Chapter XV. Breakers Ahead

by Louisa May Alcott

　　Chapter XV. Breakers AheadGoing into the Shaws' one evening, Polly found Maud sitting onthe stairs, with a troubled face."Oh, Polly, I'm so glad you've come!" cried the little girl, runningto hug her."What's the matter, deary?""I don't know; something dreadful must have happened, formamma and Fan are crying together upstairs, papa is shut up in thelibrary, and Tom is raging round like a bear, in the dining-room.""I guess it is n't anything very bad. Perhaps mamma is sicker thanusual, or papa worried about business, or Tom in some new scrape.Don't look so frightened, Maudie, but come into the parlor and seewhat I've got for you," said Polly, feeling that there was trouble ofsome sort in the air, but trying to cheer the child, for her little facewas full of a sorrowful anxiety, that went to Polly's heart."I don't think I can like anything till I know what the matter is,"answered Maud. "It's something horrid, I'm sure, for when papacame home, he went up to mamma's room, and talked ever solong, and mamma cried very loud, and when I tried to go in, Fanwould n't let me, and she looked scared and strange. I wanted to goto papa when he came down, but the door was locked, and he said,'Not now, my little girl,' and then I sat here waiting to see whatwould happen, and Tom came home. But when I ran to tell him, hesaid,'Go away, and don't bother,' and just took me by the shouldersand put me out. Oh, dear! everything is so queer and horrid, I don'tknow what to do."Maud began to cry, and Polly sat down on the stairs beside her,trying to comfort her, while her own thoughts were full of a vaguefear. All at once the dining-room door opened, and Tom's headappeared. A single glance showed Polly that something was thematter, for the care and elegance which usually marked hisappearance were entirely wanting. His tie was under one ear, hishair in a toss, the cherished moustache had a neglected air, and hisface an expression both excited, ashamed, and distressed; even hisvoice betrayed disturbance, for instead of the affable greeting heusually bestowed upon the young lady, he seemed to have fallenback into the bluff tone of his boyish days, and all he said was,"Hullo, Polly.""How do you do?" answered Polly."I'm in a devil of a mess, thank you; send that chicken up stairs,and come in and hear about it." he said, as if he had been longingto tell some one, and welcomed prudent Polly as a specialprovidence."Go up, deary, and amuse yourself with this book, and these gingersnaps that I made for you, there's a good child," whispered Polly,as Maud rubbed away her tears, and stared at Tom with round,inquisitive eyes."You'll tell me all about it, by and by, won't you?" she whispered,preparing to obey."If I may," answered Polly.Maud departed with unexpected docility, and Polly went into thedining-room, where Tom was wandering about in a restless way. Ifhe had been "raging like a bear," Polly would n't have cared, shewas so pleased that he wanted her, and so glad to be a confidante,as she used to be in the happy old days, that she would joyfullyhave faced a much more formidable person than reckless Tom."Now, then, what is it?" she said, coming straight to the point."Guess.""You've killed your horse racing.""Worse than that.""You are suspended again.""Worse than that.""Trix has run away with somebody," cried Polly, with a gasp."Worse still.""Oh, Tom, you have n't horse whipped or shot any one?""Came pretty near blowing my own brains out but you see I didn't.""I can't guess; tell me, quick.""Well, I'm expelled."Tom paused on the rug as he gave the answer, and looked at Pollyto see how she took it. To his surprise she seemed almost relieved,and after a minute silence, said, soberly, "That's bad, very bad;but it might have been worse.""It is worse;" and Tom walked away again with a despairing sort ofgroan."Don't knock the chairs about, but come and sit down, and tell mequietly.""Can't do it.""Well, go on, then. Are you truly expelled? Can't it be made up?What did you do?""It's a true bill this time. I just had a row with the Chapelwatchman, and knocked him down. If it was a first offence, Imight have got off; but you see I've had no end of narrow escapes,and this was my last chance; I've lost it, and now there'll be thedickens to pay. I knew it was all up with me, so I did n't wait to beturned out, but just took myself off.""What will your father say?""It will come hard on the governor, but the worst of it is " thereTom stopped, and stood a minute in the middle of the room withhis head down, as if he did n't find it easy to tell even kind littlePolly. Then out came the truth all in a breath, just as he used tobolt out his boyish misdemeanors, and then back up against thewall ready to take the consequences."I owe an awful lot of money that the governor don't