A SAD STORY. 103

 rigid, pale lips, which would so frankly have pro-
 nounced forgiveness, now incapable of doing so! To
 long-with an endless, hopeless longing-for one
 tone, one glance of love, which would have been
 lavished on us had we but sought them earlier!"
 Mr. Lane finished speaking, and turned his glance,
for the first time since beginning his story, on Jack.
And the boy could see that his face was still drawn
with pain, and had an aged, care-worn look; it seemed
as though years had been added to his age in the
last half hour.
 "And now, my boy, I must send you home; it is
long past your usual time for returning, and I feel,
too, that I must be alone for a while now."
 Jack rose instinctively, but no further words of
farewell were spoken between pupil and tutor.
But the boy took one of his friend's hands and
clasped it in both of his, and with a low, "Thank
you, sir, for telling me," not trusting himself
to take another glance at Mr. Lane's sorrowful
face, Jack turned and walked slowly and thoughtfully
home.