A preliminary course of treatment was ordered, and the Lenten season was nearly over when the eye was declared ready for the knife. The day was appointed, and the patient's own room was selected as the place. The night before, the doctor came in all worn and tired out from a hurried call to a neighboring city hospital. Doris knew his step and met him at the door.
"Come with me, Doris, into the library," he said.
Nervous with undefined apprehension, she followed him.
"Can you bear good news?" he asked, bending upon her eyes which held for her the light of loving sympathy. "Will you be as brave as you have been all these years? I was called away yesterday——"
"Ralph!" she gasped, catching his arm in the excitement of hope.
"Yes—Ralph," he said, placing his arm about her; "he is cleared at last. The man I was called to see was James Green, Ralph's fellow-clerk. He was run down by a heavy furniture van and badly crushed. I could not save him, but he knew me, and gave me this paper, which is a confession of his guilt. It completely exonerates your brother."
"Thank God!" she fervently exclaimed, clasping the paper to her heart.
"Shall we tell Mrs. Haydn?" he asked, still gravely supporting her.
"By all means," was her happy answer through shining tears; "now—this moment," leading him away. "Joy does not kill."