know about.""Oh, Tom, how could you?""I've been an extravagant rascal, I know it, and I'm thunderingsorry, but that don't help a fellow, I've got to tell the dear oldbuffer, and there's where it cuts."At another time Polly would have laughed at the contrast betweenTom's face and his language, but there was a sincere remorse,which made even the dreadful word "buffer" rather touching thanotherwise."He will be very angry, I dare say; but he'll help you, won't he? Healways does, Fan says.""That's the worst of it, you see. He's paid up so often, that the lasttime he said his patience could n't stand it, nor his pocket either,and if I got into any more scrapes of that sort, I must get out as Icould. I meant to be as steady as Bunker Hill Monument; but here Iam again, worse than ever, for last quarter I did n't say anything tofather, he was so bothered by the loss of those ships just then, sothings have mounted up confoundedly.""What have you done with all your money?""Hanged if I know.""Can't you pay it anyway?""Don't see how, as I have n't a cent of my own, and no way ofgetting it, unless I try gambling.""Oh, mercy, no! Sell your horse," cried Polly, after a minute ofdeep meditation."I have; but he did n't bring half I gave for him. I lamed him lastwinter, and the beggar won't get over it.""And that did n't pay up the debts?""Only about a half of'em.""Why, Tom, how much do you owe?""I have dodged figuring it up till yesterday; then things were sodesperate, I thought I might as well face the truth, so I overhauledmy accounts, and there's the result."Tom threw a blotted, crumpled paper into Polly's lap, and trampedup and down again, faster than ever. Polly took one look at thetotal and clasped her hands, for to her inexperienced eyes it lookedappalling."Tidy little sum, is n't it?" asked Tom, who could n't bear thesilence, or the startled, grieved look in Polly's eyes."It's awful! I don't wonder you dread telling your father.""I'd rather be shot. I say, Polly, suppose we break it to him easy!"added Tom, after another turn."How do you mean?""Why, suppose Fan, or, better still, you go and sort of pave theway. I can't bear to come down on him with the whole truth atonce.""So you'd like to have me go and tell him for you?" Polly's lipcurled a little as she said that, and she gave Tom a look that wouldhave shown him how blue eyes can flash, if he had seen it. But hewas at the window, and did n't turn, as he said slowly, "Well, yousee, he's so fond of you; we all confide in you; and you are so likeone of the family, that it seems quite natural. Just tell him I'mexpelled, you know, and as much more as you like; then I'll comein, and we'll have it out."Polly rose and went to the door without a word. In doing so, Tomcaught a glimpse of her face, and said, hastily, "Don't you think itwould be a good plan?""No, I don't.""Why not? Don't you think he'd rather have it told him nicely byyou, than blurted out as I always do blurt things?""I know he'd rather have his son go to him and tell the truth, like aman, instead of sending a girl to do what he is afraid to dohimself."If Polly had suddenly boxed his ears, Tom could n't have lookedmore taken aback than by that burst. He looked at her excited face,seemed to understand the meaning of it, and remembered all atonce that he was trying to hide behind a girl. He turned scarlet,said shortly, "Come back, Polly," and walked straight out of theroom, looking as if going to instant execution, for poor Tom hadbeen taught to fear his father, and had not entirely outgrown thedread.Polly sat down, looking both satisfied and troubled. "I hope I didright," she said to herself, "I could n't bear to have him shirk andseem cowardly. He is n't, only he did n't think how it seemed tome, and I don't wonder he was a little afraid, Mr. Shaw is so severewith the poor fellow. Oh, dear, what should we do if Will got intosuch scrapes. Thank goodness, he's poor, and can't; I'm so glad ofthat!"Then she sat silent beside the half-open door, hearing the murmurof Tom's voice across the hall, and hoping, with all her heart, thathe would n't have a very hard time. He seemed to tell his storyrapidly and steadily, without interruption, to the end; then Pollyheard Mr. Shaw's deeper voice say a few words, at which Tomuttered a loud exclamation, as if taken by surprise. Polly could n'tdistinguish a word, so she kept her seat, wondering anxiously whatwas going on between the two men. A sudden pause seemed tofollow Tom's ejaculation, then Mr. Shaw talked a long time in alow, earnest tone, so different from the angry one Polly hadexpected to hear, that it made her nervous, for Mr. Shaw usually"blew Tom up first, and forgave him afterward," as Maud said.Presently Tom's voice was heard, apparently asking eagerquestions, to which brief replies were given. Then a dead silencefell upon the