'Small danger of that!' Hazel thought, going back to his remark, as she went back into the house. But it was not such a question that brought the little hands in so weary fashion over her face. She stood very still for a minute, and then went swiftly upstairs to finish the work which Dr. Maryland had interrupted. _That_ could not wait; and Hazel was learning, slowly, that the indulgence of one's own sorrow _can_. So the work was well done; only with two or three sighs breathed over it, which gave kind Mrs. Bywank a heartache for the rest of the day. But then Hazel hastily swallowed a cup of the chicken broth and went off to her room. It had come now, without if or perhaps, and she could only sit down and face it. The one person in all the world to whom she belonged,—the only one that belonged to her!— For a while, in the bitterness of the knowledge that he was sick, Hazel seemed to herself half benumbed; and sat stupidly dwelling on that one fact, feeling it, and yet less with a sense of pain than of an intolerable burden. A weight that made her stir and move sometimes, as if she could get away from it so. It was no use to tell her not to anticipate; to say he was not much sick; that was thin ice, which would not bear. And now on a sudden Hazel found herself confronted with a new enemy, and was deep in the fight. What then? Only her own will in a new shape. She had come out so gently and sweetly, so clearly too, from the months of restless perplexity and questioning; she had agreed, she had decided, that her will should be the Lord's will. Now came a sudden sharp test. She had chosen heaven, with earth yet in her hand,—how if earth were taken away? And what if to do the Lord's will should be all that was left her, to fill her life? Did her consent, did her acceptance, reach so far? And—Oh how hard that was!—to study the question, she must throw full upon it the light (or the darkness) of things that might be. Things that she would not have let any one say to her, knife- edged possibilities, came and went and came again, till Hazel stopped her ears and buried her face in the cushions and did everything in the world to shut them out. What use? she _had_ to consider them. Was she willing now that the Lord should do what he pleased with _him?_—She could not word it any other way. And the fight was long: and time and again pain came in such measure that she could attend only to that. And so the day went by, with occasional interruptions, and then the unbroken night.