CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PRODIGAL'S RETURN.
On Sunday evening, Ben, in company with his sister, her husband, andCharles, attended a sacred concert in Steinway Hall. As he steppedwithin the vestibule, he saw two street boys outside, whom he knew well.Their attire was very similar to that which he had himself worn untilthe day before. They looked at Ben, but never thought of identifying himwith the baggage-smasher with whom they had often bunked together.
"See what it is," thought Ben, "to be well dressed and have fashionablefriends."
As he sat in a reserved seat but a little distance from the platform,surrounded by well-dressed people, he was sometimes tempted to doubtwhether he was the same boy who a few days before was wandering aboutthe streets, a friendless outcast. The change was so complete andwonderful that he seemed to himself a new boy. But he enjoyed thechange. It seemed a good deal pleasanter resting in the luxuriousbedchamber, which he shared with Charles at his sister's house, than thechance accommodations to which he had been accustomed.
On Monday he started for Philadelphia, on his journey home.
We will precede him.
Mrs. Brandon sat in an arm-chair before the fire, knitting. She was notold, but care and sorrow had threaded her dark hair with silver, and onher brow there were traces of a sorrow patiently borne, but none theless deeply felt. She had never recovered from the loss of her son. Herdaughter Mary had inherited something of her father's self-contained,undemonstrative manner; but Ben had been impulsive and affectionate, andhad always been very near his mother's heart. To feel that he had passedfrom her sight was a great sorrow; but it was a greater still not toknow where he was. He might be suffering pain or privation; he mighthave fallen into bad and vicious habits for aught she knew. It wouldhave been a relief, though a sad one, to know that he was dead. Butnothing whatever had been heard of him since the letter of which thereader is already aware.
Since Mary's marriage Mrs. Brandon had been very much alone. Her husbandwas so taciturn and reserved that he was not much company for her; soshe was left very much to her own thoughts, and these dwelt often uponBen, though six years had elapsed since he left home.
"If I could see him once more," she often said to herself, "I could diein peace."
So Mrs. Brandon was busily thinking of Ben on that Monday afternoon, asshe sat knitting before the fire; little thinking that God had heard herprayer, and that the son whom she so longed to see was close at hand. Hewas even then coming up the gravelled walk that led to the house.
It may be imagined that Ben's heart beat with unwonted excitement, asthe scenes of his early boyhood once more appeared before him. Athousand boyish memories returned to him, as he trod the familiarstreet. He met persons whom he knew, but they showed no recognition ofhim. Six years had wrought too great a change in him.
He rang the bell.
The summons was answered by the servant, the only one employed in Mrs.Brandon's modest establishment.
"Is Mrs. Brandon at home?" asked Ben.
"Yes," answered the girl. "Will you walk in?"
Ben stepped into the entry, and the girl opened the door of the room inwhich Mrs. Brandon was seated.
Mrs. Brandon looked up.
She saw standing at the door a well-grown lad of sixteen, with a facebrowned by long exposure to the sun and air. It was six years since shehad seen Ben; but in spite of the changes which time may have wrought, amother's heart is not easily deceived. A wild hope sprang up in herheart. She tried to rise from her chair, but her excite was so greatthat her limbs refused their office.
"Mother!" exclaimed Ben, and, hurrying forward he threw his arms aroundhis mother's neck.
"God be thanked!" she exclaimed, with heartfelt gratitude. "I havemissed you so much, Ben."
Ben's heart reproached him as he saw the traces of sorrow upon hismother's face, and felt that he had been the cause.
"Forgive me, mother!" he said.
"It is all forgotten now. I am so happy!" she answered, her eyes filledwith joyful tears.
They sat down together, and Ben began to tell his story. In the midst ofit his father entered. He stopped short when he saw Ben sitting besidehis mother.
"It is Ben come back," said his mother, joyfully.
Mr. Brandon did not fall on his son's neck and kiss him. That was nothis way. He held out his hand, and said, "Benjamin, I am very glad tosee you."
In the evening they talked together over the new plans which Ben'sreturn suggested.
"You must stay with us, Ben," said his mother. "I cannot part with younow."
"I am getting old, Benjamin," said his father. "I need help in mybusiness. You must stay and help me, and by and by you shall have thewhole charge of it."
"I am afraid I don't know enough," said Ben. "I haven't studied anysince I left home. I don't know as much as I did when I was ten."
"You shall study at home for a year," said his father. "The teacher ofthe academy shall give you private lessons. You can learn a great dealin a year if you set about it."
To this arrangement Ben acceded. He is now studying at home, and hisabilities being excellent, and his ambition excited, is makingremarkable progress. Next year he will assist his father. Mr. Brandonseems to have changed greatly. He is no longer stern and hard, butgentle and forbearing, and is evidently proud of Ben, who would run achance of being spoiled by over-indulgence, if his hard discipline as astreet boy had not given him a manliness and self-reliance above hisyears. He is gradually laying aside the injurious habits which heacquired in his street life, and I confidently hope for him a worthy anduseful manhood.
From time to time Ben visits New York, and renews his intimacy with hisCousin Charles, who returns his warm affection. Charles, in turn,spends the summer at Cedarville, where they are inseparable.
So we bid farewell to Ben, the Luggage Boy, hoping that he may be ableto repay his mother in part for the sorrow which his long absenceoccasioned her, and that she may live long to enjoy his society. To myyoung readers, who have received my stories of street life with so muchindulgence, I bid a brief farewell, hoping to present them ere long thesixth volume of the Ragged Dick Series, under the title of
RUFUS AND ROSE;
Or,
THE FORTUNES OF ROUGH AND READY.
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