"You will never forget that either, will you, Kenneth?"
"No, sir."
"Now, I am going to tell you who stole your mother's husband away from her. You know who your mother's husband was, don't you?"
"Yes, sir. My Pa."
"One night,—the night before you came up here to live—your Auntie Rachel,—that is what you called her, isn't it? Well, she was not your real aunt. She was your neighbour,—just as Mr. Collins over there is my neighbour,—and she was your mother's friend. Well, that night she stole your Pa from your Ma, and took him away with her,—far, far away, and she never let him come back again. She took him away in the night, away from your mother and you forever and forever. She—-"
"But Pa was bigger'n she was," interrupted Kenneth, frowning. "Why didn't he kill her and get away?"
The old Squire was silent for a moment. "It is not fair for me to put all the blame on Rachel Carter. Your father was willing to go. He did not kill Rachel Carter. Together he and Rachel Carter killed your mother. But Rachel Carter was more guilty than he was. She was a woman and she stole what belonged in the sight of God to another woman. She was a bad woman. If she had been a good woman she would not have stolen your father away from your mother. So now you know that your Pa did not go to the war. He went away with Rachel Carter and left your mother to die of a broken heart. He went off into the wilderness with that bad, evil woman. Your mother was unhappy. She died. She is under the ground up in the graveyard, all alone. Rachel Carter put her there, Kenneth. I cannot ask you to hate your father. It would not be right. He is your father in spite of everything. You know what the Good Book says? 'Honour thy father and—' how does the rest of it go, my lad?"
"'Honour thy father and thy mother that thou days may be long upon thou earth,'" murmured Kenneth, bravely.
"When you are a little older you will realize that your father did not honour his father and mother, and then you may understand more than you do now. But you may hate Rachel Carter. You MUST hate her. She killed your mother. She stole your father. She made an orphan of you. She destroyed the home where you used to live. As you grow older I will try to tell you how she did all these things. You would not understand now. There is one of the Ten Commandments that you do not understand,—I mean one in particular. It is enough for you to know the meaning of the one that says 'Thou shalt not steal.' You must not be unhappy over what I have told you. Everything will be all right with you. You will be safe here with granny and me. But you must no longer believe that your father went to the war like other men in the village. If he were MY son, I would—-"
"Don't say it, Richard," cried Kenneth's grandma, from the doorway behind them. "Don't ever say that to him."