"It's of no use, Walter," cried Frank, as he freed himself from his friend's grasp; "it is too late, too late." And he passed on with a deep sigh.
That sigh haunted Walter all the evening, even while sitting at his mother's cheerful fireside, and listening to her expressions of pleasure at the sight of her son's bank-book.
Was Frank right? And was it REALLY too late for him to do better? Too late for him to retrace his steps? Certainly not.
"While the lamp holds on to burn,
The vilest sinner may return;—"
And as long as God spares our lives, so long is it in our power to pray God for His grace to enable us to break the chains of our sins, and to lead better lives. To say, then, that it is "too late," whilst God gives us our life, is only another way of saying that we have not the moral courage to make the effort which is required to do better, and that we prefer remaining in our sins to taking any steps to be set free from the power of them.
Frank Hardy was a moral coward, and preferred displeasing God to incurring the vengeance of Tom Haines.
"I tell you what it is, mother," said Walter, that evening, as they sat by the fire talking about Mr. Danvers and the ornamented gable, "if I can only get on in the world so as to be able to keep you without your having to trouble yourself any more with the shop, I shall be perfectly happy."
"Nay, Walter, as long as I have strength to work, I will never be a burden to any one, not even to my very dear son."
"A burden, mother! Why, it will be the happiest day of my life when I can say to you, 'Shut up shop, mother.' What should I have done without you all these long, long years, I should like to know; and it will be my turn one of these days, mother dear; and, then, if I don't keep you like a lady, why—"
"You are a good boy, Walter, and have always been an affectionate son to me, and I'll take the will for the deed."