No one spoke when Mildred had finished, and she lay with closed eyes, while aunt Madison stood as if struck dumb, gazing incredulously from one to the other. She had learned that they were old friends, that he had saved her life; perhaps she had suspected more, but this sudden announcement paralyzed her for a moment. Mr. Everett half rose again from his couch and leaned toward Mildred as if to speak, but the words died on his lips, and he sank back exhausted and lay motionless. Aunt Madison softly left the room, but soon returned, and kneeling by Mildred’s side they whispered together. What was said I never knew, but I was certain that Mildred’s thought was for Ralph’s inheritance. An hour later, another physician, who had been telegraphed for the previous day, arrived. He stepped softly into the room, and for a long time gazed intently at Mildred as she lay asleep, and then he slipped out, and I heard faint murmurings of voices in the room below as the two physicians held a consultation. “Oh, Mildred, my more than sister,” I inwardly groaned; “must I lie here helpless and see your precious life going from us? Were you snatched from the jaws of death but to fall back again a helpless victim? If this must be, oh that we had died together before rescue came!” I had given my whole heart to this girl. I had loved her with a love which made all other friendships of my life seem as nothing. In loving her I felt that I had first learned what love meant, and my little, petty life had been made deeper, broader, and full of hitherto undreamed-of possibilities. The hours wore away, the hours of Mildred’s wedding-day. “Send Jim for Mr. Lightfoot,” Mr. Everett had said to Will. “He will know where to find him. He is the only regular clergyman within fifty miles.” He had been sent for post-haste, and that evening, just as the sun was sinking in the west and lighting up in gorgeous splendor the little attic where we lay, a tall, gray-haired man in a rusty, black frock-coat, and with prayer-book in hand, climbed softly up the creaking stairs and paused in the doorway, glancing in a tender, fatherly way at the two pale faces which looked up to greet his coming. The windows were opened, and the blue paper curtains had disappeared to be replaced by white muslin ones. A dozen pitchers were placed around the room containing the brilliant wild flowers of the neighborhood that had been sent in by Jim and his friends. A wreath of golden-rod and purple asters at Jim’s desire was laid upon the white counterpane at Mildred’s feet. For the news that there was for some strange reason to be a marriage had spread like wildfire, and many a rough, sunburned man had tapped softly at the door of the little shop to ask what it meant, and beg Alice, who stood on guard, to be allowed to come up and stand, if only in the doorway, and see the “boss” married.