Early the next morning, when he was very weak, he said:—
"I wonder the Wesdens haven't been to see me."
"I thought they would weary you. They are scarcely friends of ours now. I have not told them that you are ill. If you wish——"
"No, no, and they would weary you, too, my boy, and things have altered very much between you. Sidney, you are sorry that they have altered, perhaps?"
"No—glad—very glad!"
"I should like to see Mattie," he said, after a pause; "why does she keep away?"
"I thought that she might disturb you, sir," was the reply; "we are better by ourselves, and without our friend's sympathy. We are above it!"
"Why, Sid—that's pride!"
"Call it precaution, sir, or jealousy of anyone taking my place, between you and me, old stanch friends as we are."
His father said no more upon the question; he had been ever influenced by his son, and borne down by his strong will. He thought now that it was better to see no one but Sid, and the good clergyman who called every day—better for all! Sid knew best; he had always known best through life!