He thrust his hands in his pockets and remained there with a look mingled of contempt and pity upon his face as he watched the prostrate figure of his father, while, as his mother's appealing eyes were directed to him again and again, he merely replied to the dumbly-uttered prayer by an impatient shake of the head. At last the Rector raised his eyes, and as he met his wife's agonised look, he smiled gently, and then bent over her and kissed her brow. "It is passed, my love," he whispered. "God forgive me, I did not think I could have sunk so low." Julia passed her arm round her sister, and drew her to the window, to lay her head upon her shoulder and weep silently and long. "Cyril," said the Rector, in a broken voice, as he rose and stood before his son, "you have tried me hard, but I have done wrong. My temper gained the better of me, and I have been praying for strength to keep us both from such a terrible scene again. Come down with me to the study, and let us talk of the future like sentient men. God forgive me, my boy; I must have been mad." He held out his trembling hands, and Cyril saw that he was evidently labouring under great emotion, as he absolutely humiliated himself before his son, his every look seeming to ask the young man's forgiveness for that which was past. But Cyril's anger was, if not hotter, more lasting than his father's, and rejecting the offer of peace between them, he swung round upon his heels and strode out of the room. For a few minutes there was absolute silence, as mother and father gazed at the door through which the son had passed. Then, with a piteous sob, Mrs Mallow exclaimed-- "Oh, Eli, Eli, what have we done?" "Commenced the reaping of the crop of weeds that are springing up in our sons' neglected soil. Laura, I have tried to be a good father to our boys, but my weakness seems to stare me now in the face. I have been fond and indulgent, and now, Heaven help me, I have been weaker than ever in trying to amend the past by an outbreak of foolish violence." "Go to him; ask him to come back," sobbed the mother. "Did I not humble myself to him enough?" said the Rector, with a pathetic look at his wife. "Yes, yes, you did," she wailed; "but this is all so dreadful. Eli, it will break my heart." "And yet I ought to be strong and stern now, sweet wife," he said tenderly. "Authority has long been thrown to the winds. Had I not better strive hard to gather up the reins and curb his headlong course?" "It will break my heart," the unhappy woman sobbed. "It is so dreadful--so horrible to me, love. Eli, husband--my patient, loving husband, bring him back to me or I shall die." "I will fetch him back, Laura," said the Rector, softly, as he bent down once more and kissed the cold, white forehead of his wife. Then, rising with a sigh, he softly moved towards the door, turning once to smile at the troubled face he left behind.