still in pride, and so much older in firmness, and power, and
discipline, to bear its share?

CHAPTER IX.

_Contrition._

At noontime Guly told Wilkins that if he would bring him a trifle of
fruit from the Restaurant, or something of that kind, he would spend the
time allowed him for dinner with his brother, and would much prefer it.

Wilkins very cordially assented, and Guly mounted the winding stairs
slowly and thoughtfully, pushed open the old door at the head of the
staircase, which was covered with the big-lettered advertisements, and
stood before his sleeping brother.

The bar was drawn back; and, fully dressed, Arthur lay upon the humble
bed. Perhaps the first plunge into dissipation leaves a deeper
impression on youthful beauty, than the continued practice begun in
older years.

Guly was startled at the change in his brother's features, which one
night of excitement had wrought. He could see it now, as he lay there
sleeping, more perfectly than when he had been with him in the morning,
with his face full of ever-varying expression. There was a wasting upon
the skin; deep black marks beneath the eyes; the lips were pale, and the
nose seemed pinched; and his whole appearance was that of one
convalescing after a severe fit of sickness.

Guly approached, and taking a low seat by the bedside, laid his face
softly down beside his brother's on the pillow, and reaching over,
clasped his fingers gently round one burning hand. He lay quite still,
with his eyes fixed upon the sleeper's face. Who could tell, save He who
knoweth all things, what thoughts were rushing through that throbbing
heart, as it nestled there closer and closer, to all it held dear in
that distant land?

The blue eyes filled suddenly full of tears, bright and pure, even as
that boy's path of life had ever been, and dropped down, one by one,
upon the pillow. There was no visible cause for them, but they kept
falling, those pure bright tears, till the fair cheeks over which they
fell were bathed, and the pillow damped.

Was there a shadow-like presentiment creeping over that young spirit
then, telling him to nestle close, close, for the time was coming when
those two hearts would throb no more beside each other, and that the
waves of life's ocean would some day cast one upon the shore, and bear
the other far out to sea? Even so! It was dim, ghost-like, and
undefined; but still the shadow flitted there darkly!

The sleeper turned re