Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair had resolved that nothing should be said to their son, the next morning, on the subject of the evening's transgression, as they believed that he felt truly sorry that he had offended God.
When the bell rung for family worship, Alfred appeared, with Samuel by his side; but he looked pale and unhappy, and his eyes were downcast as he took his usual seat by his father. The family sung some verses from that beautiful hymn beginning,—
"There is a fountain fill'd with blood
Drawn from Immanuel's veins,
And sinners plunged beneath that flood
Lose all their guilty stains."
Alfred was in the habit of pitching the tunes on those occasions, but this morning Samuel took his place, and began the moment the verse was given out. When they came to the third line Alfred's tears flowed so fast he was obliged to stop; and if you had been sitting near his mamma you might have seen her cheek wet too, for she felt deeply for her little son.
After breakfast, the two boys went to their studies as usual, and Samuel was very kind and attentive to his brother, watching him in all his movements, and trying, by all the means within his power, to win a smile from him, for his affectionate heart longed to see his brother as happy as usual. But all his efforts were unavailing; no one could see a gleam of cheerfulness on Alfred's countenance all the day.
Just before dinner, as he was standing by the parlor fire, with his back to the door, Rose, a kind Irish servant, came in to prepare the table.
"O, then, is it you it is, Master Alfred? I wanted to have a word with ye. What's the matter? sure your cheek's pale; it's sick entirely ye'll be soon," said the kind-hearted girl, "if you vex any more about that bit of a knife; and it's a good half hour I spent too, looking for it: but never mind, I am sure the mistress, good creature, will soon give ye another, or may be you will soon find the same."