“‘Then get a few things ready, and on Saturday we will go down to one of those little villages near Dover for a month. The sea-air will give me the strength I want, and then to work once more. Thank God the worst is past!’
“‘Harry, Harry, dear Harry!’ she sobbed, flinging her arms wildly round me, and drawing my head to her bosom. ‘Oh, speak to me—speak again! You are worse—much worse. No, no; let go, let go,’ she cried frantically, as she struggled to get away, ‘let me ring.’
“‘What for? what for, little woman?’ I said, holding her more tightly to my breast.
“‘To get help—to send for the doctor,’ she cried wildly.
“‘Hush, hush!’ I said. ‘Look at me—look in my eyes—do I seem worse?’
“‘N-no,’ she faltered, gazing at me with her poor face all drawn and haggard; ‘but—but—’
“‘Lay your head on my arm, darling, and listen,’ I said calmly. ‘There, there, I tell you calmly and sanely that I am better. I know I am better. The old weary feeling has gone; and I believe—yes, I believe that my prayer has been heard.’
“Poor little weary heart, that had been so tortured for my sake! It was long enough before I could calm her to the same belief as mine; but at last she sat there with her head resting on the pillow nearest mine, and she answered my questions about her journey to town with Hetty.
“‘A nice house?’ I said.
“‘Yes; a large pretentious place in a new square.’