minded of Ben--I don't know how or why just then--except that
thoughts of him are constantly coming to haunt, and sometimes almost
madden me. Oh, Mallery! that is a past that can never, _never_ be
undone!" He spoke in a hollow, dreary tone, and his slight form,
enfeebled by disease, was quivering with emotion; yet what could his
friend say? How try to administer comfort for such a grief as that? He
remained entirely silent for a few moments, then offered the only
consolation that he could bear.

"The past is not yours, Pliny, but in a sense the present and future
are. Let us have it such a future that it can be looked back upon with
joy, when you and I have become gray-haired men. Now, Pliny, it is late.
Will you join me in my Bible reading--since you and I are a family, can
not we have family worship?"

Pliny arose quickly. "I will not disturb your meditations," he said, a
little nervously. "But you know my taste don't run in that line."

Then he began a slow, monotonous walk up and down the room. Theodore
opened his Bible without further entreaty or comment; but as Pliny
watched the grave face, he could not fail to notice the disappointed
droop of his friend's features, and the line of sadness that gathered
about his sensitive mouth. Suddenly Pliny came to a stand-still, and
finally went abruptly to Theodore's side.

"Dear old fellow!" he said, impulsively--laying his hand with a
familiar, almost caressing, movement on the arm of the other--"Would it
afford you an unparalleled satisfaction if I should settle quietly down
there, and read in that big book with you?"

Theodore looked up with a faint smile, and returned steadily the look
from those handsome blue eyes as he said--

"More than I can tell you."

"Then hang me if I don't do it! Mind, I don't see in what the
satisfaction consists, but that is not necessary, I suppose, in order to
make my act meritorious. Now, here goes!" Down he dropped into a chair,
and resolutely took hold of one side of the large handsome Bible.
Theodore reveled in Bibles; he had them of numerous sizes and of great
beauty; he had not forgotten the time when he had none at all, and after
that how precious two leaves of the Sacred Book became to him. After the
reading, he linked his arm in Pliny's, and said in so winning and withal
so natural and matter-of-course a tone, "It will be very pleasant to
have a companion to kneel with me--I have always felt a desire for one,"
that Pliny di