room, and nothing was heard but the spring rainsoftly falling out of doors. All of a sudden she heard a movement,and Tom's voice say audibly, "Let me bring Polly;" and heappeared, looking so pale and miserable that Polly was frightened."Go and say something to him; I can't; poor old father, if I'd onlyknown," and to Polly's utter dismay, Tom threw himself into achair, and laid his head down on the table, as if he had got a blowthat was too much for him."Oh, Tom, what is it?" cried Polly, hurrying to him, full of fearsshe dared not speak.Without looking up, Tom answered, in a smothered voice, "Failed;all gone to smash; and to-morrow every one will know it."Polly held on to the back of Tom's chair, for a minute, for the newstook her breath away, and she felt as if the world was coming to anend, "failed" was such a vaguely dreadful word to her."Is it very bad?" she asked, softly, feeling as if anything was betterthan to stand still and see Tom so wretched."Yes; he means to give up everything. He's done his best; but itcan't be staved off any longer, and it's all up with him.""Oh, I wish I had a million to give him!" cried Polly, clasping herhands, with the tears running down her cheeks. "How does he bearit, Tom?""Like a man, Polly; and I'm proud of him," said Tom, looking up,all red and excited with the emotions he was trying to keep under."Everything has been against him, and he has fought all alone tostand the pressure, but it's too much for him, and he's given in. It's an honorable failure, mind you, and no one can say a wordagainst him. I'd like to see'em try it!" and Tom clenched hishands, as if it would be an immense relief to him to thrash half adozen aspersers of his father's honest name."Of course they can't! This is what poor Maud troubled about. Hehad told your mother and Fan before you came, and that is whythey are so unhappy, I suppose.""They are safe enough. Father has n't touched mother's money; he'could n't rob his girls,' he said, and that's all safe for'em. Is n't hea trump, Polly?" And Tom's face shone with pride, even while hislips would twitch with a tenderer feeling."If I could only do anything to help," cried Polly, oppressed withher own powerlessness."You can. Go and be good to him; you know how; he needs itenough, all alone there. I can't do it, for I'm only a curse instead ofa comfort to him.""How did he take your news?" asked Polly, who, for a time, hadforgotten the lesser trouble in the greater."Like a lamb; for when I'd done, he only said,'My poor lad, wemust bear with one another.' and then told his story.""I'm glad he was kind," began Polly, in a soothing tone; but Tomcried out, remorsefully, "That's what knocks me over! Just when Iought to be a pride and a prop to him, I bring him my debts anddisgrace, and he never says a word of blame. It's no use, I can'tstand it!" and Tom's head went down again with something verylike a sob, that would come in spite of manful efforts to keep itback, for the poor fellow had the warmest heart that ever was, andall the fine waistcoats outside could n't spoil it.That sound gave Polly more pain than the news of a dozen failuresand expulsions, and it was as impossible for her to resist puttingher hand tenderly on the bent head, as it was for her to helpnoticing with pleasure how brown the little curls were growing,and how soft they were. In spite of her sorrow, she enjoyed thatminute very much, for she was a born consoler, and, it is hardlynecessary for me to add, loved this reprehensible Tom with all herheart. It was a very foolish thing for her to do, she quite agreed tothat; she could n't understand it, explain it, or help it; she only feltthat she did care for him very much, in spite of his faults, hisindifference, and his engagement. You see, she learned to love himone summer, when he made them a visit. That was before Trixcaught him; and when she heard that piece of news, Polly could n'tunlove him all at once, though she tried very hard, as was her duty.That engagement was such a farce, that she never had much faithin it, so she put her love away in a corner of her heart, and tried toforget it, hoping it would either die, or have a right to live. It didn't make her very miserable, because patience, work, andcommon-sense lent her a hand, and hope would keep popping upits bright face from the bottom of her Pandora-box of troubles.Now and then, when any one said Trix would n't jilt Tom, or thatTom did care for Trix more than he should, Polly had a pang, andthought she could n't possibly bear it. But she always found shecould, and so came to the conclusion that it was a mercifulprovision of nature that girls' hearts could stand so much, and theirappetites continue good, when unrequited love was starving.Now, she could not help yearning over this faulty, well-belovedscapegrace Tom, or help thinking, with a little