But his duty was plain, and he had resolved to do it. He had decided to
suffer the penalty of his transgression, whatever it might be, and get
back again into the right path as soon as he could.

Happy would it have been for him had he done so. On his way home from
church he unfortunately met Tim Bunker, who had evidently placed himself
in his way to confirm his fidelity to the Rovers.

Tim saw that he was meditating something dangerous to the success of his
scheme. Charles was cold and distant. He appeared to have lost his
enthusiasm.

"If you play us false, it will be all up with you," said Tim, in a low,
determined tone. "I can prove that you stole the purse. That's all."

It was enough to overthrow all Charles's good resolution. His fickle
mind, his shallow principle, gave way. Stifling his convictions of duty,
and silencing the "still small voice," he went home: and there was no
joy in heaven over the returning prodigal.

"Charles," said his father, sternly, as he entered the house, "you were
not at school yesterday!"

"I got late, and did not like to go," whined he.

"Where were you?"

"Down at the village."

"Go to your room, and don't leave it without permission."