As soon as he had done reading, and before he had opened his mouth to make any remark, I crept round the table to his side, and whispered in his ear,--
“Very well, Ranald,” he said, more solemnly, I thought, than usual; “come up to the study.”
He rose and led the way, and I followed. A whimper of disappointment came from Davie’s bed. My father went and kissed him, and said he would soon be back, whereupon Davie nestled down satisfied.
When we reached the study, he closed the door, sat down by the fire, and drew me towards him.
I burst out crying, and could not speak for sobs. He encouraged me most kindly. He said--
“Have you been doing anything wrong, my boy?”
“Yes, papa, very wrong,” I sobbed. “I’m disgusted with myself.”
“I am glad to hear it, my dear,” he returned. “There is some hope of you, then.”
“Oh! I don’t know that,” I rejoined. “Even Turkey despises me.”
“That’s very serious,” said my father. “He’s a fine fellow, Turkey. I should not like him to despise me. But tell me all about it.”
It was with great difficulty I could begin, but with the help of questioning me, my father at length understood the whole matter. He paused for a while plunged in thought; then rose, saying,--
“It’s a serious affair, my dear boy; but now you have told me, I shall be able to help you.”
“But you knew about it before, didn’t you, papa? Surely you did!”
“Not a word of it, Ranald. You fancied so because your sin had found you out. I must go and see how the poor woman is. I don’t want to reproach you at all, now you are sorry, but I should like you just to think that you have been helping to make that poor old woman wicked. She is naturally of a sour disposition, and you have made it sourer still, and no doubt made her hate everybody more than she was already inclined to do. You have been working against God in this parish.”
I burst into fresh tears. It was too dreadful.
“Of course you must beg Mrs. Gregson’s pardon, and tell her that you are both sorry and ashamed.”
“It’s too late to find her up, I’m afraid; but we can just go and see. We’ve done a wrong, a very grievous wrong, my boy, and I cannot rest till I at least know the consequences of it.”
He put on his long greatcoat and muffler in haste, and having seen that I too was properly wrapped up, he opened the door and stepped out. But remembering the promise he had made to Davie, he turned and went down to the nursery to speak to him again, while I awaited him on the doorsteps. It would have been quite dark but for the stars, and there was no snow to give back any of their shine. The earth swallowed all their rays, and was no brighter for it. But oh, what a change to me from the frightful morning! When my father returned, I put my hand in his almost as fearlessly as Allister or wee Davie might have done, and away we walked together.