s that I have spent with your family this summer have
been almost the only happy ones I have passed for years, and they gave
me almost as much pain as pleasure, by making me feel that I had thrown
away my life."

"It is not too late to repair, in part, your error."

"I cannot live my life over again. Oh that I could!"

The emotion with which these words were uttered so deeply affected
Henry, that, for a moment, he could not speak. Hope sprung up in his
heart that the seed sown in early life, by a pious father's hand, might,
though long buried beneath the cares of the world, spring up and bear
fruit ere the winter of death should come.

"You cannot," said he, "undo what you have done; but you can repent and
receive the pardon of Him before whom we must all shortly stand."

"I am too proud, too hard-hearted, to repent. I have delayed it, or
rather, refused to do it, too long. I feel exhausted, and must retire to
my room."

He rose, and, leaning on the arm of his brother, Went to his apartment.
That brother retired to pour out his heart in prayer for the prodigal
who gave such hopeful indications of coming to himself.

CHAPTER XVII.

FOR a day or two subsequent to the conversation recorded in the last
chapter, the invalid was unable to leave his room. He seemed desirous of
being left alone. Henry was earnest in the hope that he was communing
with his own heart. When he again joined the family, it was with a paler
countenance, and yet there was an expression of peace resting upon it,
that led to the hope that he was beginning to contemplate without dread
the great change that was before him. He listened with attention as his
brother spoke of matters relating to the unseen world, and asked
questions which could be prompted only by an inquiring spirit. Still he
avoided any further expression of his feelings.

One evening, Horace Larned called to see Susan. She compelled him, as it
were, to spend half an hour in the society of her uncle, who scanned his
features with interest, and asked him a few courteous questions, and was
greatly pleased with the directness and manliness of his replies. When
Horace and Susan had withdrawn, he remarked to Henry--

"That young man is engaged to Susan?"

"He is."

"I like him. He appears well. I like him for his mother's sake. I wrote
to her, offering to assist him in his education, but the offer was
declined, and the money returned. Why was it? Does she retain a
prejudice aga