"Pooh!" said Daubeny, trying to rally him. "Listen to him, Walter; who'd think that Flip was talking? Teased me, Flip?" he continued, as Henderson still sobbed at intervals, "not you! I always enjoyed your chaff, and I knew that you liked me at heart. You've all been very kind to me. Walter, I'm so glad I got to know you before I--. It's so pleasant to see you here. Give me your hand; no, Flip, let me keep yours too; it's getting dark. I like to have you here. I feel so happy. I wish Power and Ken would come too, that I might see all my friends." "Good-night, Daubeny; I can't stay, I mustn't stay," said Henderson; and, pressing his friend's hand, he hurried out of the room to indulge in a burst of grief which he could not contain; for, under his trifling and nonsensical manner, Henderson had a very warm and susceptible and feeling heart, and though he had always made Daubeny a subject of ridicule, he never did it with a particle of ill-nature, and felt for him--dissimilar as their characters were--a most fervent and deep regard. "Look after him when I am gone, Walter," said Daubeny sadly, when he had left the room. "He is a dear good fellow, but so easily led. Poor Flip; he's immensely changed for the better since you came, Walter." "I have been very fond of him all along," said Walter; "he is so full of laughter and fun, and he's very good with it all. But, Dubbs, you are too desponding; we shall have you here yet for many pleasant days." "I don't know; perhaps so, if God wills. I am very young. I should like to stay a little longer in the sunshine. Walter, I should like to stay with _you_. I love you more, I think, than any one except Power," and as he spoke, a quiet tear rolled slowly down Daubeny's face. Walter only pressed his hand. "You can't think how I pitied you, Walter, in that accident about Paton's manuscript. When all the fellows were cutting you, and abusing you, my heart used to bleed for you; you used to go about looking so miserable, so much as if all your chances of life were over. I'm afraid I did very little for you then, but I _would_ have done anything. I felt as if I could have given you my right-hand." "But, Dubbs, you were the first who spoke to me after that happened, the first who wasn't ashamed to walk with me. You can't think how grateful I felt to you for it; it rolled a cold weight from me. It was like stretching a saving hand to one who was drowning; for every one knew how good a fellow _you_ were, and your countenance was worth everything to me just then." "You really felt so?" said Daubeny, brightening up, while a faint flush rested for a moment on his pale face; "O Walter, it makes me happy to hear you say so." There was a silence, and, with Walter's hand still in his, he fell into a sweet sleep, with a smile upon his face. When he was quite asleep, Walter gently removed his hand, smoothed his pillow, looked affectionately at him for a moment, and stole silently from the room.