The boy opens his eyes.
"Is it you, Duncan?"
"It is me, my brother."
"Then hold my hand and I shall sleep."
Duncan did as he was told.
"Duncan!"
"Yes, Conal."
"I feel as if I were a child again once more, but oh! how foolishly, how stupidly nervous."
"We are both so. Yet, blessed be Heaven, you will recover, Conal, and I shall also."
"When I was really a child, Duncan, my mother, our mother, used to croon over my cradle verses from that sweet old hymn of Isaac Watts. Do you remember it?"