his father that he did not know what he said; Archie Tritton said no
one could get on without.--There was an utter bewilderment in his
notions, here and there showing a better tone, but obscured by the
fancies imbibed from his companion, that the knowledge and practice
of evil were manly. At one moment he cried bitterly, and declared
that he was wretched; at another he defended each particular case
with all his might, changing and slipping away so that she did not
know where to take him. However, the conclusion was far more in pity
than anger, and after receiving many promises that if she would
shield him from his father and bear with him, he would abstain from
all she disapproved, she caressed and soothed the aching head, and
returned to his father hopeful and encouraged, certain that the evil
had been chiefly caused by weakness and neglect and believing that
here was a beginning of repentance. Since there was sorrow and
confession, there surely must be reformation.

For a week Gilbert went on steadily, but at the end of that time his
arrivals at home became irregular, and one day there was another
great aberration. On a doubtful day, when it had been decided that
he might go safely between the showers, he never came to Tremblam at
all, and Mr. Salsted sent a note to Mr. Kendal to let him know that
his son had been at the races--village races, managed by the sporting
farmers of the neighbourhood. There was a sense of despair, and
again a talk, bringing at once those ever-ready tears and
protestations, sorrow genuine, but fruitless. 'It was all Archie's
fault, he had overtaken him, persuaded him that Mr. Salsted would not
expect him, promised him that he should see the celebrated
'Blunderbuss,' Sam Shepherd's horse, that won the race last year.
Gilbert had gone 'because he could not help it.'