“None,” replied Clinton; “he said, if I would confess the whole affair to you, he would leave the punishment to you.”
“Well,” said his father, “I will think about it. I could cheerfully forgive all the past, if you would promise to do better hereafter,—but I am not sure that this would be the best thing for you.”
“I mean to behave better hereafter,” said Clinton; “but I do not ask to be pardoned without punishment. I know I deserve to suffer for my conduct, and I shan’t think hard of it if I do.”
Mr. Davenport said he would consider the matter, and announce his decision the next day. The family then knelt in prayer; and the erring, but repentant, son was most affectionately commended to the Divine forgiveness, and the Good Spirit implored to guide his future steps.
The next morning Clinton attended school, as usual, but Jerry was absent. Mr. Eaton inquired of Clinton if he had kept his promise, and seemed much pleased when he answered in the affirmative. He gave him some good advice, and expressed the hope that he would avoid all similar errors hereafter. It being Saturday, no school was held in the afternoon, and Clinton returned home without having seen Jerry.
In the evening, when Clinton was alone with his parents, the subject which had engrossed the thoughts of all, so earnestly, for the last twenty-four hours, was again introduced.
“Your mother and I,” said Mr. Davenport, “have talked over your affair, Clinton, and we have come to the conclusion that the series of offences was so long, and so aggravated, that the pain of exposure which you have suffered is hardly sufficient punishment. You did well in making a confession, it is true; but, you did not do that, until you found you could no longer conceal your guilt. We have therefore decided that you must forego your promised trip to Boston next March, by way of punishment.”
This was, indeed, a severe deprivation to Clinton. For more than six months he had been anticipating, with delight, the arrival of spring, when, the winter-school over, he was to spend several weeks with his uncle and cousins in Boston. But he felt that the disappointment was deserved, and he made no complaint. His father afterwards added, for his encouragement, that if his conduct continued unexceptionable, the suspended visit should come off in the following autumn, after the fall work was over.
Notwithstanding his disappointment, Clinton went to bed that night with a lighter heart than he had known before for many weeks. He felt that he had escaped from a frightful snare, and that he could once more look his parents and teacher honestly in the face. He determined to retrieve, by his good conduct, whatever he had lost, in their estimation; and he felt almost impatient to be tempted again, that he might show them how firmly he could now resist every evil influence.