“If you bring up your sons, Mr. Bannerman, to mock at the poor, and find their amusement in driving the aged and infirm to death’s door, you can’t say your hand’s not against a poor lone woman like me.”
“But I don’t bring up my sons to do so. If I did I shouldn’t be here now. I am willing to bear my part of the blame, Mrs. Gregson, but to say I bring my sons up to that kind of wickedness, is to lay on me more than my share, a good deal.—Come here, Ranald.”
I obeyed with bowed head and shame-stricken heart, for I saw what wrong I had done my father, and that although few would be so unjust to him as this old woman, many would yet blame the best man in the world for the wrongs of his children. When I stood by my father’s side, the old woman just lifted her head once to cast on me a scowling look, and then went on again rocking herself.
“Now, my boy,” said my father, “tell Mrs. Gregson why you have come here to-night.”
I had to use a dreadful effort to make myself speak. It was like resisting a dumb spirit and forcing the words from my lips. But I did not hesitate a moment. In fact, I dared not hesitate, for I felt that hesitation would be defeat.
“I came, papa——” I began.
“No no, my man,” said my father; “you must speak to Mrs. Gregson, not to me.”
Thereupon I had to make a fresh effort. When at this day I see a child who will not say the words required of him, I feel again just as I felt then, and think how difficult it is for him to do what he is told; but oh, how I wish he would do it, that he might be a conqueror I for I know that if he will not make the effort, it will grow more and more difficult for him to make any effort. I cannot be too thankful that I was able to overcome now.
“I came, Mrs. Gregson,” I faltered, “to tell you that I am very sorry I behaved so ill to you.”
“Yes, indeed,” she returned. “How would you like anyone to come and serve you so in your grand house? But a poor lone widow woman like me is nothing to be thought of. Oh no! not at all.”