X.
COMPANY.
It was near sundown when Chester returned, having succeeded in finding Frank, and returned him to his owner.
Meanwhile Father Brighthopes had had a long talk with the distressed and remorseful Sam. The old man's kindness and sympathy touched the lad's heart more than anything had ever done before. He could not endure the appeals to his better nature, to his sense of right, and to his plain reason, with which the clergyman represented the folly and wickedness of lying.
"I am sure," said Father Brighthopes, in conclusion, "that, with as much real good in you as you have, the falsehood has cost you more pain than half a dozen floggings."
Sam acknowledged the fact.
"Then, aside from the wickedness of the thing, is not falsehood unwise? Don't you always feel better to be frank and honest, let the consequences be what they will?"
"I knowed it, all the time," sobbed Sam, "but I darsn't tell the truth! I wished I had told it, but I darsn't!"
"Then we may conclude that lying is usually the mark of a coward. Men would tell the truth, if they were not afraid to."