"I feel certain that I shall find him," said Robin the hopeful.
"There is nothing certain in this life, in which we are blown hither and thither like chaff before the wind," observed Ali. "Or, to change the metaphor, we are like bubbles floating for a moment over death's waters, only to break, mingle with them, and be lost for ever."
"You take a very dark view of life, and I take a bright one," said the Knight of St. John.
"The better for you," observed Ali, with a gloomy smile. "Pray, what is your view of life, O sage one?"
"That it is a time to work for God here, with His sunshine upon us, and a hope, nay, a certainty, of glory and happiness in His presence when our work is done!"
"I return to my first question," said the Persian. "If you are disappointed—as is likely enough—in your expectation of meeting your brother, what will you do? Will you not let something else fill his place?"
"Nothing; no one can fill Harold's place!" exclaimed Robin.
The tone of decision in which the words were uttered disappointed the Persian, in whose breast there was a secret unacknowledged yearning to have—what he had never yet had—a true friend.
Almost impatiently, he cried, "Why is it that you so set your affections on him whom you call by the name of Harold?"
"Is he not my brother?" said Robin.