CHAPTER XI.
THE TOUCHSTONE OF TRIAL.
“Looking forward, he saw Faithful before him upon his journey.”—Pilgrim’s Progress.
A few hours afterwards, as Charles was sitting in his own room, amusing himself with his pencil, he was joined by his tutor, who looked weary and pale, as if suffering from exertion and excitement.
“I hope that you have found out who beat the poor boy so cruelly, and have given him up to justice,” exclaimed Charles.
“The man whom I suspect is in custody,” replied the clergyman, sinking wearily down on a chair. “I find that Mark is asleep; ’tis the best thing for him.”
“Yes, poor fellow, he has been sleeping for the last hour. The surgeon is to call again in the evening. But you look exceedingly tired, dear sir; let me bring you a glass of wine.”
“No, Charles, thank you; it is not wine that I require. I am full of anxious thought, my dear boy.” And he passed his hand across his pale forehead.
“Anxious thought for Mark?” inquired Charles.