"Oh, Aleck! for you to be feeling like that—you, who had only felt angry—what would you have done if you had been me?" And then I proceeded, with feelings of unconcealed horror, to tell him of my misery during the few days succeeding the loss of the boat; the terrible walk home that morning; the lonely terrors of the nights; and my feelings at church with that verse always sounding in my ears, "If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me."
Before I had finished my story Aleck had got hold of one of my hands, and was stroking it as if he had been a girl. "You see," I said, "I was feeling rather like you, only I couldn't know I was forgiven, with that dreadful sin that no one knew of."
"We had both done wrong," Aleck replied; "it doesn't much signify which of us was worst. Willie, do you know I want us always to do something together that we haven't done before."
"What is it?" I inquired.
"I should like us to read a little bit of the Bible together every day, quite for our own selves; not like a lesson, you know, nor even having auntie to explain it to us, but just for our own selves, like when I have one of papa's or mamma's letters to read. I think it would help us to remember the really great things better, like auntie's text in my room."
I need scarcely say that the habit—afterwards continued, whenever practicable, through our school-life—was at once begun. In fact, Aleck's merest wish was a law to me; for all through the winter months every opportunity of rendering him any service was hailed with delight. I could never forget that his weakness and suffering were the result of my wicked behaviour, and could only comfort myself by doing all that in me lay to make his confinement as little wearisome as possible. Knowing his active, restless nature, I could fully appreciate what the trial must be, even with every alleviation, and often wondered he was able to bear it so cheerfully.
But when I ventured to express to my cousin these speculations of mine, he would laugh them off merrily.
"Why, Willie, how can I help being thankful and happy? Not to speak of uncle and aunt, who seem to be doing something for me every hour of the day; nor of old George, who toils up every morning to see me, though he used to tell me that it made his old bones ache—a fact he will never allow now; nor of Frisk, who sits upon my feet for hours, on purpose to keep them warm; I should like to know how I could help being cheerful, with your own dear old self giving up the greater part of your play-time to chess, or carpentry, or madrepores, and spending every penny of your pocket-money—No; it's of no use your stopping me to deny it. I've counted up, and you've spent every penny of your pocket-money—just as I was saying—in buying books, or tools, or things for me; waiting upon me, too, as if I were a prince and you my slave. Why, I'm perfectly afraid of admiring anything you have, lest I should find it done up in a parcel, and sent to me, like the illustrated copy of 'Robinson Crusoe' the other day!"
In this sort of grateful spirit, making much of all my little trifling acts of kindness, Aleck scarcely allowed us to feel that he was under-going any deprivation during the months that he lay on the sofa.
Once only I remember noticing a little cloud, that vanished again almost as soon as it appeared. One morning, after lessons were over, I came running into the study with my Latin exercise.