"Yes; don't you see he says that he will, some day. Meanwhile, we will do our best."
"You will never leave me, Raymond?"
"Never, if I can help it," he said, laying his long thin fingers on her hair.
"Poor father! Raymond, I did want to see him so much."
"So did I."
They did not speak much more. For some time they only sat holding each other's hands, and thinking mournfully of the future. Everything seemed very dark and gloomy that evening, both within and without. A heavy rain was falling, and the sight of wet roofs and chimney-pots gleaming in the twilight is never very enlivening. Raymond at last gave a long, deep sigh, at the sound of which Madge started up.
"That won't do, Raymond. I'm forgetting my duty as nurse, and it is very bad for a patient to get vapourish! Oh, here's Mr. Smith!"
He came in, in his own pleasant, friendly way, but his quick eye soon discovered that something was wrong, for Madge's quiet little face was troubled, and Raymond looked tired and moody.
Mr. Smith sat down, and began in a lively tone,—"Well, Raymond, my boy, how have things gone to-day? are you any stronger?"
"Not much, sir," he answered mournfully.