“A family secret, Tom. Your uncle—my own brother. We must not judge the tempted. Good-night; and when alone by your bedside—‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.’ Good-night.”
Uncle Richard led the way to the door, opened it, and half thrust him without.
Tom stood for a few moments in the dark hall, and then went slowly up to his room.
The next minute he had run down again, to silently enter the study, and find Uncle Richard seated with his face buried in his hands, and his breast heaving with the terrible emotion from which he suffered.
“Uncle.”
“Tom.”
The next instant he was clasped to the old man’s breast, and held tightly there.
For some minutes not a word more was said; then both rose, as if a great weight had been lifted away.
“Good-night, Tom.”
“Good-night, uncle.”