Part 20 (1/2)

Full of awe, and hand in hand, they entered the room on tiptoe--the darkened room where Russell was. What a hush and oppression there seemed to them at first in the dim, silent chamber; what an awfulness in all the appliances which showed how long and deeply their schoolfellow had suffered. But all this vanished directly they caught sight of his face. There he lay, so calm, and weak, and still, with his bright, earnest eyes turned towards them as though to see whether any of their affection for him had ceased or been forgotten!

In an instant they were kneeling in silence by the bed with bowed foreheads; and the sick boy tenderly put his hands on their heads, and pushed his thin white fingers through their hair, and looked at them tearfully without a word, till they hid their faces with their hands, and broke into deep suppressed sobs of compa.s.sion.

”Oh, hush, hus.h.!.+” he said, as he felt their tears dropping on his hands; ”dear Eric, dear Monty, why should you cry so for me? I am very happy.”

But they caught the outline of his form as he lay on the bed, and had now for the first time realised that he was a cripple for life; and as the throng of memories came on them--memories of his skill and fame at cricket, and racquets, and football--of their sunny bathes together in sea and river, and all their happy holiday wanderings--they could not restrain their emotion, and wept uncontrollably. Neither of them could speak a word, or break the holy silence; and as he patted their heads and cheeks, his own tears flowed fast in sympathy and self-pity. But he felt the comforting affection which they could not utter; he felt it in his loneliness, and it did him good.

The nurse broke in upon the scene, which she feared would agitate Edwin too much; and with red eyes and heavy hearts the boys left, only whispering, ”We will come again to-morrow, Edwin!”

They came the next day and many days, and got to talk quite cheerfully with him, and read to him. They loved this occupation more than any game, and devoted themselves to it. The sorrow of the sick-room more than repaid them for the glad life without, when they heard Russell's simple and heartfelt thanks. ”Ah! how good of you, dear fellows,” he would say, ”to give up the merry playground for a wretched cripple,” and he would smile cheerfully to show that his trial had not made him weary of life. Indeed, he often told them that he believed they felt for him more than he did himself.

One day Eric brought him a little bunch of primroses and violets. He seemed much better, and Eric's spirits were high with the thoughts and hopes of the coming holidays. ”There, Edwin,” he said, as the boy gratefully and eagerly took the flowers, ”don't they make you glad?

They are one of our _three_ signs, you know, of the approaching holidays. One sign was the first sight of the summer steamer going across the bay; another was May eve, when these island-fellows light big gorse fires all over the mountains, and throw yellow marsh-lilies at their doors to keep off the fairies. Do you remember, Eddy, gathering some last May eve, and sitting out in the playground till sunset, watching the fires begin to twinkle on Cronck-Irey and Barrule for miles away? What a jolly talk we had that evening about the holidays; but my father and mother were here then, you know, and we were all going to Fairholm. But the third sign--the first primrose and violet--was always the happiest, as well as quite the earliest. You can't think how I _grabbed_ at the first primrose this year; I found it by a cave on the Ness. And though these are rather the last than the first, yet I knew you'd like them, Eddy, so I hunted for them everywhere. And how much better you're looking too; such s.h.i.+ning eyes, and, yes I positively declare, quite a ruddy cheek like your old one. You'll soon be out among us again, that's clear--”

He stopped abruptly: he had been rattling on just in the merry way that Russell now most loved to hear, but, as he was talking, he caught the touch of sadness on Russell's face, and saw his long, abstracted, eager look at the flowers.

”Dear fellow, you're not worse, are you?” he said quickly. ”What a fool I am to chatter so; it makes you ill.”

”No, no, Eric, talk on; you can't think how I love to hear you. Oh, how very beautiful these primroses are! Thank you for bringing them.” And he again fixed on them the eager dreamy look which had startled Eric--as though he were learning their colour and shape by heart.

”I wish I hadn't brought them though,” said Eric; ”they are filling your mind with regrets. But, Eddy, you'll be well by the holidays--a month hence, you know--or else I shouldn't have talked so gladly about them.”

”No, Eric,” said Russell sadly, ”these dear flowers are the last spring blossoms that I shall see--_here_ at least. Yes, I will keep them, for your sake, Eric, till I die.”

”Oh, don't talk so,” said Eric, shocked and fl.u.s.tered; ”why, everybody knows and says that you're getting better.”

Russell smiled and shook his head. ”No, Eric, I shall die. There stop, dear fellow, don't cry,” said he, raising his hands quietly to Eric's face; ”isn't it better for me so? I own it seemed sad at first to leave this bright world and the sea--yes, even that cruel sea,” he continued, smiling; ”and to leave Roslyn, and Upton, and Monty, and, above all, to leave _you_, Eric, whom I love best in all the world. Yes, remember, I've no home, Eric, and no prospects. There was nothing to be sorry for in this, so long as G.o.d gave me health and strength; but health went for ever into those waves at the Stack, where you saved my life, dear gallant Eric; and what could I do now? It doesn't look so happy to _halt_ through life. O Eric, Eric, I am young, but I am dying--dying, Eric,” he said solemnly, ”my brother--let me call you brother--I have no near relations, you know, to fill up the love in my yearning heart, but I _do_ love _you_. I wish you were my brother,” he said, as Eric took his hand between both his own. ”There, that comforts me; I feel as if I _were_ a child again, and had a brother; and I _shall_ be a child again soon, Eric, in the courts of a Father's house.”

Eric could not speak. These words startled him he never dreamt _recently_ of Russell's death, but had begun to reckon on his recovery, and now life seemed darker to him than ever.

But Russell was pressing the flowers to his lips.

”The gra.s.s withereth,” he murmured, ”the flower fadeth, and the glory of his beauty perisheth; but--but the word of the Lord endureth for ever.”

And here he too burst into natural tears, and Eric pressed his hand, with more than a brother's fondness, to his heart.

”O Eddy, Eddy, my heart is full,” he said, ”too full to speak to you.

Let me read to you,” and with his arm round Russell's neck, he sat down beside his pillow, and read to him about the ”pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of G.o.d and of the Lamb.” At first sobs choked his voice, but it gathered firmness as he went on.

”In the midst of the street of it, and on either side of the river, was there the tree of life, which bare twelve manner of fruits, and yielded her fruit every month; and the leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.

”And there shall be no more curse,”--and here the reader's musical voice rose into deeper and steadier sweetness--”but the throne of G.o.d and of the Lamb shall be in it; and his servants shall serve him; and they shall see his face; and his name shall be in their foreheads.”

”And they shall see his face,” murmured Russell, ”_and they shall see his face_.” Eric paused and looked at him; a sort of rapture seemed to be lighted in his eyes, as though they saw heavenly things, and his countenance was like an angel's to look upon. Eric closed the book reverently, and gazed.

”And now pray for me, Eric, will you?” Eric knelt down, but no prayer would come; his breast swelled, and his heart beat fast, but emotion prevented him from uttering a word. But Russell laid his hand on his head and prayed.

”O gracious Lord G.o.d, look down, merciful Father, on us, two erring, weak, sinful boys; look down and bless us, Lord, for the love Thou bearest unto Thy children. One Thou art taking; Lord, take me to the green pastures of Thy home, where no curse is; and one remains--O Lord bless him with the dew of Thy blessing; lead and guide him, and keep him for ever in Thy fear and love, that he may continue Thine for ever, and hereafter we may meet together among the redeemed, in the immortal glory of the resurrection. Hear us, O Father, for Thy dear Son's sake. Amen!

Amen!”