Percy pressed Willy's hand within both his own; for a short time his heart was too full for speaking. "You will pray for me," he then murmured. "Pray that I may have courage to bear manfully whatever my Lord sees fit to inflict, without one impatient word or even a thought of repining. Pray that I may glorify God in the fires!"
Willy nodded assent, but his voice was choked.
"And Willy," pursued the poor youth, "I have another favour to ask, will you grant it?" and he looked earnestly into the face of his friend.
"I do not think that I could refuse you anything, Percy, at such a time as this."
"Will you be with me—to-morrow? The surgeon comes at two—"
"Oh no!" exclaimed Willy, half rising from his chair, and turning pale. "I am afraid—I don't think—I'm sure I could not bear—"
"If you could not bear to look upon it, what must it be to suffer it!"
"Poor Percy! I would do anything for you!"
"I shall perhaps have no one beside me but the hard rough surgeon and his attendant—I doubt whether Deborah would stay in the room. It is weak, and foolish, and selfish in me, I know; but it would be such a comfort to feel that a friend was near me!"
"I will be with you, Percy, whatever it may cost me—if I am not prevented by news from home. And now, is there anything else that I can do?"