I'd hardly taken my seat behind the curtain when the door opened and Fee
came slowly in. He leaned heavily on his cane and caught on to the
different pieces of furniture to help him make his way to papa's
bedside. They just clasped hands, and for a minute neither of them
said a word; then Felix began: "Oh, sir, I thank God that you are
spared,"--his voice shook so he had to stop.
Papa said gently: "More reference-making for you, my lad; I am evidently
to be allowed to finish my work." And then Fee began again.
He didn't say a great deal, and it was in a low tone,--a little slow,
too, at first, as if he were holding himself in,--but there was
something in his voice that made my heart swell up in me as it did
that day I thrashed Henderson. It's a queer feeling; it makes one feel
as if one could easily do things that would be quite impossible at any
other time.
"I hope I'll not tire or agitate you, sir," Fee said, "but I feel I must
tell you, for Phil, Betty, and myself, how _utterly_ ashamed we are of
that miserable, heartless joke we got off some months ago,--going to Mr.
Erveng about your book; no, father, _please_ let me go on,--this ought
to have been said long ago! We earnestly ask your forgiveness for that,
sir; the remembrance of it has lain very heavy on our hearts in these
last anxious weeks--"
He stopped; I guess there was a lump in his throat,--_I_ know what that
is! And presently papa said, very gently: "That did hurt me, Felix; but
I have forgiven it.
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