But there is one little incident which I ought to relate before I close this chapter, and which I am ashamed of having so nearly forgotten.
When we had finished our dinner, and I was sitting alone drinking a class of claret before going out again, Mrs Pearson came in and told me that little Gerard Weir wanted to see me. I asked her to show him in; and the little fellow entered, looking very shy, and clinging first to the door and then to the wall.
“Come, my dear boy,” I said, “and sit down by me.”
He came directly and stood before me.
“Would you like a little wine and water?” I said; for unhappily there was no dessert, Mrs Pearson knowing that I never eat such things.
“No, thank you, sir; I never tasted wine.”
“I did not press him to take it.
“Please, sir,” he went on after a pause, putting his nand in his pocket, “mother gave me some goodies, and I kept them till I saw you come back, and here they are, sir.”
Does any reader doubt what I did or said upon this?
I said, “Thank you, my darling,” and I ate them up every one of them, that he might see me eat them before he left the house. And the dear child went off radiant.