don't know the young lady's name?"

"Haven't the slightest clew to it."

"Is she rich or poor, a stylish city lady or a rustic beauty?"

"I fancy she is not rich," said Randall, who, for some reason, did not care to mention that she had been a vest-maker. To him it mattered little, but his friend Tudor might be more fastidious, and he was not willing to give him any chance to look down upon Rose.

"Couldn't you manage to ask her name?"

Randall shook his head.

"I tried to think of a pretext, but could not," he answered.

"You may meet her again."

"I hope to do so."

"And if you do?"

Randall smiled.

"Considering that it is not over ten minutes since I first set eyes upon her, it is, perhaps, a little premature to consider that question. I shall certainly try to meet her again."

The two young men sauntered up-town, and the conversation fell upon other themes, but Clinton Randall seemed unusually thoughtful. Do what he might, he could not help recurring again and again to the fair face which he had seen for the first time that morning.

When Rose was at home again the matter seemed no longer serious to her. Whenever she thought of Mr. Parkinson and his suit she felt inclined to laugh.

"Addie," she said, "I have had a proposal this morning."

"A proposal!" repeated her sister, in surprise.

"Yes, an offer of marriage."

"You are not in earnest?"

"Indeed I am! I am not sure but I shall give you a brother-in-law."

"I wasn't aware that you knew any eligible young man."

"He isn't a young man. Let me describe him to you. His name is Parkinson; he is somewhere between forty and fifty; he is partially bald, and – I am not quite sure that he is not bow-legged."

"And you love him?" queried Adeline, mischievously. "If so, I give my consent, for though I had hoped for a better-looking brother-in-law, I am not willing that your young affections should be blighted."

"Nonsense, Addie," returned Rose, half-vexed.

"Tell me all about it."

Rose did so, and her sister listened with fixed interest.

"And this young man who rescued you, and knocked your adorer's hat over his eyes. I suppose he was a commonplace young man, red-haired and freckled, perhaps?"

"Indeed he was not," said Rose, indignantly.

"Then he was handsome?"

"Yes, I think that he would be considered so."

"Take care you don't dream of him. It would be very romantic – wouldn't it? – if you should marry him, as generally happens in romances."

"Don't be a goose, Addie!" said Rose; but she did not seem annoyed. Secretly, she thought Clinton Randall the most attractive young man she had ever met, and wondered if fate would ever throw them together again.

CHAPTER XXIII.

On the Borders of the Lake of Geneva

It is time to look after our hero in his European wanderings.

He had been travelling hither and thither with his guardian, who appeared to have no definite aim except to enjoy himself. Whether he succeeded in doing this was by no means certain. On the whole, he and Ben got along very well together. He did not undertake to control his young secretary, but left him very much to his own devices. There were times when he seemed irritable, but it generally happened when he had been losing money at the gaming-table, for he was fond of play, not so much because he was fascinated by it as because it served as a distraction in lieu of more serious pursuits. On the whole, he did not lose much, for he was cool and self-possessed.

One thing was unsatisfactory to Ben – he had little or nothing to do. He was private secretary in name, but what use Major Grafton had for a private secretary Ben could not divine.

Why Ben need have concerned himself, as long as he received his salary, may excite the wonder of some of my readers, but I think most people like to feel that they are doing something useful.

Ben, however, found a use for part of his time. In his travels through France, Switzerland, and Italy, he had oftentimes found himself, when alone, at a loss on account of a want of knowledge of the French language.

"Why should I not learn it?" he asked himself.

He procured some elementary French books, including a grammar, dictionary, and tourist's guide, and set himself to the task with his usual energy. Having little else to do, he made remarkable progress, and found his studies a source of great interest.

"What are you doing there, Philip?" asked Major Grafton, one afternoon.

"I am trying to obtain some knowledge of French. I suppose you have no objection?"

"Not the least in the world. Do you want a teacher?"

"No, sir; I think I can get along by myself."

Major Grafton was rather glad that Ben had found some way of passing his time. He did not want the boy to become homesick, for his presence was important to him for reasons that we are acquainted with.

Ben supplemented his lessons by going into shops, pricing articles, and attempting to hold a conversation with the clerks. This was a practical way of learning the language, which he found of great use.

Again they found themselves in Geneva, which Ben thought, on the whole, a pleasant place of residence. Here, too, he could make abundant use of his new acquisition, and did not fail to avail himself of his opportunity. So he enjoyed his stay in the charming Swiss city until one day he made an astounding discovery.

The most interesting walk in Geneva is along the borders of the lake. Near it are placed seats on which the visitor may sit and survey the unequalled view.