It was not a very happy time that followed Geoffrey's departure. His absence made a sad blank in my life, and the house seemed large and lonely with only us three boys in it. The people round were very kind in coming in to see us, and in asking us out, and the old servants saw that we wanted for nothing, and looked well after us in every way. But nothing could make up for the absence of my friend and companion, and my anxiety about him made me often very unhappy indeed. It was Monday when he left us, and we heard that he had borne the journey very well and was in good spirits. The doctors had decided to operate on the Friday, and Aunt Mary, who wrote to tell us, said that Uncle Reginald would run down for a few hours on the Saturday to attend to some business and to tell us all about it. Geoffrey would have to be kept so very quiet for the first few days afterwards that he would not miss his father's presence. I had a little, penciled note from Geoffrey on the Friday morning, telling me he did not feel at all afraid or unhappy, that he was very glad it was to be done so soon, and that I was not to be miserable about him. He asked after his horse and his other creatures, and told me that King, who had gone with him at his special request, seemed very much surprised by London's sights and sounds. It was a bright little note, and did much to cheer me up. Ted had one too. But he cried a great deal over his, although, when I read it, I could not tell why, for it was not pathetic at all, except for being so very loving. But Ted had been very unlike himself for some time past, almost always melancholy, often tearful, seeming to shrink away from both Geoffrey and me, and not even following Arthur about as he used to do. I could not imagine what made him so unsociable, and should probably have wondered more had my thoughts not been so wrapped up in Geoffrey. Arthur had struck up a great friendship with some boys near, who had lately come to the rectory to study, and he was as much at their house as at home, and I saw very little of him. Friday passed drearily enough, although it was a bright warm day, which seemed to come as a herald of the glorious spring-tide just on its way to us. I could think of nothing but Geoffrey, and wished we had asked Aunt Mary to telegraph to us as soon as the operation was over. It seemed so long to have to wait till Saturday, a whole day more, and perhaps Uncle Reginald would not be able to come after all. There was no letter by Saturday morning's post, so we concluded that he would come by the train he had previously fixed, and very impatiently we waited for his arrival. Arthur laughed a little at our nervous restlessness, and assured us that all would be right, and Geoffrey would get on like a house on fire. When once the dead bone was taken away, but none the less were we much disturbed in mind and waited in great suspense for news. At last the carriage drove up, and we all rushed tumultuously out to meet the messenger, But the moment we caught sight of Uncle Reginald's face we all fell back by a sudden impulse and the eager question died away upon our lips. I cannot tell what it was, whether the paleness of his face or the settled sadness of its lines that told the tale so plainly, but we all knew without a single word that the news he brought was bad. He held Ted very closely in his arms for a moment and then shook hands kindly with Arthur and me. "'Well, boys, how are you all?' he said pleasantly. "'Papa, Geoffrey,' whispered Ted, with trembling lips. "'Geoffrey is wonderfully well, all things considered. He sent his best love to you all and hopes to come home again in a few weeks' time. We all breathed more freely, and yet I felt sure there was more to tell. Come into my study, all of you, said Uncle Reginald, and I will tell you all about it. We followed him in silence. He sat down with rather averted face. Ted leaned against his shoulder and seemed to tremble. Arthur and I stood by silent, waiting for him to speak. Boys, he said at length, I have sad news to tell you. He paused, but as nobody spoke, he by and by continued. When the doctors began to operate yesterday, they found the leg in a much worse state than they had thought. You will not be able to understand their reasons. I can do so only in part. But they found that what they had hoped would cure Geoffrey would be of no use at all. There was only one thing which they could do. What was that, asked Arthur, very low, to take the bad leg off altogether. Papa, oh, Papa, Ted burst into a passion of tears and clung convulsively to his father. Arthur and I looked at each other, and I think both our faces were rather pale. Ted, my boy, you must be brave, we must all be brave, as Geoffrey was when he came to himself and found that he had only one leg left. Colonel Douglas came to a sudden stop, for there was a curious huskiness in his voice, and at that point it seemed to break altogether. My tears started at those words. I felt a singing in my ears and a choking in my throat. What else Uncle Reginald said was only indistinctly heard. I think he told us that Geoffrey