thrill of hope, "IfTrix only cared for his money, she may cast him off now he's lostit; but I'll love him all the better because he's poor." With thisfeeling warm at her heart, I don't wonder that Polly's hand had asoothing effect, and that after a heave or two, Tom's shoulderswere quiet, and certain smothered sniffs suggested that he wouldbe all right again, if he could only wipe his eyes without any one'sseeing him do it.Polly seemed to divine his wish, and tucking a little, cleanhandkerchief into one of his half-open hands, she said, "I'm goingto your father, now," and with a farewell smooth, so comfortingthat Tom wished she'd do it again, she went away.As she paused a minute in the hall to steady herself, Maud calledher from above, and thinking that the women might need her morethan the men, she ran up to find Fanny waiting for her in her ownroom."Mamma's asleep, quite worn out, poor dear, so we can talk in herewithout troubling her," said Fanny, receiving her friend so quietly,that Polly was amazed."Let me come, too, I won't make any fuss; it's so dreadful to beshut out everywhere, and have people crying and talking, andlocked up, and I not know what it means," said Maud,beseechingly."You do know, now; I've told her, Polly," said Fan, as they satdown together, and Maud perched herself on the bed, so that shemight retire among the pillows if her feelings were too much forher."I'm glad you take it so well, dear; I was afraid it might upsetyou," said Polly, seeing now that in spite of her quiet manner, Fan'seyes had an excited look, and her cheeks a feverish color."I shall groan and moan by and by, I dare say, but at first it sort ofdazed me, and now it begins to excite me. I ought to be full ofsorrow for poor papa, and I am truly sorry, but, wicked as it mayseem, it's a fact, Polly, that I'm half glad it's happened, for ittakes me out of myself, and gives me something to do."Fanny's eyes fell and her color rose as she spoke, but Pollyunderstood why she wanted to forget herself, and put her armround her with a more tender sympathy than Fanny guessed."Perhaps things are not as bad as they seem; I don't know muchabout such matters, but I've seen people who have failed, and theyseemed just as comfortable as before," said Polly."It won't be so with us, for papa means to give up everything, andnot have a word said against him. Mamma's little property issettled upon her, and has n't been risked. That touched her somuch! She dreads poverty even more than I do, but she beggedhim to take it if it would help him. That pleased him, but he saidnothing would induce him to do it, for it would n't help much, andwas hardly enough to keep her comfortable.""Do you know what he means to do?" asked Polly, anxiously."He said his plans were not made, but he meant to go into the littlehouse that belonged to grandma, as soon as he could, for it was n'thonest for a bankrupt to keep up an establishment like this.""I shan't mind that at all, I like the little house'cause it's got agarden, and there's a cunning room with a three-cornered closet init that I always wanted. If that's all, I don't think bankrupting is sovery bad," said Maud, taking a cheerful view of things."Ah, just wait till the carriage goes and the nice clothes and theservants, and we have to scratch along as we can. You'll changeyour mind then, poor child," said Fanny, whose ideas of failurewere decidedly tragical."Will they take all my things away?" cried Maud, in dismay."I dare say; I don't know what we are allowed to keep; but notmuch, I fancy," and Fan looked as if strung up to sacrificeeverything she possessed."They shan't have my new ear-rings, I'll hide'em, and my bestdress, and my gold smelling bottle. Oh, oh, oh! I think it's mean totake a little girl's things away!" And Maud dived among thepillows to smother a wail of anguish at the prospect of being bereftof her treasures.Polly soon lured her out again, by assurances that she would n't beutterly despoiled, and promises to try and soften the hard hearts ofher father's creditors, if the ear-rings and the smelling-bottle wereattached."I wonder if we shall be able to keep one servant, just till we learnhow to do the work," said Fanny, looking at her white hands, witha sigh.But Maud clapped hers, and gave a joyful bounce, as she cried,"Now I can learn to cook! I love so to beat eggs! I'll have anapron, with a bib to it, like Polly's, and a feather duster, and sweepthe stairs, maybe, with my head tied up, like Katy. Oh, what fun!""Don't laugh at her, or discourage her; let her find comfort in bibsand dust-pans, if she can," whispered Polly to Fan, while Maudtook a joyful "header" among the pillows, and came up smilingand blowzy, for she loved house-work, and often got lectured forstolen visits to the kitchen, and surreptitious sweepings anddustings when the coast was