“And now pray for me, Eric, will you?” Eric knelt down, but no prayer would come; his breast swelled; and his heart beat fast, but emotion prevented him from uttering a word.  But Russell laid his hand on his head and prayed.

“O gracious Lord God, look down, merciful Father on us, two erring, weak, sinful boys; look down and bless us, Lord, for the love thou bearest unto thy children.  One thou art taking; Lord, take me to the green pastures of thy home, where no curse is; and one remains—­O Lord! bless him with the dew of thy blessing; lead and guide him, and keep him for ever in thy fear and love, that he may continue thine for ever, and hereafter we may meet together among the redeemed, in the immortal glory of the resurrection.  Hear us, O Father, for thy dear Son’s sake.  Amen!  Amen!”

The childlike, holy, reverent voice ceased, and Eric rose.  One long brotherly kiss he printed on Russell’s forehead, and, full of sorrowful forebodings, bade him good night.

He asked Dr. Underhay whether his fears were correct.  “Yes,” he said, “he may die at any time; he must die soon.  It is even best that he should; besides the loss of a limb, that blow on the head would certainly affect the brain and the intellect if he lived.”

Eric shuddered—­a long cold shudder.

The holidays drew on; for Russell’s sake, and at his earnest wish, Eric had worked harder than he ever did before.  All his brilliant abilities, all his boyish ambition, were called into exercise; and, to the delight of every one, he gained ground rapidly, and seemed likely once more to dispute the palm with Owen.  No one rejoiced more in this than Mr. Rose, and he often gladdened Russell’s heart by telling him about it; for every day he had a long visit to the sick boy’s room, which refreshed and comforted them both.

In other respects, too, Eric seemed to be turning over a new leaf.  He and Upton, by common consent, had laid aside smoking, and every bad habit or disobedient custom which would have grieved the dying boy, whom they both loved so well.  And although Eric’s popularity, after the romantic Stack adventure and his chivalrous daring, was at its very zenith,—­although he had received a medal and flattering letter from the Humane Society, who had been informed of the transaction by Dr. Rowlands,—­although his success both physical and intellectual was higher than ever,—­yet the dread of the great loss he was doomed to suffer, and the friendship which was to be snapped, overpowered every other feeling, and his heart was ennobled and purified by contact with his suffering friend.

It was a June evening, and he and Russell were alone; he had drawn up the blind, and through the open window the summer breeze, pure from the sea and fragrant from the garden, was blowing refreshfully into the sick boy’s room.  Russell was very, very happy.  No doubt, no fear, assailed him; all was peace and trustfulness.  Long and earnestly that evening did he talk to Eric, and implore him to shun evil ways, striving to lead him gently to that love of God which was his only support and refuge now.  Tearfully and humbly Eric listened, and every now and then the sufferer stopped to pray aloud.