OUT IN THE WORLD.
"Oh the dire mistake! Fatal freedom to choose!
Had he but taken a fair path, sheltered, level, and straight;
Never a thorn to wound him, never a stone to bruise;
Leading safely and softly on to the Mansion Gate."
IT was almost dinner-time when Priscilla, with baby Ruth in her arms,
went downstairs to the drawing-room. Miss Vernon and her father were
not yet there, and she stood for a moment looking out of the window,
when suddenly the door opened, and Lewis entered, cap in hand. He
looked flushed and excited, she thought, and she could almost have
fancied he had been crying, his eyes were so swollen.
He came forward to her hastily and said, "I am going to dine out,
Prissy, with a friend. My father knows. I have not a moment to
spare.—Good-bye, little babsie," he said, giving the child a kiss.
Then, to his sister's utter amazement, he threw his arms round her
neck, kissed her passionately, and saying, "God bless you, Prissy;
don't let any one wait up for me," he ran out of the room.
Priscilla was going to follow him, when her father and Miss Vernon
entered; and nurse having come also to take Ruth away, dinner was
announced, and all three went to the dining-room.
Dr. Warner, when they were seated, remarked, "It seems Lewis is engaged
to dine with a school friend, so we are not to have either his company
or Austin's to-day."
"So he told me," said Priscilla. "Do you know, father, where he is
going to dine?"
Dr. Warner thought a moment, then replied, "I think he told me, but
the name has escaped my memory. Some school-fellow, I suppose. At all
events I know it's all right. A steady lad like Lewis can be trusted;
and he so seldom dines out, I thought it best not to interfere, though
I fear he will sit up too late studying to make up for lost time."
Priscilla spoke not. She felt sick at heart as she thought of the shock
her father would sustain if bad accounts of Lewis should reach his
cars. Oh, if she could only save him that pain!
On leaving the drawing-room after kissing both his sisters in the
impulsive way we have described, Lewis Warner ran up to his room—that
pleasant room where Austin and he had slept from the time they were
little fellows, proud of the honour of being transferred from the
nursery to a room of their own. He shut the door, and hastily opened
drawer after drawer, taking some article of dress from each of them,
then packed them into a travelling-bag. Then going to the mantel-piece,
he took from it two photographs which stood thereon, and put them also
into the bag. At the one, which was that of his father and mother
together, he did not trust himself to look, but at the other, he
glanced for a moment. It was a picture of his brother Austin standing
with Priscilla beside him.
"Poor Austin!" he said to himself. "Noble fellow! What I am going to do
will almost break his heart. And Prissy—" Ah! It was well for Priscilla
that she did not hear the muttered words—"it's no good blaming any one,
but Prissy could have hindered this, if she had tried. Now, if mother
had only been alive—"
But at these words the boy's voice failed, and a great sob choked his
utterance. He stood for a moment beside his white-curtained bed, where
she had often stood, and bending over him had "kissed him good-night"
so many a time.
And whilst all the time knowing the evil he was premeditating, shall we
condemn it as a strange inconsistency that he knelt down at that bed
and sobbed out the words, "Our Father which art in heaven, forgive me,
and bless them all"?
"That was no real prayer," some reader will exclaim. Perhaps not.
God knows. But at all events it was a cry heavenward from a young,
erring, saddened heart, not yet altogether hardened in sin, round which
"trailing clouds of glory" from God still hung unwilling to depart.
He started from his knees, closed the bag, and going softly downstairs,
once more entered the drawing-room and stood a moment, just a moment,
before his mother's picture. He gave one look, stifled a rising sob,
and with a half-uttered cry of "Mother! mother!" he left the room, went
out of the house, and took a cross-road to the town.
Late that night Austin Warner returned to the Grove. He had done his
father's business, and being anxious to be at school early the next
day, had resisted Mr. Harris's kindly efforts to detain him all night,
and had returned.
Priscilla and Miss Vernon had retired to rest ere Austin came back; and
fearing to disturb his father at his writing, Austin went to his own
room. Lewis was not there; but he had not expected that he would be
so, and taking out a book, he began to study, awaiting his brother's
return. Long he waited. One o'clock—two—three—four struck, but no Lewis
came. Never before had he been so late, and Austin became alarmed.
Where could he be? Alas! He knew well the set he was now associating
with. Could they have detained him purposely?
Uneasy in reality now, Austin put down his book and began to walk up
and down the room. As he did so his eye rested on the mantel-piece, and
he observed that the pictures were removed. A terrible panic seized him.
He instantly opened the drawers. His worst fears were thereby
confirmed: Lewis's clothes had been mostly taken away. What did it all
mean?
Just this, that long ere the clock struck four, Lewis Warner and
a companion in evil had left Hereford and were on their way to
Portsmouth, where some days before, through a so-called friend, they
had secured places on board a vessel bound for Africa. Poor Lewis!
He cared little where he went, so that he could escape the shame and
sorrow of seeing his father's grief when the news of his loved son's
fall and disgrace should reach his ears.
In a moment Austin understood all, and at first remained motionless,
struck with amazement and distress. Then he left the room and knocked
gently at Priscilla's door.