Paul the Courageous

by Mabel Quiller-Couch

Paul found it almost unbearable to be in as long as he was, and especially to be the object of as much notice as he was, so the second day he declared himself quite fit to go out and stroll around, and Mrs. Anketell was glad for him to be out in the sunshine and air again, he was so pale, and his spirits seemed so low.

On one point Mrs. Anketell had been most imperative—not a word as to the escaped convicts was to be mentioned before Stella and Michael. They had had so much to excite and alarm them lately, she was most anxious to keep this last terror from them. Mike, she knew, had a childish dread of the prison and its occupants, and Stella, who was not strong yet after her illness, had also been nervous of being in the near neighbourhood of the prison. So the two younger ones ran out and played about with light hearts, full of pleasure that Paul was with them again, and anxious only to make him laugh and romp about, and tease them as he used to do. But Paul, though he was out in the sunshine once more, and though he had escaped the detection of his wickedness, could not laugh, or joke, or take any interest in the others' amusement, for a great weight lay on his heart and his conscience, and he wondered if he should ever be a happy, light-hearted boy again.

It was such a lovely day, that first day he was out, so warm, and bright, and perfect, that Mrs. Anketell promised them they should have all their meals in the orchard, for there she felt they would be safe from harm, and Farmer Minards sent out for one of the shepherd's dogs to be with them too. So they had their mid-day dinner under the apple-trees, and played there contentedly enough, the children unconscious of any danger, their mother feeling for the time safe, and trying to put all fear from her, Paul in constant dread of he scarcely knew what.

In the afternoon Mr. Anketell had to leave them, as a telegram had come calling him to London at once. He was very vexed about it, for he felt peculiarly loath to leave them just then, he too being filled with a foreboding of fear, for which he could not account except by telling himself that Paul's extraordinary night adventure, and the narrow escape from the morass, had upset his nerves, and made him unusually fearful. When the car came round to take him to the station, he called Paul aside, and spoke to him very gravely.

"Paul, my son," he said kindly, "I have to leave you all, though I am more than unwilling to do so, but I am going to leave your mother and the children in your charge. Keep the little ones in your sight, guard them all carefully. Cease to be a thoughtless child for the time, and try to be a man, with a man's grave sense of responsibility. Take care of them and of yourself, and remember a great trust rests on you."

"I will, father," said Paul earnestly, and his lips quivered as his father leaned affectionately on his shoulder. Confession trembled on his lips, but there was no time for it, though he felt that here was a chance to expiate his wickedness and deceit of the past. But if he could not confess, he could at any rate live down that past and wipe it out by his future conduct, and he would, he vowed he would. "I will take care of them, father, I promise you," he repeated earnestly.

The spirits of all flagged a good deal after Mr. Anketell's departure, and it was quite a sober little party that gathered round the tea-table in the orchard, and after tea they were quite content to sit and read instead of indulging in their old lively games.

At seven o'clock Mrs. Anketell rose and went in with Mike to give him his glass of milk before putting him to bed. "I think you had all better come in now," she said. "Can you bring in the rugs and things between you?"

The elder ones followed her in a few moments with their first load, and laid the things down in the passage. Mrs. Anketell was outside calling to the maids, "I can't think where they are," she said anxiously, as the children passed her on their way out. "Mrs. Minards, I know, has gone out in the car which took father; she had some shopping to do, but she left Laura and Ann in charge. It is very wrong of them to leave the house like this."

Paul went outside and shouted the girls' names at the top of his voice, but he and Stella were bringing their last load before he saw them coming in at the yard gate. They had been down to the hind's cottage, gossiping with his wife.