CHAPTER X.

THE LIAR'S DEATH.

THE next morning, the money was paid; but for days, the poor mistaken father looked as if he had lost all his friends.

He talked long and earnestly with Aunt Clarissa, pointing out to her the result of all her foolish indulgence; but she was far from viewing it in as serious a light as he did. She urged that he was very young; that such habits would soon correct themselves when he was older; that she was sure the poor child meant no harm.

With a sigh he turned from her, feeling that it was hopeless to try and convince her of her error, and passed half the night in writing Mrs. Collins, and urging her to be a mother to his motherless boy.

After some weeks of struggle between inclination and what she feared was duty, she wrote that she would take Joseph into her family for a few months, but could not yet promise to do so for a much longer period. Before the arrangements could be made for his removal, however, a painful event occurred which prevented him from going to P—.

On his way to and from school, Joseph usually passed an old-fashioned wooden house, enclosed by a high board fence, which ran for a distance of twenty rods along the street. Within this enclosure was a dog-kennel inhabited by a large animal of the Newfoundland breed. Looking through a knot-hole in the fence, Joseph and Dexter often shouted to the dog to come out from his house; and once, when the butcher had left the gate ajar, they ventured in to examine more minutely the accommodations of Nero. A hoarse growl warned them to be cautions; but ever after, when they had an opportunity, they ran in for a minute to prove to him that they were his friends.

One day they were standing near the dog-kennel, when a gentleman in the house opened the window, and said,—

"Run away, little boys; Nero is cross and may bite you."

"He knows us," answered Dexter, frankly; "we often come to see him."

"Shut the gate fast, and don't come in again!" added the man, assuming a stern voice.

They turned away, with a lingering gaze at the dog and then reluctantly left, shouting "Good-by, Nero! Good-by!"

When the gentleman descended to the kitchen and said to the cook,—

"I wish you to see that the gate is kept fastened for a few days. Some little boys have been in the habit of coming in to see Nero, and may do so again."

She looked in the face of her usually kind master and was going to remonstrate, when, seeing his expression of decision, she refrained, and in a moment, he was gone.

When Joseph returned from school at noon, after a glance at the windows, he gently tried the gate, but found it bolted; but at night, a man happened to be carrying in something, and it was ajar.

"I mean to go right in," he said to Dexter; "I don't see that cross old man about anywhere."

"I don't want to," was Dexter's response; "'cause he told us we mustn't."

Joseph ran forward, muttering, "I don't care," but presently, with a loud scream of pain, fell to the ground. Nero had caught his leg and bitten it severely.

Dexter sprang forward to help his companion, when a strong arm caught him and placed him outside the enclosure. One glance showed him that the act was performed by the gentleman they had seen at the window, and that his face was deathly pale.

Joseph was not so much hurt but that in a few minutes, when the wound had been dressed, he was able to walk home accompanied by the gentleman, who seemed strangely agitated at the event.

As Mr. Saunders had not yet come in from his office, the stranger left, but returned in a few minutes with a distinguished surgeon, who, after a rapid examination of the wound, gave orders for fresh bandages, and directed that the door should be locked.

Aunt Clarissa was indignant, and began to remonstrate, when he cut her short by saying, curtly, "It is his only chance of life." For a few minutes the most piercing screams issued from the closed room, and in the midst of them, the father entered.

"Mr. Saunders," said the surgeon, when he was admitted to the side of his boy, "I am sorry to say your son has had a bite in the leg from a dog. It would be slight, however, were it not for the fears of the owner that the dog—is—mad."

The poor father staggered back, pale and trembling, when the stranger added,—

"I brought him home, and, knowing his only chance of life was that the wound be cauterized without delay, I summoned Dr.—, who has just completed the operation."

Mr. Saunders, pressing his hand to his forehead, rushed to the sofa where Joseph lay pallid and exhausted with suffering.

Before he left, the stranger stated that for a day or two, Nero, who was a great favorite in the family on account of having saved the life of a young brother, had acted so strangely that his suspicions were excited that all was not right; still, no symptom of madness had appeared. In the morning, he had seen two children in the yard, and had ordered them out, forbidding them to enter again, and he had also ordered the gate to be kept locked. With a countenance almost as agitated as that of the stricken father, he then took his leave.

Two days later, a note came from him which was as follows:—

"I regret most keenly being under the necessity of informing you that Nero, who, since the accident to your son, has been in confinement, has shown unmistakable signs of madness, and just been shot."

For more than a fortnight, however, no symptoms of hydrophobia appeared in the boy, and great hopes were entertained that the means taken by the surgeon had proved effectual.

But at the end of that period, he had a violent fit, which was followed by many others, until, at the close of the sixth week from the time he was bitten, he died, leaving his father a prey to the keenest grief and remorse, while Aunt Clarissa, half frantic with sorrow, wandered from room to room, wringing her hands and calling to Joseph to:

"Come back! Come back!"

Alice, who had been placed under the care of a lady who superintended the education of a dozen young misses, was recalled for the funeral. Her father was somewhat comforted in his affliction by seeing that her brother's death seemed to make a great impression upon her usually volatile mind. During the few days she remained with him after the funeral, he had many grave conversations with her regarding her future, representing to her that, now Joseph had been taken away, all his comfort for this life depended on her and her sister.

"I look forward," said he, warming with the subject, "with pleasant anticipations to a calm old age, brightened by the attentive care of my virtuous daughters. If I may be permitted to live," he added, with more seriousness, "to see them, like their mother, adorning the station to which God shall call them, I shall be happy indeed. But remember, Alice," taking her hand affectionately, "your mother was a Christian lady. Since Joseph died, I have reflected much, and with bitter regret, that I have not more faithfully performed the duties of a father." He paused, much agitated, but presently added, "Oh, Alice! I hope you may never give me occasion to mourn over my fond, foolish indulgence to you as I have mourned for your brother!"

Alice was affected at her father's words, and made a resolve to be more dutiful and regardful of his wishes. But she made it in her own strength; we shall see whether she kept it.

For a time, the sight of Dexter, so intimately associated with Joseph, was exceedingly painful to Mr. Saunders and to Aunt Clarissa; but after Alice had returned to school, they found their house so lonely that they begged Mrs. Russel to allow him to run in and out as he used to do. After this, the old lady tried her best to spoil the boy.