Chapter 3

A DISAPPOINTED BOY

Captain Sedley was an early riser. Every morning at sunrise he was abroad in the pleasant grove that bordered the lake near his house. It was a favorite spot, and he had spent a great deal of time and money in bringing Art into communion with Nature in this lovely retreat. He had cleared out the underbrush, made gravel walks and avenues through it, erected a summer-house in the valley, and an observatory on the summit of the hill, which terminated on the lake side in a steep rocky precipice, at whose base the waters rippled.

The worthy shipmaster was a devout man, which was perhaps the reason why he so much enjoyed his morning walk. It was the pleasantest hour of all the day to him,--a fit time for meditation, and for the contemplation of the beautiful scenery that surrounded his habitation. The trees looked greener and the lake more limpid then, when his mind was invigorated by the peaceful slumbers of the preceding night; and there, in his favorite retreat, while all nature was smiling upon him, went up his morning prayer to that beneficent Being who had spared him yet another day, and crowned his life with loving-kindness and tender mercies.

It was the morning of the Fourth of July; and the sounds of the booming cannon and the pealing bells, which the westerly breeze bore up the lake, reminded him of the gratitude he owed to God for the political, social, and religious privileges which had been bequeathed to the country by the fathers of the Revolution. He prayed for his country, that a blessing might always rest upon it.

As he walked along, thus engaged in his inaudible devotions, he heard a footstep behind him. The solitude of his morning walk was seldom disturbed by the intrusion of others. Turning, he recognized the friend of his son.

"You are abroad early, Charles," said he.

"Yes, sir; this is the Fourth of July."

"And you feel like a little patriot on the occasion."

"I feel like having some fun."

"No doubt of it; I am afraid the boys think more of the smoke and noise of the day than they do of the momentous event it commemorates."

"We like to have a good time, and the Fourth of July comes but once a year."

"Probably you will be fully satisfied before night comes."

"I don't know," replied Charles, in a tone and with an expression of countenance which attracted the attention of Captain Sedley.

"You don't know! I thought you were depending upon a good time in the city!"

"We _did_ anticipate a great deal of pleasure, but we have given it up."

"Indeed! I have made preparations to take you to Boston."

"We have given it up, sir," repeated Charles.

"Frank?"

"Yes, sir."

"He has not mentioned the fact to me."

"But he intends to do so."

"What is the meaning of all this? I am surprised."

"I knew you would be," said Charles evasively.

"But why have you given it up?"

"Oh! that's a secret."

"Is it, indeed? Then, you really are not going?"

"No, sir."

"I suppose the secret is not to be divulged to me."

"No, sir."

Captain Sedley was not a little perplexed by what he had heard. The proposed excursion had been the topic of conversation for the last fortnight, and Charles and Frank had both manifested the liveliest interest in it. And now that the whole scheme had been abandoned, the anticipated pleasure voluntarily resigned, was strange and incomprehensible. At first he was disposed to believe some more agreeable plan of spending the day had been devised, and it seemed questionable to him whether the plan which must be kept secret could meet his approbation.

"It was Frank's notion, Mr. Sedley," added Charles.

"And you have promised not to tell me?"

"Oh, no, sir! I don't know that Frank would like it if I should do so, though I can't see what harm it would do."

"Of course you must do as you think proper," replied Captain Sedley. "I don't wish you to betray Frank's confidence, unless you think he is doing wrong."

"Nothing wrong, sir."

"Then, why should it be kept secret?"

"I do not know of any reason why it should be. You won't tell Frank if I let the cat out of the bag?" said Charles with a kind of forced laugh.

"Certainly not, if you wish it."

"Well, then, we are not going because we have no money to spend."

"No money! Why, I gave Frank three dollars towards it no longer ago than yesterday, and he had some money before that," replied Captain Sedley, not a little alarmed at the revelation.

"Frank had four dollars and seventy-five cents, and I had two dollars and twenty-five cents, which made seven dollars between us."

"What have you done with it?" asked the kind father, fearful lest his son had been doing wrong.

"Last night we concluded to give our money to the widow Weston, instead of spending it for candy and crackers, and to stay at home instead of going to Boston."

An expression of pleasure lighted up the features of the devoted father. The confession of Charles was a great relief to him.

"Well done, boys!" exclaimed he. "That was noble and generous;" and involuntarily he thrust his hand into his pocket, and drew forth his purse.

