‘You have far more to forgive than I,’ said the Earl.

’If I could tell you the half-waywardness, discontent, neglect, levity, wasted time—­my treatment of you only three days back.  Everything purposed—­nothing done!  Oh! what a life to bring before the Judge!’ And he covered his face, but his father heard long-drawn sobs.

‘Compose yourself, my dear boy,’ he exclaimed, exceedingly grieved and perplexed.  ’You know there is no cause to despond; and even—­ even if there were, you have no reason to distress yourself.  I can say, from the bottom of my heart, that you have never given me cause for real anxiety, your conduct has been exemplary, and I never saw such attention to religion in any young man.  These are mere trifles--’

‘Oh, hush, father!’ exclaimed Louis.  ’You are only making it worse; you little know what I am!  If Mr. Holdsworth would come!’

‘He could only tell you the same,’ said his father.  ’You may take every comfort in thinking how blameless you have been, keeping so clear of all the faults of your age.  I may not have esteemed you as you deserved, my poor Louis; but, be assured that very few can have so little to reproach themselves with as you have.’

Louis almost smiled.  ‘Poor comfort that,’ he said, ’even if it were true; but oh, father!’ and there was a light in his eye, ’I had thought of ‘He hath blotted out like a cloud thy transgressions.’’

‘That is right.  One like you must find comfort in thinking.’

‘There is comfort ineffable,’ said Louis; ’but if I knew what I may dare to take home to myself!  It is all so dim and confused.  This pain will not let anything come connectedly.  Would you give me that little manuscript book!’

It was given; and as the many loose leaves fell under Louis’s weak hand, his father was amazed at the mass of copies of prayers, texts, and meditations that he had brought together; the earlier pages containing childish prayers written in Aunt Catharine’s hand.  Louis’s cheeks coloured at the revelation of his hidden life, as his father put them together for him.

‘It is of no use,’ he said, sadly; ’I cannot read.  Perhaps my aunt would come and read this to me.’

‘Let me,’ said his father; and Louis looked pleased.

Lord Ormersfield read what was pointed out.  To him it was a glimpse of a very new world of contrition, faith, hope, and prayer; but he saw the uneasy expression on Louis’s face give place to serenity, as one already at home in that sphere.

‘Thank you,’ he said.  ’That was what I wanted.  Mr. Holdsworth will soon come, and then I don’t want to say much more.  Only don’t take this too much to heart—­I am not worth it; and but for you and the dear Terrace home, I can be very glad.  If I may hope, the hope is so bright!  Here there are so many ways of going wrong, and all I do always fails; and yet I always tried to do Him service.  Oh, to have all perfect!—­no failure—­no inconsistency—­no self!  Can it be?’