CHAPTER XXI.

BY THE NURSERY FIRE.

STRENGTHENED with a new strength, Hugh sat up in bed, and considered what he ought to do.

Truth and falsehood were strangely mixed up in his mind. But of one thing he was certain, he had not told any one the whole truth.

Great as was his fear of punishment, his fear of offending his God and King was greater. What therefore ought he to do?

Just at this moment his father's step was heard crossing the nursery.

"I am going to put a stop to this deception," he said to the nurse. "If he had said boldly that he had done it and was sorry, I would have excused him, but to make it worse by a lie—"

"Oh, sir!" interrupted the nurse earnestly. "Do ask him to explain it—indeed there may be some mistake. Master Hugh is so good and straight and little Master Randall—you know, sir, in the heat of things children do not always see quite how it is. Please, sir, do wait till we can find out more about it!"

Little shivering Hugh could hear his father turn towards the fire-place, and for a moment, he breathed more freely. But, even then, after what his father had said, punishment must follow, no matter what he might confess. Though he had, indeed, not been the one who had burned the note, his father had in his estimation described him accurately when he had accused him of a lie. If he had not told one, he had acted one.

Then he heard—"Well, nurse, I do not mind waiting, of course, for I respect your opinion very much, as you have been with the children so long. But if it turns out to be as I think it is, nothing shall come between Hugh and his punishment. I cannot make my children all I would, but untruth shall not pass unreproved."

Nurse murmured some words of thanks and he seemed to be turning away.

Hugh sprang out of bed, and without waiting for his courage to ebb, he rushed into the nursery.

"Father!" he said.

"Well?" said Mr. Shaddock, turning round, rather coldly.

"Father—will you hear all about it—will you hear about it before you punish me?"

Mr. Shaddock came back to the fire-place and sat down. Something in the boy's face touched him more than he had ever felt touched before.

"It was not my fault about the note—but—"

"I did not come back to hear you say that—" said Mr. Shaddock.

"No, but I was going to tell you all about it. It was my fault, because I touched the note first, and said to Randall that it was such a dirty old thing to be worth so much. But it was quite safe on the mantel-shelf again, and Randall would touch it. And I tried to prevent him by putting down my hand on it, and then he snatched it and it fell into the fire."

Whether the child's eyes convinced his father, or whether the story bore the impress of truth, Mr. Shaddock felt that he knew the whole.

There was a silence while he thought it all over.

"Why did you not tell this to your mother?" he asked, at length.

"I did try to, but—she did not understand."

There was another pause.

"Did you tell her all this?" asked his father, opening his arm to invite the little boy within it.

Hugh thought of Randall's overbearing clamour and was silent.

"Did you?" persisted Mr. Shaddock.

"I tried to—" Hugh's eyes looked appealingly in his father's face, but he said no more.

"I see. Now, my boy, go back to your bed. I am glad that you have told me."

But Hugh hesitated. Never before had he stood like that within his father's arm; it was hard to go out from it, and yet he must.

"Father," he said, gently and bravely, "are you not going to punish me? I would rather get it over, and then, perhaps, you will forgive me?"

Mr. Shaddock looked down upon him wonderingly. "Forgiveness does not depend upon punishment," he said, slowly, "but upon—other things."

"But I deserve what you said," answered Hugh, "because I 'did' not tell all the truth."

In that five minutes Mr. Shaddock had learned a great lesson. He had never thought of "forgiving" his little son. He had considered it his duty to punish him, and there the matter would end. Now he was asked for forgiveness!

What had he to do with forgiveness?

Hugh's eyes were still fixed upon him inquiringly his colour going and coming.

"I freely forgive you, my boy," he answered then; "God bless you."

Hugh flung his arms round his father's neck, and was inclosed in an embrace such as he had never had before.

Mr. Shaddock rose then, and leading his child back to his bed, kissed him, and went slowly down-stairs.

"I doubt if I could have done such a thing myself," was his mental comment. And all the evening afterwards, those words which he had heard so often in church, but had never heeded before, seemed to sound in his ears—

"'Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.'"

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