Part 29 (1/2)
”There isn't anything so very queer about it, uncle,” he said coolly enough, at first, though once he had spoken his courage seemed to leave him a little. ”I-I was smoking up there, and I suppose I threw a match-or maybe-”
”Ah-h-h!” said Mr. Lambert slowly. Then he pressed his lips together, and for a moment or two said nothing. At length he observed,
”There are one or two matters I should like to take up with you after supper, Paul. However, we won't go into them just now.” And then he changed the subject with an abruptness that so far from drawing the thoughts of his family _away_ from speculations upon what was in store for Paul, only made them more dismally foreboding. And when after supper the family showed a desire to disperse before the coming storm, Mr.
Lambert solemnly asked them to remain while he asked Paul a few questions.
”Peter, don't scold the poor boy to-night,” said Aunt Gertrude in a low voice. ”He has-he is very much distressed and disappointed.”
”It is true that he brought his own punishment upon himself,” returned Mr. Lambert, ”and I should, perhaps, overlook the matter of his smoking this time, although he knew quite as well as Carl that I have absolutely forbidden that. It is a far more serious matter that I have to speak of.”
And with this he turned to Paul, who had been trying to collect his thoughts. He was not ignorant of what the serious matter might be, but it seemed to him that his uncle was making a good deal more out of it than it was worth, and he had begun to wonder whether he had been guilty of some crime that so far he knew nothing of.
”I have heard to-day-from a source that I fear is only too reliable-certain reports concerning you, which in justice to you I must ask you to deny or confirm,” said Mr. Lambert.
”What are they, uncle?” asked Paul.
”I was told-and by one of my most respected fellow-citizens-that you have been seen not once, but at least half a dozen time of late with a young man of a most undesirable character and reputation-Jefferson Roberts. Could my informant have been mistaken? Have you or have you not seen this young man several times-recently?”
Paul swallowed. The entire family was aghast, for it was very plain that Mr. Lambert was deeply angered.
”Well?” said the old merchant. ”Is this true?”
”Yes, uncle.”
”You knew what my feelings would be if I learned that this _was_ true?”
”Yes, uncle.”
”Yes,” repeated Mr. Lambert, ”I think you knew very well that you were disobeying my strictest injunctions. Just before Christmas you were-or could have been-seen with this notorious youth-a gambler, a rascal, a shameless loafer. When I learned of this, I pardoned you, thinking that you might not have known how deeply outraged I should feel at discovering that any member of my household should wish to a.s.sociate with such a person. But now you have disobeyed me without such excuse.
What am I to think? You give me no choice but to believe that you find pleasure in disobeying me, and mortifying me.”
After a pause, he went on,
”Yes, mortifying me. You have treated me as I have not deserved to be treated. I have given you a home, I have considered your welfare as attentively as I have considered the welfare of my own children; I have been lenient with you, though you would, perhaps, not be willing to admit as much-and in return I find you willing to-perhaps you are not aware that in a.s.sociating with this Roberts and his crew you not only injure your own standing in this town, but injure me also. For more than a hundred years the family whose name you bear, and my own have stood for every principle of good citizens.h.i.+p; and that honorable reputation is to be marred through the willfulness of a youth who counts such a thing so lightly that he will toss it away for a few hours' idle amus.e.m.e.nt!”
This grave, stern accusation was not what Paul had expected. He turned white and then blushed crimson. His vocal chords felt stiff, but at last he managed to speak.
”I-I didn't think that Jeff Roberts was judged fairly, sir,” he stammered.
”Ah!”
”And what have I done that's so terrible?” cried Paul, ”I only-”
”You knew that you were disobeying me?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Perhaps you think that at eighteen years of age you are a better judge of character than grey headed men and women? Perhaps you think that you are old enough to be your own master?” Mr. Lambert got up. ”I cannot allow willful disobedience in my house. You have been guilty of it too often. I feel now that it would be best for all concerned-for you especially-to-let you _be_ your own master. You are free now to go where you like, make friends with whom you will, direct your own life as you please.” He stopped. There was not a sound in the room-indeed no one quite realized that Mr. Lambert's words actually const.i.tuted a dismissal.