"Well, well," said the old man, in an encouraging tone, "let this experience be a lesson to you. Let alone the weed. You can be a man without it, if you try. Good-by, good-by, my son!"
He got into the wagon, leaving the unhappy lad still moaning and writhing with anguish on the green-sward.
Mark Wheeler arrived at the gate, having come to take leave of Father Brighthopes, just as Chester and his father were driving away with their aged friend.
The jockey rode the one-eyed colt, which he still retained in his possession,—a perpetual remembrancer of a memorable day in his rugged and uneven life.
He dismounted, and shook hands with the old man. Mark was much affected by his kind wishes and gentle admonitions; but the presence of Mr. Royden and Chester embarrassed him, and he could not express his feelings.
"Come," said Mr. Royden, observing the state of affairs, "I suppose we have not much time to lose."
"I will ride along with you," replied Mark, throwing himself upon the back of the one-eyed colt.
Mrs. Royden, Hepsy and the children, watched the little party as they rode away, Chester driving, while his father sat with the gray-haired clergyman on the seat behind him, and Mark trotted his colt along on the road-side, at their right hand; and they who were left at home felt strange emotions of loneliness steal over their hearts, at the thought that the venerable and beloved form then vanishing from sight might never more repose beneath that roof.
There was no quarreling nor loud words among the children, that morning, as they set out for school; but their faces were expressive of unusual soberness, and their young hearts quite sad; until the bright birds singing by the way-side, the breezes playing in their hair, and the sunshine flooding all the earth, dispelled their gloom, and led them to forget that the gentle old man they loved was riding on his journey, to his field of labor far away.