a
moment's thought, what Edgar had said.

He thought of it again, when he was waiting under the trees; where groups
of boys were standing, talking eagerly, with bright, busy faces. Edgar's
was very different, and his pale, earnest face was even deeper than usual.

"Well," said Arthur, "what have you to tell me?"

Edgar had a letter in his hand.

"Why, look here," he said. "I told you, I had to go and live at my uncle's
in London. I did not mind that; it did not make much difference; but see
here, what he says in this letter I had to-day. He is my guardian now,
you know, and he says he thinks it will be better for me on every account,
to give up school."

"And what are you to do? Not going to have any more lessons?"

"He says, I am to study with his boys. They have a tutor, and he hopes we
shall all find it very pleasant."

Edgar's face did not look as if he expected to do so.

"Well," said Arthur.

"Do you think it is well, Arthur?" said Edgar, a little reproachfully. "I
hate it, and I hate him, and I hate them all. I thought it was bad enough
before."

"Oh, Edgar, that's wicked!"

"Well, I can't help it. Wait until you get bothered, and perhaps you will
be wicked too. And, of course, they will hate me, all of them. He has a
wife and a lot of daughters, as well as sons."

"They would be your cousins, would they not?"

"I suppose so," said Edgar hopelessly.

"Well, do you know, I think it need not be so very bad. You know, Edgar,
they would be next best to brothers and sisters. And there might be a
little one," said Arthur, with a soft, tender feeling; as he thought of
the little sunny sister, that still lived in his heart. "Why do you hate
it so very much?"

"Every reason," said Edgar bitterly. "And, Arthur, you know I love you,
more than any one else in the world; and I wanted to talk to you
sometimes."

"And I am sorry, Edgar," said Arthur; "only then, you know, you are
coming to stay with us at Ashton Grange, when my father and mother come
back."

"Ah, but that is such a very long time; and, you know, I may die before
that. Perhaps I shall; and if I were certain of going to heaven, I should
like to die."

"I thought you would be certain by this time, Edgar; you know you ought to
be certain. Why can't you stop bothering about yourself? Oh, Edgar, I wish
you would!"

"I do get so frightened," said Edgar, his lip trembling.

"But mamma says, that is all the more reason, why you should let the