Julian and Digby did not quite comprehend it in the way Sutton wished, but they guessed that there was something unpleasant connected with it.

"Of course, Sutton, I will take care that they are forthcoming when required to answer for what has occurred," replied Mr Nugent, in a tone which showed how grieved and annoyed he was. "Come to me, however, at nine o'clock in the morning, and I will inquire further into it."

When Sutton had taken his departure, Mr Nugent, desiring Digby to stay where he was, led Julian upstairs to his bedroom. The window was open, and the knotted rope hung to it. Mr Nugent stood aghast. "Have you often made use of this, young gentleman?" he asked.

Julian was really frightened, and burst out crying, in dread that his various misdemeanors would at length be brought to light. "Only once or twice, and merely for a lark, without any harm in it," he answered, as soon as he could bring out his words. "If you will overlook it this time, sir, Digby and I won't do it again--that I promise; indeed we won't, sir."

"I conclude that you will not," said Mr Nugent, drily. "However, I do not consider it at all a slight thing to have my young gentlemen running about the country at midnight, and laying themselves open to such accusations as have been brought against you to-night. You ran as great a risk of having an accusation brought against you of being concerned in a burglary, or in the robbery of a hen-roost. And listen to me, Julian Langley, I deeply regret that I cannot trust your word, and I am not at all satisfied that you will be proved innocent of the crime of which Sutton says you are guilty. Now, go to bed, and pray that you may have a new heart put into you."

"But Digby, sir, you'll forgive him, may he not come up and go to bed,"

said Julian, making a mighty effort to speak, for he thought that everything would depend on his being able to put Digby up to what he should say.

"Certainly not," answered Mr Nugent, who divined his motive. "I cannot allow you and Digby again to a.s.sociate till this mystery is cleared up.

Pull off your clothes and jump into bed."

Mr Nugent having taken possession of the rope, and shut, the window, took the candle, and walked away, leaving Julian to his meditations, or to sleep if he could. His meditations could not have been of a pleasant character, though it was not so much the folly of his conduct as the fear of the consequences which annoyed him. At last he fell asleep.

Meantime Mr Nugent went back to his nephew.

"Digby," he said, looking gravely at him, "you have often been thoughtless and idle, but I have ever found you truthful; I trust that you will be so on this occasion. Tell me what you know about this matter."

"I will tell you about my share in it, uncle, but I hope you will let Julian answer for himself. All the fellows say that there is nothing so bad as one fellow peaching against another, and I don't want to do it,"

answered Digby, firmly.

Mr Nugent was too well acquainted with schoolboy notions of honour and morality to be surprised at this speech.

"But it is also very bad to shield the guilty, as in that way vice is encouraged and crime escapes its proper punishment," he remarked.

"However, let me hear what you have got to say. One thing is very certain, both you and he were doing what you should not have done, in leaving the house at night. Go on."

"Then, uncle, all I have to say is, that Julian went out and asked me to sit up for him and let him in. I did, but he was longer absent than I expected, and so I got out of the window and took the road I thought he had gone to try and find him, fearing that some accident might have happened to him. I met him coming back, and just as we got near the house that man Sutton caught hold of us."

"I believe you, entirely," said Mr Nugent. "But I wish to know if you can guess what Julian Langley was about during his absence."

"That is the very point about which I don't want to say any thing," said Digby. "Let Julian tell his own story."

"But he does not seem inclined to exculpate you; he leads me to suppose that whatever he was about you were helping him to do. You will have to prove the contrary, or you will be considered as guilty as he is,"

observed Mr Nugent.

"I cannot help that," answered Digby, after a little thought. "I have stated the truth; I am ready to be punished for leaving the house, and, as things turned out, I am sorry I did it, but I should have been very miserable if any harm had come to Julian which I could have prevented."

"Then since you refuse to enlighten me, I will not press the matter now," said his uncle. "I will consider to-morrow what punishment I shall inflict on you. Take this cloak and go to sleep on the sofa.

Remember that you are not to communicate by word or writing, or in any way with Julian. Promise me that you in this will obey me."

"I do promise," said Digby.

"Good-night," said his uncle, not altogether displeased with the boy.

