Arthur went at once to the room and knocked. There was no response. He opened the door, and found the room empty. Then he went to his father’s bedroom, and found it locked. “Father!” he called, but there was no answer. He listened a moment, and then, with all the force of his strong young frame, he burst open the door, and saw what he feared to see—his father lying on the floor in a state of unconsciousness! No time was lost, and two doctors were speedily on the spot; but they were able to do very little for the stricken man. They did not pronounce the case hopeless; they said it was possible that there might be partial recovery, but even that was improbable. They feared it was the beginning of the end, and the end might be not far off. Arthur Knight was profoundly grieved. The love for his father—which had always been in his heart, though for years it had been restrained—was warm and strong now, as he sat by the bedside of the unconscious man, and he forgot everything but that he was his father, and had always been generous and kind to him. How he wished he had come home before! A flood of compassion filled his heart as he pictured the lonely man in the solitary house, melancholy and bitter. How joyless his life must have been! He seemed to have had little to comfort him but the one fact of his commercial success; and there must have been many times when that failed, and he was altogether comfortless. So far as the world judged him he was an honourable man. His life had been pure from many of the vices of the age, and as Arthur thought over these things he wished with all his heart that he might recover, if only to find comfort in his son. But there seemed little hope of that. The doctors looked more grave at each visit, and made no secret of their conviction that the days of Mr. Knight were numbered. So Arthur had a son’s sacred duty to perform in nursing and watching his father, his heart full of sorrow that he could not do more for him. He was very tender and affectionate; and half hoping that some of his words might pierce through the cloud over him, he told him of his love, and uttered slowly and impressively those good words of the wonderful Book which tell of a Father’s love and a Saviour’s power. Arthur could not feel afraid to trust the dying man to the compassionate Christ. He did not doubt that the Great Father, who had loved and cared for this neglectful child of His for so many years, would pity him because he had lived out his life to such unworthy issues, and found it so disappointing, and had made so many mistakes, and suffered for them, as was inevitable, and that He would have mercy upon him, whether at the last he was able to ask for it or not. Arthur’s hope was not in his father, but in his God; and there was no fear, but much faith in his prayers.