"Nearer, my God, to Thee; nearer to Thee."
It was almost a whisper, but it soon had a visible effect on Hugh, and in half an hour the doctor's curt words, "You may go now," were more welcome than the sweetest praise.
As the fever ran its course, Dexie was frequently called to Hugh's bedside. How she dreaded those visits, yet stern duty forbade her to refuse, as her heart often prompted.
Dexie soon saw that she was not in the doctor's good graces, for as Hugh revealed the past, in broken and disjointed sentences, it gave him the impression that she had been trifling with Hugh's affections, and she resented the tone he assumed when speaking to her. However, as the days passed, and the doctor learned the real truth of the matter, he began to look at Dexie with less disfavor; but the inquisitive manner with which he now regarded her was not less objectionable.
"You will marry him yet," the doctor said one night as he watched his patient through his wildest hours.
Dexie, who was sitting near the window, turned in surprise at the unlooked-for remark.
"Yes, my word for it, Miss Sherwood, you will marry him yet, after all the fuss you have made over your refusal."
"Never!" The reply was low, but intense. "I know my own mind, I guess! I would not stay in the same room with him, though he is unconscious of my presence, only Mrs. Gurney imagines he is less restless when I am near, and she is anxious about his recovery."
"Oh! you need not tell me! I have heard of such cases before now. I have seen your eyes full of pity as you have watched beside him with Mrs. Gurney."
"Perhaps so; but not with the 'pity that is akin to love,' by any means," and as Mrs. Gurney returned to the room, she bowed a stiff good-night to the doctor and went home.