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story of Jack and the Bean Stalk； when from the oven in which he was
hidden he heard the ogre ask his wife what young children she had
got for his supper。 With much courage； and； as the event proved；
with not less courage than discretion； he took the bull by the
horns； and announced himself at once as having just come in after
having met with a terrible misfortune。 Little by little he told his
story； and though Theobald stormed somewhat at his 〃incredible folly
and carelessness；〃 he got off better than he expected。 Theobald and
Christina had indeed at first been inclined to connect his absence
from dinner with Ellen's dismissal； but on finding it clear； as
Theobald saideverything was always clear with Theobaldthat
Ernest had not been in the house all the morning； and could
therefore have known nothing of what had happened； he was acquitted
on this account for once in a way； without a stain upon his
character。 Perhaps Theobald was in a good temper； he may have seen
from the paper that morning that his stocks had been rising； it may
have been this or twenty other things； but whatever it was； he did
not scold so much as Ernest had expected； and； seeing the boy look
exhausted and believing him to be much grieved at the loss of his
watch； Theobald actually prescribed a glass of wine after his
dinner； which； strange to say； did not choke him； but made him see
things more cheerfully than was usual with him。
That night when he said his prayers； he inserted a few paragraphs to
the effect that he might not be discovered； and that things might go
well with Ellen； but he was anxious and ill at ease。 His guilty
conscience pointed out to him a score of weak places in his story；
through any one of which detection might even yet easily enter。
Next day and for many days afterwards he fled when no man was
pursuing； and trembled each time he heard his father's voice calling
for him。 He had already so many causes of anxiety that he could
stand little more； and in spite of all his endeavours to look
cheerful； even his mother could see that something was preying upon
his mind。 Then the idea returned to her that； after all； her son
might not be innocent in the Ellen matterand this was so
interesting that she felt bound to get as near the truth as she
could。
〃Come here； my poor； pale…faced； heavy…eyed boy；〃 she said to him
one day in her kindest manner； 〃come and sit down by me； and we will
have a little quiet confidential talk together； will we not？〃
The boy went mechanically to the sofa。 Whenever his mother wanted
what she called a confidential talk with him she always selected the
sofa as the most suitable ground on which to open her campaign。 All
mothers do this； the sofa is to them what the dining…room is to
fathers。 In the present case the sofa was particularly well adapted
for a strategic purpose； being an old…fashioned one with a high
back； mattress； bolsters and cushions。 Once safely penned into one
of its deep corners； it was like a dentist's chair； not too easy to
get out of again。 Here she could get at him better to pull him
about； if this should seem desirable； or if she thought fit to cry
she could bury her head in the sofa cushion and abandon herself to
an agony of grief which seldom failed of its effect。 None of her
favourite manoeuvres were so easily adopted in her usual seat； the
arm…chair on the right hand side of the fire…place； and so well did
her son know from his mother's tone that this was going to be a sofa
conversation that he took his place like a lamb as soon as she began
to speak and before she could reach the sofa herself。
〃My dearest boy；〃 began his mother； taking hold of his hand and
placing it within her own； 〃promise me never to be afraid either of
your dear papa or of me； promise me this； my dear； as you love me；
promise it to me；〃 and she kissed him again and again and stroked
his hair。 But with her other hand she still kept hold of his； she
had got him and she meant to keep him。
The lad hung down his head and promised。 What else could he do？
〃You know there is no one； dear； dear Ernest； who loves you so much
as your papa and I do； no one who watches so carefully over your
interests or who is so anxious to enter into all your little joys
and troubles as we are； but my dearest boy； it grieves me to think
sometimes that you have not that perfect love for and confidence in
us which you ought to have。 You know； my darling； that it would be
as much our pleasure as our duty to watch over the development of
your moral and spiritual nature； but alas！ you will not let us see
your moral and spiritual nature。 At times we are almost inclined to
doubt whether you have a moral and spiritual nature at all。 Of your
inner life； my dear； we know nothing beyond such scraps as we can
glean in spite of you； from little things which escape you almost
before you know that you have said them。〃
The boy winced at this。 It made him feel hot and uncomfortable all
over。 He knew well how careful he ought to be； and yet； do what he
could； from time to time his forgetfulness of the part betrayed him
into unreserve。 His mother saw that he winced； and enjoyed the
scratch she had given him。 Had she felt less confident of victory
she had better have foregone the pleasure of touching as it were the
eyes at the end of the snail's horns in order to enjoy seeing the
snail draw them in againbut she knew that when she had got him
well down into the sofa； and held his hand； she had the enemy almost
absolutely at her mercy； and could do pretty much what she liked。
〃Papa does not feel；〃 she continued； 〃that you love him with that
fulness and unreserve which would prompt you to have no concealment
from him； and to tell him everything freely and fearlessly as your
most loving earthly friend next only to your Heavenly Father。
Perfect love； as we know； casteth out fear： your father loves you
perfectly； my darling； but he does not feel as though you loved him
perfectly in return。 If you fear him it is because you do not love
him as he deserves； and I know it sometimes cuts him to the very
heart to think that he has earned from you a deeper and more willing
sympathy than you display towards him。 Oh； Ernest； Ernest； do not
grieve one who is so good and noble…hearted by conduct which I can
call by no other name than ingratitude。〃
Ernest could never stand being spoken to in this way by his mother：
for he still believed that she loved him； and that he was fond of
her and had a friend in herup to a certain point。 But his mother
was beginning to come to the end of her tether； she had played the
domestic confidence trick upon him times without number already。
Over and over again had she wheedled from him all she wanted to
know； and afterwards got him into the most horrible scrape by
telling the whole to Theobald。 Ernest had remonstrated more than
once upon these occasions； and had pointed out to his mother how
disastrous to him his confidences had been； but Christina had always
joined issue with him and showed him in the clearest possible manner
that in each case she had been right； and that he could not
reasonably complain