een at the gate. His
having thus hastened his coming was more than they had dared to hope; and
while Mrs. King felt grateful for the kindness, Ellen feared that it
shewed that he thought very badly of the case.

Mr. Cope was much hurried, but he could not bear to go till he had heard
Mr. Blunt's opinion; so he went down to the kitchen, tried to console
Paul by talking kindly to him, wrote a note, and read his letters.

They were much comforted to hear that Mr. Blunt thought that there was
hope of subduing the present inflammatory pain; and though there was much
immediate danger, it was not hastening so very fast to the end as they
had at first supposed. Yet, in such a state as Alfred's, a few hours
might finish all. There was no saying.

Already, when Mr. Cope went up again, the remedies had given some relief;
and though the breaths came short and hard, like so many stabs, Alfred
had put his head into an easier position, and his eyes and lips looked
more free to look a greeting. There was so much wistful earnestness in
his face, and it deeply grieved Mr. Cope to be forced to leave him, and
in too much haste even to be able to pray with him.

'Well, Alfred, dear fellow,' he said, his voice trembling, 'I am come to
wish you good-bye. I am comforted to find that Mr. Blunt thinks there is
good hope that you will be here--that we shall be together when I come
back. Yes, I know that is what is on your mind, and I do reckon most
earnestly on it; but if it should not be His Will--here, Ellen, will you
take care of this note? If he should be worse, will you send this to Mr.
Carter, at Ragglesford? and I know he will come at once.'

The dew stood on Alfred's eye-lashes, and his lips worked. He looked up
sadly to Mr. Cope, as if this did not answer his longings.

Mr. Cope replied to the look--'Yes, dear boy, but if it cannot be, still
remember it is Communion. He can put us together. We all drink into one
Spirit. I shall be engaged in a like manner--I would not--I could not
go, Alfred, for pleasure--no, nor business--only for this. You must
think that I am gone to bring you home the Gift--the greatest, best
Gift--the one our Lord left with His disciples, to bear them through
their sorrows and pains--through the light affliction that is but for a
moment, but worketh an exceeding weight of glory. And if I should not be
in time,' he added, nearly sobbing as he spoke, 'then--then, Alfred, the
Gift, the blessing is yo