seemed wonderfully well considering, that the doctors said the calm, brave way in which he took everything gave him twice the chance of a good recovery, and that in a few weeks' time he would be able to be moved and would come home to the pure country air which would be so good for him. I just stayed to hear so much, and then my fortitude quite gave way. I went up to my room, shut myself in, and cried bitterly. Presently Ted came up and we mingled our tears together. We did not talk much. I think we were both too miserable, but we clung to each other very closely, and this common sorrow seemed to draw us nearer together than we had been for many months. Uncle Reginald went away later in the day, taking Arthur with him. An uncle of his, lately returned from India, wanted to have the boy for a week or two with him, and this seemed a good opportunity for the promised visit. I think Ted and I were rather glad to see him go. It was not likely he would feel this trouble as we did. Our melancholy would weary him. and his want of complete sympathy might hurt us. Uncle Reginald would be up and down a good deal, so it was only a short leave we had to take of him. This was something of a comfort, for we felt very miserable and lonely. How that day passed I hardly know. We crept early to bed together, Ted and I, and I think I fell asleep before very long, but was awakened presently by the convulsive sobbing of my companion. "'Ted,' I cried, "'what is it?' "'Geoffrey,' he sobbed. "'Geoffrey! O poor, poor Geoffrey!' His grief was so violent that I felt I must act the part of comforter. "'Ted, don't cry so. We must try to be brave. Geoffrey is brave, you know. Let us be like him. I can't. I never can. He is so good. Ted, I said slowly, let us try to be good too. I never can, cried Ted passionately. I am a wicked, wicked boy and I shall never be happy any more. It is all my fault, Arthur's and mine, that Geoffrey will always be lame now. What do you mean, Ted? I will tell. I must tell, cried Ted, still in the same excited way. I promised I would not, but I will. That night of the fire, Arthur and I had been playing in the barn with matches and gunpowder and things that Papa forbids us to touch, and we forgot the time and ran off in a great hurry. And I'm almost sure we must have left sparks or something behind, for that same night was the fire, and Geoffrey's leg was hurt, and he is lame, and I shall never be happy any more. Never, never. Oh, Ted, I exclaimed, and was silent a while, until the extreme misery of his bitter crying roused me to speak again. Well, we cannot help what is past, but Ted, dear Ted, I want so much for us to try to be good now, as Geoffrey is good. You know what I mean. "'Yes, yes,' sobbed Ted. "'I wish, oh, I do wish I could, but I have been so wicked and we have been so bad to Geoffrey.' "'Ted,' I said suddenly and eagerly, "'let us tell Uncle Reginald all about it, about the butterflies and about everything else. I have been thinking about it this ever so long. I know we shall never be happy until we do. Let us tell him everything, and then start fair and try never to tell another lie, and never to do a cowardly thing, always to be honest and brave and good like Geoffrey.' Oh, Arnold, shall we? I should like, but I am afraid, and Arthur will never let us. Arthur cannot stop us. I know we promised him, but I am sure it is more wrong to keep such a promise than to go on deceiving your father and everybody. Ted, let us be brave and tell him everything. It is the only way." I had thought of this so much that I spoke now with great firmness and decision. It was a comfort to Ted to find me so resolved. Yes, Arnold, we will, we will. We need not say anything about Arthur to Papa, only about ourselves. Yes, only about ourselves, I answered readily. He may be very angry, said Ted a little tremulously, but he is very kind and good and I can't be more miserable than I am. And we can never really be better until we have told. It feels like a horrid black weight always dragging us back. I have so wanted to tell and I was determined I would, but I am so glad you will too, Ted. I know you will be glad afterwards and it will be nice to feel that we have told the truth and tried to be brave like Jeffrey. Yes, assented Ted, with sudden relief. I am so glad we have decided. And Arnold, do let us try to be good now. Really good, I mean. Aunt Mary will help us, and Geoffrey too. I should like to be always good and truthful, and to love reading the Bible and saying my prayers, and to feel as though God really were my father. Geoffrey does, I know. He always did, and couldn't understand why I didn't too. Oh, I do want to be more like Geoffrey. End of Chapter 28 Bad News and Good Resolutions This audio was created with an artificial voice for the audiobook initiative on Sermon Audio. There may be mispronunciations or occasional repetitions. To report a mistake, please email us at info at sermonaudio.com and include the sermon ID or title of the message and the time at which the error occurs. We will do our best to get it corrected for future listeners.