Guy could not resist that touching appeal, “to pray for his little Lucy,” and though his lips were all unused to prayer, bowing his head upon his hands he did ask that she might live, beseeching the Father to send upon him any calamity save this one—Lucy must be spared. Guy felt better for having prayed, it was something to tell Lucy, something that would please her well, and though his heart yet was very sad, a part of the load was lifted, and he could think of Lucy now without the bitter pain her letter first had cost him. Was there nothing that would save her, nobody who could cure her? Her disease was not hereditary; surely it might be made to yield; had English physicians no skill, would not an American do better? It was possible, and if that mother of Lucy’s would let her come where doctors knew something, she might get well; but she wouldn’t; she was determined that no husband should be burdened with an ailing wife, and so if the mountain would not come to Mahomet, why, Mahomet must go to the mountain, and Guy fairly leaped from his chair as he exclaimed: “I have it—Doc!—he’s the most skillful man I ever knew; I’ll send him to England; send him to the Atherstones; he shall go to Naples with them as their family physician; he can cure Lucy; I’ll speak to him the very next time he comes here;” and with another burden lifted from his mind, Guy began to wonder where Maddy was, and why that day had been so long. He knew she had returned, for Flora had said she brought the letter, and he was about going out, in hopes of finding her and Jessie, when he heard her in the hall, as she answered some question of Mrs. Noah’s; stepping to the door, he asked her to come in, saying he would, if she chose, appoint the lessons talked about so long. Ordinarily, Maddy’s eyes would have flashed with delight, for she had anticipated so much from these lessons; now, however, there was a sad look upon her face and she could scarcely keep from crying as she came at Guy’s bidding, and sat upon the sofa, near to his armchair. Somehow it rested Guy to look at Maddy Clyde, who, having recovered from her illness, seemed the very embodiment of perfect health, a health which glowed and sparkled all over her bright face; showing itself as well in the luxuriance of her glossy hair as in the brilliancy of her complexion, and the flash of her lustrous eyes. How Guy wished that Lucy could share in what seemed almost superfluity of health; and why shouldn’t she? Dr. Holbrook had cured Maddy; Dr. Holbrook could cure Lucy; and so for the present dismissing that from his mind, he turned to Maddy, and said the time had come when he could give those promised lessons, asking if she would commence to-morrow, after she was through with Jessie, and what she would prefer to take up first? “Oh, Mr. Remington,” and Maddy began to cry: “I am afraid I cannot stay they need me at home, or maybe Grandpa said so and I don’t want to go, though I know it’s wicked not to; oh, dear, dear!”