The lad's face was overspread with ghastly pallor; he had lost
control of himself.

"I have not been sick. I am perfectly well," he said at length,
looking from one to the other with forlorn, remorseful affection.
They had drawn a chair close, one on each side of him. "How are
you, mother? How are you, father?"

The change in HIM!--that was all they saw. As soon as he spoke,
they knew he was in good health. Then the trouble was something
else, more terrible. The mother took refuge in silence as a woman
instinctively does at such times; the father sought relief in
speech.

"What is the matter? What happened?"

After a moment of horrible silence, David spoke:--

"Ah, father! How can I ever tell you!"

"How can you ever tell me?"

The rising anger mingled with distrust and fear in those words! How
many a father knows!

"Oh, what is it!" cried his mother, wringing her hands, and
bursting into tears. She rose and went to her seat under the
mantelpiece.