Bert fidgeted in his chair, the flush deepened in his face, his eyes dropped before his father's searching gaze, and his hands worked nervously. At last, with an apparent effort, he replied, in a low tone:
"There's nothing the matter with me, father."
Mr. Lloyd sighed, and looked troubled.
"Yes, there is, Bert. You know there is. Now, don't conceal it from me, but speak right out. Remember your motto, Bert: 'Quit you like men.'"
The working of Bert's countenance showed clearly the struggle that was going on within, and there was silence for a moment, while Mr. Lloyd awaited his answer, praying earnestly the while that his boy might be helped to do the right. Then, suddenly, Bert sprang up, darted toward the door, and heeding not his father's surprised exclamation of—"Bert, Bert, aren't you going to answer me?" ran up the stairs to his own room. An instant more and he returned, bearing a volume which he placed in Mr. Lloyd's hands; and then, throwing himself on the sofa, he buried his head in the cushions, and burst into a passion of tears.
Bewildered by this unexpected action, Mr. Lloyd's first impulse was to take his boy in his arms and try to soothe him. Then he bethought himself of the book lying in his lap, and turned to it for an explanation of the mystery. It was an innocent-enough looking volume, and seemed at first glance to make matters no clearer, but as he held it in his hands there came back to him the recollection of his own schoolboy days, and like a flash the thing was plain to him. Bert had been using a "pony," and in some way had come to realise the extent of his wrong-doing.
With feelings divided between sorrow that his boy should fall a victim to this temptation, and gladness that he should have the courage to confess it, Mr. Lloyd went over to the sofa, lifted Bert up gently, and placed him on the chair beside him.
"Come, now, Bert, dear," said he, in his tenderest tones, "don't be afraid, but just tell me all about it."
In a voice much broken by sobs, Bert then told the whole story, beginning with the first conversation with Regie Selwyn, and leaving out nothing. His father listened intently, and it was clear the recital moved him deeply. When it ended, he silently lifted up his heart in praise to God that his darling boy had been delivered from so great a danger, and he determined that Dr. Chrystal should not fail to hear how effective his faithful preaching had been.
"I need not tell you, Bert, how sad this makes my heart, but I will not add my reproaches to the remorse you already feel," said he, gravely. "You have done very, very wrong, dear, and it is now your duty to make that wrong right again, so far as is in your power. What do you think yourself you ought to do?"