CHAPTER III.
ARTHUR’S MOTHER; OR, “SAFE IN THE ARMS OF JESUS.”
RS. VIVYAN’S morning-room was on the pleasant sunny side of the house, and was a very favourite retreat of her little boy. Indeed there was one corner of it which he considered as especially his own. It was a little sofa near the window, rather hidden in a recess, so that any one might be lying there and not be seen. Perhaps this idea of privacy was one thing which made Arthur like it; and then it was near the window, from which he could see the garden and the birds; and he liked to watch the sun sparkling on the pond, and making diamond showers of the fountain, which sometimes he would persuade the gardener to do for him.
And now, with his new deep trouble weighing on his heart, he sought his usual refuge. Nobody was in the room as Arthur and his companion, Hector, came in, Arthur throwing himself wearily on the sofa, and Hector making himself comfortable on the rug.
“Oh, dear!” groaned Arthur, after a while; “I don’t think mother cares very much. Come here, sir; do you care?”
Hector came, and obediently lay down near the sofa.