d he caught a glimpse of Eric, who was still asleep, and
he then remembered all. He sprang out of bed, refreshed and perfectly
well, and the sound of his voice woke Eric; but Eric was still languid
and weak, and did not get up that day, nor was he able to go to work
again for some days; but he was young and strong, and his vigorous
constitution soon threw off the effects of this fast and exposure.

Their first inquiry was for Edwin. The nurse shook her head sadly. "He
is very dangerously ill."

"Is he?" said they both anxiously. And then they preserved a deep
silence; and when Montagu, who immediately began to dress, knelt down to
say his prayers, Eric, though unable to get up, knelt also over his
pillow, and the two felt that their young earnest prayers were mingling
for the one who seemed to have been taken while they were left.

The reports grew darker and darker about Edwin. At first it was thought
that the blow on his head was dangerous, and that the exposure to wet,
cold, fear, and hunger had permanently weakened his constitution; and
when his youth seemed to be triumphing over these dangers, another
became more threatening. His leg never mended; he had both sprained the
knee badly, and given the tibia an awkward twist, so that the least
motion was agony to him.

In his fever he was constantly delirious. No one was allowed to see
him, though many of the boys tried to do so, and many were the earnest
inquiries for him day by day. It then became more fully apparent than
ever, that, although Edwin was among them without being _of_ them, no
boy in the school was more deeply honoured and fondly loved than he.
Even the elastic spirits of boyhood could not quite throw off the shadow
of gloom which his illness cast over the school.

Very tenderly they nursed him. All that human kindness could do was
done for him by the stranger hands. And yet not all; poor Edwin had no
father, no mother, hardly any relatives. His only aunt, Mrs Upton,
would have come to nurse him, but she was an invalid, and he was often
left alone in his delirium and agony.

Alone, yet not alone. There was One with him--always in his thoughts,
always leading, guiding, blessing him unseen--not deserting the hurt
lamb of His flock; one who was once a boy Himself, and who, when He was
a boy, did His Father's business, and was subject unto His parents in
the obscure home of the despised village. Alone! nay, to them whose
eyes were opened,