For the first week after Mr. Elliot's departure, the boys were so good, and their tutor so well pleased with their conduct, that one fine day he gave them a holiday, telling them, that provided they avoided all mischievous amusements they were at liberty to spend the day in any manner most agreeable to themselves.--During several hours, they were employed in catching their balls, flying their kites, working in the garden, &c. At length, Charles seeing a little boy going by on horseback, said he should like nothing so well as a nice ride before dinner. "Nor I neither," answered George, "but you know it is impossible, my father having expressly forbidden us to ride out alone during his absence. Mr. Darford is not at home, and I know that all the men are busy." "What does that signify?" returned Charles, "we are surely old enough to take care of ourselves, and as to my uncle, he will never know any thing of the matter." George was at first quite shocked at the idea of disobeying his father, but he at last suffered himself to be persuaded by the artful entreaties of his cousin, to do what he knew to be wrong. They went to the stables, where George took out his own little poney, and Charles one of his uncle's large horses, assuring his cousin that he could manage it very well. At their first setting out, they agreed not to go far from home, only just to ride round the paddock; the pleasantness of the weather, however, soon tempted them to alter their resolution, and they ventured into the high road. They went on very well for some time, and were just thinking of returning, when Charles's horse took fright at some object on the side of the road, and by a sudden start threw his rider; he was not much hurt by the fall, but the horse galloped away, and they soon lost all trace of the way he took: after wasting some time in fruitless endeavours to follow him, they were obliged to return home. George was very uneasy, and bitterly repented the fault he had committed. "O Charles," cried he, "why did you ask me to disobey my father! Alas! I fear he will never forgive me." "Don't cry so, pray," answered his cousin, "come, follow my advice, and this affair will never be discovered."--"How can that be? you surely forget the horse is lost, and besides, I would not upon any account tell an untruth." "You are very foolish then, let me tell you; for as nobody saw us go out, if we deny knowing any thing about the horse, we shall never be suspected." "No, Charles, that I will never do; I had rather suffer the severest punishment that could be inflicted upon me, than tell a _lie_. Nothing shall induce me to add to the fault I have already committed. When my father comes home, I will confess what I have done, and rely upon his indulgence for pardoning a disobedience I so sincerely repent."