Part 4 (1/2)
”Do you want me, sir?” asked Paul.
”Yes; you are wanted at home.”
Our hero was filled with terror and anxiety by this reply. He was sure that something had happened, or a gentleman like Captain Littleton would not have taken the trouble to come after him. As the boat struck the bank, he brailed up the sail, and jumped ash.o.r.e with the painter in his hand.
”Come, Paul, never mind the boat; Thomas will take care of her. Get into the chaise with me as quick as you can,” said Captain Littleton.
”What is the matter, sir? What has happened?” demanded Paul, trembling with the most painful solicitude.
”Get into the chaise first, and I will tell you as we return.”
”Has anything happened to my mother, sir?” cried Paul, the tears rus.h.i.+ng to his eyes.
”Nothing has happened to your mother, Paul. She is quite well,” answered Captain Littleton, as he urged the horse to his utmost speed.
Paul was greatly relieved by this a.s.surance, though it was still evident from the manner of the gentleman, and the speed at which he drove the horse, that some dreadful event had occurred. His conscience smote him for his disobedience to his mother, and he was not in a fit moral condition to meet the shock of adversity with courage and fort.i.tude. He would have given the world, in that anxious moment, to have undone the work of the last three hours, and effaced their record from his conscience.
”Tell me what has happened, if you please, sir,” he continued. ”Is any of the folks dead? You say it is not my mother.”
”Your mother is quite well, and none of your family are dead, though----”
Captain Littleton paused, and looked at the boy's face, which was still bathed in tears. He saw the misery that he was enduring, and he hesitated to utter words which he knew must carry grief and woe to his heart.
”You must be calm and firm, Paul,” continued the kind gentleman. ”It is not so bad as you suppose, and we may hope for the best. Your father has just met with a serious accident.”
”Is he dead, sir?” gasped Paul. ”You don't tell me the whole story, sir.”
”He is not dead, Paul; but he is very badly hurt.”
”He is alive, then?”
”He is.”
Paul closely scrutinized the expression of Captain Littleton, fearful that he had not told him the whole truth.
”Are you sure he was not killed?” he asked, still unsatisfied.
”He was alive when I left him, but that was nearly an hour ago.”
”I am thankful if he is alive. How did it happen, sir?”
”He fell from the bow of the s.h.i.+p upon which he was at work, and struck a pile of timber. I am afraid he is very badly hurt. I happened to be near the s.h.i.+pyard at the time, and a.s.sisted in carrying him home. He is conscious, and asked for you. Your mother said you were out in the boat.”
Paul burst into tears again at these words, for he realized the nature and depth of his mother's feelings when she had uttered them, and how bitterly did he regret his act of disobedience! The dreadful event had come to intensify the anguish of his penitence, and he felt that, if he had not done wrong, he could have met the calamity with patience and resolution. When children do wrong, they know not what event may occur to increase a thousand fold the bitterness of their remorse.
”Do you think my father is alive now?” sobbed Paul.
”I hope so; but it is impossible to foretell the result. The doctors spoke very despondingly of his case; but we must hope for the best.”
”How does my mother bear it?”