"You do not like the decision!"
"Like it!" repeated Trace; "I think it is an infamous thing. And we are put upon our honour not to tell! It is the first time I ever knew it was right to conceal crime."
"The boy has committed no crime, if you allude to him.”
"His father did."
"And his father expiated it with his life. Should not this be sufficient for you?"
Trace answered by a gesture of contempt. Mr. Henry threw his luminous eyes on him, their sad expression, so namelessly attractive, conspicuous even in the subdued light.
"I have had a great deal of trouble of one sort or another," said the master, in a low tone. "It has taught me some things: and, amidst them, never to add, by act of mine, to the grief of others. Oh, Trace! if you did but know the true, tender compassion we feel for them, when dire trouble has fallen on ourselves! if you could but see how cruel their life is, without additional reproach!"
"And did Paradyne—the man—bring no trouble upon us?" burst out Trace. "Did he not ruin my father, and drive him into exile, and break up our home, and kill my mother? She died here; here at my uncle's; and you may see her gravestone in the churchyard hard by. Trouble! Did the man not bring enough upon us?"
"Heaven knows he did," was the sad answer. "I do not seek to depreciate it; but the boy is innocent. He does not deserve to have it visited upon him."
"Doesn't he!" retorted Trace, utterly angered out of his usual civility.