Left to Ourselves Part 18

"That is a very poor excuse for annoying your brother, and a very cowardly way of getting out of it."

"Cowardly?" said Alice, beneath her breath, to Agnes.

But John answered, "Having acknowledged that I should have told you in private, Hugh, will you forgive me? and may I come up with you and talk it over?"

"No," exclaimed Hugh; "never mention the subject to me again."

And with that he gathered his painting materials together, and walked off, followed by Alice, who was looking grieved enough.

"Oh, Agnes!" said John, turning to her, "I meant to do right, but after all I have broken my promise on Christmas-day!"

"I can't see that you have," answered Agnes gently; "no one can guard against all difficulties."

"But I've quarrelled with him, and offended him more deeply than ever before, when I meant----"

"But I do not see that you quarrelled, John, after all."

"It was far nearer to words than I ever dreamed of going."

Agnes felt very sorrowful, but at last she looked up.

"I wonder what _He_ would have us do?" pointing to the text.

John followed her glance for a moment, then he left the room abruptly, and she heard his footsteps going three at a time up the stairs.

"Hugh," he said, entering their joint room, and closing the door, "I feel more sorry than words can say about this."

His brother was sullenly preparing to go out, and did not turn round.

"Then you shouldn't speak to a fellow so," he muttered.

"Hugh," answered John, seriously, "I dare not unsay what I _said_; that part of it was right. But I was wrong to have exposed your school affairs before anyone else. Can't you let us be friends again on Christmas-day? I would not have had it happen for any money, and I am sorry I have vexed you."

John's tone was so earnest, and Hugh's anger had cooled down, so that he felt he could not do less than say, uncomfortably, "Oh, well, there is no need to make such a fuss; I'm sure I don't want to bother about it, so there, we'll say no more."

John sat on the edge of the bed, looking dejected, and Hugh finished his preparations, and turned to the door. "Why do you mind so much?" he asked suddenly, coming back again; for, after all, he was a kind-hearted boy, and did not like to see his brother annoyed.

"I have made two promises," said John, "and have not succeeded in keeping either."

"Two promises?" echoed Hugh.

"One to Agnes, and one to G.o.d," said John in a low tone half to himself.

"There!" exclaimed Hugh, "I'm sorry I was so cross; and--and I'll take to heart what you said about Tom. I'm off now."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XIII.

_HUGH'S PROMISE._

It was time to start for church, and John went down to find his sisters.

His face was pale, and there was a disappointed look about him which was very unusual in the bright boy.

Agnes saw it, and walked along by his side, trying to think of something cheering to say. But, after all, when the heart is sore there is only One who can truly comfort.

Alice and Minnie had gone in to fetch aunt Phyllis, so the brother and sister were alone.

"Agnes," exclaimed John at last, when they came in sight of the church, "I'm so vexed with myself, so 'taken down a peg,' if you can comprehend such a phrase."

He gave a little sad laugh to hide a deeper feeling which Agnes perfectly understood.

"It's dreadfully unpleasant," she answered, "but I've gone through it before now."

"You?"

"Heaps of times. Don't you suppose, John, we all trust in ourselves ever so much too much?"

"I suppose we do."

"Don't be discouraged," she said cheerily, "it's a comfort to feel He has got us in hand."

"What do you call 'in hand'?" asked John.

"Not letting us go our own way unhindered."

"But that's just what I didn't want, Agnes; I wanted with all my heart to go His way, and yet I failed."

"Yes," said Agnes slowly; "and He knew that. But perhaps, John----"

"Say on."

"Perhaps--I don't know, I only guess by myself--perhaps you felt you were strong, and could stand alone."

Agnes glanced up with eyes that glittered with tears as they went up the steps beneath the deep portico.

John squeezed her arm, and they entered the church.

If Agnes had given John a lesson, she had taught herself one too. That Christmas morning was a time never to be forgotten; and to John, who had gone there hoping for a little quiet time to renew his vows, to ask afresh what his Lord would have him to do, there came a very different discipline. Instead of being a soldier buckling on his bright armour, he found himself a beaten-down combatant who was returning home wounded and sore.

But a comforting thought came to him as he knelt with his face buried in his hands; all the same for his wounds and feeling of defeat, he was fighting under the great Captain, who loved him in spite of all.

And when the text was given out his lesson came home to him, and he raised his head joyfully as his eyes sought those of his sister.