THE TALISMAN. (continued 2)

'I have decided not to tell,' said Frank, 'without your consent.'

'Don't ask me to give that; it is impossible.'

'Why, you said just now, you would tell yourself, to restore that lost hour. This I know cannot be done; but something as valuable, which you have lost yourself, may be restored, by confessing the truth.'

'What is that?'

'Your own peace of mind; have you not lost that?'

'Yes, I have; I cannot shut my eyes without beholding that speechless, dying girl; it is frightful; I never was such a coward before. But I shall get over it I know, in a few days. Whenever I get into a scrape, I always feel horridly at first, for fear I should be found out,—but I never am, and I soon forget it.'

'But the consequences are seldom so serious, of any of our pranks,' said Frank.

'Why there was the widow's granddaughter who was burned so badly, all owing to my carelessness in dropping that piece of phosphorus, or some of the matches, on the day of our balloon frolic. It troubled me when I first heard of it, as much as it did you. I bought her a new pair of shoes, and I have given her or her grandmother something every time I go that way; and persuaded several of the other boys to do so too. The old woman said the last time I was there, that she hoped she should be brought to a realizing sense that every thing was ordered for the best; for Sally's accident had proved a real blessing to the family.'

'It is striking ten, William;' said Frank.

'Is it?' replied William.—'O dear! I shall never get asleep.'

Frank waked earlier than usual, the next morning; and he found William up and dressed.

'How early you are up,' said he.

'I am going to take a walk,' replied William. 'I feel as if I should smother, if I stay any longer shut up here.'

'Should you like to have me go with you?' said Frank.

'Will you? that's a good fellow.'

After they had walked a little way in silence, Gardiner said, 'I am glad Frank, that I know you have got something to help you to do right; for now there don't seem to be such a difference between us. Albert said, he believed you had a good genius always at your elbow, when you declined going into swimming with us, the day after the guards were broken by the high wind; and Mrs. Reed said your good genius was your virtuous thoughts; but she did not know the whole. If I had not gone at that time, Greenville would have been drowned; for there was not a fellow among them all, who had the courage to jump in after him when he floated outside the bars; so I can't reproach myself for that.'

'You said,' replied Frank, 'Mr. Reed commended your courage very much: but he told you you were as wrong as the others in going; and that we must not do evil that good may come of it.'

'Well, Frank,' said William, 'what would you do in my place about the chaise? suppose I go and tell parson Allen the whole truth; where is the use of it? It would only disgrace the school, to have it talked about all over the neighborhood; and injure the other boys as well as myself.'

'I agree with you,' said Frank; 'but can't you tell Mr. Reed?'

'How could that make the matter any better?'

'You would be relieved from the dread you now feel, of being found out.'

'That is something, I acknowledge; for I never did feel so badly about being found out before.'

'Then,' said Frank, 'if you confess the fault and say you are sorry, you will have made all the reparation in your power, and your conscience will be lightened of a load.'

'I know it, and if I had your talisman, perhaps I should.'

'But you may, if you choose, have the good genius which Mrs. Reed thinks I have—virtuous thoughts.'

'I wish I always did have them, I am sure.'

'If you once brought your mind to confess this,' said Frank; 'I think you would never engage in any more mischief. You know that Mr. Reed told you the day you saved Greenville, that you were a noble fellow; and if you could break yourself of your little mischievous propensities, you might be one of the first in his school, in character, as you now are in talents.'

'Yes,' said William; 'and I remember he advised me to make you my model; and if I had the courage, I would do as you advise.'

'Will you agree to this,' asked Frank; 'you know the questions Mr. Reed asked me about the horse.'

'Yes.'

'I was sorry not to be able to tell all I knew; this will make it natural enough for me to speak of it first; and then I will say I had your consent to tell the whole; that you are very sorry, and are determined to break off your mischievous habits.'

'What will the boys say when they know it?' said William.

'Perhaps Mr. Reed will not choose to tell them; and if he does, all those whose opinions are worth caring for, will think the better of you.'

'I believe they will,' said William; 'for I know we did not think any the less of you, for what you said, the night of the balloon. Frank, I consent; only I should feel better to have you tell it to Mrs. Reed first, and let her tell Mr. Reed,—she is so kind, she will make the very best that can be made of it; and she will not say a harsh word to me.'

