The youths found that they still had tastes in common, although Arthur had neither time nor strength to follow them. Richard spoke of some book he had been reading. Arthur was but mildly interested, but Alice so much so that Richard offered to lend it to her—it was the first time she had heard a book spoken of in such a tone of veneration.

The mother did not join in their talk, and left them soon—her daughter said—to go to church.

“She always goes by herself,” Alice added. “She sees we are too tired to go.”

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 deprivation, only of lack 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 like a paradise.”

“Why don’t you take up the trade, then? Come to us and I will teach you. I don’t think my father would object.”

“I learn nothing where I am,” continued Arthur.

“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, Arthur?” asked his sister.

“Till death sets me free,” he answered.

“You wouldn’t leave me behind, Arthur!” said Alice, rising and putting her arm round his neck.

“Not 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 to think of.”

“Yes,” responded Arthur, without emotion.

“And how should I get on without you, Arthur?” said his sister.

“Not very well, Alice. But it wouldn’t be for long. We should soon meet.”

“Who told you that?” asked Richard.

“Don’t you think we shall know each other afterward?” 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 yours. I only wish I had a sister to care for.”

A faint flush rose on the pale face of the girl, and just as swiftly faded.

“Then do you think this life is only a dream?” said Alice, looking up at Richard with something in her great eyes that he did not understand.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “But I would put up with a good deal before running the risk of going to sleep before my time so as to stop dreaming it.”

“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 really say you believe there will be no more of anything for us after this world! I should be miserable if I thought that!”