Oh, what a blessed thing it is to be able to confide thoroughly in the word of a person, to know that he always, and under all circ.u.mstances, speaks the truth--not only that he scorns a falsehood, but that he deeply feels how odious it is in the sight of G.o.d, a pure G.o.d who is truth itself. In what different estimation are two boys held, who are perhaps in most respects equal. They have equal talents, can play equally well at games, of the same strength, and appearance, and manners, are equally good-natured, and are equally well supplied with pocket-money, and the means of treating their companions. One has been proved never to deviate from the truth, either through fear, or for the sake of telling a good story, or on any other account; the other it is known never scruples to tell a falsehood, if it suits his convenience, or it can afford amus.e.m.e.nt to himself or others, while if he thinks he can by it avoid detection from any fault he may have committed, he invariably does so. One is looked up to, honoured, and loved, both by boys and masters; the other may find plenty of a.s.sociates, but no one trusts him, and all in their hearts despise him, and what is strange, even those who will at times prevaricate and deviate as widely from the truth as he does, have a feeling of contempt for him. Remember, that it is not the only sin, vile as it is, which a boy can commit, but it is one with others which should be watchfully guarded against, and earnestly prayed against, and certainly none, even in the eyes of worldly people, is considered more unworthy of the character of an English country gentleman.

Sutton, the revenue man, made his appearance the next morning; he said some of the fishermen were so furious at the mischief which had been intended them, that unless they could be appeased the matter must go before a bench of magistrates. If so, Mr Heathcote and Mr Langley would have to try their own sons, and the whole affair would be very disagreeable and painful. Poor Mr Nugent was very much annoyed. He went to Julian's room; that young gentleman was still asleep. He roused him up, made him put on his clothes rapidly, without allowing him time to reflect. He had previously sent Digby out of the study; he now took Julian to it.

"How do you account for yourself from the time you left the house till Digby found you?" he asked.

"Another fellow and I were taking a row on the water, and trying to catch some fish," answered Julian, doggedly.

"Who was the other fellow?" asked Mr Nugent.

"He's called d.i.c.k Owlett, I believe; he gets bait for us sometimes."

"Then I can fancy how it happened," said Sutton. "I'll now get hold of Master Owlett, who is the wildest young scamp in the place; he'll lie through thick and thin, there's no doubt of that, but I'll squeeze the truth out of him before I've done with him, depend on that."

Julian when he heard this felt very sure that d.i.c.k Owlett, to escape punishment, would throw the entire blame upon his shoulders. Could he have communicated with d.i.c.k he thought that he might have bribed him to be silent, but as he had no hopes of so doing he was excessively puzzled to know how to act. He had already denied having had anything to do with the matter. He doubted even whether further falsehoods would a.s.sist him; still he could not bring himself to speak the truth, confess his folly, and take the whole blame on himself. However, Sutton had learned quite enough for his purpose. His style of proceeding with Owlett was likely to be very different to that of Mr Nugent's with his pupils. Julian was sent back to his room to finish his toilet, Mr Nugent telling him that he must breakfast there, and not leave it without his permission. He consequently had to spend a very miserable and solitary day in a cold room; but he did not escape having to do his lessons, which he might possibly have considered a counterbalancing advantage, as Mr Nugent took him his books and went there to hear him.

He was left in doubt all the time what steps Sutton had taken with Owlett, and also as to what Digby had said.

As may be supposed, Sutton had no great difficulty in getting the whole truth, and perhaps something more even, out of d.i.c.k Owlett, who, in the hope of escaping punishment, was ready enough to throw all the blame on his young gentleman companion.

Mr Nugent bethought him of calling in the aid of Toby Tubb. The affair had become the conversation of all the seafaring population of the place.

Toby was very unhappy to think that Digby was implicated, but, when he heard that he had nothing to do with it, he undertook to arrange matters, observing that somebody would have to pay pretty smartly for the lark, if lark it was, though he thought it a very bad one.

Neither Julian nor Digby had an idea that any such negotiations were going forward, and they were left with the impression that they should have to present themselves before a bench of magistrates, and perhaps be sent to the house of correction and receive a sound flogging, or be set to work at the treadmill, or some other dreadful thing to which they had read in the newspapers that juvenile delinquents were subjected.

Mr Nugent, of course, was compelled to write to Mr Langley, to explain the whole matter, and, from the tone of that gentleman's reply, he saw that the only satisfactory course he could pursue was to request him to remove his son to another place of instruction. He from the first, when he discovered how his young gentlemen contrived to leave the house, had suspected that they had been engaged in the cannon-firing affair.

Though Mr Simson did not forfeit his word by saying anything, he ascertained enough to satisfy him on the matter from the less scrupulous Mr Jones, whose only bond to keep silence was the hope of getting more out of them.

Miserably always are those mistaken who put confidence in dishonest persons. Such are influenced only by interested motives, and invariably betray their dupes if it suits their convenience.

