“You may have been weak and foolish, Don, but nothing worse.”
The evil scale went down now in turn, and with it the foolish, ignorant boy’s heart sank low.
“Come, Don.”
“I’ve nothing more to say, mother.”
“Nothing more to say!” cried Mrs Lavington, wildly. “Oh, yes, yes, you have much to say, my boy. Come, throw away this wilful pride and obstinacy.”
“I wish I could,” thought Don one moment. “It is as cruel as it is unjust,” he thought the next; and he felt more obstinately full of pride than ever.
“Don, I command you to speak,” said Mrs Lavington, whose manner now began to change; but unfortunately the stern tone she adopted had the wrong effect, and the wrinkles in the boy’s face grew deeper, and the position more strained.
If Uncle Josiah, who had never had boys of his own, had come down from the lofty perch he had assumed, taken the boy’s hand, and said in kindly and frank tones, “Come, Don, my boy, there are troubles enough in life, clouds sufficient to obscure too much sunshine; speak out, let’s have all this over, and clear the storm away,”—if he had said something like that, Don would have melted, and all would have been well; but accustomed to manage men with an iron rule, Uncle Josiah had somehow, in spite of his straightforward, manly, and just character, seemed to repel the boy whose charge he had taken, and instead now of making the slightest advance, he said to himself, “It is not my duty to eat humble pie before the obstinate young cub. It will be a severe lesson for him, and will do him good.”
So the breach widened. Don seemed to grow sulky and sullen, when he was longing to cast himself upon his mother’s neck. The poor woman felt indignant at her son’s conduct, and the last straw which broke the camel’s back was laid on the top of the load by Kitty, who, moved by a desire to do good, made matters far worse by running across to Don, and in an impetuous way catching his hands and kissing him.
“Don, dear!” she cried.