Good-night--good-night."
Suddenly his mother's face produced a great change in Carnac. Horror,
sorrow, remorse, were all there. He looked at John Grier; then at his
mother. The spirit of the bigger thing crept into his heart. He put his
arm around his mother and kissed her.
"Good-night, mother," he said. Then he went to his father and held out a
hand. "You don't mind my speaking what I think?" he continued, with a
smile. "I've had a lot to try me. Shake hands with me, father. We haven't
found the way to walk together yet. Perhaps it will come; I hope so."
Again a flash of passion seized John Grier. He got to his feet. "I'll not
shake hands with you, not to night. You can't put the knife in and turn
it round, and then draw it out and put salve on the wound and say
everything's all right. Everything's all wrong. My family's been my
curse. First one, then another, and then all against me,--my whole family
against me!"
He dropped back in his chair sunk in gloomy reflection.
"Well, good-night," said Carnac. "It will all come right some day."
A moment afterwards he was gone. His mother sat down in her seat by the
window; his father sat brooding by the table.
Carnac stole down the hillside, his heart burning in him.
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