Mar’s illness continued week after week, never violent, but never ending. He was not very ill, but his life was being slowly drained away. The fire of the fever was low, not a great flame, blazing and devouring, but it went on and on. The third week passed, and the fourth, with renewed and disappointed expectations of a change, but none came. “It will run out the six weeks,” said the doctor. “And then--?” Ah, who could say. The good doctor, who had taken care of Mar all his life, turned away from the question. “It all depends upon his strength,” he said. His strength! but he had no strength. He was as weak as a child. The nurse lifted him in her arms like an infant--a skeleton, with long, long limbs. It seemed a farce to speak of his strength, as if there was any hope in that. Duke had gone away before this time--his leave had come to an end, and he had been allowed to come in and say good-bye to his cousin. “I thought you would have been up and about before I went,” said Duke, blustering a little to keep himself from crying. “You are a lazy beggar, to be lying there with nothing the matter. I don’t think there’s anything the matter with you. You just like to lie there and keep us all slaving attendance. You know you were always a lazy beggar.” Mar did nothing but smile, as he had always done at Duke’s jokes which were not great jokes. He said, “Is your leave over?” with his faint voice. “But you could have a day or two again if I sent for you, Duke?” “Oh, yes,” said Duke, “you must send for me the first time you are allowed to get out, to help you downstairs. I’ll come, never fear.” But after a little more of this tearful smiling talk, the young man beckoned softly to the nursing sister to come with him to the door. “What do you think he means about sending for me?” he said, with a face almost as pale as Mar’s. The nurse looked at him and shook her head. She too had grown to like the patient boy. She put up her hand to her eyes to dash away the rising tears. “He must not see that I have been crying,” she said. “Is _that_ what he means? Do you think that’s what he means? And do you think so too?” cried Duke. “Oh, don’t say so, nurse, don’t say so; it would break my heart.” “I won’t say so,” she replied. “I think with such a young thing as that there is always hope.”