ou look for?' he asked.

'You will think me a liar if I tell you; but I did hope to benefit you:
as well to better your mind as to alleviate your present sufferings; but
it appears I am to do neither; your own bad spirit will not let me. As
far as you are concerned, I have sacrificed my own feelings, and all the
little earthly comfort that was left me, to no purpose; and every little
thing I do for you is ascribed to self-righteous malice and refined
revenge!'

'It's all very fine, I daresay,' said he, eyeing me with stupid
amazement; 'and of course I ought to be melted to tears of penitence and
admiration at the sight of so much generosity and superhuman goodness;
but you see I can't manage it. However, pray do me all the good you can,
if you do really find any pleasure in it; for you perceive I am almost as
miserable just now as you need wish to see me. Since you came, I
confess, I have had better attendance than before, for these wretches
neglected me shamefully, and all my old friends seem to have fairly
forsaken me. I've had a dreadful time of it, I assure you: I sometimes
thought I should have died: do you think there's any chance?'

'There's always a chance of death; and it is always well to live with
such a chance in view.'

'Yes, yes! but do you think there's any likelihood that this illness will
have a fatal termination?'

'I cannot tell; but, supposing it should, how are you prepared to meet
the event?'

'Why, the doctor told me I wasn't to think about it, for I was sure to
get better if I stuck to his regimen and prescriptions.'

'I hope you may, Arthur; but neither the doctor nor I can speak with
certainty in such a case; there is internal injury, and it is difficult
to know to what extent.'

'There now! you want to scare me to death.'

'No; but I don't want to lull you to false security. If a consciousness
of the uncertainty of life can dispose you to serious and useful
thoughts, I would not deprive you of the benefit of such reflections,
whether you do eventually recover or not. Does the idea of death appal
you very much?'

'It's just the only thing I can't bear to think of; so if you've any--'

'But it must come some time,' interrupted I, 'and if it be years hence,
it will as certainly overtake you as if it came to-day,--and no doubt be
as unwelcome then as now, unless you--'

'Oh, hang it! don't torment me with your preachments now, unless you want
to kill me outright. I can't stan