Maggie had gone away to live at her brother Sandy's cottage soon after her return, and he might not even go down and see her now.

Meanwhile, Brian kept the knife that really belonged to Jeff, for Uncle Hugh had not given back the delinquent's implement. It seemed to Jeff that his cousin took delight in parading his possession and a.s.suming innocence. He went out of his way to a.s.sert his virtue.

One evening, watching the waning light from an upstairs window, Jeff saw a little skiff shoot out into the open s.p.a.ce of water, not shadowed by the hills. There was a little figure in it. Here was a glorious opportunity to go down and tell Uncle Hugh and establish his own truth.

For a few seconds a conflict went on in his breast, and then with a heavy sigh he laid his head on the window sill and burst into pa.s.sionate sobbing. When it was almost dark the fit of weeping had pa.s.sed off. But he remained at the open window, breathing the balmy air. Suddenly he was startled by a cry from the water. In vain his eyes sought to pierce the gathering gloom. Again the cry. Forgetting all restrictions, with a sudden uncontrollable impulse, he rushed down the stairs and out into the garden to the lake side.

CHAPTER V.

"Papa, papa! oh, come quickly! There's some one drowning in the lake.

And oh! I was standing in the hall when Jeff rushed down-stairs and out of the front door, with his face all white and his eyes staring. He must have seen from upstairs--he was standing at the window, you know.

Oh papa, perhaps it is Brian; he never came in to tea."

Little Jessie, with eyes distended and panting breath, astonished Mr.

Colquhoun and her mother by the unusual impropriety of bursting open the dining-room door at dinner-time. In a moment her father was on his feet and out of the door, followed by the butler and footman. A presentiment of how it had all happened flashed upon him as he hurried down to the edge of the water. There were cries, m.u.f.fled cries, growing gradually fainter, and splashes as though of some one struggling; a scream, and then what seemed an ominous silence.

It did not take a minute to launch a boat, and row out a few yards from the sh.o.r.e. An upturned skiff told its tale of a repeated disobedience.

Clinging to it by one hand was Jeff, with the other he gripped Brian's hair; but his little hand had just relaxed its hold as Mr. Colquhoun approached. The effort to hold up his cousin had taxed his strength to the utmost, and unconsciousness stole over him at the moment of rescue.

They were both saved. In five minutes, time the butler and footman had carried in the two insensible forms and laid them safely on the rug in the library.

It was not long before Brian gave signs of life. A gasp, a sigh, a fluttering breath, and his eyes opened to see his mother hanging over him. They wandered round the room and saw his father watching beside Jeff for some sign of returning consciousness.

There was an ugly contraction of Brian's brow at this moment. To Mr.

Colquhoun the moments of doubt were full of anguish. Perchance Jeff had given his life for his son's, for life seemed long in returning to the little face that lay so still and white, with the pretty yellow curls dripping wet. At last Jeff opened his eyes, but it was with no rational gaze.

"Mother--I did try--they will tell you that I did try," he said faintly. Then his eyelids closed again, and he muttered, "I will say it now--'as we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us.'"

Mr. Colquhoun understood at last. Here was verily a little hero who had suffered the guilt and punishment of another--a weak and sensitive child who had borne a wrong silently, and had finally all but lost his life to save the life of one he knew had sacrificed him.

By and by the doctor came, and Jeff was undressed and taken upstairs without any other revival. Maggie had been sent for at once, to her brother's cottage, and was installed in Jeff's little room as his nurse. The doctor had lifted the wet curls above Jeff's temple, and had revealed a dark bruise there. Evidently the boy had come in contact with some obstacle in his wild plunge from the sh.o.r.e to the skiff, only a few yards off. Jeff and Brian had both been learning to swim with Sandy this summer; but Brian had made no progress, whereas Jeff could manage a few strokes.

That was a very anxious night for the household at Loch Lossie. Even little Jessie was suffered to wander about the pa.s.sages till after ten o'clock; and there was no a.s.sembly for prayers in the dining-room as usual. A great shadow and fear seemed to hang over the house. Brian was taken away by his mother to his own room and put to bed.

"Take him out of my sight. He is the cause of all this," Mr. Colquhoun had said sternly, seeing he was fully recovered and inclined to make explanations.

