“Oh, Arthur,” said Edgar, trying to stretch out his hand, “I am so glad you have come. I did so pray that I might see you again.”
Arthur came and sat down as near him as he could. “Of course I came when you wanted me, and my aunt said I might.”
“Hold my hand, Arthur,” said Edgar, “while I talk to you. You are my brother, you know.”
Arthur took Edgar’s thin, hot hand, and held it in his own sturdy one; and as he looked at him, he could not help it, the tears came into his eyes.
“I know what you are thinking about, Arthur,” said Edgar, “and I know you are trying to seem as if you do not think me very ill; but you need not mind, I know I am, and I know I am going to be with the Lord Jesus very soon.”
“Dear Edgar,” said Arthur, burying his face in the bed-clothes to hide his tears, “I never knew you really were so very ill.”
“Didn’t you?” said Edgar. “No, I suppose not. I did not know it either, until lately, for certain. But it will be so nice in heaven, Arthur, with the Lord Jesus. I shall never be tired, or cross, or have those pains. And the Lord Jesus wants to have me there; that is so nice to think of. You know I have always had a feeling that people would as soon I was away; but I know He really wants to have me in heaven with Himself very much. It makes me love Him so much to think of that. That is one of the things Cousin Amy told me.”
“Who is she? Does she live here?”
“Oh, no; she is not one of these Norths; she is one of my other uncle’s daughters; and she was staying here in the autumn. She taught me more about the Lord Jesus than any one else, except you.”
“Did I?” asked Arthur.