“Read these poems until you are tired today--then sleep. I'll give you a good novel tomorrow and when you've read it, a volume of philosophy. When we climb the peaks, I'll give you a study of these rocks that will tell you the story of their birth, their life, and their coming death. We'll learn something of the birds and flowers next spring. We'll dream great dreams and think great thoughts--you and I--in these wonderful days and weeks and months which God shall give us together.” She looked up at him through her tears: “Oh, Doctor, you have not only saved a miserable life: you have saved my soul!” CHAPTER XXVI. A SOUL IS BORN It was more than a month after the experiment began before the Doctor ventured to hint of Jim's survival. He had waited patiently until Mary's strength had been fully restored and her mind filled with the new enthusiasm for motherhood. He could tell her now with little risk. And yet he ventured on the task with reluctance. He found her seated at her favorite window overlooking the deep blue valley of the Swannanoa, a volume of poetry in her lap. He touched her shoulder and she smiled in cheerful response. “You are content?” he asked. “A strange peace is slowly stealing into my heart,” she responded reverently. “I shall learn to love life again when my baby comes to help me.” “You remember your solemn promise?” “Have I not kept it?” she murmured. “Faithfully--and I remind you of it that you may not forget today for a moment that your work is too high and holy to allow a shadow to darken your spirit even for an hour. I have something to tell you that may shock a little unless I warn you----” She lifted her eyes with a quick look of uneasiness, and studied his immovable face. “You couldn't guess?” he laughed. She shook her head in puzzled silence. “Suppose I were to tell you,” he went on evenly, “that I found a spark of life in your husband's body that morning and drew him back from the grave?” Her eyes closed and she stretched her hand toward the Doctor. He clasped the fingers firmly between both his palms, held and stroked them gently. “You did save him?” she breathed. “Yes.” “Thank God his poor old mother is not a murderer! But he is dead to me. I shall never see him again--never!” “I thought you would feel that way,” the Doctor quietly replied. “You won't let him come here?” she asked suddenly. “He won't try unless you consent----” Mary shuddered. “You don't know him----” The Doctor smiled. “I'm afraid you don't know him now, my child.” “He has changed?” “The old, old miracle over again. He has been literally born again--this time of the spirit.” “It's incredible!” “It's true. He's a new man. I think his reformation is the real thing. He's young. He's strong. He has brains. He has personality----” Mary lifted her hand.