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Updated: June 12, 2025
The baggage wagon had arrived; five minutes later the two friends were mounted upon their luggage in it, and rattling off toward the station, the Colonel endeavoring to sing "Homeward Bound," a song whose words he knew, but whose tune, as he rendered it, was a trial to auditors. Philip Sterling's circumstances were becoming straightened. The prospect was gloomy.
And there the officers found him when Hattie Sterling's disappearance had become a strange thing. When Joe was taken, there was no spirit or feeling left in him. He moved mechanically, as if without sense or volition. The first impression he gave was that of a man over-acting insanity. But this was soon removed by the very indifference with which he met everything concerned with his crime.
The accident, and the meeting with the girl had aroused him for a while, and his old-time spirit of rebellion flared up in his passionate outburst against the King and the Loyalists. But it was only temporary, and when he learned that the girl was James Sterling's daughter, he was forced to capitulate.
"What's the matter?" cried both boys, tumbling back in astonishment. "Just look what I've done!" Polly was wringing her hands now, and presented a picture of distress. "What what, Polly?" They crowded up to her again. "Why, I've forgotten I was to go at once to Mrs. Sterling's, and she's been waiting. If Joel comes, send him over." The last words came back in a little shout, for Polly was off.
But his grand private affair, I believe, was now Strafford; to which, or to its adjuncts, all working hours were devoted. Sterling's notions of Tragedy are high enough. This is what he writes once, in reference to his own task in these weeks: "Few, I fancy, know how much harder it is to write a Tragedy than to realize or be one.
How funny it will seem to say Mrs. Randolph!" "Polly!" the other expostulated. Polly laughed and flung her arms round Miss Sterling's neck. "Remember! I'm not going to let you off! You must tell me how he said it!" "Charmingly, Polly, charmingly!" "No, that won't do! There's the bell!" And the crimson-robed little figure fled.
Sometimes he has been pretty blue I suppose thinking of his father and wondering why he didn't come. It has been almost two years! It won't seem a bit natural without Chris. I shall have to come over here and bother you more than ever." Polly sighed a bit sorrowfully and dropped on a hassock at Miss Sterling's feet. "You know you couldn't come too often, my dear."
If Classicality mean the practical conception, or attempt to conceive, what human life was in the epoch called classical, perhaps few or none of Sterling's contemporaries in that Cambridge establishment carried away more of available Classicality than even he.
Sterling's business affairs were finally disclosed. Then it was learned that for some time he had been facing financial ruin owing to certain speculations that had in a month's time swept his supposed wealth into complete destruction.
Among the Papers given me, is an old browned half-sheet in stiff school hand, unpunctuated, occasionally ill spelt, John Sterling's earliest remaining Letter, which gives record of a crowning escapade of his, the first and the last of its kind; and so may be inserted here.
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