A hurried glance at my late life revealed that I had been behaving very badly, growing worse and worse.

I became more and more miserable as I stood, but what to do I could not tell.

The cold at length drove me into the house.

I generally sat with my father in his study of a winter night now, but I dared not go near it.

I crept to the nursery, where I found a bright fire burning, and Allister reading by the blaze, while Davie lay in bed at the other side of the room.