isper. That fool, Ben Benson, has been sarching and
sarching, like an old desarter as he is, but it ain't no sort o' good;
the gal may be dead for what he cares--a toasting hisself before a fire,
while she--may be Mr. James has hearn something."

"Mr. James Harrington has gone also," answered Ralph, bitterly. "It's no
use searching further. They have fled together. James Harrington, the
man whom I have looked up to all my life, the saint, the angel; he has
disappeared as she did. They cheated me from the beginning. He has taken
advantage of his wealth, and she--what chance had a poor fellow like me
against his millions? It was hardly worth while to deceive me so
shamefully though; but craft is natural to the sex, I believe." There
was a struggle between grief and rage in the young man's voice, and
while his eye blazed his lips began to quiver.

Ben slowly stooped forward, and resting an elbow on each knee, touched
his fore-fingers thoughtfully together, while his eyes, clear and honest
as those of a Newfoundland dog, were bent on the young man's face. At
last he burst forth.

"Ralph Harrington, I should say, that next to that mule-headed feller,
Ben Benson, as isn't worth the husks he sleeps on--you was the
consarnedest fool that ever sot hisself up with an opinion. You talk
agin wimmen afore the moustachoes are black on your upper lip, because
there's something about one on 'em, as you can't make out. Then, there's
Mister James, a man as that ere shark Ben Benson ain't afeared to swear
by through thick and thin, the most gentlemanliest Harrington as ever
drawd breath, you set up to speak again him, it's enough to agrivate a
British admiral."

Ralph had scarcely heeded this speech, but stood with one elbow resting
upon the rude shelf, that served as a mantelpiece, sullen and
thoughtful.

"I was in hopes you would tell me something. Oh! Ben, it seems
impossible to believe that fair, young creature so false," he said, at
length giving way to the feelings that oppressed him, "what faith can
one have in human nature after this?"

"Mister Ralph Harrington, you ain't no sailor, to talk in that ere way.
There's many a stout ship as goes down in a storm, with its timbers
sound and its masts standing. Then, agin, there's others as give
themselves up to the storm, and lead off hither and yon, but get back to
their reckoning, and do good sarvice arter all. Wimmen are like
ships--some get unrigged--some founder--some go agin