clear."Mamma is so feeble, I shall have to keep house, I suppose, andyou must show me how, Polly," said Fan."Good practice, ma'am, as you'll find out some day," answeredPolly, laughing significantly.Fanny smiled, then grew both grave and sad. "This changeseverything; the old set will drop me, as we did the Mertons whentheir father failed, and my'prospects,' as we say, are quite ruined.""I don't believe it; your real friends won't drop you, and you'll findout which the true ones are now. I know one friend who will bekinder than ever.""Oh, Polly, do you think so?" and Fanny's eyes softened withsudden tears."I know who she means," cried Maud, always eager to find outthings. "It's herself; Polly won't mind if we are poor,'cause shelikes beggars.""Is that who you meant?" asked Fan, wistfully."No, it's a much better and dearer friend than I am," said Polly,pinching Fanny's cheek, as it reddened prettily under her eyes."You'll never guess, Maud, so I would n't try, but be planning whatyou will put in your cunning, three-cornered closet, when you getit."Having got rid of "Miss Paulina Pry," as Tom called Maud, whowas immediately absorbed by her cupboard, the older girls soberlydiscussed the sudden change which had come, and Polly wassurprised to see what unexpected strength and sense Fannyshowed. Polly was too unconscious of the change which love hadmade in herself to understand at first the cause of her friend's newpatience and fortitude; but she rejoiced over it, and felt that herprophecy would yet be fulfilled. Presently Maud emerged from hernew closet, bringing a somewhat startling idea with her."Do bankrupting men" (Maud liked that new word) "always havefits?""Mercy, no! What put that into your head, child?" cried Polly."Why, Mr. Merton did; and I was thinking perhaps papa had gotone down there, and it kind of frightened me.""Mr. Merton's was a bad, disgraceful failure, and I don't wonder hehad a fit. Ours is n't, and papa won't do anything of that sort, youmay be sure," said Fanny, with as proud an air as if "our failure"was rather an honor than otherwise."Don't you think you and Maud had better go down and see him?"asked Polly."Perhaps he would n't like it; and I don't know what to say, either,"began Fan; but Polly said, eagerly, "I know he would like it. Nevermind what you say; just go, and show him that you don't doubt orblame him for this, but love him all the more, and are ready andglad to help him bear the trouble.""I'm going, I ain't afraid; I'll just hug him, and say I'm ever soglad we are going to the little house," cried Maud, scrambling offthe bed, and running down stairs."Come with me, Polly, and tell me what to do," said Fanny,drawing her friend after her."You'll know what to do when you see him, better than I can tellyou," answered Polly, readily yielding, for she knew theyconsidered her "quite one of the family," as Tom said.At the study door they found Maud, whose courage had given out,for Mr. Merton's fit rather haunted her. Polly opened the door; andthe minute Fanny saw her father, she did know what to do. The firewas low, the gas dim, and Mr. Shaw was sitting in his easy-chair,his gray head in both his hands, looking lonely, old, and boweddown with care. Fanny gave Polly one look, then went and took thegray head in both her arms, saying, with a tender quiver in hervoice, "Father dear, we've come to help you bear it"Mr. Shaw looked up, and seeing in his daughter's face somethingthat never had been there before, put his arm about her, and leanedhis tired head against her, as if, when least expected, he had foundthe consolation he most needed. In that minute, Fanny felt, withmingled joy and self-reproach, what a daughter might be to herfather; and Polly, thinking of feeble, selfish Mrs. Shaw, asleep upstairs, saw with sudden clearness what a wife should be to herhusband, a helpmeet, not a burden. Touched by these unusualdemonstrations, Maud crept quietly to her father's knee, andwhispered, with a great tear shining on her little pug nose, "Papa,we don't mind it much, and I'm going to help Fan keep house foryou; I'd like to do it, truly."Mr. Shaw's other arm went round the child, and for a minute noone said anything, for Polly had slipped behind his chair, thatnothing should disturb the three, who were learning frommisfortune how much they loved one another. Presently Mr. Shawsteadied himself and asked, "Where is my other daughter, where'smy Polly?"She was there at once; gave him one of the quiet kisses that hadmore than usual tenderness in it, for she loved to hear him say "myother daughter," and then she whispered, "Don't you want Tom,too?""Of course I do; where is the poor fellow?""I'll bring him;" and Polly departed with most obliging alacrity.But in the hall she paused a minute to peep into the glass and see ifshe was all right, for somehow she was more anxious