As I lay and tossed and thought over the events of the evening, I did not know whether to be happy or afraid.

Supposing Jack should refuse to own his father! Suppose, when he heard that story of sin and shame, he should turn and repudiate the father who had so cruelly wronged him and his sister! What a story it was! And yet, as I went over its details and pictured to myself the tragedy of that ruined life, I trembled to think how nearly a similar story might have been mine, had I not by God's grace been mercifully arrested in time.
Who was I, to think ill of him?
He had been driven to his ruin by a shock which had nearly robbed him of reason.

I had fallen through sheer vanity and folly, and who was to say I might not have fallen as low as he, had there been no hand to save me, no friend to recall me, by God's mercy, to myself?
I was thankful when I heard Jack stir, and had an excuse for getting up.
"Hullo!" said he, as I did so; "you were a jolly long time posting that letter last night, or else I must have gone to sleep pretty quickly." "I just looked in to talk to Mr Smith," I said, "on my way back." "Ah, do you know, I think he's working too hard.

He didn't look well last night." "He seemed a little out of sorts," I said, "but I'm afraid that's nothing very unusual.

Well, old boy, how do you feel in prospect of your exam. ?" "Oh, all right," said Jack, complacently.