through it all, he thought and read of the Colonial
Policy, and wondered whether he should have fallen in love with a Quaker
girl, and whether the troubles between England and Ireland arose from a
need of Republican government. In spite of his ramblings, and in spite
of some discouraged moods, some unexamined idea always urged him on, and
the result was that in two months he had prepared rough sketches of his
work, and his parents were, this time, convinced of his earnestness.

Coming home the very evening of the first day of September, the day and
the hour he had dreaded as the last of his liberty, because as he had
not made up his mind, it was to be made up for him, he saw two men
lifting his father out of a carriage. He stopped and looked at them. He
had no power to speak or help. He saw them carry his father up-stairs
and lay him on the bed. Then, at a word from his mother, he went for a
doctor. He never could recall the manner of his errand, but the
physician came; at last some one said to him:

"It is a slight shock of paralysis. If another does not follow, he will
soon get well." This was like saying to him, "If your father does not
die, he'll live."

How long was he to wait for that knowledge! An hour would be a year and
a year would be a century. He helped in all things as he was told to do;
but his fingers were like thumbs and his feet like clubs. He felt a
singular and confusing sense of identity with his father, as though the
paralysis had included him.

By and by, the room grew quiet. He and his mother were left alone; he
would have given anything if he had dared to speak or touch her. Nothing
was near him. Had he ever been a boy? Was there a prize essay? Were
there only three people in the world--his father, his mother and
himself?

Later came his uncle. His mother then called him by name for the first
time in those terrible hours, and bade him bid his father good-night.
As he went mechanically to do so, his father seemed to keep Hal's hand
in his own numb fingers, and to look most imploringly, the mother's hand
on to Harry's. The mother, as the hands met, said, "Hal will take care
of me, dear," and Hal exclaimed, "I will." Then they knew they were
right in their interpretation as the sick face brightened and the
eyelids slowly closed in weariness.

Hal went up-stairs to his own room. The thinking he did that night made
a man of him. He was sure his father would live, but also that his
salary would