But lately Phil had learnt something of his Saviour's love, and with the dawn of morning a wondrous calm fell upon his troubled mind. It was no punishment after all, perhaps. It might be that God had sent this hard and bitter trial to prove him. Then, God helping him, he would stand the test and "suffer and be strong." Again he seemed to hear the sweet, low words:
"'Nevertheless not my will, but Thine, be done.'"
It must have been an angel's voice, Phil thought, for there was no Miss Crawford there to whisper lovingly to him. So, with a peaceful smile upon his face, he fell asleep, and the first beam of the rising sun, stealing across his pillow, made a halo of glory about his head.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
MILLIE'S REAL FAIRY.
IT was not until the middle of October that Phil was considered sufficiently well to leave the hospital. In consequence of Miss Crawford's kindness, without which the plan would have been impracticable, it was arranged he should go straight to—Where do you think? Why, to dear old Chormouth.
Knowing the benefit that Phil would probably derive from sea air, and being well aware that it was the place above all others that he would prefer to visit, Miss Crawford had asked Richard Hunt to allow his nephew and niece to spend a month in their native village; and that there might be no hesitation because of the expense that such an arrangement would necessitate, she had expressed her willingness to pay more than half the expenses if Mr. Hunt would advance the remainder.
To Millie's openly expressed joy, he gladly consented.