David Fleming's Forgiveness

by Margaret M. Robertson

“Grannie, you needna be angry at me. I’m no saying that Katie is heeding; but other folk call her bonnie Katie as well as you, and she’s almost a woman now, and it canna be helped.”

“Whisht, Davie. Well, never mind; I’m no’ angry. But say nothing to Katie to put things in her head. A laddie like you.” And grannie laughed in spite of her indignation. But she kept her “bonnie Katie” at home for the most part, unless there was some special reason for her going with the rest.

There were many other visitors at the sugar-place—visitors whom even Davie could not suspect of coming altogether for Katie’s sake. Most people who had a chance to do so, liked to go at least once into the woods when the sugar-making was going on, and the Flemings’ place was not very far from the village, and lay high and dry and was easy of access, so that few days passed without a visit from some one.

Sometimes they were visitors to mind and sometimes they were not, but the laws of hospitality held good in the woods as in the house, and they were welcomed civilly at least. Once or twice, when particular friends of his came on sap-boiling days, Davie ventured on an impromptu sugaring-off on his own responsibility. He made use of a small kettle for the purpose, so that the important matter of boiling down the sap need not be interfered with. He told himself that he was not disobeying his grandfather, but he knew that probably it had never come into his mind that such a thing would be attempted, and he did not enjoy it much, though his visitors did. He acknowledged afterward to Katie, that never in the course of his life had he “felt so mean” as he did on the last occasion of the kind. The sugar was just coming to perfection, when the eager barking of the dog proclaimed the approach of some one, and Davie never doubted that it was his grandfather. It was all that he could do to prevent himself from snatching the sugar from the fire and putting it out of sight. He did not do it, however, and it was not his grandfather. But Davie’s feeling of discomfort stayed with him, though he had no reason to suppose that any one of the party had noticed his trouble.

But in this he was mistaken. The very last person to whom he would have liked to betray himself had observed him. Mr Maxwell had only been a few minutes at the camp, and was not one of those for whose entertainment Davie had prepared. Of course he knew that whoever came to the place on regular sugaring-off days, was made welcome to all that could be enjoyed on the occasion, but even with his knowledge that the Flemings were open-handed on all occasions, he did feel somewhat surprised that such special pains should be taken for the entertainment of chance comers. But it was the anxious look that came over Davie’s face that struck him painfully.

That Davie, whose character for straightforwardness and courage no one doubted—his grandfather’s right hand, the staff and stay of the whole household—that Davie should be found turning aside, ever so little, from what was open and right, hurt the minister greatly. He loved the lad too well to forbear from reproof, or at least a caution, so he stayed till the others had left the wood to say a word to him. This was not his first visit to the camp, for Davie and he were friends, and Mr Maxwell had proved his friendship in a way that the boy liked—by lending him books, and by helping him to a right appreciation of their contents. He had a book in his hand now, as he waited while Davie filled the kettles and stirred the fire, and it troubled him to think that he was going to prove his friendship this time in a way the boy would not like so well. He did not know what to say, and had not decided, when Davie, perhaps surprised at his unwonted silence, looked up and met his eye.

“Davie, lad, was it your grandfather that you expected to see when Collie barked a little while ago?”

Davie reddened and hung his head, and then looking up, said with a touch of anger in his voice:

“You are thinking worse of me than I deserve, Mr Maxwell.”

“Well, I shall be glad to be set right, Davie.”