"Ay, truly can we," replied the old lady; "and be sure to do the same next time, Charles. It makes me sick to think of this species of paternal admonishing."
"I am to be lectured for my impatience under it, as I suspect; for he bade me meet him in his library to-morrow morning."
"His library! Scoundrel!" exclaimed Sir Gilbert through his closed teeth.
"Shall I obey the mandate, Sir Gilbert?" said Charles. "Or shall I take no notice of it?"
"The question seems an easy one to answer, Charles?" replied the baronet; "and had I been to answer yesterday morning, I should have said without hesitation,—set fire to the library, and stifle him in it like a weazel as he is, rather than come at his call. But I have taken it into my head since, that our test game will be to keep things soft and smooth for a while. So wait upon him, Master Charles, in your father's library, and hear all he has got to say; and don't turn yourself out of the house; and don't spit upon him if you can help it. But I hope he won't sit in poor Mowbray's chair!"
In consequence of this counsel, Charles did wait upon the vicar in his father's library at the appointed hour, and took what comfort he could from perceiving that he was not seated in that lamented father's chair, but had ensconced himself in a newly-invented fauteuil of surpassing softness, which he had caused to be brought from the drawing-room for his especial comfort.
"You have not kept me waiting, and I commend you for it, my son. May he, in whom I trust, lead you in his own good time to be all that your pious mother can wish to see you. Sit down, Charles—pray sit down."
Poor Charles!—the whole scene was purgatory to him; but his courage did not forsake him: and instead of running out of the room, as he felt terribly tempted to do, he sat down opposite to his stepfather, determined to hear every thing he had to say.
"I think, Charles, that the pious nature of your mother, awakened as it has of late been, must by this time be so sufficiently known to you all, as to prevent the possibility of your mistaking her motives for marrying the second father, in whose presence you are now placed. Her motives have been of the holiest kind, and never, probably, did any person perform a more acceptable service than she did when, placing her hand within mine before his altar, she resigned that power over her children, which maternal weakness rendered almost nugatory, to one who is too strong in the Lord to permit any human feelings or motives ever to make him swerve from that course which he is taught to believe the best. It would be a very shining pleasure to me if your thankfulness for this most merciful dispensation were at this very moment to impel you to kneel down on one of these cushions;—of such there are always sufficient, and to spare, in the dwellings of the chosen:—I wish, I say, that even now I could see you fall down before me to give thanks for having sent to you and to your sisters one of his own, as your guide and protector through the pitfalls of this life, and to usher you with favour into his presence in the life to come. I would willingly see you thus grateful for manifest mercies,—but I shall not insist upon it at this moment, for I know, Charles, how different have been the paths in which your teachers have hitherto led you."
The vicar here paused; but as there was no point in his harangue to which Mowbray could have replied in the spirit which his friend had recommended to him, he resolutely kept silence.