His delirium had become more infrequent, but he could not yet even
recognise his cousin, and the visits to his sick-room were so sad and
useless, that Upton forbore. "And yet you should hear him talk in his
delirium," he said to Eric; "not one evil word, or bad thought, or
wicked thing, ever escapes him. I'm afraid, Eric, it would hardly be so
with you or me."

"No" said Eric, in a low and humble tone; and guilty conscience brought
the deep color, wave after wave, of crimson into his cheeks.

"And he talks with such affection of you, Eric. He speaks sometimes of
all of us very gently; but you seem to be always in his thoughts, and
every now and then he prays for you quite unconsciously."

Eric turned his head to brush away a tear. "When do you think I shall be
allowed too see him?"

"Not just yet, I fear."

After a week or two of most anxious suspense, Russell's mind ceased to
wander, but the state of his sprain gave more cause for alarm. Fresh
advice was called in, and it was decided that the leg must be amputated.

When Eric was told of this, he burst into passionate complaints. "Only
think, Monty, isn't it hard, isn't it cruel? When we see our brave,
bright Edwin again, he will be a cripple." Eric hardly understood that
he was railing at the providence of a merciful God.

The day for the operation came. When it was over, poor Russell seemed to
amend, and the removal of the perpetual pain gave him relief. They were