better wait until the morning before deciding whether the others should
be sent for. I moved my things in, and had supper with the priests, who
were very kind to me. They talked much about Hugh, of his gaiety and
humour; and I saw that he had given his best to these friends of his,
and lived with them in brotherly simplicity.

I did not then think he was going to die, and I certainly expected no
sudden change. I ought, no doubt, to have realised that the doctors had
done their best to prepare me for his death; but the mind has an
instinctive way of holding out the shield of hope against such fears.

I was told at this time that he was to be left quiet, so I merely
slipped in at ten o'clock. Hugh was drowsy and resting quietly; he just
gave me a nod and a smile.

The one thing which made me anxious, on thinking over our interviews in
the course of the day was this--that he seemed to have a preoccupation
in his mind, though he had spoken cheerfully enough about various
matters. It did not seem either a fear or an anxiety. It was rather that
he knew that he might die, I now believe, and that he desired to live,
and was thinking about all the things he had to do and wished to do, and
that his trains of thought continually ended in the thought--"Perhaps I
may not live to do them." He wished too, I thought, to reassure himself,
and was pleased at feeling better, and at seeing that I thought him
better than I had expected. He was a sensitive patient, the doctor said,
and often suggested means of keeping up his strength. But he showed no
fear at any time, though he seemed like one who was facing a foe; like a
soldier in the trenches with an enemy opposite him whom he could not
quite discern.