Tom had almost persuaded himself, in fact, that he had been on the whole a very estimable sort of youth, and he entered the sick room with something of a swaggering air, as much as to say that he had no cause for shame.
But at the sight which greeted his eyes, as they met those of the sick man, a sobering change came over him.

He had seen death sometimes, and the sight of it had always painfully affected him.
He hated to be brought up short, as it were, and forced to see the serious, the solemn, the awe inspiring in life.

He wanted to live in the present; he did not want to be forced to face the inevitable future.
"Tom," said his father's voice, in weak but distinct accents, "you have come, and it is well.

I have things to say to you which may not longer be delayed.

Take that chair beside me.