Coming close to Arthur, he said, "My friend Arthur, you have had
a sore trial, but after, when you look back, you will see how it
was necessary. You are now in the bitter waters, my child. By this
time tomorrow you will, please God, have passed them, and have
drunk of the sweet waters. So do not mourn over-much. Till then I
shall not ask you to forgive me."
Arthur and Quincey came home with me, and we tried to cheer each
other on the way. We had left behind the child in safety, and were
tired. So we all slept with more or less reality of sleep.
29 September, night.—A little before twelve o'clock we three,
Arthur, Quincey Morris, and myself, called for the Professor. It
was odd to notice that by common consent we had all put on black
clothes. Of course, Arthur wore black, for he
