Kike watched the door uneasily all that evening. But Nettie did not come. To have come into Kike's room would have been to have revealed her love for one who had never declared his love for her. The mobile face of Nettie disclosed every emotion. No wonder she was fain to keep away. And yet the desire to see him almost overcame her fear of seeing him. When the doctor came in to see Kike after breakfast the next morning, the patient looked at him wistfully. "Doctor Morgan, tell me the truth. Will I ever get up?" "You can never get up, my dear boy," said the physician, huskily. A smile of relief spread over Kike's face. At that word the awful burden of his morbid sense of responsibility for the world's salvation, the awful burden of a self-sacrifice that was terrible and that must be life-long, slipped from his weary soul. There was then nothing more to be done but to wait for the Master's release. He shut his eyes, murmured a "Thank God!" and lay for minutes, motionless. As the doctor made a movement to leave him, Kike opened his eyes and looked at him eagerly. "What is it, my boy?" said Morgan, stroking the straight black hair off Kike's forehead, and petting him as though he were a child. "What do you want?" "Doctor----" said Kike, and then closed his eyes again. "Don't be afraid to tell me what is in your heart, dear boy." The tears were in the doctor's eyes. "If you think it best--if you think it best, mind--I would like to see Nettie." "Of course it is best. I am glad you mentioned it. It will do her good, poor soul." "If you think it best----" "Well?" said the doctor, seeing that Kike hesitated. "Speak out." "All alone." "Yes, you shall see her alone. That is best." The doctor's utterance was choked as he hastened out.