k of the discovery of the
fault he most abhorred had been so great, that a fearful cowering spirit
would be completely overwhelmed; and, as there had been no sorrow shown
for the fault, there had been none of that softening and relenting that
won so much love and confidence.

Every one felt that talking only made them more unhappy, they tried to
return to their occupations, and so passed the time till night. Then, as
Richard was carrying Margaret upstairs, Norman lingered to say, "Papa, I
am very sorry you should think I neglected Tom. I dare say I might have
done better for him, but, indeed, I have tried."

"I am sure you have, Norman. I spoke hastily, my boy--you will not think
more of it. When a thing like this comes on a man, he hardly knows what
he says."

"If Harry were here," said Norman, anxious to turn from the real loss
and grief, as well as to talk away that feeling of being apologised to,
"it would all do better. He would make a link with Tom, but I have so
little, naturally, to do with the second form, that it is not easy to
keep him in sight."

"Yes, yes, I know that very well. It is no one's fault but my own; I
should not have sent him there without knowing him better. But you see
how it is, Norman--I have trusted to her, till I have grown neglectful,
and it is well if it is not the ruin of him!"

"Perhaps he will take a turn, as Ethel says," answered Norman
cheerfully. "Good-night, papa."

"I have a blessing to be thankful for in you, at least," murmured the
doctor to himself. "What other young fellow of that age and spirit would
have borne so patiently with my injustice? Not I, I am sure! a fine
father I show myself to these poor children--neglect, helplessness,
temper--Oh, Maggie!"

Margaret had so bad a headache the next day that she could not come
downstairs. The punishment was, they heard, a flogging at the time, and
an imposition so long, that it was likely to occupy a large portion
of the play-hours till the end of the half-year. His father said, and
Norman silently agreed, "a very good thing, it will keep him out of
mischief;" but Margaret only wished she could learn it for him, and took
upon herself all the blame from beginning to end. She said little to her
father, for it distressed him to see her grieved; he desired her not to
dwell on the subject, caressed her, called her his comfort and support,
and did all he could to console her, but it was beyond his power; her
sisters, by listen