"Circumstances have occurred which show me how very wrong and mistaken my resentment against you and George has been. I will not allude to them; I'm not up to it to-night; but you will hear soon enough what they are. And I came round to say that I am sorry for it; that I repent of it in a degree which no words could express.—You were prayed for in chapel to-night;" continued Trace, after a pause. "The report in the school is that your case is hopeless."
"It is quite so, I fear."
Trace paused, as if to get up his voice, which seemed like himself—very low. "You will say you forgive me before you die?"
"The need of forgiveness lies on my side," said Arthur Paradyne, pressing the cold hand with a grateful pressure. "If you were a little resentful, it was but natural. Say you forgive my poor father!"
"Don't!" cried Trace, with a sort of wail. "I'll come in again another time, when you have learnt to understand better."
"One moment," said Mr. Henry, detaining him. "You seem to have some great sorrow upon you to-night. Is it so?"
"Sorrow!" bitterly echoed Trace. "Ay; one that will last me my life. A sorrow, to which yours has been as nothing."
"I have been picturing you as so full of joy this evening. Trace, you have gained the Orville. I know it."
"Yes. But I shall give it up to-night."
"Give up the Orville!"