“Why, sir, yesterday, when I went back to the school, he abused me, and said that he supposed that most of my relations were hanged; spoke ill of my father; and said that my mother”—Here the tears started to his eyes—he sobbed aloud.
“Go on, and be cool,” said the Colonel. “What did he say of your mother?”
“He said, sir, that she was never married to my father. I know I was wrong, sir; but if it was the king on his throne that said it of my mother, I'd call him a liar. I called him a liar, and a coward, and a villain: ay, sir, and if I had been able, I would have tramped him under my feet.”
The Colonel looked steadily at him, but the open clear eye which the boy turned upon him was full of truth and independence. “And you will find,” said the soldier, “that this spirited defence of your mother will be the most fortunate action of your life. Well; he struck you then, did he?”
“He knocked me down, sir, with his fist—then kicked me in the back and sides. I think some of my ribs are broke.”
“Ay!—no doubt, no doubt,” said the Colonel. “And you were only after recovering from this fever which is so prevalent?”
“I wasn't a week out of it, sir.”
“Well, my boy, we shall punish him for you.”
“Sir, would you hear me for a word or two, if it would be pleasing to you?”
“Speak on,” said the Colonel.