“Stay, Adah, Lily, don’t say you should hate me;” and the doctor’s voice was so full of anguish that Adah involuntarily advanced toward him, standing quite near, while he begged of her to say if the past could not be forgotten. His family were anxious to receive her. Sweet Anna Millbrook already loved her as a sister, while he, her husband, words could not tell his love for her. He would do whatever she required; go back to the Federal army if she said so; seek for the pardon he was sure to gain; fight for his country like a hero, periling life and limb, if she would only give him the shadow of a hope. “I must have time to think. I cannot decide alone,” Adah answered, while the doctor clutched her dress, half shrieking with terror, “You surely will not consult Major Stanley?” “No,” and Adah spoke reverently, “there’s a mightier friend than he. One who has never failed me in my need. He will tell me what to do.” The doctor knew now what she meant, and with a moan he laid his head again upon the hay, wishing, so much that the lessons taught him when in that little attic chamber, years ago, he knelt by Adah’s side, and said with her, “Our Father,” had not been all forgotten. When he lifted up his face again, Adah was gone, but he knew she would return, and waited patiently while just outside the door, with her fair face buried in the sweet Virginia grass, and the warm summer sunshine falling softly upon her, poor half-crazed Adah fought and won the fiercest battle _she_ had ever known, coming off conqueror over self, and feeling sure that God had heard her earnest cry for help, and told her what to do. There was no wavering now; her step was firm; her voice steady, as she went back to the doctor’s side, and bending over him, said, “I will nurse you, till you are well; then you must go back whence you came, confess your fault, rejoin your regiment, and by your faithfulness wipe out the stain of desertion. Then, when the war is over, or you are honorably discharged, I will—be your wife. I may not love you at first as once I did, but I shall try, and He, who counsels me to tell you this will help me, I am sure.” It was almost pitiful now to see the doctor, as he crouched at Adah’s feet, kissing her hands and blessing her ‘mid his tears. “He would be worthy of her, and they should yet be so happy.”