"It will be too late to-morrow," said John Heedman, sinking back on his pillows exhausted--"it will be too late." He lay so still for about an hour that Charlie thought he slept; after that he called Charlie to him, and wished him to sit up that night with his mother. He spoke very tenderly and lovingly, and told Charlie how happy his gratitude and love and obedience had made him, and how he thanked God that Charlie had never told him an untruth or deceived him, although he had still grave faults to overcome. He spoke for some time, every word sending a pang to Charlie's heart, who knew how unworthy he was of his confidence and praise. He sobbed hysterically, but was unable to speak. What a night that was for Charlie, as he sat there with his mother hour after hour in the still and darkened room! His anguish and remorse became unbearable. How could he let his father die without undeceiving him and asking his forgiveness? He could not--he must not. Oh! if he had only spoken at first, when the first false step was taken, he would not have been led into all this sinful deceit, and that terrible lie would never have been told. Now it was such a difficult task--and yet he must do it. He glanced at the timepiece: when the hour-hand reached one he would tell him; he would think now what he had better say--how he should begin. How fast that hour seemed to fly! It was one o'clock, and he had nothing ready to say; he dare not begin; he would wait until two, perhaps his father would be awake then. Two o'clock came; his father still slept, looking so calm and peaceful--how could he disturb him to listen to his sad tale of sin and shame? Soon after his father awoke; he started up and looked anxiously round. Charlie and his mother felt instinctively that it was death. In his terror, Charlie sprang towards him. "Father, forgive me," he burst out, in an imploring tone. "I did _not_ post the letter in time. I told a lie--forgive me--speak to me! pray forgive me!" A look of unutterable anguish passed over his father's face. Charlie waited for an answer, but none came. His father was far away from him--he was at rest; he was in that home where sin and sorrow cannot come. It is useless attempting to describe Charlie's misery, it was so great. His father, who had so loved and trusted him, had at last died, with his hope in him crushed, his confidence in him broken. His father had died, listening to his confession of sin and deception, and without being able to judge whether his repentance was sincere. The confession came too late for his forgiveness or counsel. The thought of all this completely crushed Charlie. For hours he sat crouching on the floor in his own room, without a single comforting thought. He had not only deceived his father, he had offended God. He sat in his misery, feeling careless whether he lived or died. No tears came, but his heart throbbed with a dull, aching pain that was unbearable.