When consciousness came back to me, I groaned for a return of the blessed sleep from which I had awakened, for every inch of my poor body was a racking agony. A thousand noises drummed, and thumped, and roared in my head and the weight of the entire universe seemed to be lying across my chest. I struggled weakly to free myself, and, as I recollected gradually what had happened to me, I put out my hands. They came in contact with something cold and clammy. It was the bloody face of Joe Clark, who was lying on top of me. I wriggled and struggled with the cumbersome burden that had been strangling the flickering life in me. Every effort, every turn was a new pain, but all my hope was in getting free. At last, I got from under him and staggered to my knees. I was a very babe for weakness then. I clutched at the tree-trunk for support and raised myself to my feet. I looked down on the pale face of Joe Clark, as he lay there, the moon on his face disclosing a great open gash on his forehead. Evidently, he had struck the tree, face on, with the same impact as I had done backward. "Oh, God!" I groaned. "He is dead, ... Joe Clark is..." Then the blissful mists and darknesses came over me again and I crumpled to the earth. CHAPTER XXIV Two Maids and a Man When next I awoke, it was amid conflicting sensations of pains and pleasantnesses. My eyes gradually took in my surroundings. Instead of being in Heaven, or the other place of future abode as I fully expected to be, I was lying on my own bed, in my own room, in a semi-darkness. A quiet, shadowlike form was flitting about. I followed it with my eyes for a while, enjoying the fact that it did not know that I was watching it. Then it tip-toed toward me and bent over me. All my doubts and fears departed. After all, I was in Heaven; for Mary,--the Mary I so loved,--was bending over me, crooning to me, with her face so near, and placing her cooling, soothing hand on my hot brow. I must have tried to speak, for, as if far away, I could hear her enjoining me not to talk, but just lie quiet and I would soon be well. She put a spoon to my mouth and, sup by sup, something warm, good and reviving slowly found its way down my throat. What hard work it was opening my lips! What a dreadful task it was to swallow and how heavy my feet and hands seemed!--so heavy, I could not lift them. As the singing voice crooned and hushed me, I grew, oh! so weary of the labour of swallowing and breathing that I dropped away again into glorious slumberland. When again I opened my eyes, it was evening. My reading lamp was burning dimly on a table, near by. The air was warm from a crackling fire in the stove. Some one was kneeling at my bedside. I looked along the sheets that covered me. It was Mary.