"If we knelt oftener, side by side, as we used to, dear brother, do you not think that your heart would grow more humble and more submissive? and that we both would be happier far?"
"Guly! do not charge me with having totally neglected those duties. The past night must, indeed, have been a long one, if you can believe that we no longer do as we used to do. Night before last, remember, Guly, I was by your side, looking over with you the pages of the Holy Word, and kneeling to Him who bids us obey it."
"True, Arthur; but the night has seemed to me almost interminable. It is very lonely without you, Arthur."
"I am not sorry you miss me, Guly; it seems to whisper of so much love; and your love is very dear to me.
Remember what I told you the other night upon the step, and always try to feel this affection for me."
"Always, Arthur."
"There is a terrible weight upon my spirits this morning," added the elder brother, speaking huskily; "I have never felt such a heaviness of heart before. All that was ever bright in my past life, comes up to my memory with a pall wrapped around it, and the future shows no fairer scene. In truth, I have witnessed more vice since I parted from you, Guly, than I have ever imagined the world contained."
"Don't you feel ill, Arthur? If you will lie down, I will see that your place is taken care of."
"No, Guly, I am getting used to it; I require no rest now; and I may as well bear up, after a night's dissipation, first as last."
"I beg you, Arthur, not to talk in this way. Surely you do not mean to continue this course; you will not, you cannot, I am sure. What would I ever do, dear brother, left utterly alone and friendless here?"