"Frank proposed it," said Charles, a gleam of satisfaction lighting up his eye as he beheld the purse.

Captain Sedley held it in his hand a moment, looked searchingly at Charles, and then returned it to his pocket.

"It was a noble deed, Charles; and I had rather hear such a thing of my son than to have all the wealth and honors which the world can give bestowed upon him."

Charles looked disappointed when he saw Captain Sedley restore his purse to his pocket.

"And Frank means to keep it a secret, does he?" continued the delighted father.

"Yes, sir; till to-morrow."

"Very well; I will not mention the fact that you have told me about it."

"Thank you, sir," replied Charles doubtfully.

"And I am glad you told me--that is, if you have not betrayed his confidence;" and Captain Sedley looked rather sharply at Charles.

"Oh, no, sir! I have not."

"Because, when he tells me he does not intend to go, I should otherwise have insisted on knowing the reason."

Charles was already sorry he had said a word about it.

"It was a noble sacrifice, Charles," continued Captain Sedley with much enthusiasm. "If from a worthy motive we sacrifice our inclinations for the good of others, we are always sure of finding our reward--indeed, the act is its own reward."

Charles began to feel a little uneasy. It seemed to him as though Captain Sedley never looked so sharply at him before. What could he mean? He had given all his money to the widow Weston as well as Frank, but Captain Sedley's looks seemed to reprove rather than commend him. He did not feel satisfied with himself, or with Captain Sedley--why, he could not exactly tell; so he happened to think that his father might want him, and he ran home as fast as his legs would carry him.

But his father did not want him, and he walked nervously about the house till breakfast-time. He had no appetite, and everything seemed to go wrong with him.

"Come, Charles," said his mother, "eat your breakfast, or you will get hungry before you get to Boston."

"Not going," answered he sulkily.

"Why not?" asked his father and mother in the same breath.

"Haven't got any money."

"No money! Where is the two dollars I gave you yesterday?" asked Mr. Hardy rather sternly.

"Gave it away."

"You did?"

"Yes, sir."

"To whom?"

"Frank proposed last night to give our money to the widow Weston instead of spending it; and like a great fool as I was, I agreed to it."

"Poor fellow! It is too bad!" added Mrs. Hardy.

"What did he do it for, then?" said Mr. Hardy.

"Of course he didn't want to be behind Frank in doing a good action."

"But he is a long way behind him."

"Why, husband!"

"He has given the woman the money, and played the hypocrite," replied Mr. Hardy, with the most evident expression of disgust in his tones and looks. "He has acted just like a great many folks who put money into the contribution-box for missions and Bible societies, because they think it looks well."

"But, husband, you will give him some more money? You will make up the sum to him which he has given in charity?"

"Given in charity! Given in hypocrisy, you mean! I shall do no such thing."

"Deprive the poor boy of all his anticipated pleasure?" said the indulgent mother.

"The bitter fruit of his own hypocrisy," replied Mr. Hardy.

"You are too bad!"

"No, I am not. If he gave away his money because he thought it was an act of charity that would look well, that would make Frank and his father think better of him, he is rightly served; and I am disposed to shut him up in this room with a good book to teach him better, instead of letting him go to the celebration."

Mr. Hardy was a blunt, honest man, perhaps a little too much inclined to be harsh with his son when he had done wrong. Possibly his views of parental discipline were not altogether correct, but in the main he meant right. He was disgusted at the conduct of Charles, and thought no reasonable penalty too severe for hypocrisy and deceit.

"On the other hand," continued he, "if he had made up his mind to sacrifice his inclination at the call of charity, he would not have felt as he does now. He would have been contented to stay at home. He would have found a nobler satisfaction in the consciousness of having done a good deed than in all the anticipated pleasures of the celebration. It is very plain to me the whole thing was an act of gross hypocrisy;" and Mr. Hardy rose from the table, and left the room.

Charles understood his father's analysis of his conduct. He felt that it was truthful. What would his father have said if he had known his motive in seeking Captain Sedley that morning? He was ashamed of himself, and was glad that his father knew nothing about it.

He had not yet lost all hope that Captain Sedley would reimburse the sums they had given the widow, and take them to Boston. But Frank's father, appreciating the noble sacrifice his son had made, was content that he should receive all the moral discipline to be derived from the act. Therefore he said nothing about it, and went to the city alone.

Charles waited impatiently till ten o'clock; but no one came for him, and he left the house in search of such enjoyment as Rippleton could afford him.