Basil sank down in the bed, exhausted by emotion, and it was long before he resumed his story. During the silence, Joshua thought of Ellen, and was happy. Such love as Basil Kindred had spoken of, Ellen had given to him. "But she will not have to sacrifice herself for me," he thought; "hers and mine will be a happier lot, I hope." Yet Basil's life was grand and noble. "Like a great storm at sea," thought Joshua, "and two small boats, lashed together, contending against it vainly." His thoughts were interrupted by Basil's voice.) I need not describe her. Minnie is like her; but she was more beautiful even than Minnie. I went to the aunt's house, and was a frequent visitor there. Alice and I loved each other from the first. How I won her pure heart, I do not know. I will not say I was unworthy of her; for I was animated by a true ambition, and I was earnest and conscientious in all I did. I did not deceive her; I told her exactly what I was, what I had suffered, and what I hoped to gain. She paid no heed to worldly matters; she loved me, and that was enough. She sympathized with me in my ambition, and said it was a noble one. Her words were like wine to me; they strengthened and encouraged me. During the last week of our contemplated stay in the town I was stricken down by rheumatic fever, and was confined to my bed for nearly two months. The other members of the dramatic company waited for me for a few days, hoping I would get well; but I grew worse, and they were too poor to remain idle; so they left without me, and I was alone in the place. I was delirious for a long time, and knew no one about me. How well I remember the day when consciousness returned! I opened my eyes, wondering where I was, and what had occurred yesterday to cause me to feel so deliciously weak; but I could not understand it, and I lay contented and happy, as if newly born into a world of peace and blissful repose. But as I lay--it might have been for a few moments or a few hours--a soft murmur of voices fell on my ear. I did not turn immediately in the direction of the sound; I was content to lie and listen to the murmur, and had no desire to analyze it--it so harmonized with my condition--there was such a sense of luxurious ease in it: it was like the soft lapping of the sea upon a shore of velvet sand! But with returning consciousness, my mind was gradually aroused into activity; and in the whispering of voices, a familiar note, sweeter and more musical than the rest, came to me. Lazily I turned my head, and saw my darling Alice. Our eyes met, and it was like a flash of light. I understood in that instant that she had been my ministering angel during my sickness. A look of pity and love was in her eyes as I turned to her, and she glided to my side and took my hand in hers. "Alice darling!" I whispered. My voice was tremulous as a blade of grass in the summer air. "Dear Basil!" she said in reply.