The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1899-08-23
ROBIN THE OUTCAST.

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ROBIN THE OUTCAST
This is a sad story, but one must he
sad sometimes. The world is not all
sunshine, and in the woof Of life
threads Of gold are intgf1oren so
closely with threads Of gray that it
II impossible to separate the one from
the other.
When l first knew Robin Charters
he was still at Eaton; handsome,
healthy, high spirited boy, with the
brightest smile and the kindest heart
in the world. l always likef him, and
was not singular in that respect, for
everybody liked him. Everybody, did
I say? Well, everybody, with one ex-
eeption, and that exception, strange to
say, his own father. Sir John Charte-
ris hated the boy with cold and sys-
tematie hatred that was as answering
as it was ungeneroUs-a hatred found
ed upon the fact that Robins birth had
been the price Of his mothers life. He
was a stern, hard, morOse man, whose
one weakness was the passion with
which he had loved his wife and the
tenderness with which he cherished
her memory; and the people disliked
him as much as they liked Robin.
About two years after first got to
know the family, Robin left Eton and
went up to Trinity college, Cambridge.
He had not done much in the way of
learning at EtOn, but he had made
himself name in the cricket field
and on the river, and that name he
kept up worthily at Cambridge. He
also began to make name for himself
in somewhat different lines, but took
no notice of that A man j. bound to
SOW his wild oats sooner or later, and
the sooner the better, think, lest the
harvest be too late and too bitter.
Robins chief chum, Harold Mars
den, left Eton when be did, and the
two went up to Trinity together. In
the Long, Robin brought his friend
home, and l saw him for the first time
that summer when ran down to Char
teris park for weeks cricket. l had
heard great deal Of him from Robin,
and somehow had got an idea that he
led and Robin followed, but when
saw them together found that was
mistaken. II was Robin who led, and
Harold followed with an absolute devo-
tion and fidelity that can only des-
cribe as dOg-like. Left to himself, Har-
old would have been a steady, perseyer-
ing, plodding boy, but Robin was as
wild as they make 'em, and Harold du-
tifully followed in his footsteps.
Well, at the end of the Long the two
went back to Cambridge, and for two
years after that ] saw them from time
to time. Then the crash came. shall
never forget the day when Robin rush
ed unceremOniously into my bachelor
quarters in st. James's, and blurted out
the story of life's tragedy in five bald
words.
"Pm DONE" he said. "I'm going
under"
was so petrified that I only stared
at him in blank amazement.
"Pm done" he said again. "Im
done, Colonel; and Pm going under"
He sat down heavily in the nearest
chair, and in the bright morning light
l saw that his face was lined and worn
and gray, like the face of an old man.
His sunny brown eyes were dulled with
despair.
"Robin," l said. "Why, Robin, my
dear boy, what does it all mean What
are you talking about?
He stared at me stonily.
"Pm DONE" he said, for the third
time. "Im going under.n
"Going under?' / repeated, helpless
ly. "But why, Robin What has hap
pened? What-what have you done?"
His right hand elinched itself on the
arm of his chair.
"Cards." he said briefly. "They
spotted me cheating, you know. The
governors kicked me out, and-and-
and-well, as l said before, I'm going
under"
Robin looked at me, and | looked
back at him. have been confronted
with several tragic situations in my
life, but / think this one was the most
tragic of all. Sorrow, parting, loss,
death, all these things are terrible and
hard enough to bear, goodness knows;
but when it comes TO dishonor-wen,
that is another matter altogether.
Robin was such a boy, though, such
a boy! And his drawn, haggard face
looked so wistful and so piteous!
could not help feeling sorry for him,
even while condemned him. And /
have always been glad of that weak
ness-if, indeed, il was weakness.
felt so sorry that even interviewed
Sir John, an action which was utterly
opposed TO my principles, for l have
made il rule through life to mind my
own business and TO leave other people
to mind theirs. Needless to say, gain
ed nothing.
"Robin is bad, /" Sir John said, coldly,
"and bound to go to the devil, so let
him go in his own way. wash my
hands of aim. III never see him or
speak to him again as long as live,
and if could leave the old place away
from him / would. Unfortunately, l
can't, as it goes with the title. Don't
say any more, Maitland. tell you the
boy is bad. He belongs to the devil,
aud the devil may have his own for
me-
/ was convinced that Robin was not
bad, only wild and thoughtless, and
reckless to the last degree; but said no
more. II Is only waste Of time to ar
que with an angry man-partieularly
il he happens TO be father with GER