cried my father, very fierce. "How dare you tell me I
love a rebellious child! I should wrong my conscience, and be false to
my profession as a Christian man, if I were weak enough to do what you
say."

Patience turned and appealed to my mother.

"Won't you speak to him, mother? Why do you sit there so quietly? You
love Athelstane as much as--as much as any one."

My mother cast a tender glance at my father.

"Hush, child! There is no need to speak. Athelstane's father forgave
him long ago."

I saw my father start and tremble.

"Woman! What is it you say? What do you know?" he exclaimed. "You saw
me cross his name out of the Bible with my own hand!"

"Yes, dear," my mother answered very softly, "but you wrote it in
again that very night, when you thought I was asleep."

And rising out of her chair she crossed over and took down the book
from where it had lain those three years and more, and opened the page
where, as I have often seen it since, my name was written in again in
large letters, and underneath in a shaken hand, the words, "Oh,
Athelstane, my son, my son!"

Then, whether because of the flickering of the firelight, or the steam
of my breath upon the pane, I ceased to see very distinctly, and came
away from the window, and went round to the door, where I gave a loud
knock.

The door was opened by Patience, and seeing before her, as she
thought, a stranger in a uniform coat, she uttered a cry of surprise.

"Who are you, sir?"

"I am an ensign in the East India Company's service, as you see," I
answered, jesting to conceal the fullness of my heart.

But I suppose there was that within her which told her more quickly
than her eyes who it was, for before I had spoken two words the little
silly thing fell a-sobbing and crying, and I had to take her in my
arms, without more ado, and bring her in with me.

My mother has always affirmed that she knew I was to return that
night, even when I was outside by the window, and that the first step
I made across the threshold told her all. But instead of running out
to meet me, in her beautiful wisdom she went over to where my father
sat still, and leant against his chair and put her arm round his neck.

So I found them when I came in alone, leaving Patience in the hall,
and walked straight over, and would have knelt down before my father.
But he prevented me, and rose out of his chair with a great cry, and
drew me to him, and so stood holding me in silence,