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quite interested in her； when the whistle sounded and the train began to
move。
The Admiral and I did not talk much on the journey。 I stared out of the
window most of the time； speculating as to the probable nature of the
reception in store for me at the terminus of the road。
'What would the Captain say？ and Mr。 Grimshaw； what would he do
about it？ Then I thought of Pepper Whitcomb。 Dire was the vengeance I
meant to wreak on Pepper； for who but he had betrayed me？ Pepper alone
had been the repository of my secret…perfidious Pepper！
As we left station after station behind us； I felt less and less like
encountering the members of our family。 Sailor Ben fathomed what was
passing in my mind； for he leaned over and said：
〃I don't think as the Capen will bear down very hard on you。〃
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But it wasn't that。 It wasn't the fear of any physical punishment that
might be inflicted； it was a sense of my own folly that was creeping over
me； for during the long； silent ride I had examined my conduct from every
stand…point； and there was no view I could take of myself in which I did
not look like a very foolish person indeed。
As we came within sight of the spires of Rivermouth； I wouldn't have
cared if the up train； which met us outside the town； had run into us and
ended me。
Contrary to my expectation and dread； the Captain was not visible
when we stepped from the cars。 Sailor Ben glanced among the crowd of
faces； apparently looking for him too。 Conway was there…he was always
hanging about the station…and if he had intimated in any way that he knew
of my disgrace and enjoyed it； I should have walked into him； I am
certain。
But this defiant feeling entirely deserted me by the time we reached
the Nutter House。 The Captain himself opened the door。
〃Come on board； sir；〃 said Sailor Ben； scraping his left foot and
touching his hat sea…fashion。
My grandfather nodded to Sailor Ben； somewhat coldly I thought； and
much to my astonishment kindly took me by the hand。
I was unprepared for this； and the tears； which no amount of severity
would have wrung from me； welled up to my eyes。
The expression of my grandfather's face； as I glanced at it hastily； was
grave and gentle； there was nothing in it of anger or reproof。 I followed
him into the sitting…room； and； obeying a motion of his hand； seated
myself on the sofa。 He remained standing by the round table for a moment；
lost in thought； then leaned over and picked up a letter。
It was a letter with a great black seal。
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The Story of a Bad Boy
CHAPTER Twenty…One
In Which I Leave Rivermouth
A letter with a great black seal！
I knew then what had happened as well as I know it now。 But which
was it； father or mother？ I do not like to look back to the agony and
suspense of that moment。
My father had died at New Orleans during one of his weekly visits to
the city。 The letter bearing these tidings had reached Rivermouth the
evening of my flight…had passed me on the road by the down train。
I must turn back for a moment to that eventful evening。 When I failed
to make my appearance at supper； the Captain began to suspect that I had
really started on my wild tour southward…a conjecture which Sailor Ben's
absence helped to confirm。 I had evidently got off by the train and Sailor
Ben had followed me。
There was no telegraphic communication between Boston and
Rivermouth in those days； so my grandfather could do nothing but await
the result。 Even if there had been another mail to Boston； he could not
have availed himself of it； not knowing how to address a message to the
fugitives。 The post…office was naturally the last place either I or the
Admiral would think of visiting。
My grandfather； however； was too full of trouble to allow this to add to
his distress。 He knew that the faithful old sailor would not let me come to
any harm； and even if I had managed for the time being to elude him； was
sure to bring me back sooner or later。
Our return； therefore； by the first train on the following day did not
surprise him。
I was greatly puzzled； as I have said； by the gentle manner of his
reception； but when we were alone together in the sitting…room； and he
began slowly to unfold the letter； I understood it all。 I caught a sight of my
mother's handwriting in the superscription； and there was nothing left to
tell me。
My grandfather held the letter a few seconds irresolutely； and then
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The Story of a Bad Boy
commenced reading it aloud； but he could get no further than the date。
〃I can't read it； Tom；〃 said the old gentleman； breaking down。 〃I
thought I could。〃
He handed it to me。 I took the letter mechanically； and hurried away
with it to my little room； where I had passed so many happy hours。
The week that followed the receipt of this letter is nearly a blank in my
memory。 I remember that the days appeared endless； that at times I could
not realize the misfortune that had befallen us； and my heart upbraided me
for not feeling a deeper grief； that a full sense of my loss would now and
then sweep over me like an inspiration； and I would steal away to my
chamber or wander forlornly about the gardens。 I remember this； but little
more。
As the days went by my first grief subsided； and in its place grew up a
want which I have experienced at every step in life from boyhood to
manhood。 Often； even now； after all these years； when I see a lad of twelve
or fourteen walking by his father's side； and glancing merrily up at his face；
I turn and look after them； and am conscious that I have missed
companionship most sweet and sacred。
I shall not dwell on this portion of my story。 There were many tranquil；
pleasant hours in store for me at that period； and I prefer to turn to them。
One evening the Captain came smiling into the sitting…room with an
open letter in his hand。 My mother had arrived at New York；