“Oh, really, why I don’t exactly know. I’ve not seen her yet this morning.”
“Not seen her!” repeated Dr. Merton in surprise.
“Oh, sir, I knew that she’d be worrying me about my coming here upon the ice. She’s so fidgety and frightened—she treats one like a child, and is always fancying that there is danger when there is none;” and the boy turned down his lip with a contemptuous expression.
“I should say that you are in danger now,” said Dr. Merton, very gravely.
“How so? the ice is thick enough to roast an ox upon,” replied Paul, striking it with his heel.
“In danger of the anger of that great Being who hath said, Honour thy father and thy mother—in danger of much future pain and regret, when the time for obeying that command shall be lost to you for ever.”
Paul’s cheek grew redder at these words. He felt half inclined to make an insolent reply; but there was something in the doctor’s manner which awed even his proud and unruly spirit.
“Where is your brother Harry?” inquired Dr. Merton.
“Oh, I suppose at home,” replied Paul bluffly, glad of any change in the conversation; and still more glad was he when the gentleman turned away, and left him to pursue his amusement.
And where was Harry on that bright, cheerful morning, while his brother was enjoying himself upon the ice? In a little, dull, close room, with a peevish invalid, the sunshine mostly shut out by the dark blinds, while the sound of merry voices from without contrasted with the gloomy stillness within. Harry glided about with a quiet step, trimmed the fire, set on the kettle, prepared the gruel for his mother, and carried it gently to the side of her bed. He arranged the pillows comfortably for the sufferer, and tended her even as she had tended him in the days of his helpless infancy. The fretfulness of the sick woman never moved his patience. He remembered how often, when he was a babe, his cry had broken her rest and disturbed her comfort. How could he do enough for her who had given him life, and watched over him and loved him long, long before he had been able even to make the small return of a grateful look? Oh! what a holy thing is filial obedience! God commands it, God has blessed it, and He will bless it for ever. He that disobeys or neglects a parent is planting thorns for his own pillow, and they are thorns that shall one day pierce him even to the soul.