to look neatand pretty to Tom in his hour of trouble than she had ever been inhis prosperous days. In lifting her arms to perk up the bow at herthroat she knocked a hat off the bracket. Now, a shiny blackbeaver is not an object exactly calculated to inspire tender orromantic sentiments, one would fancy, but that particular "stovepipe" seemed to touch Polly to the heart, for she caught it up, as ifits fall suggested a greater one, smoothed out a slight dint, as if itwas symbolical of the hard knocks its owner's head was now indanger of receiving, and stood looking at it with as much pity andrespect, as if it had been the crown of a disinherited prince. Girlswill do such foolish little things, and though we laugh at them, Ithink we like them the better for it, after all.Richard was himself again when Polly entered, for thehandkerchief had disappeared, his head was erect, his face wassteady, and his whole air had a dogged composure which seemedto say to fate, "Hit away, I'm ready." He did not hear Polly comein, for he was looking fixedly at the fire with eyes that evidentlysaw a very different future there from that which it used to showhim; but when she said, "Tom, dear, your father wants you," he gotup at once, held out his hand to her, saying, "Come too, we can'tget on without you," and took her back into the study with him.Then they had a long talk, for the family troubles seemed to warmand strengthen the family affection and confidence, and as theyoung people listened while Mr. Shaw told them as much of hisbusiness perplexities as they could understand, every one of themblamed him or herself for going on so gayly and blindly, while thestorm was gathering, and the poor man was left to meet it allalone. Now, however, the thunder-clap had come, and after thefirst alarm, finding they were not killed, they began to discover acertain half-anxious, half-pleasant excitement in talking it over,encouraging one another, and feeling unusually friendly, as peopledo when a sudden shower drives two or three to the shelter of oneumbrella.It was a sober talk, but not all sad, for Mr. Shaw felt inexpressiblycomforted by his children's unexpected sympathy, and they, tryingto take the downfall cheerfully for his sake, found it easier to bearthemselves. They even laughed occasionally, for the girls, in theirignorance, asked queer questions; Tom made ludicrouslyunbusiness-like propositions; and Maud gave them one heartypeal, that did a world of good, by pensively remarking, when theplans for the future had been explained to her, "I'm so relieved;for when papa said we must give up everything, and mammacalled us all beggars, I did think I'd got to go round asking for coldvittles, with a big basket, and an old shawl over my head. I saidonce I'd like that, but I'm afraid I should n't, for I can't bear Indiancake and cold potatoes, that's what the poor children always seemto get, and I should hate to have Grace and the rest see me scuffinground the back gates.""My little girl shall never come to that, if I can help it," said Mr.Shaw, holding her close, with a look that made Maud add, as shelaid her cheek against his own, "But I'd do it, father, if you askedme to, for I truly want to help.""So do I!" cried Fanny, wondering at the same minute how itwould seem to wear turned silks, and clean her gloves.Tom said nothing, but drew toward him a paper of figures whichhis father had drawn up, and speedily reduced himself to the vergeof distraction by trying to understand them, in his ardent desire toprove his willingness to put his shoulder to the wheel."We shall pull through, children, so don't borrow trouble, only beready for discomforts and annoyances. Put your pride in yourpockets, and remember poverty is n't disgraceful, but dishonestyis."Polly had always loved kind Mr. Shaw, but now she respected himheartily, and felt that she had not done him justice when shesometimes thought that he only cared for making money."I should n't wonder if this was a good thing for the whole family,though it don't look so. Mrs. Shaw will take it the hardest, but itmay stir her up, so she will forget her nerves, and be as busy andhappy as mother is," said Polly to herself, in a hopeful mood, forpoverty was an old friend, and she had learned long ago not to fearit, but to take its bitter and its sweet, and make the best of both.When they parted for the night, Polly slipped away first, to leavethem free, yet could n't help lingering outside to see how tenderlythe girls parted from their father. Tom had n't a word to say forhimself, for men don't kiss, caress, or cry when they feel most, andall he could do to express his sympathy and penitence, was towring his father's hand with a face full of respect, regret, andaffection, and then bolt up stairs as if the furies were after him, asthey were, in a mild and modern form.