Rowena never left off praying that her life might be spared. On Christmas Day she lay very weak, but perfectly conscious.
"What a Christmas you are having, poor child!" she murmured, looking up into Rowena's face with a flicker of a smile. "Have my sister's young people arrived?"
"No," said Rowena; "I put them off. The doctor said I had better do so."
"That's a pity; but it would be dull for them. Does the doctor think I'm on the mend?"
"Oh, yes—decidedly."
"It's going to be a long business, eh?"
"I am afraid so."
"How is the General? I thought of him when I was in the river. I made sure my summons had come. 'Soul, this night—' You know how it goes on. But it didn't come."
"No," said Rowena softly; "God wanted you here."
"I shall be no good to anyone. I wonder why I was given a fresh lease of life?"