“Not that,” said Hamish. “It concerns—Father, I do not like to enter upon it! I shrink from my task. It is very bad news indeed.”
“You, my children, are all well,” cried Mr. Channing, hastily speaking the words as a fact, not as a question. “What other ‘very bad’ news can be in store for me?”
“You have not seen us all,” was Hamish’s answer. And Mr. Channing, alarmed, now looked inquiringly at him. “It concerns Charles. An—an accident has happened to him.”
Mr. Channing sat down and shaded his eyes. He was a moment or two before he spoke. “One word, Hamish; is he dead?”
Hamish stood before his father and laid his hand affectionately upon his shoulder. “Father, I wish I could have prepared you better for it!” he exclaimed, with emotion. “We do not know whether he is dead or alive.”
Then he explained—explained more in summary than in detail—touching lightly upon the worst features of the case, enlarging upon his own hopeful view of it. Bad enough it was, at the best, and Mr. Channing found it so. He could feel no hope. In the revulsion of grief, he turned almost with resentment upon Hamish.
“My son, I did not expect this treatment from you.”
“I have taken enough blame to myself; I know he was left in my charge,” sadly replied Hamish; “but, indeed, I do not see how I could have helped it. Although I was in the room when he ran out of it, I was buried in my own thoughts, and never observed his going. I had no suspicion anything was astir that night with the college boys. Father, I would have saved his life with my own!”
“I am not blaming you for the fact, Hamish; blame is not due to you. Had I been at home myself, I might no more have stopped his going out than you did. But you ought to have informed me of this instantly. A whole month, and I to be left in ignorance!”
“We did it for the best. Father, I assure you that not a stone has been left unturned to find him; alive, or—or dead. You could not have done more had you hastened home; and it has been so much suspense and grief spared to you.”