he had of anything unsuitable in his original intention. “It is a privilege, if she but knew it,” the invalid would say, fixing his hollow eyes on her, as if half doubtful whether he approved of her or not; and poor Alice stayed behind him with a bad grace, without feeling much indebted on her own account to her new friends. “It does not matter where I go, so long as I am with him,” she said, following him with her anxious looks; and she remained there seated patiently upon her bench, with her eyes fixed on the spot where he had disappeared, until he rejoined her. When Arthur’s little prayer-meeting was ended, he came with a severe, and yet serene countenance towards the sister he had left behind, and the two friends who did not propose to accompany him. “He is a child of God,” said the sick man; “his experiences are a great comfort to me”--and he looked with a little defiance at the companions, who, to be sure, so far as the carnal mind was concerned, could not but be more congenial to an educated man. His new companions were indeed so interesting to Meredith, that the new chapter of the “Voice from the Grave” was all about Lauderdale and Colin. They were described under the initials L. and C., with a heightening of all their valuable qualities, which was intended to make more and more apparent their want of “the one thing needful.” They were like the rich young man whom Jesus loved, but who had not the heart to give up all and follow Him--they were like “him who, through cowardice, made the great refusal--” the sick man wrote without, however, quoting Dante; and he contrasted with their virtuous and thoughtful worldliness the condition of his convert, who knew nothing but the love of God, poor Meredith said. Perhaps it was true that the sick sailor knew the love of God, and certainly the prayers of the volunteer missionary were not less likely to reach the ear of the Divine Majesty for being uttered by the poor fellow’s bedside. But, though he wrote a chapter in his book about them, Meredith still clung to his friends. The unseen and unknown were familiar to their thoughts--perhaps even too familiar, being considered by them as reasonably and naturally interesting; and poor Meredith was disposed to think that anything natural must be more or less wicked. But still he considered them interesting, and thought he might be able to do them good, and, for his own part, found all the human comfort he was capable of in their society. Thus it was that, with mutual compassions and sympathy, he sorry for them and they for him, and mutual good offices, the three grew into friendship hour by hour.