ated the result of his
visit to Baregrove Square, and had faithfully reported the contents
of Mrs. Thorpe's letter, "I shall only add that whatever has happened
between your father and me, makes no difference in the respect I have
always felt for your mother, and in my earnest desire to do her every
service in my power. I tell you fairly--as between friends--that I think
you have been very much to blame; but I have sufficient confidence and
faith in you, to leave everything to be decided by your own sense of
honor, and by the affection which I am sure you feel for your mother."

This appeal, and the narrative which had preceded it, had their due
effect on Zack. His ardor for a wandering life of excitement and peril,
began to cool in the quiet temperature of the good influences that
were now at work within him. "It shan't be my fault, Blyth, if I don't
deserve your good opinion," he said warmly. "I know I've behaved badly;
and I know, too, that I have had some severe provocations. Only tell me
what you advise, and I'll do it--I will, upon my honor, for my mother's
sake."

"That's right! that's talking like a man!" cried Valentine, clapping him
on the shoulder. "In the first place, it would be no use your going back
home at once--even if you were willing, which I am afraid you are not.
In your father's present state your return to Baregrove Square would do
_him_ a great deal of harm, and do _you_ no good. Employed, however,
you must be somehow while you're away from home; and what you're fit
for--unless it's Art--I'm sure I don't know. You have been talking a
great deal about wanting to be a painter; and now is the time to test
your resolution. If I get you an order to draw in the British Museum,
to fill up your mornings; and if I enter you at some private Academy,
to fill up your evenings (mine at home is not half strict enough for
you)--will you stick to it?"

"With all my heart," replied Zack, resolutely dismissing his dreams
of life in the wilds to the limbo of oblivion. "I ask nothing better,
Blyth, than to stick to you and your plan for the future."

"Bravo!" cried Valentine, in his old gay, hearty manner. "The heaviest
load of anxiety that has been on my shoulders for some time past is off
now. I will write and comfort your mother this very afternoon--"

"Give her my love," interposed Zack. --"Giving her your love; in the
belief, of course, that you are going to prove yourself worthy to send
such a message," c