When he had done, he stood almost as if he expected commendation for his
accurate memory.

My lady's eyes contracted till the pupils were as needle-points; it was a
way she had when much disturbed. She looked at me and said--

"Margaret Dawson, what will this world come to?" And then she was
silent.

The lad, beginning to perceive he had given deep offence, stood stock
still--as if his brave will had brought him into this presence, and
impelled him to confession, and the best amends he could make, but had
now deserted him, or was extinct, and left his body motionless, until
some one else with word or deed made him quit the room. My lady looked
again at him, and saw the frowning, dumb-foundering terror at his
misdeed, and the manner in which his confession had been received.

"My poor lad!" said she, the angry look leaving her face, "into whose
hands have you fallen?"

The boy's lips began to quiver.

"Don't you know what tree we read of in Genesis?--No! I hope you have
not got to read so easily as that." A pause. "Who has taught you to
read and write?"

"Please, my lady, I meant no harm, my lady." He was fairly blubbering,
overcome by her evident feeling of dismay and regret, the soft repression
of which was more frightening to him than any strong or violent words