ver, the little man yet quivering with the pain, held out
his little bleeding hand, and said, "I can--I can take it from you, sir,"
saying which his face flushed, and his eyes filled, whereupon the father
burst into a passion of tears, and embraced the boy, and kissed him,
besought him to be rebellious no more, flung the whip away from him, and
swore, come what would, he would never strike him again. The quarrel was
the means of a great and happy reconciliation. But the truce was only a
temporary one. War very soon broke out again between the impetuous lad
and his rigid, domineering step-mother. It was not that he was very bad,
nor she so very stern, but the two could not agree. The boy sulked and
was miserable at home, and, after a number of more serious escapades than
he had before indulged in, he was sent to a tutor for military
instruction, where he was prepared for the army and received a fairly
good professional education. He cultivated mathematics and fortification,
and made rapid progress in his study of the French language. But again
did our poor Tommy get into trouble, and serious trouble indeed this
time, for it involved his French master's pretty young daughter as well
as himself. Frantic with wrath and despair at the unfortunate climax of
events, young Newcome embarked for India, and quitted the parents whom he
was never more to see. His name was no more mentioned at Clapham, but he
wrote constantly to his father, who sent Tom liberal private remittances
to India, and was in turn made acquainted with the fact of his son's
marriage, and later received news of the birth of his grandson, Clive.

Old Thomas Newcome would have liked to leave all his private fortune to
his son Thomas, for the twins were only too well provided for, but he
dared not, for fear of his wife, and he died, and poor Tom was only
secretly forgiven.

So much for the history of Clive Newcome's father and grandfather. Having
related it in full detail, we can now proceed to the narrative of Clive's
life, he being the hero of this tale.

From the day of his birth until he was some seven years old, Clive's
English relatives knew nothing about him. Then, Colonel Newcome's wife
having died, and having kept the boy with him as long as the climate
would allow, Thomas Newcome, now Lieutenant-Colonel, decided that it was
wise to send Clive to England, to entrust him to the boy's maternal aunt,
Miss Honeyman, who was living at Brighton, that Clive mi