Thereupon he felt reproach of conscience.

For all the care and kindness he had received from his father, since the days when he used to come into this very room to show how well he could read a page of some child's story, what return had he made?
None whatever in words, and little enough in conduct.

All at once, he felt a desire to prove that he was not the insensible egoist his father perhaps thought him.
"I'm afraid you're a good deal worried, father," he began, looking at the paper-covered writing-table.
"I'm putting my affairs in order, Dyce," the vicar replied, running fingers through his beard.

"I've been foolish enough to let them get very tangled; let me advise you never to do the same.

But it'll all be straight before long.