He turned away from him rebukingly.
"Felix, promise me."
There was no relenting in his face or tone. He was merciless in
the use of the power he possessed over that young, loving spirit.
Felix understood that there was no escape; but his lips were very white
as he said,
"I promise, grandfather."
Mr. Leonard drew a long breath of relief. He knew that promise
would be kept. So did old Abel. The latter crossed the floor
and sullenly took the violin from Felix's relaxed hand.
Without a word or look he went into the little bedroom off
the kitchen and shut the door with a slam of righteous indignation.
But from its window he stealthily watched his visitors go away.
Just as they entered on the maple path Mr. Leonard laid his hand
on Felix's head and looked down at him. Instantly the boy flung
his arm up over the old man's shoulder and smiled at him.
In the look they exchanged there was boundless love and trust--
ay, and good-fellowship. Old Abel's scornful eyes again held
the golden flash.
"How those two love each other!" he muttered enviously.
"And how they torture each other!"
Mr. Leonard went to his study to pray when he got home.
He knew that Felix had run for comforting to Janet Andrews, the little,
thin, sweet-faced, rigid-lipped woman who kept house for them.
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