The first knock announced one whom she did not expect—Gilbert, wretchedly pale from a sleepless night, and his voice scarcely audible.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he said; ‘but I thought I might have led you to be hard on Lucy: I do believe it was against her will.’
Before she could answer, the door flew wide, and in rushed Maurice, shouting, ‘Good morning, mamma;’ and at his voice Mr. Kendal’s dressing-room door was pushed back, and he called, ‘Here, Maurice.’
As the boy ran forward, he was met and lifted to his father’s breast, while, with a fervency he little understood, though he never forgot it, the words were uttered,
‘God bless you, Maurice, and give you grace to go on to withstand temptation, and speak the truth from your heart!’
Maurice was impressed for a moment, then he recurred to his leading thought—
‘May I have the cannon, papa? I did kick—I broke the bottle, but may I have the cannon?’
‘Maurice, you are too young to understand the value of your resistance. Listen to me, my boy, for you must never forget this: you have been taken among persons who, I trust, will never be your companions.’
‘Oh!’ interrupted Maurice, ‘must I never be a jockey?’
‘No, Maurice. Horses are perverted to bad purposes by thoughtless men, and you must keep aloof from such. You were not to blame, for you refused to do what you knew to be wrong, and did not know it was an improper place for you.’