doctor, looking at his son with
a keen glance, between affection and inquiry, as if only waiting to be
sure the confession was free, before he gave his free forgiveness.

"Yes, papa," said Harry, his voice and lip losing their firmness, as the
sweetness of expression gained the day on his father's face. "Only that
I know--'twas very wrong--especially now--and I am very sorry--and I beg
your pardon."

The latter words came between sighs, fast becoming sobs, in spite of
Harry's attempts to control them, as his father held out his arm, and
drew him close to him.

"That's mamma's own brave boy," he said in his ear--in a voice which
strong feeling had reduced to such a whisper, that even Margaret could
not hear--she only saw how Harry, sobbing aloud, clung tighter and
tighter to him, till he said "Take care of my arm!" and Harry sprang
back at least a yard, with such a look of dismay, that the doctor
laughed. "No harm done!" said he. "I was only a little in dread of such
a young lion! Comeback, Harry," and he took his hand. "It was a bad
piece of work, and it will never do for you to let yourself be drawn
into every bit of mischief that is on foot; I believe I ought to
give you a good lecture on it, but I can't do it, after such a
straightforward confession. You must have gone through enough in the
last week, not to be likely to do it again."

"Yes, papa--thank you."

"I suppose I must not ask you any questions about it, for fear of
betraying the fellows," said Dr. May, half smiling.

"Thank you, papa," said Harry, infinitely relieved and grateful, and
quite content for some space to lean in silence against the chair, with
that encircling arm round him, while some talk passed between his father
and Margaret.

What a world of thought passed through the boy's young soul in that
space! First, there was a thrill of intense, burning love to his father,
scarcely less fondness to his sweet motherly sister; a clinging feeling
to every chair and table of that room, which seemed still full of
his mother's presence; a numbering over of all the others with ardent
attachment, and a flinging from him with horror the notion of asking to
be far away from that dearest father, that loving home, that arm that
was round him. Anything rather than be without them in the dreary
world! But then came the remembrance of cherished visions, the shame of
relinquishing a settled purpose, the thought of weary morrows, with the
tempters among his