"The inward injury to the head is now pronounced by the doctors to be a fatal one. They told the family last night there was little, if any, more hope. The boy knows it, and seems quite reconciled." The dean, without another word or question, turned immediately off to Mr. Arkell's, and Westerbury as immediately turned its aristocratic nose up. "The idea of his condescending to enter the house of those poor Arkells! had it been the other branch of the Arkell family, it would not have been quite so lowering. But Dr. Beauclerc never did display the dignity properly pertaining to a dean." Dr. Beauclerc, forgetful as usual of a dean's dignity, was shown into Mrs. Arkell's parlour, and from thence into Henry Arkell's chamber. The boy's ever lovely face flushed crimson, from its white pillow, when he saw the dean. "Oh, sir! you to come here! how kind!" "I am sorry for this, my poor lad," said the dean, as he sat down. "I hear you are not so well: I have just met Mr. St. John." "I shall never be well again, sir. But do not be sorry. I shall be better off; far, far happier than I could be here." "Do you feel this, genuinely, heartily?" questioned the dean. "Oh yes, how can I do otherwise than feel it? If it is God's will to take me, I know it must be for my good." "Say that again," said the dean. "I do not know that I fully caught your meaning." "I am in God's hands: and if He takes me to Him earlier than I thought to have gone, I know it must be for the best." "How long have you reposed so firm a trust in God?" "All my life," answered Henry, with simplicity: "mamma taught me that with my letters. She taught me to take God for my guide; to strive to please Him; implicitly to trust in Him." "And you have done this?" "Oh no, sir, I have only tried to do it. But I know that there is One to intercede for me." "Have you sure and certain trust in Christ?" returned the dean, after a pause. "I have sure and certain trust in Him," was the boy's reply, spoken fervently: "if I had not, I should not dare to die. I wish I might have received the Sacrament," he whispered; "but I have not been confirmed." "Henry," said the dean, in his quick manner, "I do believe you are more fitted for it than are some who take it. Would it be a comfort to you?" "It would indeed, sir." "Then I will come and administer it. At seven to-night, if that hour will suit your friends. I will ascertain when I go down." "Oh, sir, you are too good," he exclaimed, in his surprise: "mamma thought of asking Mr. Prattleton. I am but a poor college boy, and you are the Dean of Westerbury."