Then for the first time since that day, now nearly a fortnight ago, when Martin had sat down dead tired on the seat by the front door, the blessed relief of tears came to his father, and he wept long, silently, a man’s hard, painful tears. And with those tears the upright hardness of him, the God-fearing, God-loving narrowness went from him. The bitter frosts of his nature melted, they were dissolved. “Oh, Helen, if he lives,” he said at length. “Ah, yes, dear father, or if he dies. Even if he dies, dear.” She took his hands, holding them tightly. “Oh, help me to remember that,” she whispered; “I shall need all the help you can give me. We shall want--we shall want all the help we can get--both of us. We will give it each other. And Stella----“ “You telegraphed to her?” “Yes; she cannot get here till to-morrow!” Then the girl gave way. “To-morrow,” she said; “and it is only just to-day. Father, father, I can’t bear it. I can’t.” But the strength she had given him so often during this last week was ready again to help her. “Yes, dear Helen,” he said, speaking quite calmly again. “We can both bear whatever is to be. God does not send us anything that we are not capable of bearing, and of bearing without bitterness and without complaint. And whether it is life or death with our dear Martin, it is all life. We believe that, do we not? Let us hold on to that, for it sustains the sorrows of all the world. There is nothing so sure as that. It is the Rock of Ages, Helen.” There was the sound of wheels on the gravel outside. “That will be the doctor, dear,” said he; “will you go and meet him, and--and the cart must wait if he thinks a priest should be sent for.” She got up at once. “Yes, father,” she said. Helen went out into the hall. Dr. Thaxter had just come in, and at the same moment Nurse Baker hurried downstairs. “Come up at once, please, doctor,” she said. “He--he came to himself a few minutes ago, after being delirious all night. I took his temperature. It is normal, just about normal.” Helen’s face suddenly brightened. “He is better, then?” she said. Nurse Baker turned to her, as the doctor took off his coat, with infinite compassion in her kind, brown eyes. “No, dear Miss Helen,” she said. “He is--ah, I need not explain to you. But it is very bad. It is--you must be very brave, my dear. Go to your father.” She gave her a quick little kiss, and followed the doctor upstairs. Helen went back into the study. “Something has happened,” she said. “I had no time to speak to Dr. Thaxter. They will send for us, dear. I think--I think that is what nurse meant.” * * * * *