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.

But all the rheumatic pain was by no means over, and walking made him
feel it; he was dreadfully weak, and was so giddy and faint after the
first few steps, that they could not bring him to shake hands with Alfred
as both had wished, but had to lay