"Have you made any effort to see her?" "No." "Have you heard of her?" "Yes." "Have you written?" "Once." "And that once? What did you say?" "I wrote her," answered Dr. Barnhelm slowly, "that I was coming back here to live, and that if she ever needed a roof to shelter her, that she--she could come." "And in that letter," Dr. Crossett went on relentlessly, "did you say, 'You are my daughter; I love you'?" "No." "Do you want her to come back?" "No." "Martin! Think of what that means." "What else have I done for six months, but think?" "Very well." Dr. Crossett gave up in despair. "We will say no more about it. You are a sick man, mind and body; that is all that we must think of now. Do you practice?" "Yes, not much, just enough to live." "And that?" Dr. Crossett pointed to the machine on the table. "What have you done with that?" "Nothing!" "And yet you told me once that it was the thing you prayed for." "I was a fool!" Dr. Barnhelm spoke with a bitterness that until long afterwards his friend could not understand. "I thought myself something of a philosopher, and yet I did not know that there is no curse so bitter as the curse of a granted prayer. It is always so; a young man prays for fame, and when it comes he finds that it is an empty word. Another prays for money, and when his prayer is granted he finds that his happiness is gone. The woman prays for love; it comes, and she finds the bitterness of it. The mother prays for the life of her child, and the child grows up and breaks her heart." "This will not do, Martin." Paul Crossett rose and put his hands kindly but firmly on the other's shoulder. "You are worn out; you are not yourself; tell me, do you sleep?" "Not when I can help it," answered Dr. Barnhelm, with a shudder. "You will sleep now, and while you sleep I am going to sit beside you. Come! I will take you to your room; no, I will listen to no refusal. I have crossed the ocean just for this, to take care of you; the least that you can do is to obey my orders. Come!" "But there is no need for----" "Come!" CHAPTER XX MR. BARNES RETURNS "Will you have another cup, Mrs. Mooney?" "No, thank you; I will not, though better tea I never tasted. Well--if you are that set on it, I suppose I might as well." Maria poured out Mrs. Mooney's third cup, and leaving the tea-pot near at hand, left her to sit and sing the praises of the two doctors to Nellie, who from a lifelong experience had developed into a really wonderful listener. On her way down the hall Maria had to pass the open door of the Doctor's bedroom, and as she glanced in she saw that he was sleeping peacefully, and that Dr. Crossett still sat quietly beside the bed, looking down earnestly into the pale, tired face of his old friend. [Illustration: DOCTOR MORTIMER WARNS LOLA THAT TOO MUCH EXCITEMENT MAY PROVE FATAL TO HER.]