The Monctons | Page 8

tongue-tied upon
the threshold, without knowing how to begin. I thought he would have
looked me down. I felt the blood receding from my face beneath his
cold gaze, as he said--
"Geoffrey, what do you want here?"
"I came, sir," I at last faltered out, "to make a complaint against Mr.
Jones."
"I never listen to complaints brought by a pupil against his teacher," he
cried, in a voice which made me recoil over the door-step. "Be gone, sir!
If you come into my presence again on such an errand, I will spurn you

from the room."
This speech, meant to intimidate me, restored my courage. I felt the hot
blood rush to my face in a fiery flood.
"Hear me, sir. Did not you place me under his care in order that I might
learn?"
"And you refuse to do so?"
"No, sir: the reverse is the case: he refuses to teach me, and deprives
me of my books, so that I cannot teach myself."
"A very probable tale," sneered Mr. Moncton; then rising from the
table at which he was seated, he cried out hastily, "Is Mr. Jones in the
study?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, my new client, come along with me. I will soon learn the truth
of your case."
He clutched me by the arm, which he grasped so tightly that I could
scarcely resist a cry of pain, and hurried me out. In the study we found
Theophilus and Mr. Jones: the one lounging on two chairs, the other
smoking a cigar and reading a novel. Mr. Moncton stood for a moment
in the door-way, regarding the pair with his peculiar glance.
"Gentlemen, you seem pleasantly and profitably employed!"
"Our morning tasks are concluded," said Theophilus, returning the stare
of scrutiny with a steady lie. "'Too much work would make Jack a dull
boy.'"
His father smiled grimly. How well he understood the character of his
son.
"Here is a lad, Mr. Jones, who complains that you not only refuse to
teach him, but deprive him of his books."

"He tells the truth, sir," returned that worthy, casting upon me a spiteful,
sidelong glance, which seemed to say more eloquently than words,
"You shall see, master Geoffrey, what you'll get by tale-bearing. I'll
match you yet." "I have withheld his books, and refused my
instructions for the past week, as a punishment for his insolent and
disrespectful conduct to your son and me; to say nothing of his
impertinent speeches regarding you, sir, who are his guardian and
benefactor."
"Do you hear that--sir!" said my uncle, giving me a violent blow on my
cheek, and flinging me from him. "When next you come to me with
such tales, you shall not leave your bed for a week."
I sprang from the floor, where his blow had sent me; and stood erect
before him. It was a pigmy confronting a giant; but my blood was
boiling. I had lost all control over myself. "It's a lie!" I cried, shaking
my fist at Mr. Jones. "A monstrous falsehood! He knows it is.
Theophilus knows it is. I have been falsely accused and unjustly
punished; I will remember that blow to my dying day. I will never
forget nor forgive it."
"And who cares, my hero, for your impotent rage?" My uncle seized
me by my thick curling hair, and turned round my face, hot with
passion and streaming with tears of rage, to the gaze of my sneering
enemies. "I will make you know, that you are in my house and in my
power--and you shall submit to my authority, and the authority of those
I choose to place over you."
I struggled desperately in his herculean grasp in order to free myself.
He laughed at my impotent rage and then threw me on the floor--and
this time, I was quiet enough.
When I recovered my senses, I found myself lying upon the bed in the
garret, allotted to my use. My aunt was sitting beside me, bathing my
temples with vinegar and water. "Oh, aunt," I sighed, closing my eyes,
"I wish I were dead!"
"Hush! Geoffrey. You brought this on yourself. I told you how it would

be."
"It was so unjust," I replied with bitterness.
"And you were so rash. You will be wiser another time."
"When I am as wicked as my persecutors."
"No need of quoting others, my son, while you suffer such violent
passions to master you. Listen to me, my child. I have known your
uncle for years--have seen him in his darkest and stormiest moods; and
contrived to live peaceably with him. Nay, he respects me more than he
does any one else in the world. But I never opposed his will. He is not a
man to be trifled with--tears and