"I don't know. I'd as lief be there as anywhere else, if I can't see you!"
"But you will see me sometimes. We can't meet any more as we go to school; but we'll see each other often, Andrew."
These words lifted much of the heavy weight that pressed on the feelings of the boy.
"When will we see each other?" he asked.
"I don't know," replied Emily. "Father said we musn't meet going to school; but there will be other chances. Good-by! I wouldn't like father to see me here, for then he would think me a very disobedient girl."
And saying this, Emily turned and ran fleetly away. Andrew's feelings were relieved from the pressure that rested upon them. Still he felt angry and indignant at Mr. Winters, and this state increasing rather than subsiding, tended to encourage other states of mind that were not good. With a feeling of rebellion in his heart he returned home, where he found no difficulty in provoking some reaction, and in falling under the quickly excited displeasure of his father, who was ever more inclined to seek than overlook causes of reproof. The consequence was, that when he left home for school in the afternoon he felt little inclination to attend, and, after a slight debate, yielded to this inclination. A little forbearance and kindness would have softened the child's feelings, and prompted him to enter the right way. But the iron hand was never relaxed, and there was no room beneath it for the crushed heart of the boy to swell with better impulses.
At supper time, on that evening, the boy was absent. He should have been at home nearly two hours before.
"Where is Andrew?" asked Mr. Howland, as they gathered at the table.
"I'm sure I don't know," replied Mrs. Howland, in a voice touched with a deeper concern than usual.
"Has he been home since school was dismissed?"