But he did not rise.
“The letter. Where’s the letter?”
Jacob Holt stooped and lifted it from the grass where it had fallen, and Davie looked at him with amazed and angry eyes, as he opened it and taking out the folded slip of paper, offered it to him, while he kept the squire’s letter and the money in his hand.
“Read that first,” said Jacob hoarsely, and then he went away round the corner of the house out of sight, and Mr Maxwell followed him.
“Read it, Katie, lassie.”
With trembling fingers Davie opened the letter and gave it to his sister. Kneeling beside him, Katie read:
“Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.”
There was more written, but she got no further, for a cry burst from his lips—whether of joy or pain they could not tell—and his head fell on Katie’s shoulder.
“Whisht, Davie. Lay him down gently, and get a little water. Be quiet, man. Grannie will hear you.”
For Davie had cried out in his terror at the sight of his grandfather’s deathlike face. The cry brought out his mother, and Mr Maxwell and Jacob hurried back again. He was better in a minute, and they led him into the house, and made him lie down. In a little while Katie brought him some tea.