The door shut, and they fancied they heard sobs. Ethel groaned, but made no opposition to following her brother down to tea. Margaret lay, wan and exhausted, on the sofa—the doctor looked very melancholy and rather stern, and the others were silent. Ethel had begun to hope for the warm reaction she had so often known after a hasty fit, but it did not readily come; Harry was boy instead of girl—the fault and its consequence had been more serious—and the anxiety for the future was greater. Besides, he had not fully heard the story; Harry, in his incoherent narration, had not excused himself, and Margaret’s panic had appeared more as if inspired by him, than, as it was, in fact, the work of her fancy.
Thus the evening passed gloomily away, and it was not till the others had said good-night that Dr. May began to talk over the affair with his eldest son, who then was able to lay before him the facts of the case, as gathered from his sisters. He listened with a manner as though it were a reproof, and then said sadly, “I am afraid I was in a passion.”
“It was very wrong in Harry,” said Richard, “and particularly unlucky it should happen with the Andersons.”
“Very thoughtless,” said the doctor, “no more, even as regarded Margaret; but thoughtlessness should not have been treated as a crime.”
“I wish we could see him otherwise,” said Richard.
“He wants—” and there Dr. May stopped short, and, taking up his candle, slowly mounted the stairs, and looked into Harry’s room. The boy was in bed, but started up on hearing his father’s step, and exclaimed, “Papa, I am very sorry! Is Margaret better?”
“Yes, she is; and I understand now, Harry, that her alarm was an accident. I beg your pardon for thinking for a moment that it was otherwise—”
“No,” interrupted Harry, “of course I could never mean to frighten her; but I did not leave off the moment I saw she was afraid, because it was so very ridiculous, and I did not guess it would hurt her.”
“I see, my honest boy. I do not blame you, for you did not know how much harm a little terror does to a person in her helpless state. But, indeed, Harry, though you did not deserve such anger as mine was, it is a serious thing that you should be so much set on fun and frolic as to forget all considerations, especially at such a time as this. It takes away from much of my comfort in sending you into the world; and for higher things—how can I believe you really impressed and reverent, if the next minute—”
“I’m not fit! I’m not fit!” sobbed Harry, hiding his face.