Father Brighthopes Part 7

Chester could no longer evade the leading question, "Why had he left the academy?" Much as he dreaded giving an account of his conduct, he could not put it off.

As he antic.i.p.ated, his father was inexpressibly irritated, and his mother decidedly cross, when he confessed that he had been expelled.

"What did you do to bring such disgrace upon your name?" groaned Mr.

Royden, more grieved than angry.

"Well," replied Chester, with a burning face, yet without descending from his proud demeanor, "I suppose I transgressed some of their old fogy laws."

"Broke their regulations! But it must have been something outrageous, to result in an expulsion. Tell the whole truth, Chester."

The young man hesitated no more, but made a "clean breast" of the affair. His expulsion had not been a public one, the daughter of the princ.i.p.al having been intimately concerned in his transgressions.

Chester had met her clandestinely, won her affections, and brought about an engagement of marriage between them, contrary to her father's will and commands.

When Mrs. Royden learned that the young lady was heiress to a comfortable fortune left her by a near relative, she was quite ready to forgive her son's rashness. But his father reprimanded him severely.

"I hope you have given up the foolish idea of marrying the romantic girl," he said.

"No, sir,--never!" exclaimed Chester, fervently. "If I lose her, I shall never marry. I have her promise, and I can wait. It will not be long before she can marry without her father's consent as well as with it."

"But what do you intend to do, in the mean time?" asked Mr. Royden, in a rather bitter tone.

"I would like," replied Chester, more humbly, as if anxious to propitiate his father,--"I would like to commence with the next term at the L---- Inst.i.tute."

"A beautiful way you have gone to work to encourage me in what I am doing for you!" interrupted Mr. Royden. "No, Chester! I shall not hear a word to your going to L----. You must stay at home now until you are of age."

The young man leaned his head upon his hand, and looked gloomily at the floor. His father broke the silence.

"A boy of your years to talk of marrying! Preposterous!"

"I have no idea of it, within a year or two," said Chester. "But let things take their course. Do you expect me now to stay at home?"

"Why not?"

"And work on the farm?"

"Are you getting too proud for that,--with your heiress in view?" asked Mr. Royden, with sarcasm.

"It seems as though I might be doing something more profitable, to prepare me for entering life."

"Yes! You might be at another academy, occupying your time in making love to another silly, romantic girl!"

"n.o.body will say," rejoined Chester, biting his lips, and speaking with forced calmness,--"my worst enemy cannot say,--that I have not improved my opportunities of study. I hope you will believe me, when I say I have always stood at the head of my cla.s.ses."

Mr. Royden was considerably softened.

"Well, well!" said he, "I can make some allowance for your young blood.

I will see what ought to be done. We will talk the matter over at another time."

"But while you do stay at home," added Mrs. Royden, who had remained silent for a length of time quite unusual with her, "you must take hold and help your father all you can. He has to hire a great deal, and sending you to school makes us feel the expense more than we should.

James is not worth much, and Samuel, you know, is worse than nothing."

"Speaking of Sam, I wish he would show his face. It's getting very late," observed Mr. Royden, looking at the clock.

"The _old gentleman_ is always at the door when his name is spoken,"

said Mrs. Royden. "There he comes."

Sam was creeping into the kitchen as silently as possible.

"Young man!" cried Mr. Royden, opening the sitting-room door, "come in here."

"Yes, sir," said Sam, in a very feeble and weak tone of voice.

But he lingered a long time in the kitchen, and during the conversation, which was resumed, he was nearly forgotten. At length Mr. Royden thought he heard a strange noise, which sounded very much like a person crying.

"Do you hear, Samuel?" he cried. "Come in here, I say! What is the matter?"

"I'm--coming!" replied the boy, in a broken voice.

He made his appearance at the door in a piteous plight. He was covered with dirt, and with all his efforts he could not keep from crying.

"You have been flung from the horse!" suddenly exclaimed Chester. "Is that the trouble?"

"I haven't been flung from the horse, neither!" said Sam, doggedly.

"Did you leave him at the tavern?"

"Yes,--I _left him at the tavern_."

"What did the landlord say?"

"He didn't say nothing."

"Sam, you're lying!" cried Chester.

"True as I live--" began Sam.

"I know what the trouble is," said Mrs. Royden, who was very much provoked at seeing the boy's soiled clothes. "He has been fighting. And, if he has, it is your duty, father, to take him out in the shed, and give him as good a dressing as he ever had in his life."

Sam was on the point of confessing to the charge, as the best explanation of the distressed condition he was in, when the added threat exerted its natural influence on his decision.

"No, I han't fit with n.o.body," he said. "The boys in the village throw'd stones at me; but I didn't throw none back, nor sa.s.s 'em, nor do nothing but come as straight home as I could come."

"What is the matter, then?" demanded Mr. Royden, impatiently, taking him by the shoulder and shaking him. "Speak out! What is it?"

"Fell down," mumbled Sam.

"Fell down?"