ide
him.

"Ever so long; waiting for you," replied Hubert.

"I was but strolling about."

"I saw you: with Lucy and the child."

They had become fast and firm friends, these two young men; and the
minister was insensibly exercising a wonderful influence over Hubert for
good. Believing--as he did believe--that Hubert's days were numbered,
that any sharp extra exertion might entail fatal consequences, he gently
strove, as opportunity offered, to lead his thoughts to the Better Land.

"What an evening it is!" rapturously exclaimed Hubert.

"Ay: so calm and peaceful."

The rays of the setting sun touched Hubert's face, lighting up its
extreme delicacy; the scent of the closing flowers filled the still air
with its sweetness; the birds were chanting their evening song of
praise. Hubert, his elbow on the arm of the bench, his hand supporting
his chin, looked out with dreamy eyes.

"What book have you there?" asked Mr. Grame, noticing one in his other
hand.

"Herbert," answered the young man, showing it. "I filched it from your
table through the open window, Grame."

The clergyman took it. It chanced to open at a passage he was very fond
of. Or perhaps he knew the place, and opened it purposely.

"Do you know these verses, Hubert? They are appropriate enough just now,
while those birds are carolling."

"I can't tell. What verses? Read them."

"Hark, how the birds do sing,
And woods do ring!
All creatures have their joy, and man hath his,
Yet, if we rightly measure,
Man's joy and pleasure
Rather hereafter than in present is.

Not that we may not here
Taste of the cheer;
But as birds drink and straight lift up the head,
So must he sip and think
Of better drink
He may attain to after he is dead."

"Ay," said Hubert, breaking the silence after a time, "it's very true, I
suppose. But this world--oh, it's worth living for. Will anything in the
next, Grame, be more beautiful than _that_?"

He was pointing to the sunset. It was marvellously and unusually
beautiful. Lovely pink and crimson clouds flecked the west; in their
midst shone a golden light of dazzling refulgence, too glorious to look
upon.

"One might fancy it the portals of heaven," said the clergyman; "the
golden gate of entrance, leading to the pearly gates within, and to the
glittering walls of precious stones."

"And--why! it seems to take the form