m.

I should have replied, had it not been for this last sentence of Mr
Drummond's, which again roused the feeling of indignation, which, in
their presence, had been gradually giving way to softer emotions. I
therefore stood still, and firmly met the glance of Mr Drummond as he
passed me. My looks were construed into hardness of heart.

It appeared that Mr Drummond had left the room by previous arrangement,
that he might not be supposed to be moved from this purpose, and that
Mrs Drummond was then to have talked to me, and to have ascertained how
far there was a chance of my pleading guilty, and begging for a
mitigation of my sentence; but the firm composure of innocence was
mistaken for defiance; and the blood mounting to my forehead from a
feeling of injustice--of injustice from those I loved and venerated--
perhaps the most poignant feeling in existence to a sensitive and
generous mind--was falsely estimated as proceeding from impetuous and
disgraceful sources. Mrs Drummond looked upon me with a mournful face,
sighed, and said nothing; little Sarah watching me with her large black
eyes, as if she would read my inmost soul.

"Have you nothing to say, Jacob," at last observed Mrs Drummond, "that
I can tell Mr Drummond when his anger is not so great?"

"Nothing, madam," replied I, "except that I'll try to forgive him."

This reply was offensive even to the mild Mrs Drummond. She rose from
her chair. "Come, Sarah," said she: and she walked out of the room,
wishing me, in a kind, soft voice, a "good-bye, Jacob," as she passed
me.

My eyes swam with tears. I tried to return the salutation, but I was
too much choked by my feelings; I could not speak, and my silence was
again looked upon as contumacy and ingratitude. Little Sarah still
remained--she had not obeyed her mother's injunctions to follow her.
She was now nearly fourteen years old, and I had known her as a
companion and a friend for five years. During the last six months that
I had resided in the house we had become more intimately acquainted. I
joined her in the evening in all her pursuits, and Mr and Mrs Drummond
appeared to take a pleasure in our intimacy. I loved her as a dear
sister; my love was based on gratitude. I had never forgotten her
kindness to me when I first came under her father's roof, and a long
acquaintance with the sweetness of her disposition had rendered the
attachment so firm, that I felt I could have died for her. But I nev