Ferdinand. So it was, Louisa: pray let me tell about it. He pretended to quarrel with his father, papa, declaring he was a great tyrant, who had no compassion, even for his own children. Upon this, the king ordered him to be publicly beaten in the Forum. All this was repeated at Gabii, by persons who were in the secret, and whom they thought they could trust. The Gabini believed it all, and were very anxious to get Sextus amongst them. After many secret invitations, he agreed to their request, provided they first gave him their solemn promise, never, on any pretence, to deliver him up to his father. When he reached Gabii, he talked constantly of the tyranny of the king of Rome, and acted, in every respect, as the declared enemy of his country. He frequently made inroads on the Roman lands, and came back loaded with spoil; his father always contriving to send against him such weak parties, that he easily conquered them. By these means, Sextus gained very great credit among the Gabini. They at last chose him general of their army, and he was as much master there, as Tarquin was in Rome.
Louisa. Ah! now comes the treachery. Oh, papa, what a very base thing it is to betray those who place confidence in us. I cannot bear Sextus.
Ferdinand. Well, Louisa, now pray do not interrupt me just in this very interesting part. Finding his authority so firmly established, he sent a slave to his father, to enquire what he should do. The king dare not treat the slave with his answer, even in writing; so he took him into the garden, and there struck off the heads of all the tallest poppies. Having done this, he sent back the messenger. Sextus, who understood the meaning of this action, assembled the Gabini, and pretended to have discovered a plot to deliver him up to his father. The people, who were very fond of him, fell into a great rage, and begged him to declare the names of the conspirators. He mentioned Antistius Petro, who was, from his merit, the most considerable person in the country. He, knowing his innocence, despised the accusation; but Sextus had bribed his servants to convey amongst his papers some pretended letters from the king of Rome, which being produced and read, the populace, without further examination, immediately stoned him to death. The Gabini then committed to Sextus the care of discovering his accomplices, and appointing their punishment. He instantly ordered the city gates to be shut, and sent officers into every quarter, to cut off the heads of all the most eminent citizens, without any mercy; and in the midst of the confusion occasioned by this dreadful massacre, he opened the gates to his father, who had previously had notice of his design, and who entered the city with all the pride of a conquerer.
Just as Ferdinand had finished this account, and before he had time to make any comment upon it, Mr. Dormer was announced, a gentleman who lived at no great distance from Mr. Bernard's, and who frequently, in an evening, made one at his social fire-side. His kind, conciliatory manners, had endeared him to the children, and he was, in his turn, much pleased with their amiable frankness, and tender attachment to each other.
Being a man of general information, and possessing an enlarged and cultivated mind, his conversation was both amusing and instructive, and he was always a welcome guest at Broomfield.
"I hope I have not interrupted any agreeable topic of conversation," said he, drawing Ferdinand between his knees.
Mr. Bernard assured him he could never be considered an interruption, and proceeded to tell him how they had been engaged previously to his entrance.
Mr. Dormer highly approved the plan of impressing instruction upon the minds of young people by conversation, and regretted that it should be generally so much neglected. "I dare say the little folks look forward with great delight to the approach of evening," said he.
"Oh yes, Sir, that we do," replied Louisa: "we see so little of our dear father in the day-time, that it is really quite a treat to sit down altogether at night, and tell him what we have said, and thought, and done, in the day; for I like that papa and mamma should know all my thoughts, as well as my actions."
Ferdinand. And so do I too; but mine are often very silly thoughts, not worth any one's knowing. I wish I could keep them in better order. Those lines written by Cowper, which I learnt the other day, are very true, mamma:—