“No, sir; but I am in such a strange position.”
“You are, my lad; but you see your father has always had the worthy ambition to give his son a good education, and make him something better than he has been himself.”
“Yes, sir, but—”
“Hear me out, Bigley. It has been my misfortune twice over to give him deadly offence, and the last time he visited it upon me by giving information to the French, which led to, as you call it, my serious losses.”
“Yes, sir,” cried Bigley, “and I am miserable. I feel as if I could not look you in the face.”
“Why not?” said my father kindly. “Yours is a good, frank, honest face, my lad, and you have always been my boy’s companion and friend. Come, come, no more of this nonsense. I have right on my side, and some day your father will awaken to the fact that the information I gave was given in the way of duty, and have a better opinion of me. As to you—”
“I must go, sir—I must go,” cried Bigley, “I cannot stay here any longer.”
“No, you must not go,” said my father firmly. “It is evidently your father’s wish that you should stay, or he would say so when he sends you money so regularly. There, come, we’ll say that he has done me a great deal of injury, and caused me a very heavy loss.”
“Yes, sir, that is always on my mind.”
“And that kept you from getting better, my lad. So now I’m going to make a bargain with you. Get quite strong again, as I hope to be myself before long, and come and help us at the mine to recover the lost ground again.”