"Not one hour longer than necessary could I have left them in that furnace," thought their Uncle to himself as they passed through the shrubbery; but not a word was uttered until they were beyond the white lodge.
Poor Tom walked on with a heavy heart, which not even the thought of home could cheer. He felt himself lowered in the eyes of his brother, and sunk—oh how much sunk—in his own! In the hour of trial he had fallen away; he had not kept his post as a Christian soldier; he had suffered one younger, and not more implicated than himself, to stand forth alone to confess the truth, and never again could he utter the vain boast—"I am afraid of nothing and of nobody."
Mrs. Gore welcomed her sons with joy to their home; but she was soon struck by the expression of thought and care on the countenances of both, deepening into dejection on that of poor Tom. Willy's gravity was soon accounted for, but why was his brother so sad?
There was a weight on the poor boy's conscience, and he needed the relief of confession. He had not dared to tell the angry knight what was the truth, that he himself had placed the envelope in the hand of Willy, and, without examination, assured him that it was empty. But in the quiet of night, when his mother visited his room, and sat beside his bed, Tom felt that he could and must tell all. There were still more painful confessions to make. He had to own how, when absent from his mother, he had broken her commands, had borne to hear her principles called fancies, and Willy's filial love ridiculed and mocked—it was painful to confess, and painful to hear, but Tom felt happier when he had told all.
"And now, mother," he concluded, "can you forgive me?"
"It is not my forgiveness alone that is needed, my child; it is less against your mother than against Heaven that you have offended. What caused you to break the Fifth Commandment—to neglect your friend, to forsake your brother, to profane the holy day of the Lord? Not want of affection, of that I am sure—not want of reverence for the things of God—but 'the fear of man, that bringeth a snare,' overcoming the fear of the Lord. And why did your courage fail in the trial? Because, my son, your faith was weak; you went confiding in your own feeble strength, and when the waves of temptation arose, immediately you began to sink. The Saviour's words might have been spoken to you—'Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?'"
"And now, what can I do?" sighed the boy.
"Ask for strength and it shall be given you; seek for pardon, it shall be found; keep a strict watch over your heart and your actions, my son; and when, like St. Peter, you have fallen through fear, repent truly like him, and like him you may receive grace to fight manfully under Christ's banner in the future!"
