And though to her eye each frost was freshly piercing her boy’s breast, each warm damp day he faded into greater feebleness, yet the hope was far clearer.  He was happy and content.  He had laid hold of the blessed hope of Everlasting Life, and was learning to believe that the Cross laid on him here was in mercy to make him fit for Heaven, first making him afraid and sorry for his sins, and ready to turn to Him Who could take them away, and then almost becoming gladness, in the thought of following his Master, though so far off.

Not that Alfred often said such things, but they breathed peace over his mind, and made Scripture-reading, prayers, and hymns very delightful to him, especially those in Matilda’s book; and he dwelt more than he told any one on Mr. Cope’s promise, when he trusted to be made more fully ‘one with Christ’ in the partaking of His Cup of Life.  It used to be his treat, when no one was looking, to read over that Service in his Prayer-book, and to think of the time.  It was like a kind of step; he could fix his mind on that, and the sense of forgiveness he hoped for therein, better than on the great change that was coming; when there was much fear and shrinking from the pain, and some dread of what as yet seemed strange and unknown, he thought he should feel lifted up so as to be able to bear the thought, when that holy Feast should have come to him.

All this made him much less occupied with himself, and he took much more share in what was going on; he could be amused and playful, cared for all that Ellen and Harold did, and was inclined to make the most of his time with his brother.  It was like old happy times, now that Alfred had ceased to be fretful, and Harold took heed not to distress him.

One thing to which Alfred looked forward greatly, was Paul’s being able to come into his room, and the two on their opposite sides of the wall made many pleasant schemes for the talk and reading that were to go on.  But when the day came, Alfred was more disappointed than pleased.

Paul had been cased, by Lady Jane’s orders, in flannel; he had over that a pair of trousers of Alfred’s—­much too long, for the Kings were very tall, and he was small and stunted in growth—­and a great wrapping-gown that Mr. Cope had once worn when he was ill at college, and over his shaven head a night-cap that had been their father’s.

Ellen, with many directions from Alfred, had made him up a couch with three chairs, and the cushions Alfred used to have when he could leave his bed; the fire was made up brightly, and Mrs. King and Harold helped Paul into the room.