“He didna come home—”
“Oh, Willie, tell him?” cried an eager voice, and his sister sprang forward and a hand was laid on the old man’s arm. “He hasna come home, but he’s safe and well and he is coming home. And he is—good now. He was ay good, but now he is sorry, and he’s coming home. And—Oh, sir, I beg your pardon—” added Marion, coming to herself, and she would have darted away again, but Jean held her fast.
Willie’s heart softened as he met the old man’s look.
“George was one of the two that went with Saugster. There is no better sailor than Tam, as ye ken; but he’s open to the temptation o’ strong drink. If there is any one that can keep Tam straight, it’s George. I dare say they are in port by this time.”
“Willie,” said Miss Jean, “tell us how it happened that he sailed with you. Surely you should have told us before you let him go?”
“I did my best, Miss Jean. He came on board that last morning with some of the men who had been making a night of it on shore, but I did not know it till we were nearly ready to set sail. I did my best to persuade him to stay at home. I sent three different messages to his father, but he couldna be found; and I wrote a line to—”
Mr Dawson groaned.
“I had heard that he had been seen in the town, in company with Niel Cochrane of the How. I went there to seek him, and the ship had sailed before I came back again.”
“It was to be,” said the sailor. “And though I was sorry at the time, I was glad afterwards, and ye’ll be glad too, sir. It has done him no ill, but good. He has gathered himself up again. He is a man now—a man among a thousand. And ye havena read your letter.”
A curious change had come over the young man’s manner, though there was no one calm enough to notice it but Mr Manners. He had for the greater part of the time not been looking at Mr Dawson, but over his head, or at any one else rather than the master of the house when he spoke. But now he sat down near him, his voice softening wonderfully, and his face looking like the one that was leaning on Miss Dawson’s shoulder on the other side of the old man’s chair.