The money had been spent in part; but, if they sent him to jail, it would be better than to continue in wickedness.  Then he thought what Captain Sedley would say to him; that the club would despise him; and that he would not be permitted to join the sports of the coming week—­to say nothing of being put in prison.

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.”

Charles obeyed.  The consequences of his error were already beginning to overtake him.  His father joined him soon after, and talked to him very severely.  He was really alarmed, for Captain Sedley had given him a hint concerning his son’s intimacy with Tim Bunker.

Charles was not permitted to leave his room that afternoon, and his supper was sent up to him; but his mother brought it, and consoled him in his troubles—­promising to prevent his father from punishing him any more.

“Now, go to bed, Charley; never do so again, and it will be all right to-morrow,” said the weak mother, as she took her leave.

But Charles did not go to bed.  The family retired early; and, taking his great-coat on his arm, he stole noiselessly out of the house.  At nine o’clock he was at the rendezvous of the Rovers.

It was not deemed prudent to put their plans in execution till a later hour; and the band dispersed, with instructions to meet again in an hour at Flat Rock, where the boats would be in readiness to take them off to the island.

Tim and Charles, with four others, immediately repaired to the place where Joe Braman’s boat, which had been hired for the enterprise, was concealed.  Seating themselves in it, they waited till the hour had expired, and then, with muffled oars, pulled up to the Butterfly’s house.