‘Ah, young apostate! So you have found him, reverend and ill-used sir. Praised be Heaven for this rapid success!’
‘My good friend,’ asked Arsenius, in a trembling voice, ‘what brings you here?’
‘Heaven forbid that I should have allowed your sanctity and age to go forth without some guard against the insults and violence of this wretched youth and his profligate companions. We have been following you afar off all the morning, with hearts full of filial solicitude.’
‘Many thanks; but indeed your kindness has been superfluous. My son here, from whom I have met with nothing but affection, and whom, indeed, I believe far more innocent than report declared him, is about to return peaceably with me. Are you not, Philammon?’
‘Alas! my father’’ said Philammon, with an effort, ‘how can I find courage to say it’?—but I cannot return with you.’
‘Cannot return?’
‘I vowed that I would never again cross that threshold till—’
‘And Cyril does. He bade me, indeed he bade me, assure you that he would receive you back as a son, and forgive and forget all the past.’
‘Forgive and forget? That is my part—not his. Will he right me against that tyrant and his crew? Will he proclaim me openly to be an innocent and persecuted man, unjustly beaten and driven forth for obeying his own commands? Till he does that, I shall not forget that I am a free man.’
‘A free man!’ said Peter, with an unpleasant smile; ‘that remains to be proved, my gay youth; and will need more evidence than that smart philosophic cloak and those well-curled locks which you have adopted since I saw you last.’