You go to bed.

I will finish my diary, and be up in a few minutes." When he was alone, he sat still a little while, with a great lonely pain on his face, and almost visibly upon it too the smart of the wounded pride of his haughty nature.

Never in his life had he been spoken to like that,--and by his own son! The pang of it was almost more than he could bear.

But presently he had so far mastered himself as to take up his pen and continue his writing.

When that was finished, he opened his Bible and read his wonted chapter.