“There is one comfort which we may always make our own, when parting from those whom we love,” said the clergyman, struggling to keep down his emotions; “all pilgrims travelling the same road come to the same rest at last; though circumstances and distance may divide them here, they may look forward in sure hope to a meeting in heaven.” And he was really gone!—the friend whom Ernest had loved, the guide whom he had followed, the stay upon which he had leaned—all was like a painful, bewildering dream. Again the young peer hastened to his chamber, threw himself on his bed, and vainly sought for the relief of tears. He was roused by feeling an arm thrown round his neck, and looking up, saw Charles, whose flushed face and reddened eyes bore evident traces of weeping. “Leave me, Charley,” he cried; “the sight of your sorrow only makes mine harder to bear. We can never, never bring back the past. We can never recall the friend whom we have lost. I feel almost in despair.” Charles uttered no reply. Perhaps he could hardly have trusted his voice to make one; but he laid his open Bible on the pillow before Ernest, and silently pointed to the words in Jeremiah: “_Return, ye backsliding children, and I will heal your backslidings. Behold, we come unto Thee, for Thou art the Lord our God._” “Oh, Charley!” said Ernest, with emotion, “this is the second time that you have opened the door of hope to your brother!” “When did I ever do so before?” “When a poor desolate boy stood beneath a yew-tree, and watched crowds going into the church which he was almost afraid to enter. You came to him then, and said a few simple words, which roused and encouraged at that time; and often since, when I have felt low and fearful, I have repeated those words to myself, ‘You must not stay outside.’ I have thought of these words as applying to the gate of mercy open to all. Oh, Charley! what a good, what a generous brother you have been to me! Many in your place would have hated and despised me, taunted me with my ignorance and with my early life; but you, even at a time when I have done you great wrong, when I have deprived you of your friend, even led you into sin, you come to comfort and to cheer me;—ever faithful, ever hopeful, ever dear!” CHAPTER XXIV. A NEW DANGER. “Beware of the flatterer. As is the saying of the wise man, so we have found it this day, ‘A man that flattereth his neighbour, spreadeth a net for his feet’ (Prov. xxix. 5).”—_Pilgrim’s Progress._ It was some time before Ernest could regain his usual cheerfulness; constant occupation was what, perhaps, had the most effect in restoring it. Not only did he turn with ardour to his studies, bending all the powers of a most intelligent mind to master the difficulties of learning, but he was never idle in his hours of leisure; and so well employed his time, that Charles once observed, with a smile, that the sands in his hour-glass were all of gold!