in the world is the young un after
now?" thought he; "I've swallowed a good many of his crotchets, but
this altogether beats me. He can't be quite right in his head." He
didn't want to say a word, and shifted about uneasily in the dark;
however, Arthur seemed to be waiting for an answer, so at last he
said: "I don't think I quite see what you mean, Geordie. One's told so
often to think about death, that I've tried it on sometimes,
especially this last week. But we won't talk of it now. I'd better
go--you're getting tired, and I shall do you harm."

"No, no, indeed I'm not, Tom; you must stop till nine, there's only
twenty minutes. I've settled you shall stop till nine. And oh! do let
me talk to you--I must talk to you. I see it's just as I feared. You
think I'm half mad, don't you now?"

"Well, I did think it odd what you said, Geordie, as you ask me."

ARTHUR'S FEVER.

Arthur paused a moment, and then said quickly, "I'll tell you how it
all happened. At first, when I was sent to the sick-room, and found
that I had really got the fever, I was terribly frightened. I thought
I should die, and I could not face it for a moment. I don't think it
was sheer cowardice at first, but I thought how hard it was to be
taken away from my mother and sisters, and you all, just as I was
beginning to see my way to many things, and to feel that I might be a
man, and do a man's work. To die without having fought, and worked,
and given one's life away, was too hard to bear. I got terribly
impatient, and accused God of injustice, and strove to justify myself;
and the harder I strove the deeper I sank. Then the image of my dear
father often came across me, but I turned from it. Whenever it came, a
heavy numbing throb seemed to take hold of my heart, and say,
'Dead--dead--dead.' And I cried out, 'The living, the living shall
praise Thee O God; the dead cannot praise Thee.[16] There is no work
in the grave;[17] in the night no man can work. But I can work. I can
do great things. I _will_ do great things. Why wilt thou slay me?' And
so I struggled and plunged, deeper and deeper, and went down into a
living black tomb. I was alone there, with no power to stir or think;
alone with myself; beyond the reach of all human fellowship; beyond
Christ's reach, I thought, in my nightmare. You, who are brave and
bright and strong, can have no idea of that agony, pray to God you
never may. Pray as for your life."

[16] Isa. xxxviii. 19.

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