"My mother is not living," continued he; "but how know you this?"
"It don't matter, stranger. Have you seen your father lately?"
"Not for many years. I am an outcast from his presence," replied Vernon,
with some appearance of feeling.
"That's onfortunate; does he know what sort of a lark you are?"
"I hope not," replied Vernon, with a sickly smile.
"But he does; he knows all about this ongodly scrape you got into last
night."
"What mean you?" said the ruffian, sternly.
"Mean? Why, just exactly what I say, Mr. Vaudelier! Don't start! I know
you as well as you know yourself."
Vernon bit his lips; he was confounded at hearing his name uttered,--a
name which had not greeted his ears for many years. His passion was
disarmed before the rude but cutting speech of the woodman, whose
knowledge of human nature, bred in the woods as he had been, was
remarkable. There are men in the world, supposed to be entirely
intractable, who, when rightly approached, prove as gentle as lambs.
There is no evil without its antidote, however deeply it may be hid from
the knowledge of man; and there is no man so vile that he cannot be
reformed.
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