'If you will only let me thank you,' she faltered, 'I shall never forget this hour to my dying day.' 'Neither shall I,' he returned, abruptly, as he wrapped her up in his dry plaid and assisted her to rise. His manner was as kind and considerate as ever during their short drive, but Mildred felt as though his reserve were imposing some barrier on her. Consternation prevailed in the vicarage at the news of Mildred's danger. Olive, who seldom shed tears, became pale and voiceless with emotion, while Mr. Lambert pressed his sister to his heart with a whispered thanksgiving that was audible to her alone. It was good for Mildred's sore heart to feel how ardently she was beloved. A great flood of gratitude and contrition swept over her as she lay, bruised and shaken, with her hand in Arnold's, looking at the dear faces round her. 'It has come to me not in the still, small voice, but in the storm,' she thought. 'He has brought me out of the deep waters to serve Him more faithfully--to give a truer account of the life restored to me.' The clear brightness of her eyes surprised Dr. Heriot as he came up to her to take leave; they reminded him of the Mildred of old. 'You must promise to sleep to-night. Some one must be with you--Olive or Polly--you might get nervous alone,' he said, with his usual thoughtfulness; but she shook her head. 'I think I am cured of my nervousness for ever,' she returned, in a voice that was very sweet. The soft smiling eyes haunted him. Had an angel gone down and troubled the pool? What healing virtues had steeped the dark waters that her shuddering feet had pressed? Could faith, full-formed, spring from such parentage of deadly anguish and fear? Mildred could have answered in the verse she loved so well-- 'He never smiled so sweet before Save on the Sea of Sorrow, when the night Was saddest on our heart. We followed him At other times in sunshine. Summer days And moonlight nights He led us over paths Bordered with pleasant flowers; but when His steps Were on the mighty waters, when we went With trembling hearts through nights of pain and loss, His smile was sweeter, and His love more dear; And only Heaven is better than to walk With Christ at midnight over moonless seas.' CHAPTER XXVIII DR. HERIOT'S MISTAKE 'In the cruel fire of sorrow Cast thy heart, do not faint or wail; Let thy hand be firm and steady, Do not let thy spirit quail: But wait till the trial is over, And take thy heart again; For as gold is tried by fire, So a heart must be tried by pain!' Adelaide Anne Procter. Mildred slept soundly that night in spite of her bruises. It was Dr. Heriot who waked.