CHAPTER IX.

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.