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, the room of sickness and pain was thronged and beautiful with angelic presences.
Often did Eric, and Upton, and Montagu, talk of their loved friend.
Eric's life seemed absorbed in the thought of him, and in passionate, unspeakable longings for his recovery.

Now he valued more than ever the sweet remembered hours spent with him; their games, and communnings, and walks, and Russell's gentle influence, and brave, kindly rebukes.

Yet he must not even see him, must not whisper one word of soothing to him in his anguish; he could only pray for him, and that he did with a depth of hope.
At last Upton, in virtue of his relationship, was allowed to visit him.
His delirium had become more infrequent, but he could not yet even recognise his cousin, and the visits to his sick-room were so sad and useless, that Upton forbore.

"And yet you should hear him talk in his delirium," he said to Eric; "not one evil word, or bad thought, or wicked thing, ever escapes him.