Perhaps it was as well that she did not see David's expression that moment; as he lay back upon his pillows his face was deathly. Why did they ask this of him? He was just growing more resigned and peaceful. Those agonised prayers of his for aid and succour had been answered, and the deep blessedness of an accepted cross seemed to fill his soul with a strange calm. He must die, and he knew it; but his Heavenly Father had been merciful to him, and death had lost its terrors; and now his longing was to die in the village he had chosen as his home, and under the shadow of the church where he had ministered as God's priest. He knew where they would lay him: he and Elizabeth had chosen his last resting-place, and she had listened dry-eyed to his simple directions and wishes. He had talked out his heart to her, and her unselfish sympathy had been his greatest comfort. But now she was asking this sacrifice of him, and how was he to refuse her? And yet, if Elizabeth had guessed how the thought of that exile filled him with dismay and desolation, she would surely have denied her own craving for a few more weeks of life. But David knew better than to tell her. Presently the hot hand was laid on her head. "Elizabeth, let me see your dear face. You and my father shall have your way, darling; I will go to Ventnor." David's breathing was so laboured that he was obliged to stop here; but Elizabeth, with a cry of joy, threw her arms round him. "Oh, David dear, thank you--thank you! You have made me so happy!" and the smile he loved so well beamed through her tears. But David's answering smile was rather forced. "There is little cause for thankfulness," he replied wearily--"a poor helpless invalid who will only give you trouble! But there is one thing you must promise, dearest." And, as she looked at him expectantly, he whispered, "You must promise to bring me back here." Then Elizabeth bowed her head in silence, for she knew too well what he meant. CHAPTER XXXVI "I HAVE BEEN A COWARD" Father! we need Thy winter as Thy spring; We need Thy earthquakes as Thy summer showers; But through them all Thy strong arms carry us, Thy strong heart bearing large share in our grief. Because Thou lovest goodness more than joy In them Thou lovest, Thou dost let them grieve. --George MacDonald.