Harry stopped, and Dr.May waited, half expecting to hear that the boy was only brought to confession by finding himself in a scrape.

Margaret spoke.

"And he could not be happy till he had told you." "Is it so?
Is that the whole ?" said the 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.