e to myself,
just now. I want to place as many guides and as many warnings before me
as possible. I hope it is not selfish to think of these things with a
reference to myself, and to tell you that I do so."

"By no means," replied Charles; "for I imagine that you feel the present
time as a kind of crisis in your character. I think you must enter the
world from a bed of pain, either better or worse than when you left it,
and you are right to make use of all the helps you can."

"Then give me," said Monteath, "some instances of benevolence promoted,
of hearts and hands opened by personal suffering. It will do me good to
hear them."

Just as Charles was beginning to speak, Mrs Monteath came into the
room, and the conversation was turned into a different channel. Charles
regretted this, but she had something quite different to ask her son
about. The greater part of the day was spent in cheerful chat, and in
reading aloud, which Mrs Monteath proposed, that Henry might not exert
himself too much in talking. In the evening the young men were again
left alone for awhile, and Monteath asked his friend to read a little to
him from the Bible. Charles did so with much satisfaction, and after he
had done, Henry tried to express to him what comfort and support their
religious exercises had afforded him on his night of suffering. Charles
rejoiced to hear him say so, but stopped him when he wished to speak of
his obligations and his gratitude. They parted for the night with as
warm feelings of interest and esteem as one day could produce, and
another confirm.

In the morning they met only for a few moments. They agreed to
correspond occasionally, and to look forward to a time, not very far
distant, when Monteath's visit to London might give them an opportunity
of meeting again. Charles then mounted the coach, and sighed when he
thought of the friends he had left behind, and of the small number who
would greet him with pleasure on his return to London.

CHAPTER FOUR.

When Charles returned to his usual employments, and mixed again with
companions who had no peculiar interest in his concerns, he could
scarcely for an instant keep his thoughts from dwelling on the home he
had left, and his anxiety to know more of Isabella became painful.

He received a letter from Jane the day after his arrival, but the
tidings were not pleasant. Isabella was in great danger: her fever ran
high, and for many hours she had been del