They sat a long time with no light but that of the fire. Arthur seemed to gather courage, and confessed the hopeless monotony of his life. He complained of no privation, only of want of interest in his work. “Do _you_ like your work?” he asked Richard. “Indeed I do!” Richard answered. “I would sooner handle an old book than a bunch of bank-notes!” “I don't doubt it,” returned Arthur. “To me your workshop seems a paradise.” “Why don't you take up the trade, then? Come to us and I will teach you. I do not think my father would object.” “I learn nothing where I am!” continued Arthur. “Our boat is not over-manned,” resumed Richard. “Say you will come, and I will speak to my father.” “I wish I could! But how are we to live while I am learning?--No; I must grind away till--” He stopped short, and gave a sigh. “Till when, Arty?” asked his sister. “Till death set me free,” he answered. “You wouldn't leave me behind, Arty!” said Alice; and rising, she put her arm round his neck. “I wouldn't if I could help it,” he replied. “It's a cowardly thing to want to die,” said Richard. “I think so sometimes.” “There's your mother!” “Yes,” responded Arthur, but without emotion. “And how should I get on without you, Arty?” said his sister. “Not very well, Ally. But it wouldn't be for long. We should soon meet.” “Who told you that?” said Richard almost rudely. “Don't you think we shall know each other afterwards?” asked Arthur, with an expression of weary rather than sad surprise. “I would be a little surer of it before I talked so coolly of leaving a sister like that! I only wish _I_ had one to care for!” A faint flush rose on the pale face of the girl, and as swiftly faded. “Do you think, then, that this life is only a dream?” she said, looking up at Richard with something in her great eyes that he did not understand. “Anyhow,” he answered, “I would bear a good deal rather than run the risk of going so fast asleep as to stop dreaming it. A man can die any time,” he continued, “but he can't dream when he pleases! I would wait! One can't tell when things may take a turn! There are many chances on the cards!” “That's true,” replied Arthur; but plainly the very chances were a weariness to him. “If Arthur had enough to eat, and time to read, and a little amusement, he would be as brave as you are, Mr. Tuke!” said Alice. “--But you can't mean to say there will be no more of anything for us after this world! To think I should never see Arty again, would make me die before my time! I should be so miserable I would hardly care to keep him as long as I might. We must die some day, and what odds whether it be a few days sooner, or a few days later, if we're never going to meet again?” “The best way is not to think about it,” returned Richard. “Why should you? Look at the butterflies! They take what comes, and don't grumble at their sunshine because there's only one day of it.” “But when there's no sunshine that day?” suggested Alice.