“I believe you, entirely,” said Mr Nugent. “But I wish to know if you can guess what Julian Langley was about during his absence.”
“That is the very point about which I don’t want to say any thing,” said Digby. “Let Julian tell his own story.”
“But he does not seem inclined to exculpate you; he leads me to suppose that whatever he was about you were helping him to do. You will have to prove the contrary, or you will be considered as guilty as he is,” observed Mr Nugent.
“I cannot help that,” answered Digby, after a little thought. “I have stated the truth; I am ready to be punished for leaving the house, and, as things turned out, I am sorry I did it, but I should have been very miserable if any harm had come to Julian which I could have prevented.”
“Then since you refuse to enlighten me, I will not press the matter now,” said his uncle. “I will consider to-morrow what punishment I shall inflict on you. Take this cloak and go to sleep on the sofa. Remember that you are not to communicate by word or writing, or in any way with Julian. Promise me that you in this will obey me.”
“I do promise,” said Digby.
“Good-night,” said his uncle, not altogether displeased with the boy.
Oh, what a blessed thing it is to be able to confide thoroughly in the word of a person, to know that he always, and under all circumstances, speaks the truth—not only that he scorns a falsehood, but that he deeply feels how odious it is in the sight of God, a pure God who is truth itself. In what different estimation are two boys held, who are perhaps in most respects equal. They have equal talents, can play equally well at games, of the same strength, and appearance, and manners, are equally good-natured, and are equally well supplied with pocket-money, and the means of treating their companions. One has been proved never to deviate from the truth, either through fear, or for the sake of telling a good story, or on any other account; the other it is known never scruples to tell a falsehood, if it suits his convenience, or it can afford amusement to himself or others, while if he thinks he can by it avoid detection from any fault he may have committed, he invariably does so. One is looked up to, honoured, and loved, both by boys and masters; the other may find plenty of associates, but no one trusts him, and all in their hearts despise him, and what is strange, even those who will at times prevaricate and deviate as widely from the truth as he does, have a feeling of contempt for him. Remember, that it is not the only sin, vile as it is, which a boy can commit, but it is one with others which should be watchfully guarded against, and earnestly prayed against, and certainly none, even in the eyes of worldly people, is considered more unworthy of the character of an English country gentleman.
Sutton, the revenue man, made his appearance the next morning; he said some of the fishermen were so furious at the mischief which had been intended them, that unless they could be appeased the matter must go before a bench of magistrates. If so, Mr Heathcote and Mr Langley would have to try their own sons, and the whole affair would be very disagreeable and painful. Poor Mr Nugent was very much annoyed. He went to Julian’s room; that young gentleman was still asleep. He roused him up, made him put on his clothes rapidly, without allowing him time to reflect. He had previously sent Digby out of the study; he now took Julian to it.
“How do you account for yourself from the time you left the house till Digby found you?” he asked.