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know how very much I love you!" and he
gave a deep, weary sigh.
She put her arm round him, and pressed him very closely to her heart;
and he felt as if he were a tired little baby, and that it was very nice to
have his mother's arm around him. By and by he began crying; not with
a hard, passionate feeling, but in a weak, weary way, the tears flowing
down one after another over his mother's hands.
"My dear child," said Mr. Vivyan, as the time came nearer for Arthur to
go to bed, "you don't know what it is to your mother and to me to leave
you; but we hope you will be happy by and by, for your aunt will be
very kind to you, and will love you very much. She lives in a very nice
part of the country. You may be sure, Arthur, we should be quite
certain that every one would be kind to you."
"Do you mean that I am to live with some other person?" asked Arthur
listlessly.
"Yes, with my sister; that is, your aunt."
It did not seem to matter very much to Arthur just then where he was
going, or what was to become of him. He knew his father and mother

were going away, and that he was to be left all alone, quite alone it
seemed to him, and a very desolate, forlorn feeling fell over his heart,
and seemed to make him feel numbed and heavy.
"Good night, my own dear mother," said Arthur, as he took his candle.
He was not crying, and there was almost a little wan smile on his face
as he said it, making him look very different from the bright, joyous
boy who generally threw his arms around her neck with an embrace,
which was most emphatic as well as affectionate. He did not know how
her heart was aching for him, and he knew still less of the pain his
father felt, but could not show.
As Arthur sunk on his knees that night by the side of his little bed
where the firelight was brightening and glowing, a deep sob came up
from the very depths of his heart; and when he tried to pray, all he
could say was, "O God, take care of me; for there is nobody else."
Arthur knew what it was to have put his trust in the Saviour of the
world, but hitherto everything had been so bright, and things had come
and gone so smoothly, that he had not thought much about Him. He
stayed awake a very long time, waiting to see if his mother would come
and talk to him, as she very often did when there was anything to say.
He did not know what had passed when he had left the library, that his
mother's head had sunk low, and her heart had shed the tears that he
had not seen, and that now came flowing from her eyes. And he did not
know that she was utterly unfit to speak to any one, so that when she
stopped at his door, and seemed to be going in, his father had said--
"No, Louisa, you must not; I will go and tell him that you would come,
but that you can't."
So that was how it was when Arthur heard his bedroom door open, and
looked round with an eager longing in his eye. He sunk back again on
his pillow when he saw that it was his father that was coming towards
him, and he lay there quite quietly without moving, so that Mr. Vivyan
almost thought he was asleep.
"Arthur," he said, "your mother wished me to tell you that she would

have come to see you herself, only she was not able. You know, my
dear little boy, she is quite ill with the thought of your trouble; and
won't you try and be cheerful, for I am sure you would not like to make
her ill, would you, Arthur?"
"No, father," said Arthur, in a very quiet voice, without lifting his head
or looking up.
"Good night, my child," said his father, stooping down and kissing him;
and then as he took his candle and went away from the room he said to
himself, "He is a very strange boy--very strange indeed. After all, I
don't think he takes it so very much to heart as Louisa imagines."
But he did not know. When Arthur heard his door shut, and when he
knew that no one would come in again, the storm began, and it was a
storm of passion when sorrow, and anger, and affection all raged
together.
Arthur had always been a passionate child, and now the wild