CHAPTER NINETEEN

     I am tempted again—­My Pride is roused, and my Course of Life is
     changed in consequence.

I passed a dreaming restless night, and woke early.  I recalled all that had passed, and I felt very much dissatisfied with myself; the fifteen shillings, with the added prospect of receiving more, did not yield me the satisfaction I had anticipated.  From what the men had said about old Nanny I thought that I would go and see her; and why? because I wished support against my own convictions.  If I had not been actuated by such a feeling I should, as usual, have gone to old Anderson.  When I went down to breakfast I felt confused, and I hardly dared to meet the clear bright eye of my little sister, and I wished the fifteen shillings out of my pocket.  That I might appear to her and my mother as if I were not guilty, I swaggered; my sister was surprised, and my mother justifiably angry.  As soon as breakfast was over, I hastened to old Nanny’s.

“Well, Jack,” said she, “what brings you here so early?”

“Why, mother, I was desired to ask you a question last night—­between ourselves.”

“Well, why don’t you ask it, since it’s between ourselves?” replied she, with surprise.

“Some of the people want to know if you fence now?”

“Jack,” said old Nanny, harshly, “who asked you that question, and how did you fall into their company?  Tell me directly; I will know.”

“Why, mother, is there any harm in it?” replied I, confused and holding down my head.

“Harm in it!  Ask your own conscience, Jack, whether there’s harm in it.  Why do you not look me in the face like an honest boy?  Would they have dared to put that question to you, if you had not been a party to their evil deeds, Jack?” continued she, shaking her head.  “I thought better of you; now you have filled me full of sorrow.”

I was smitten to the heart at this rebuke from a quarter whence I did not expect it; but my heart was still rebellious, and I would not acknowledge what I felt.  I thought to turn the tables, and replied, “Why, mother, at all events they say that once you were a real good one.”

“Is it indeed gone so far?” replied she.  “Poor boy! poor boy!  Yes, Jack, to my shame be it spoken, I once did receive things and buy them when they were not honestly come by, and now I’m rebuked by a child.  But, Jack, I was almost mad then; I had that which would have turned any one’s brain—­I was reckless, wretched; but I don’t do so any more.  Even now I am a poor sinful wretch—­I know it; but I’m not so crazy as I was then.  I have done so, Jack, more’s the shame for me, and I wish I could recall it; but, Jack, we can’t recall the past.  Oh, that we could!”