ther
pale and almost unable to support herself, came in.

"Take this boy up stairs and lock him in his room," said she, and turned
from me. She gave me a look of agony, mingled with most intense love,
from a true and tender heart that was broken.

In a moment I found myself a prisoner in my own room. I thought for a
moment I would fling myself from the open window, but I felt that I was
afraid to die. I was not penitent. At times my heart was subdued, but my
stubbornness rose in an instant, and bade me not yield yet.

[Illustration: "_It was my sister_."]

The pale face of my mother haunted me. I flung myself on my bed and fell
asleep. Just at twilight I heard a footstep approach my door. It was my
sister.

"What shall I tell mother for you?" she said.

"Nothing," I replied.

"O, Alfred, for my sake and for all our sakes, say that you are sorry.
She longs to forgive you."

I would not answer. I heard her footsteps slowly retreating, and flung
myself on the bed to pass a wretched night.

Another footstep, slower and more feeble than my sister's, disturbed me.
"Alfred, my son, shall I come in?" she asked.

I cannot tell what influence made me speak adverse to my feelings. The
gentle voice of my mother, that thrilled me, melted the ice from my
heart, and I longed to throw myself upon her neck; but I did not. My
words gave the lie to my heart when I said I was not sorry. I heard her
withdraw. I heard her groan. I longed to call her back, but I did not.

I was awakened from an uneasy slumber by hearing my name called loudly,
and my sister stood by my bedside:--

"Get up, Alfred! Don't wait a minute. Get up and come with me, mother is
dying!"

I thought I was yet dreaming, but I got up mechanically, and followed my
sister. On the bed, pale as marble, lay my mother. She was not yet
undressed. She had thrown herself upon the bed to rest, and rising again
to go to me she was seized with heart failure, and borne to her room.

I cannot tell you my agony as I looked upon her,--my remorse was
tenfold more bitter from the thought that she never would know it. I
believed myself to be her murderer. I fell on the bed beside her; I
could not weep. My heart burned within me; my brain was on fire. My
sister threw her arms around me and wept in silence. Suddenly we saw a
motion of mother's hand; her eyes unclosed. She had recovered her
consciousness, but not her speech.

"Mother, mother!" I shrieked; "say only that you fo