Charles returned to his room, a little easier in his mind than when he left it. There still remained one dreadful business to get over — the worst of all; that of letting his father know. Non–University men sneer at rustication; they can’t see any particular punishment in having to absent yourself from your studies for a term or two. But do they think that the Dons don’t know what they are about? Why, nine spirited young fellows out of ten would snap their fingers at rustication, if it wasn’t for the home business. It is breaking the matter to the father, his just anger, and his mother’s still more bitter reproaches. It must all come out, the why and the wherefore, without concealment or palliation. The college write a letter to justify themselves, and then a mine of deceit is sprung under the parents’ feet, and their eyes are opened to things they little dreamt of. This, it appears, is not the first offence. The college has been long-suffering, and has pardoned when it should have punished repeatedly. The lad who was thought to be doing so well, has been leading a dissipated, riotous life, and deceiving them all. This is the bitterest blow they have ever had. How can they ever trust him gain? — And so the wound takes long to heal, and sometimes is never healed at all. That is the meaning of rustication.

A majority of young fellows at the University deceive their parents, especially if they come of serious houses. It is almost forced upon them sometimes, and in all cases the temptation is strong. It is very unwise to ask too many questions. Home questions are, in some cases, unpardonable. A son can’t tell a father, as one man can tell another, to mind his own business. No. The father asks the question suddenly, and the son lies, perhaps, for the first time in his life. If he told the truth his father would knock him down.

Now Charles was a little better off than most young fellows in this respect. He knew his father would scold about the rustication, and still more at his being in debt. He wasn’t much afraid of his father’s anger. They two had always been too familiar to be much afraid of one another. He was much more afraid of the sarcasms of Mackworth, and he not a little dreaded his brother; but with regard to his father he felt but slight uneasiness.

He found his scout and his servant William trying to get the room into some order, but it was hopeless. William looked up with a blank face as he came in, and said —

“We can’t do no good, sir; I’d better go for Herbert’s man, I suppose?”

“You may go, William,” said Charles, “to the stables, nd prepare my horses fur a journey. Ward, you may pack up my things, as I go down tomorrow. I am rusticated.”

They both looked very blank, especially William, who, after a long pause, said —

“I was afraid of something happening yesterday after Hall, when I see my lord — ” here William paused abruptly, and, looking up, touched his head to some one who stood in the doorway.

It was a well-dressed, well-looking young man of about Charles’s age, with a handsome, hairless, florid face, and short, light hair. Handsome though his face was, it was hardly pleasing in consequence of a certain lowering of the eyebrow’s which he indulged in every moment — as often, indeed, as he looked at any one — and also of a slight cynical curl at the corners of the mouth. There was nothing else noticeable about Lord Welter except his appearance of great personal strength, for which he was somewhat famous.

“Hallo, Welter!” shouted Charles, “yesterday was an era in the annals of intoxication. Nobody ever was so drunk as you. I did all I could for you, more fool I, for things couldn’t be worse than they are, and might be better. If I had gone to bed instead of looking after you I shouldn’t have been rusticated.”

“I’m deuced sorry, Charley, I am, ‘pon my soul. It is all my confounded folly, and I shall write to your father and say so. You are coming home with me, of course?”

“By Jove, I never thought of it. That wouldn’t be a bad plan, eh? I might write from Ranford, you know. Yes, I think I’ll say yes. William, you can take the horses over tomorrow. That is a splendid idea of yours. I was thinking of going to London.”

“Hang London in the hunting season,” said Lord Welter. “By George, how the governor will blow up. I wonder what my grandmother will say. Somebody has told her the world is coming to an end next year. I hope there’ll be another Derby. She has cut homoeopathy and taken to vegetable practice. She has deuced near slaughtered her maid with an overdose of Linum Cathartieum, as she calls it. She goes digging about in waste places like a witch, with a big footman to carry the spade. She is a good old body though; hanged if she ain’t.”’

“What does Adelaide think of the change in Lady Ascot’s opinions, medical and religious?”

“She don’t care, bless you. She laughs about the world coming to an end, and, as for the physic, she won’t stand that. She has pretty much her own way with the old lady, I can tell you, and with every one else, as far as that goes. She is an imperious little body; I’m afraid of her. — How do, Marston?”

This was said to a small, neatly-dressed, quiet-looking man, with a shrewd, pleasant face, who appeared at this moment looking very grave. He returned “Welter’s salutation, and that gentleman sauntered out of the room after having engaged Charles to dinner at the Cross at six. The new comer then sat down by Charles, and looked sorrowfully in his face.

“So it has come to this, my poor boy,” said he, “and only two days after our good resolutions. Charley, do you know what Issachar was like?”

“No.”

“He was like a strong ass stooping between two burdens,” replied the other, laughing. “I know somebody who is, oh, so very like him. I know a fellow who could do capitally in the schools and in the world, who is now always either lolling about reading novels, or else flying off in the opposite extreme, and running, or riding, or rowing like a madman. Those are his two burdens, and he is a dear old ass also, whom it is very hard to scold, even when one is furiously angry with him.”

“It’s all true,. Marston; it’s all true as Gospel,” said Charles.

“Look how well you did at Shrewsbury,” continued Marston, “when you were forced to work. And now, you haven’t opened a book for a year. Why don’t you have some object in life, old fellow? Try to be captain of the University Eight or the Eleven; get a good degree; anything. Think of last Easter vacation, Charley. Well, then, 1 won’t Be sure that pot-house work won’t do. What earthly pleasure can there be in herding with men of that class, your inferiors in everything except strength? and you who can talk quite well enough for any society?”

“It ain’t my fault,” broke in Charles, pitcously. “It’s a good deal more the fault of the men I’m with. That Easter vacation business was planned by Welter. He wore a velveteen shooting — coat and knee-breeches, and called himself — ”

“That will do, Charley; I don’t want to hear any of that gentleman’s performances. I entertain the strongest personal dislike for him. He leads you into all your mischief. You often quarrel; why don’t you break with him?”

“I can’t.”

“Because he is a distant relation? Nonsense. Your brother never speaks to him.”

“It isn’t that.”

“Do you owe him money?”

“No, it’s the other way, by Jove! I can’t break with that man. I can’t lose the run of Banford. I must be here. There’s a girl there I care about more than all the world beside; if I don’t see her I shall go mad.”

Marston looked very thoughtful. “You never told me of this,” he said; and she has she has refused you, I suppose?”

“Ay! how did you guess that?”

“By my mother wit. I didn’t su............