Once more the pang of separation entered like iron into his soul. Should
he ever meet Russell again? What if _he_ had died instead of Edwin,
where would he have been? "Oh, no! no!" he murmured aloud, as the
terrible thought came over him of his own utter unfitness for death, and
the possibility that he might never, never again hear the beloved
accents, or gaze on the cherished countenance of his school friend.
In this tumult of accusing thoughts he fell asleep; but that night the
dew of blessing did not fall for him on the fields of sleep. He was
frightened by unbidden dreams, in all of which his conscience obtruded
on him his sinfulness, and his affection called up the haunting
lineaments of the dear dead face. He was wandering down a path, at the
end of which Russell stood with open arms inviting him earnestly to join
him there; he saw his bright ingenuous smile, and heard, as of old, his
joyous words, and he hastened to meet him; when suddenly the boy-figure
disappeared, and in its place he saw the stern brow, and gleaming
garments, and drawn flaming sword of the Avenger.
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