" "But to whom did you say them?" He evidently tried to remember, but it dropped--he had lost it. Confess! Confess! It was not enough to lull the conscience with a tear and a prayer. Every impure thought, deliberately yielded to, is a keen lance transfixing that sacred and loving heart. He moved a thin shrunken brown hand gently in the air in time to his praise and his thin quick eyelids beat often over his sad eyes.