George Leatrim | Page 9

his mother; but then she was ill, and happily unconscious of what had taken place. Besides, like his father, she might believe the evidence that Ralph had witnessed against him, and he had not the fortitude to bear that. As his passion subsided, he had courage to recall the painful events of the past hour, and to acknowledge that the circumstances by which he was surrounded were suspicious enough to condemn him in any court of law, and must be maddening to a proud, sensitive man like his father. Struggling with the shame and agony of his position, he could not recognise this before, or admit that both his father and Ralph might be deceived.
'He had never felt the severe corporeal punishment during its infliction. His mind was in too violent a state of agitation to care for bodily suffering; but now that he was alone, the fiery indignation that had upheld his spirit in the hour of his humiliation flickered and went out, and the sense of degradation and intolerable wrong alone remained.
'He remembered how his father had spurned him from his feet, had called him a thief and a liar, and witnessed unmoved the infliction of a cruel punishment, administered by the hand of the menial who had accused him of the crime; and had ordered him from his presence without one word of pity or affection.
'These after-thoughts were terrible. George felt that he had not deserved this severity, and the tears which pride had restrained while under the weight of Ralph Wilson's unsparing hand now burst forth in a torrent, and he wept until the lamp of life flickered to extinction in his panting breast.
'The mother whom he wished to save from the knowledge of his degradation awoke suddenly from a short and disturbed sleep. She heard the sobs and moans in the adjoining room, and recognised the voice of her son. The next moment saw her seated upon his bed, her arms around the weeping boy. All sense of her own sickness, of her weak state, was gone. She was only conscious of his intense mental agony.
'He placed his aching head upon her faithful breast, he wound his trembling arms around her slender neck, and poured into her sympathizing ear the terrible tale of his wrongs,--how he had been falsely accused of the commission of a heinous crime, his protestations of innocence disregarded, and had been sentenced by his father to receive a punishment more galling to him than death; that he had been tempted to rebel against his father's authority, and curse the hand that smote him--to hate where he had loved with such fond idolatry.
'The good mother listened attentively, and weighed every circumstance. The frankness of his unreserved confession convinced her of its truth. When all the sad tale was told, she took him in her pitying arms, and told him that, though all the world should believe him guilty, she felt that he was innocent from her very soul.
'"God bless you, dearest, best mother," sobbed the poor boy, covering her hand with kisses. "I knew you would not condemn me. I never have, nor ever will give you cause to be ashamed of me. But my father--it seems unnatural, monstrous that he should believe me guilty at once. I shall never get over it. It crushes my heart; it presses out my life. If I could only convince him of my innocence I could die in peace."
'"Don't talk of dying, George. Leave your cause to God. He can bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and make the black cloud that now envelopes you as clear as the noonday. Let me go to your father, George; I think I can convince him of your innocence, and that he has acted too hastily."
'Exhausted as he was, George grasped his mother's hand, and held her fast. "I could not see him again while this conflict is going on in my mind--not while he looks upon me as a felon, a disgrace to his name and family. The brand must be removed from my brow before I meet him face to face. I want to love him as I once loved him. I feel as if I never could love him again."
'Again the voice became choked and hoarse and the lad gave way to a fresh agony of tears. After a while he grew calmer, and said in a whisper: "Mother, pray for me--pray with me, that I may bear this cross with Christian fortitude, and be taught to forgive my enemies--yes, as He, the dear Master, forgave them," he continued, reverently folding his hands together, "and gave His life for sinners like me, and died, the just for the unjust."
'They prayed long and earnestly, that sorrowful mother and son. At length a light broke