ou."

And Dr. May went away to mourn over what he viewed as far greater sins
than those of his son.

Anger had, indeed, given place to sorrow, and all were grave the next
morning, as if each had something to be forgiven.

Margaret, especially, felt guilty of the fears which, perhaps, had not
been sufficiently combated in her days of health, and now were beyond
control, and had occasioned so much pain. Ethel grieved over the words
she had yesterday spoken in haste of her father and sister; Mary knew
herself to have been an accomplice in the joke; and Norman blamed
himself for not having taken the trouble to perceive that Harry had not
been talking rhodomontade, when he had communicated "his capital scheme"
the previous morning.

The decision as to the Confirmation was a great grief to all. Flora
consoled herself by observing that, as he was so young, no one need know
it, nor miss him; and Ethel, with a trembling, almost sobbing voice,
enumerated all Harry's excellences, his perfect truth, his kindness, his
generosity, his flashes of intense feeling--declared that nobody might
be confirmed if he were not, and begged and entreated that Mr. Wilmot
might be written to, and consulted. She would almost have done so
herself, if Richard had not shown her it would be undutiful.

Harry himself was really subdued. He made no question as to the
propriety of the decision, but rather felt his own unworthiness, and was
completely humbled and downcast. When a note came from Mrs. Anderson,
saying that she was convinced that it could not have been Dr. May's wish
that she should be exposed to the indignity of a practical joke, and
that a young lady of the highest family should have been insulted, no
one had spirits to laugh at the terms; and when Dr. May said, "What is
to be done?" Harry turned crimson, and was evidently trying to utter
something.

"I see nothing for it but for him to ask their pardon," said Dr. May;
and a sound was heard, not very articulate, but expressing full assent.

"That is right," said the doctor. "I'll come with you."

"Oh, thank you!" cried Harry, looking up.

They set off at once. Mrs. Anderson was neither an unpleasing nor
unkind person--her chief defect being a blind admiration of her sons
and daughters, which gave her, in speaking of them, a tone of pretension
that she would never have shown on her own account.

Her displeasure was pacified in a moment by the sight of the confused
contrition of th