Rising, old Sylvester with Margaret's help, lifted the boy to the deep window-seat; and, standing on either hand, the widow and the old man each at his side, Sylvester taking one hand of the child in his, began—
"My child, you are the youngest of this name and household, to you God may have entrusted the continuance of our race and name, therefore thus early would I have you learn the lesson your brother's errors may teach."
"That should come last," the widow interposed gently. "The story itself should teach it, if the story be true."
"Perhaps it should, Margaret," old Sylvester rejoined. "I will let the story speak for itself. It is, my child, a year ago this day, that an excellent man, Mr. Barbary, the preacher of this neighborhood, disappeared from among living men. He was blameless in his life, he had no enemy on the face of the earth. He was a simple, frugal, worthy man—the last time alive, he was seen in company with your brother Elbridge, by the Locust-wood, near the pond where you go to gather huckleberries in the summer, and hazels in the autumn. He was seen with him and seen no more."
"But no man saw Elbridge, father, lift hand against him, or utter an angry word. On the contrary, they were seen entering the wood in close companionship, and smiling on each other."
"Even so, Margaret," said Sylvester, looking at the child steadily, and waving his hand in silence toward the widow. "But what answer gave the young man when questioned of the whereabout of his friend? Not a word, Margaret—not a word, my child."
"Is Mr. Barbary dead, grandfather?" the child inquired, leaning forward.
"How else? He is not to be found in pulpit or field. No man seeth his steps any more in their ancient haunts. No man hearkens to his voice."
"But the body, father, was never found. He may be still living in some other quarter."
"It was near the rock called High Point, you will remember, and one plunge might have sent him to the bottom. The under currents of the lake are strong, and may have easily swept him away. There is but one belief through all this neighborhood. Ethan Barbary fell by the hand—Almighty God, that I should have to say it to you, my own grandson—of Elbridge Peabody."