"Nay, Arthur, you have wandered a few hours from the fold, and your sight is darkened; but the Great Shepherd calls to you with His gentle voice to return. Listen, and obey." "I should only fall again." "Trust, and you shall be strengthened." "Oh, Guly, I have not your mind nor heart. I cannot be patient, and meek, and charitable, through all things, as you can; I have so much pride that I _cannot_ calmly bear reproof, and here I am fretted, and crushed, and ridiculed into sin all the time, and am too weak to make resistance." "Try, and remember in your heart _how_ we are here. Bear in your mind that we no longer have the wealth or influence that we once had; and that if we ever are to have them again, depends upon the way we acquit ourselves here. Learn to bear and forbear; and in the end, Arthur, you will come out so brightly, with your pride perhaps subdued, but not conquered, and we shall once more be happy." Arthur sighed. "And oh, Arthur! oh, my brother! think, we two are all to each other here. We have nought to lean upon save each other's love and _Him_. Dear Arthur, if you should--if one of us should be led into temptation, and should fall, and should go down into the pit of sin, what a blank would be the existence of the other! Oh! let us pray that our hearts may be bound together, and that no shadow may be allowed to fall upon or divide us." "Oh, Guly, Guly!" Arthur started up, and throwing his arms about his brother's form, as he crept up closer to his side, drew the bright head down upon his bosom, and held it there, rocking backwards and forwards where he sat. "Pray God, indeed!" he murmured, earnestly, lifting his swimming eyes to Heaven, "that I may sin no more. That I may ever keep bright the links of this dear love, which is to us as the thread of life; and oh! may He whose ways are the ways of righteousness, take us by the hand, like little children, and guide our steps aright." "Amen! Amen!" CHAPTER X. _The Merchant at Home._ It was late when Della awoke, and Minny lay with her cheek on her hand, just fallen into her first sleep. "Minny! Minny!" "Bernard!" murmured the girl, in her half-disturbed sleep. "Minny, I say!" "Yes, Miss." "Bring me my watch, Min, and show me the hour. Didn't I hear you say 'Bernard,' just now, in your sleep? You haven't any Bernard; that's for me to say." "No, Miss, I haven't any Bernard." "Well, then, you shouldn't talk so in your sleep." "True enough." "Well, no matter, Minny; it wasn't my Bernard you mean't, I am quite sure. May be you were talking about those priests on that great snowy mountain, somewhere in the world, which you made me so sleepy reading about the other evening?" "The Monks of St. Bernard, Miss." "Yes; how droll!" "Will you get up, Miss Della?" "Yes; how late, Min? I forgot to look, after all." "A quarter past nine." "Papa must have gone." "He never goes down street before seeing you."