Mr. Colquhoun and Maggie sat up together by Jeff's bedside. He lay most of the night still and white. Towards daybreak a pink spot came into each cheek, and he breathed more quickly and grew restless. At last he began to speak:

"Oh, mother, I cannot bear it--_indeed_ I cannot bear it! No one loves me here, it is lonely--and they won't even believe me or trust me--they think I am a liar. Brian looks so good, and he is never found out--they think he must be true. When will you come, mother?--oh, I want you, I want you."

All the pent-up sorrow of weeks and months went out in the last bitter cry. Then, as if awakened by his own intensity of feeling, Jeff opened his eyes and was suddenly conscious of his surroundings.

"Uncle Hugh, where am I? Why are you sitting here? Have I been ill?

Oh, yes, I remember all now. I heard Brian scream, and I ran down to the lake. He was not drowned, was he? Oh, if I had saved him! mother would be so glad; because he is my enemy, you know. Why does my head ache so much; it all seems confused too. I wish you would believe me, Uncle Hugh; indeed I told the truth."

The man of starch bent down till his face was very near to Jeff. His voice was a little husky:

"I believe you now, my little lad. I could never doubt you again; you have behaved like a hero!"

Then Jeff half raised himself on his pillows, and the dim morning light revealed an elastic [Transcriber's note: ecstatic?] smile on his pale face.

"Oh, say that again. I do want to be a hero before mother comes."

He fell back once more, murmuring,

"I am so tired and sleepy, and so happy now. Uncle Hugh, will you hear me say my prayers? After I had been unhappy mother always heard me say my prayers. And I think--perhaps I have cheated G.o.d lately--since you punished me, for I would not say 'forgive us our trespa.s.ses as we forgive them that trespa.s.s against us.' I did not forgive you or Brian, and I could not say it. Now I can, and it will be all right.

G.o.d will understand."

Soon after Jeff fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. He slept far into a bright morning, and when the doctor came he p.r.o.nounced his little patient as convalescent.

"You may get up to-morrow, and we shall have you out with the otter hounds on Sat.u.r.day, my little man," he said with a kind smile.

Jeff's eyes sought Mr. Colquhoun's face with an eager look of inquiry.

"We will see, Jeff"--he called him Jeff for the first time--"but you must make haste and get well."

And Jeff did get well and rode right bravely. Better sport was never seen.

CHAPTER VI.

Jeff was now ten years old, for nearly two years have gone by since he came to England. He has grown very much, and is a tall muscular boy, with a bright smiling face; only when he is alone or unconscious of observation he is sometimes subdued, and there is a yearning wistful look in his big brown eyes that seems to declare he is not quite happy.

"You have news from India to-day, Geoffry," said Uncle Hugh one morning rather stiffly as he met the boy coming down the stairs with a letter in his hand. "Your Aunt Annie has also had a letter from your mother."

Jeff looked rather as if he had been crying, and his voice trembled a little when he answered Mr. Colquhoun:

"Yes, there is news. _She_ is coming--_at last_. But oh, she is ill!"

Jeff nearly broke down here. "Uncle Hugh, I may go to London and meet her next week."

The pa.s.sionate pleading of the boy's voice in the last words was indescribable.

He had grown used to negatives presented to his requests during his stay at Loch Lossie, but this was a widely different and an urgent matter.

"I think, my boy, it will be better not. Your aunt has fully discussed the matter with me, and she does not wish it. She thinks that her meeting with her sister will be a painful one; she did not part on very friendly terms with your mother. A reconciliation will be more pleasant at Loch Lossie."

Jeff coloured deeply. He knew what all this meant. Uncle Hugh's carefully-worded speech was clear to him.

"Yes, I know--Sandy told me. You and Aunt Annie did not want her to marry father, because he was poor and only a soldier in a marching regiment. You were all unkind to her about it and made her very unhappy; but she did not care for money and a grand house--and--and she loved father. She is very happy with him--we were all happy together till I had to be sent home. Think of it only, Uncle Hugh, two whole years without seeing her. Didn't you love your mother too? And now to lose a single day or hour, after so long! Oh, do let me go, Maggie will take me if you can't."

Mr. Colquhoun stood a moment in silence looking out of the window. His heart went with the boy, for Jeff had grown dear to him, with his frank impulsive ways and deep strong affections.

"Well, well, perhaps something may be done. You had better go and have a little talk about it to your aunt before you go to Mr. M'Gregor's."