Eli's Children: The Chronicles of an Unhappy Family

“I think I will ask you to speak respectfully to me, Cyril,” said his father, with dignity.

“Respectfully!” said Cyril, with a mocking laugh. “Why, I’m behaving wonderfully. If I had stayed out at the sheep farm for another year I should have been a perfect boor.”

“And I must request, finally, that you interfere no more in any of the parish matters.”

“Well, who has interfered, father?”

“To put it plainly, then, my boy, I insist upon your keeping away from that school.”

“And for goodness’ sake, father, why?”

“I will tell you,” said the old clergyman, with no small show of excitement. “I have been reviled this morning, and accused of being wanting in duty, especially in the management of my sons.”

“Who dared to be so insolent?” cried the young man.

“I was compared to Eli of old, my boy; and I fear only too justly.”

“Let’s see; Eli’s sons were very naughty boys, weren’t they?” said the young man, laughing.

“Silence, sir!” cried his father, flushing; “these are not matters for your idle jests. I acknowledge that, for your poor mother’s sake, I have given way, and been weak and indulgent to the boy she, poor invalid, has ever worshipped; but the time has come now for me to make a stand, ere worse befall our house.”

“Why, father, what do you mean?”

“This, my son,” cried the old clergyman, sternly. “You left home two years ago, wild and fighting against restraint. You have come back now rougher in your ways – ”

“No wonder. You should have led such a life as I have amongst sheep farmers and roughs, and you wouldn’t wonder at my ways.”

“And far less amenable to discipline.”

“Why, what do you want, father?” cried the young man, impatiently.

“Strict obedience in all things, but more especially in those where any lapse might reflect upon my conduct as the clergyman of this parish.”

“Why, of course, father – what do you suppose a fellow is going to do?”

“Do you think I’m blind, Cyril?” said his father, sternly.

“Not I, father. Why do you ask?”

“Answer me this question. Why did you follow me to the school?”

“To have a chat with you. It was precious dull at home.”

“Very. It must be,” said the old clergyman, ironically. “You have been away from home two years, and after a few days’ return, its calm and peaceful life is found dull.”

“Well, so it is; plaguy dull.”

“Your mother has been confined to her couch ever since Cynthia was born, Cyril. I have never yet heard her complain of home being dull, or repine at her lot.”

“Ah, well, I know all that! Poor mamma!” exclaimed the young man.

“And you make that pitiful excuse to me, Cyril,” cried his father: “you stoop to deceit already.”

“Who does?” cried the young man fiercely.

“You do, sir, and I tell you this shall not be. Sage Portlock is a pure, sweet-minded girl, in whom both your sisters and I take the greatest interest; and I tell you that, if not engaged, there is already a very great intimacy existing between her and Luke Ross.”

“Phew!” whistled Cyril. “What, that young prig of a fellow! I say, father, he’s turning schoolmaster, isn’t he?”

“It is settled that he shall succeed Mr Bone as soon as he has finished his training,” said Mr Mallow, quietly.

“Poor old Bone! – dry Bone, as we used to call him, because he was such a thirsty soul. And so Luke Ross is to be the new man, eh? I congratulate Lawford,” he added, with a sneer.

“You have never liked Luke Ross since he gave you so sound a thrashing,” said his father, quietly.

“He? Thrash me? Absurd, father! Pooh! the fellow is beneath my notice.”

“I think we understand each other now,” said Mr Mallow, with quiet firmness. “While you stay here, Cyril, there is to be no trifling with any one. You can share our home for the present – that is, until you obtain some engagement.”

“Oh, hang engagements!” cried the young man, impatiently. “You have plenty of money, father, both in your own right and mamma’s. Why should I be constantly driven from home to some menial work?”

“Because it is time that your spoiled life of indulgence should cease. There is nothing degrading in work; it is idleness that degrades.”

“Oh, yes; you’ve lectured me enough about that,” said the young man, rudely.

“And you may take it for granted that as soon as an opening can be made for you – ”

“Opening wanted for a pushing young man,” cried Cyril, mockingly.

“I shall ask you to leave home and try to do your duty in this busy world.”

“Thanks, father,” said the young man, roughly. “What am I to be?”

“Three years ago I felt that I was doing wrong in keeping you in idleness at home.”

“Idle? Why, I was always busy, father.”

“Yes – hunting, shooting, fishing, and the like; but you did not stop there.”

“Oh, nonsense?”

“To-day I feel certain that I should be doing a great injustice to the parish – to your mother – to your sisters – ”

“Any one else?” said the young man, mockingly.

“To you,” replied his father, sternly.

“Any one else?”