"May I ask Rex to come with us?" "Certainly," as I thought what a merciful dispensation it was that a new love had been implanted where an old love was rudely snatched away. "And Dr. Armstrong? He journeyed down from Dublin with us." "Of course. He intends, I believe, to see Alice professionally." "Yes. He is to arrange for a consultation with our doctor." "Very good. We shall all go together." So we did. And I had the supreme consolation to see these two afflicted ones mingling their tears in the chalice that was held to them to drink. "One little word, Father Dan," said Alice, as I departed. "I don't mind Mrs. Ormsby. There is to be no operation, you promised me." "No, my dear child, don't think of that. You will be treated with the greatest delicacy and tenderness." The result of the investigation made next day was a curious one. It was quite true that her poor body was one huge sore; even the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet were not exempt. But Dr. Armstrong made light of this. "I cannot promise to make her as handsome as I am told she was," he said; "but I can restore her health by powerful tonics and good food. That's no trouble. I've seen worse cases at least partially cured. But the poor girl is paralyzed from the hips down, and that is beyond human skill." Here was a revelation. I told Alice about it after the doctors had left. She only said "Thank God!" But Dr. Armstrong's predictions were verified. Slowly, very slowly, in a few weeks, the external symptoms of the dread disease disappeared, until the face and forehead became thoroughly healed, and only a red mark, which time would wear off, remained. And her general strength came back, day by day, as fresh blood drove out all that was tainted and unwholesome, and even her hair began to grow, first in fluffy wisps, then in strong, glossy curls, whilst a curious, spiritual beauty seemed to animate her features, until she looked, to my eyes, like the little Alice I had worshipped as a child. In a mysterious way, also, Alice and Bittra seemed to pass into each other's souls; and as the thorns withered and fell away from each young brow and heart, little roses of Divine love, reflected in human sympathy and fellowship, seemed to sprout, and throw out their tender leaves, until the Rose of Love took the place of the red Roses of Pain; and Time, the Healer, threw farther back, day by day, the memories of trials surmounted, and anguish subdued in its bitterness to the sweetness of resignation. And when, one day in the late autumn, when all the leaves were reddening beneath the frosts of night and the hushed, hidden grays of sombre days, Alice was rolled to the door of her cottage, and saw the old, familiar objects again; and the children clustered around her bath-chair with all kinds of presents of lovely flowers and purple and golden fruits; and as the poor, pale invalid stretched out her thin hands to the sky, and drew in long draughts of pure, sweet air, she