The Adventures of Don Lavington Part 10

"Do you hear me, Don? Tell your uncle it is not true, and beg him to help you clear yourself from this disgrace."

The lad made no reply, merely crossing his legs, and made his shoe-buckles rasp together as he slowly moved his feet.

"Don!"

He looked up strangely, met his mother's earnest appealing gaze, and for the moment his better nature prevailed; but as he looked from her to his uncle, and saw the old man's grey eyes fixed upon him searchingly, a feeling of obstinate anger swept over him again, and made him set his teeth, as something seemed to whisper to him, "No; you told the truth, and he would not believe you. Let him prove you guilty if he can!"

It was not the first time in history that a boy had stubbornly fought against his better self, and allowed the worst part of his nature to prevail.

"Do you not hear me, Don?" cried his mother. "Why do you not speak?"

Don remained silent, and Kitty, as she looked at him, angrily uttered an impatient e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

"Don, my son, for my sake speak to your uncle. Do you not hear me?"

"Yes, mother."

"Then appeal to him to help you. Ask him to forgive you if you have done wrong."

"And she believes me guilty, too," thought Don, as he scowled at his feet.

"But you have not done wrong, my boy. I, your mother, will not believe it of you."

Don's better self began to force down that side of his mental scale.

"You may have been weak and foolish, Don, but nothing worse."

The evil scale went down now in turn, and with it the foolish, ignorant boy's heart sank low.

"Come, Don."

"I've nothing more to say, mother."

"Nothing more to say!" cried Mrs Lavington, wildly. "Oh, yes, yes, you have much to say, my boy. Come, throw away this wilful pride and obstinacy."

"I wish I could," thought Don one moment. "It is as cruel as it is unjust," he thought the next; and he felt more obstinately full of pride than ever.

"Don, I command you to speak," said Mrs Lavington, whose manner now began to change; but unfortunately the stern tone she adopted had the wrong effect, and the wrinkles in the boy's face grew deeper, and the position more strained.

If Uncle Josiah, who had never had boys of his own, had come down from the lofty perch he had a.s.sumed, taken the boy's hand, and said in kindly and frank tones, "Come, Don, my boy, there are troubles enough in life, clouds sufficient to obscure too much sunshine; speak out, let's have all this over, and clear the storm away,"--if he had said something like that, Don would have melted, and all would have been well; but accustomed to manage men with an iron rule, Uncle Josiah had somehow, in spite of his straightforward, manly, and just character, seemed to repel the boy whose charge he had taken, and instead now of making the slightest advance, he said to himself, "It is not my duty to eat humble pie before the obstinate young cub. It will be a severe lesson for him, and will do him good."

So the breach widened. Don seemed to grow sulky and sullen, when he was longing to cast himself upon his mother's neck. The poor woman felt indignant at her son's conduct, and the last straw which broke the camel's back was laid on the top of the load by Kitty, who, moved by a desire to do good, made matters far worse by running across to Don, and in an impetuous way catching his hands and kissing him.

"Don, dear!" she cried.

The boy's face lit up. Here was some one who would believe him after all, and he responded to her advances by grasping her hands tightly in his.

"Do, do speak, Don dear, and beg father to forgive you," she cried.

"Tell him it was a mistake, and that you will never do so again."

Don let fall her hands, the deep scowl came over his brow again, and he half turned away.

"No, no, Don, dear," she whispered; "pray don't be obstinate. Confess that you did it, and promise father to do better in the future. He will forgive you; I know he will."

Don turned his back with an impatient gesture, and Kitty burst into tears, and went slowly to her aunt, to whose hands she clung.

"Laura, dear," said Uncle Josiah, gravely, "I think we had better bring this painful interview to an end. You may rest a.s.sured that I shall do what is just and right by Don. He shall have every opportunity for clearing himself."

"I am not guilty," cried Don, fiercely throwing back his head.

"I thought so this morning, my boy," said the old merchant, gravely.

"Your conduct now is making me think very differently. Laura, I will walk home with you, if you please."

"Josiah! Don, my boy, pray, pray speak," cried Mrs Lavington, piteously.

Don heard her appeal, and it thrilled him, but his uncle's words had raised up an obstinacy that was stronger than ever, and while longing to throw himself in his mother's arms--pa.s.sionately longing so to do--his indignant pride held him back, and he stood with his head bent, as in obedience to her brother Mrs Lavington took his arm, and allowed him to lead her out of the office, weeping bitterly the while.

Don did not look up to meet his mother's yearning gaze, but for months and years after he seemed to see that look when far away in the midst of peril, and too late he bitterly upbraided himself for his want of frankness and power to subdue his obstinate pride.

"He thinks me guilty!" he said to himself, as he stood with his head bent, listening, and unaware of the fact that some one was still in the room, till a light step came towards him, his hand was caught, and his cheek rapidly kissed.

"Kitty!"

"Coming, father."

Then there was a rapid step, the door closed, and Don stood in the same att.i.tude, listening to the steps on the gravel, and then to the bang of the wicket-gate.

Alone with his thoughts, and they were many and strange.

What should he do? Go right away, and--and--

"Mas' Don."

He looked up, and Jem stood at the door.

CHAPTER SIX.

JEM WIMBLE TALKS SENSE.

"May I come in?"

Don nodded.

"The master's gone, and took the ladies 'long with him. Why, don't look like that, my lad. Your uncle don't think you took the money?"

Don nodded.