The Press., 1896-02-20
"Was it-was it your doing, sir?"

"Was it-was it your doing, sir?"
 "Yes. It was.
 "Then I never wish to see your ugly old mug again, he blurted out.
 Robert ''
 "And I shall not go back to your school. Never, sir; never, upon my soul. I will go home directly-by the next train. I-I-I-oh, please, get out and leave me to myseIfr" he cried. II think I'm going mad. Why couldn't you let us be? We're old enough. We understand what we are about. We were so fo-fond of one another ]"
 My dear boy, you don't expect me to sympathize with this outrageous nOn- sense, y said indignantly-butI didi
 "1 don't expect anything from you, sir. ."
 "Come back with me, Robert, and let us talk it out. Let me speak to you as father would speak. "
 II won't move 8 peg with you or a hundred like you"
 I tried to reason with him, to talk it over, but he would not listen. He was a thorough rebel. I could exert no au- thority over him without making a scene, causing a scandal, hideous lot of paragraphs in the Inkleborough Ga zette. Perhaps it might be as we'll for him to go home. It was only 30 mile journey, and would write to his father before the evening post went out. Rob ert would have time to cool down, to be more rational, to think i'll a day or two that it would be better to come hack and resume his studies and forget all about it, as 99 boys out 100 would have done.
 But he did not. He went home by the next train, but he never came back to kept his word.
 This is not quite the end of the story. If it were, might probably have never written it, for the love stories of, the very young are so much alike and end in feeble splutterings and roars of laughter and shamefacad looks awry How did this end? That is what trOu- bles me to this day-ten years after ward-when 1 meet Robert White again at a reception in Paris. 1 have got OH in the world a httle-he great deal. am old and white haired and they call me the professor. He is famous artist The world talks of him, raves of him already. 1 have no idea that it is the same Robert White who is resident - Paris, who has been trained in the French schools, and who-despite the name-I have always thought famous Frenchman. am an old. tottering man and he as young, very handsome, and as tall as a life guardsman. But I know him at once, and I feel inclined to shrink away from him-as from some one to whom had done an injury somO years ago.
 He comes straight up to me, laughs and holds out his hand.
 MT. Chatwick-you do not remem- Der me?''
 "Yes, I think \ do," murmur. "You are Robert White, "
 II am very glad to see you," he says lightly, "because have an apology to offer you for my ridiculous behavior of ten years ago. By love, what thunder ing young ass was, sir P
 1T am glad you see it in that light now. I was afraid''- I came to a full stop.
 Afraid of what?" he asked.
 Well, well, I really do not know, ," is my feeble answer "You-you were so extraordinary a boy. You took things so much to heart. y
 "Ah, yes, did," he replies thought fully, "but I have grown out of all that. The world soon brings fellow to his sober senses. You were very wise to separate little Vansittart and me. You did your duty thoroughly.
 That is it-my duty, and he owns to the wisdom of my precautions now. I feel very glad.
 What else could do?'
 Nothing. MT. Chadwick, nothing" |" is his reply. II was hit hard for boy somehow. l went home and sulked and grieved for a bit and made myself dis agreeable all round till they got heartily sick of me and sent me to my uncle here the best thing that they could have done for me"
 "And-and Eugenie Vansittart?'
 "Oh, she was of a swell family, and great pains were taken to keep us from seeing or hearing of each other again. She married well-a rich old Italian count - and is, oh, I dare say, very happy"
 Have you seen her since?'' ask sus- piciously, God knows why.
 "Oh, yes,' he answers, ''to be sure l have. They are in Paris now. We have many a hearty laugh over the bygones, Chadwick. y
 "Yes, l suppose you do. '
 "She will be here presently with her hurband,'' '' he said. II should liketo in- troduce you to her just for the fun of the thing, :" he adds, with the old hearty laugh of his which remember so we'll.
 "Oh," cry, scared out of my equa- nimity by the suggestion, II would not be introduced for all the world.
 "Why not?"
 II don't know, but I would much rather not, MT. White. Iwould indeed, :" say, still very much embarrassed.
 "Oh, she won't reproach you, pro- lessor, :" he goes on in the same light, tiresome way. Why, she ought to thank you very warmly. Fancy a real count ess, of good old Italian stock, instead of poor painters wife p'
 ''I ought to congratulate you, MT. White, on the fame which your genius has brought to you" l was anxious to change the subject and glad of the open ing which gave me the opportunity of doing so. "I am so proud to think that the celebrated Robert White has been a pupil of mine.
 He regards mo with very odd ex- pression, and I feel uncomfortable be- heath his gaze.