The boy’s face lit up. Here was some one who would believe him after all, and he responded to her advances by grasping her hands tightly in his.
“Do, do speak, Don dear, and beg father to forgive you,” she cried. “Tell him it was a mistake, and that you will never do so again.”
Don let fall her hands, the deep scowl came over his brow again, and he half turned away.
“No, no, Don, dear,” she whispered; “pray don’t be obstinate. Confess that you did it, and promise father to do better in the future. He will forgive you; I know he will.”
Don turned his back with an impatient gesture, and Kitty burst into tears, and went slowly to her aunt, to whose hands she clung.
“Laura, dear,” said Uncle Josiah, gravely, “I think we had better bring this painful interview to an end. You may rest assured that I shall do what is just and right by Don. He shall have every opportunity for clearing himself.”
“I am not guilty,” cried Don, fiercely throwing back his head.
“I thought so this morning, my boy,” said the old merchant, gravely. “Your conduct now is making me think very differently. Laura, I will walk home with you, if you please.”
“Josiah! Don, my boy, pray, pray speak,” cried Mrs Lavington, piteously.
Don heard her appeal, and it thrilled him, but his uncle’s words had raised up an obstinacy that was stronger than ever, and while longing to throw himself in his mother’s arms—passionately longing so to do—his indignant pride held him back, and he stood with his head bent, as in obedience to her brother Mrs Lavington took his arm, and allowed him to lead her out of the office, weeping bitterly the while.