s! we have laid
His dark locks on his brow;
Like life, save deeper light and shade,--
We'll not disturb them now!"

Of all who stood by that open grave, none wept so passionately as little
Arthur. He could not control his emotions, and it was in vain that
friends tried to soothe him. Poor child! did a sad presentiment of
coming evil pass over his soul?

"Slowly and sadly they laid him down," and "slowly and sadly" they
returned home; that home now so vacant, so desolate! There let us leave
them; sorrowing, but "not sorrowing as those without hope." It is on
just such scenes as these, that the light of Christian Faith shines with
a pure and holy radiance, cheering the bereaved heart, and speaking
sweet words of reunion, of immortality, of glory "which fadeth not
away."

CHAPTER VIII

MORE TRIALS.

The next day Arthur returned to Mr. Martin's. His affectionate heart was
saddened, and every pleasure seemed to have lost its charm. But the
griefs of childhood quickly pass away; and Arthur in a few days became
calm and cheerful. A close observer, however, might have seen a deeper
shade of thoughtfulness in his eyes, and a softer tone in his always
gentle voice. He went to school again, and mingled in his quiet way,
with the sports of his companions. Theodore could not be spared from
home-duties to attend school in the summer months, and Arthur saw much
less of him than formerly. They would meet occasionally after tea, and
with Rover by their side, stroll down by the stream which wound in
fanciful little curves about the lot; or would play at ball, on the
green before the house. Arthur seemed less inclined than usual for noisy
sports, and Theodore sometimes thought he was a sad, stupid playfellow.
One evening about five weeks after Henry's funeral, Mrs. Martin said to
her husband,--

"It seems to me, Arthur is not well to-day. He has complained a great
deal of his head, and his face looks flushed and feverish."

"I haven't noticed him to-day," replied Mr. Martin, "but he certainly is
not a healthy boy, and I am afraid never will be."

The next morning, Arthur refused to eat; and before night a burning
fever had evidently seized upon him. A physician was called, who said at
once,--

"He is a very sick child; his head is so hot, I fear a brain fever. You
had better send for his mother, for mothers I find are generally the
best nurses. He's a fine little fellow, and we must try to save him."