cheerfully
with him, and read to him. They loved this occupation more than any
game, and devoted themselves to it. The sorrow of the sick-room more
than repaid them for the glad life without, when they heard Russell's
simple and heartfelt thanks. "Ah! how good of you, dear fellows," he
would say, "to give up the merry playground for a wretched cripple," and
he would smile cheerfully to show that his trial had not made him weary
of life. Indeed, he often told them that he believed they felt for him
more than he did himself.

One day Eric brought him a little bunch of primroses and violets. He
seemed much better, and Eric's spirits were high with the thoughts and
hopes of the coming holidays. "There, Edwin," he said, as the boy
gratefully and eagerly took the flowers, "don't they make you glad? They
are one of our _three_ signs, you know, of the approaching holidays. One
sign was the first sight of the summer steamer going across the bay;
another was May eve, when these island-fellows light big gorse fires all
over the mountains, and throw yellow marsh-lilies at their doors to keep
off the fairies. Do you remember, Eddy, gathering some last May eve, and
sitting out in the playground till sunset, watching the fires begin to
twinkle on Cronck-Irey and Barrule for miles away? What a jolly talk we
had that evening about the holidays; but my father and mother were here
then, you know, and we were all going to Fairholm. But the third
sign--the first primrose and violet--was always the happiest. You can't
think how I _grabbed_ at the first primrose this year; I found it by a
cave on the Ness. And though these are rather the last than the first,
yet I knew you'd like them, Eddy, so I hunted for them everywhere. And
how much better you're looking too; such shining eyes, and, yes! I
positively declare, quite a ruddy cheek like your old one. You'll soon
be out among us again, that's clear----"

He stopped abruptly: he had been rattling on just in the merry way that
Russell now most loved to hear, but, as he was talking, he caught the
touch of sadness on Russell's face, and saw his long, abstracted, eager
look at the flowers.

"Dear fellow, you're not worse, are you?" he said quickly. "What a fool
I am to chatter so; it makes you ill."

"No, no, Eric, talk on; you can't think how I love to hear you. Oh, how
very beautiful these primroses are! Thank you, thank you, for bringing
them." And he again fixed on them the eager dreamy l