By her father's desire, Mattie went to Lindenholm, and remained there, so as to be a comfort to the widow. Mattie never forgot those days, the breathless suspense, the fear, the earnestness with which the unhappy mother would follow her about from room to room, saying always the same thing: "Never mind talking to me, Mattie; pray for my son." There came a day when the doctor said he feared no human means could save him--when the white-haired mother flung herself on her knees, crying loudly to Heaven to spare her son. She had preached, in her stern, cold way of resignation, to others, but in this, the hour of her terrible trial, she forgot all; she besieged Heaven, as it were, for her son. Even Mattie shrank from those wild words. "Let me suffer, my God!" she cried; "send me torture and death, but spare him! let me suffer, let him live! I would give my body to be burned, my heart to be riven--but spare my only son!" Faint with the fervor of her own words, she fell on her face, and there lay till Mattie touched her gently. "He is asleep," she said; "Earle has fallen into a deep sleep, and the doctor says he has taken a turn for the better." She could not thank God, for her rapture of gratitude found no words. Who is it that says that "a prayer granted is sometimes a curse?" The time was coming when those who loved him best said it was the greatest pity that he had not died in this illness; he would then have died with his mother's hope of heaven infolding him. * * * * * Earle grew better so slowly that the improvement could hardly be seen, and during the whole of his convalescence, his mind was busy upon the subject. He would go in search of Doris; nothing should keep him from that; neither remonstrance nor tears. The idea grew with his strength, until it became part of his life. He had some little money--money that he had saved for his marriage; he would spend it in searching for her. One day, when the doctor came, he raised his wistful eyes to the kindly face. "How soon shall I be able to travel?" he asked. "Not for six weeks," was the reply, "and not even then unless you are careful." Careful he resolved to be, and his mother wondered at his sudden submission and attention to the doctor's orders; but much that was wonderful had to happen before those six weeks were ended. There had been great anxiety at the farm; one reason of it was, that very soon after Doris went, the money came as usual, and Mark Brace was deeply puzzled to know what to do with it. He would have returned it, but he did not know where to return it to. He took long and wise counsel with his wife, but Mrs. Brace saw no way out of the difficulty. "If we could but write to the person who sent it, and tell her what Doris has done, it would be some comfort," she said; "but we cannot do that even." It was settled at last, that the money should be placed in the bank, to await the return of Doris.