The holidays at length arrived. The last few weeks at Osberton, Julian Langley had found very disagreeable. His lather wrote him a scolding letter, for having put him to so much expense, as he had thought it wiser to pay the fishermen their demand for the damage done their boats rather than allow the transaction, so disgraceful to his son, to become public.

Mr Nugent kept a strict watch over him. He was not allowed to a.s.sociate with Digby, while the rest of his fellow-pupils treated him with marked contempt, not so much on account of what he had done, as because he had denied having done it, and because they believed that he would have drawn Digby into the sc.r.a.pe, and, if he could, have thrown the blame on him.

Digby did not remain very long out of spirits. His conscience was tolerably at ease. He thought that his uncle had treated him very kindly, and as he wished, therefore, to please him, he set diligently to work to do his lessons each day as well as he could. He had not yet learned to study for the sake of the knowledge he should thus acquire.

He did not appreciate the value of knowledge, the use it is of in every way, the delight it affords, the satisfaction it brings. He did his lessons because he knew that all boys were made to do lessons, and he did not expect to avoid the general fate of boyhood. He had a sort of indefinite idea that boys were compelled to do lessons from some tyrannical motive of grown-up people; probably because they, when children, had been made to do them, now, when they were grown up, they retaliated on the next generation for the annoyance they themselves had suffered; much in the same way that boys who have been most bullied and f.a.gged when, they were little fellows, frequently bully most, and make the severest masters, when they get into the upper forms--not always, but frequently, that is the case. Digby now and then wished for the society of his former companion, and thought it rather hard that they were not allowed to speak to each other except at meal-times.

Mr Nugent or Marshall used to take Julian out to walk, never allowing him to go out of their sight. This was more galling to him as Digby now enjoyed the same unrestricted liberty as at first. He seldom, however, went out by himself, except, perhaps, to run to the post-office, or to carry a message to some neighbour.

d.i.c.k Owlett did not escape the consequences of his lark, for the fishermen did not overlook the mischief he had wished to do them, and many a kick and a cuff he got from their hands which he might otherwise have avoided. Soon afterwards, he was taken up before the magistrates for another misdemeanor, and Mr Langley, hearing who he was, told his father that he would receive the most severe punishment which could be inflicted if he did not at once send him off to sea. To sea, therefore, went master Owlett, not at all to his own satisfaction, and very much to his father's rage, who vowed that he would be revenged on some of the aristocracy for what had happened.

The magistrates had lately got the character of being unusually severe.

A gang of smugglers had some time before been captured, and a revenue officer having been killed in the affray, two were transported, and others sent for a year or more to gaol--a punishment which, to men of the habits of that cla.s.s, is peculiarly galling. Although some of the band were taken, others escaped, and the latter, furious at the punishment inflicted on their friends, had sworn, it was said, to take vengeance on the magistrates who had procured their conviction by sending them up for trial, and on Squire Heathcote especially, through whose means they had been captured.

One of the transported men was a grandson of old Dame Marlow, and though it was supposed that she loved nothing human, she had certainly always shown an affection for the ill-conditioned youth in question. Ever since, she had been heard, it was said, muttering threats of dire vengeance against those who had caused it. Time, however, pa.s.sed on, and nothing occurred, and even those who fully believed in the old woman's power, as well as in the means at the disposal of the smugglers, thought that nothing would come of the threats of one or the other.

Mr Heathcote, when told of what was said, laughed the matter to scorn.

"Dame Marlow has done nothing else but mutter foolish threats against all the human race for the last twenty years," he observed; "and as for the smugglers, they know too well to come and burn down my ricks, or anything of that sort; and as to personal violence, they are pretty well aware that they would get as much or more than they gave. The man who is afraid of poachers, smugglers, gipsies, or vagabonds of any sort, had better not attempt to act the part of an English country gentleman; he isn't fit for his place."

To return to Osberton. Mr Nugent's pupils took their departure for their different homes. Julian Langley, it was understood, was not to return there again. That Digby would come back was very uncertain. Mr Nugent had heard of a school which he thought might suit him. The head-master was an old college friend of his, a good scholar, and a very excellent as well as gentlemanly man.

"He is conscientious and gentle-hearted," he observed to his sister, to whom he was writing on the subject; "I am therefore certain that he will do his best to instruct his pupils, and will treat them with the greatest kindness. Of course, after the lapse of so many years, I might find the character of my old friend Henry Sanford somewhat changed, but I cannot for a moment suppose that the change will be in any material point for the worse."