"I'll live--never fear," I replied, with a low laugh. "I'm not such a fool as to leave a world containing you." A rich glow overspread her face, she smiled, then suddenly her face became very pale, and she even seemed frightened as she hastily left the room. A moment later Mrs. Yocomb came in, full of motherly solicitude. "Kind Mrs. Yocomb," I murmured, "I am glad I'm in such good hands." "Thank God, Richard Morton," she said, in low, fervent tones, "thee's going to get well. But don't speak a word." "Wasn't that Zillah crying?" "Yes, she was heart-broken about thee being so sick, but she'll laugh now when I tell her thee's better. Take this, and sleep again." "Bless her kind heart!" I said. Mrs. Yocomb laid her finger on my lips. I saw her pour out something, which I swallowed unquestioningly, and after a moment sank into a quiet sleep. CHAPTER IV IN THE DARK "Yes, Mrs. Yocomb, good nursing and nourishment are all that he now requires," were the reassuring words that greeted my waking later in the evening. I opened my eyes, and found that a physician was feeling my pulse. I turned feebly toward my kind hostess, and smilingly whispered: "There's no fear of my wanting these where you are, Mrs. Yocomb; but don't let me make trouble. I fear I've made too much already." "The only way thee can make trouble, Richard, is to worry about making trouble. The more we can do for thee the better we shall be pleased. All thee's got to do is to get well and take thy time about it." "That's just like you. How long have I been ill?" "That's none of thy business at present. One thing at a time. The doctor has put thee in my hands, and I'm going to make thee mind." "I've heard that men were perfect bears when getting well," I said. "Thee can be a bear if thee feels like it, but not another word to-night--not another syllable; am I not right, doctor?" "Yes, I prescribe absolute quiet of mind and body; that and good living will bring you around in time. You've had a narrow graze of it, but if you will mind Mrs. Yocomb you will yet die of old age. Good-night." My nurse gave me what she thought I needed, and darkened the room. But it was not so dark but that I saw a beautiful face in the doorway. "Miss Warren," I exclaimed. "It was Adah," said Mrs. Yocomb quietly; "she's been very anxious about thee." "You are all so kind. Please thank her for me," I replied eagerly. "Mother, may I speak to Richard Morton?" asked a timid voice from the obscurity of the hallway. "Not to-night, Adah--to-morrow." "Forgive me if I disobey you this once," I interrupted hastily. "Yes, Miss Adah, I want to thank you." She came instantly to my side, and I held out my hand to her. I wondered why hers throbbed and trembled so strangely. "It's I who should thank thee: I can never thank thee enough. Oh, I feared I might--I might never have a chance." "There, Adah, thee mustn't say another word; Richard's too weak yet."