Charles had burst into a torrent of fresh tears, and sobbing his “Good-byes,” got into the coach very quickly.
“Come, come, you mustn't be a baby,” said his father, squeezing both his hands; and he shut the coach door himself.
“Good-bye, Charlie,” said the little girls.
“Good-bye, master Charles,” said the servants.
“I shall be so glad when Christmas comes,” sobbed the little one.
The coach rolled away, amid the adieus and blessings poured on the disconsolate boy, who watched his home eagerly as long as he could see it. There they were all—father, sisters, and servants, watching at the gate till the coach was out of sight. For some time, Louis did not attempt to console his new companion, who threw himself into the opposite corner, and burying his face in his handkerchief, sobbed passionately, without any effort at self-control. At length, the violence of his grief abating, Louis gently spoke to him, asking if he had ever been away from home before. At first, Charles was very reserved, and only answered Louis' questions; but by degrees his sobs decreased, and from declaring that he could not see the reason of his being sent away from home, he at last talked freely to Louis of his father, sisters, and home; and asked Louis of his. Louis was ready enough to enlarge on these topics, and entered into an enthusiastic description of home and its pleasures, and before they had reached their journey's end, they had become very good friends.
Charles had informed Louis that his father was a clergyman, and that his home was the parsonage house; and enlarged very much on the pleasure of being taught by his father. There was something in his manner of expressing himself that often surprised Louis, and made him think that he must be older than he appeared. Before they reached Bristol, they had agreed to be “great friends,” and to help each other as much as possible. Charles had evidently been very carefully brought up, and Louis found that they had many things in common. They decided to be companions on Sunday, and to be together whenever they could.
Between seven and eight o'clock, the coach stopped in Bristol, where Reginald joined his brother; and after a few minutes spent in taking a hasty tea, the three boys were consigned to a suitable conveyance, and drove on to Dr. Wilkinson's.
Reginald had a mortal aversion to tears in any boy but Louis, and had consequently taken an antipathy to his new school-fellow, besides caring very little about so small a boy. He was just civil to him, and his manner bringing out all Charles's shyness, he became very silent, and scarcely any thing was said during the ride from Bristol to Ashfield House.
It would be of little use describing the interesting appearance that Ashfield House presented when the three young gentlemen arrived there. Such descriptions are generally skipped; consequently, I leave it to my reader's imagination to picture how romantic the edifice looked, with the last faint yellow daylight glowing on its front, and the first few stars peeping out on the green park.