In his present mood of despondency and anxiety it
seemed that every fresh fact that he learned served to raise Allan and
lower himself in his own estimation. It is difficult to atone for a
wrong so delicate that one shrinks from expressing it in words, and
yet the need of making at least one attempt at reparation was pressing
sorely upon him.
So it was with almost a girlish bound of the heart that the Commodore
read aloud, one morning, in all the polysyllabic glory of newspaper
English, an account of the heroic way in which a young child was saved
from drowning by the prompt and daring action of Allan Dunlop. It was
an opportunity for praising his enemy, and the worthy gentleman was
almost as relieved and happy as the rescued child. "Upon my word,
Rose," he said, turning to the silent girl at the other end of the
breakfast table, "that young Dunlop is a much finer fellow than I
supposed him to be."
"Yes, Papa," she assented meagrely. She had no idea of undoing the
work of weeks--the work of steeling herself against the sweetness of
recollection--by too warm an interest in the subject.
"The idea of a child paddling about alone in a boat during that
horrible storm," continued the Commodore, more impatient, if the truth
were known, with his daughter's lukewarmness than with the waifs
recklessness.
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