'The thanks are on our side, my dear boy,' said Mr. Castleford. 'I
must talk it over with you, but not till you have had a night's
rest. You look as if you had not known one for a good while.'
Clarence gave a sort of trembling smile, not trusting himself to
speak. Approbation at home was so new and strange to him that he
could scarcely bear it, worn out as he was by nearly a month of
doubt, distress, apprehension, and self-debate.
My mother went herself to hasten the preparation of his room, and
after she had sent him to bed went again to satisfy herself that he
was comfortable and not feverish. She came back wiping away a tear,
and saying he had looked up at her just as when she had the three of
us in our nursery cribs. In truth these two had seldom been so
happy together since those days, though the dear mother, while
thankful that he had not failed, was little aware of the conflict
his resolution had cost him, and the hot journey and long walk came
in for more blame for his exhaustion than they entirely deserved.
My father perhaps understood more of the trial; for when she came
back, declaring that all that was needed was sleep, and forbidding
me to go to my room before bedtime, he said he must bid the boy
good-night.
And he spoke as his reserve would have never let him speak at any
other time, telling Clarence how deeply thankful he felt for the
manifestation of such truthfulness and moral courage as he said
showed that the man had conquered the failings of the boy.
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