'I will,' returned Frank; 'take courage, you will never be sorry, when it is once told,—like having a tooth out, it will be soon over, and you will be relieved.'

'When shall you tell?' asked William.

'When I get a suitable opportunity; don't be too anxious.'

As soon as Frank found Mrs. Reed disengaged, he related to her the whole affair; and represented as he could, with sincerity, that it was only meant as a harmless joke. He said as little of himself as possible, throughout the narration; and omitted almost entirely, the persuasion he was obliged to use, to induce William to take this step. Mrs. Reed sent for William into her own room, and remained alone with him some time; treating him with the tenderness of a mother, and taking care to say nothing which should make him regret for an instant, that he had opened his heart to her.

She then dismissed him, and in the course of the day communicated the matter to her husband; who, though mortified to find that the disgrace of such an affair belonged to any member of his family; yet rejoiced at this proof of an ingenuousness in William Gardiner, which he had almost begun to despair of ever seeing in his character.

In the interview which succeeded, he did not inform William whether he should disclose the truth to Mr. Allen or not; indeed, he had not at that time, made up his mind on the subject.—But he said he should not mention it to any one of the scholars. This indulgence he thought due to the great effort he knew it must have cost William to make the confession.

'I never should have done it, but for Frank; he persuaded me into it.'

'He is your good genius then, William; and I advise you to attach him as closely to your side as possible. Some how or other, he contrives to discern and preserve the right course more perfectly than any of you.'

'I believe,' said Frank, 'I do not deserve more praise on that account, than the others.'

'And why not, if you do in fact excel them?'

'Because,' said Frank, with some embarrassment,—

'Shall I tell?' said William.

'Yes.'

'Because he has something which none of us have; which helps him in doing right.'

'That must be a valuable possession in such a little world as this school,' said Mr. Reed; 'what can it be?'

'A talisman,' answered William; 'which his mother gave him, and said that it would secure him against all harm.'

'From moral harm,' said Frank; 'only from doing what I know to be wrong.'

'If he only just looks at it,' said William, 'it makes him do right.'

'It inspires me with courage to do right,' said Frank.

'May we see this curious treasure?' asked Mr. Reed.

'Yes sir,' said Frank. 'I have intended to show it to Mrs. Reed, for some time.'

Frank ran up to his trunk, took it out and brought it into Mrs. Reed's room. He opened the box and presented it to her. She smiled and looked surprised.

'There is a charm indeed; I do not wonder at its magical influence.—It is, said she—looking up at Frank,—

'My mother's picture,' he answered.

'What a delightful countenance,' exclaimed Mr. Reed. A glance at such features would, I am sure, drive away all evil thoughts. 'Especially if they were a mother's,' said Mrs. Reed; 'and these were the lips from which had proceeded, all your lessons of virtue.'

'I can have no such talisman,' exclaimed William, with a sigh. 'I have no mother. I do not remember her face. She died when I was an infant.'

'This is a great excuse for your faults,' observed Mr. Reed. 'Nothing can supply a mother's place entirely, in the important period of childhood. But you have found a friend who may be a talisman to you, through life, if you will but adhere to him.'

'That I shall, I am resolved,' replied William; 'if he will adopt me.'

'Affection for a worthy object,' said Mrs. Reed; 'whether it be parent or friend, is a talisman which has preserved many a noble youth from the dangers of temptation.'

I trust it will not be uninteresting to our young friends to be informed, that Frank and William's friendship, increased every year; and that it was a source of mutual advantage through life. When Frank went home in the vacation, his parents were delighted with his improvement in looks and manners; he had acquired a manly air, a clear and ready manner of expressing himself. His progress in his studies exceeded their expectations; and his mother told him she was repaid for the sacrifice she had made in parting with him.

The vacation passed away; and when Frank returned to school, both his father and mother accompanied him to Boston. Mrs. Courtland was very desirous of becoming acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Reed, to whom she and her husband felt so much indebted for the happiness and improvements which Frank had found in their family.

Sam Brown's father was so much struck with Frank's improvement, that he resolved to send his son to the same school; though it was rather difficult for him to afford the expense of it. Sam was a boy of fine talents, and well rewarded his father's exertion. He entered college at the same time with Frank and William Gardiner. They were so attached to each other, that they went by the name of the friendly trio; and having quitted the University with honour, became highly respectable and worthy men.

Frank was his mother's pride in manhood, as he had been her hope and comfort in youth.

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