"Rubbert's a queer laddie," Mr. Thomson remarked, looking tenderly at his son. "He was objectin' to Mr. Chalmers sayin' he had a noble Cause."
Robert blushed again.
"There's nothing wrong with the Cause," he grumbled, "but I hate talking about it."
"'Truth hath a quiet breast,'" quoted Mr. Seton.
There was a silence in the little parlour that looked out on the garden. They were all thinking the same thing—would they ever sit here together again?
So many had gone away! So many had not come back. Mrs. Thomson gave a choking sob and burst out: "Oh! Mr. Seton, your boy didn't come back!"
"No," said Mr. Seton gently, "my boy didn't come back!"
"And oh! the bonnie laddie he was! I can just see him as well; the way he used to come swinging into church with his kilt, and his fair hair, and his face so full of daylight. And I'm sure it wasna for want of prayers, for I'm sure Papa there niver missed once, morning and night, and in our own private prayers too—and you would pray just even on?"
"Just even on," said Mr. Seton.
"And He never heeded us," said Mrs. Thomson.