His father and Mary and Mrs. Parsons looked at one another almost with surprise, hardly daring to believe that they had saved him. They had suffered so much, all three of them, that they hesitated to trust their good fortune, superstitiously fearing that if they congratulated themselves too soon, some dreadful thing would happen to plunge back their beloved into deadly danger. But at last he was able to get up, to sit in the garden, now luxuriant with the ripe foliage of August; and they felt the load of anxiety gradually lift itself from their shoulders. They ventured again to laugh, and to talk of little trivial things, and of the future. They no longer had that panic terror when they looked at him, pale and weak and emaciated. Then again the old couple thanked Mary for what she had done; and one day, in secret, went off to Tunbridge Wells to buy a little present as a proof of their gratitude. Colonel Parsons suggested a bracelet, but his wife was sure that Mary would prefer something useful; so they brought back with them a very elaborate and expensive writing-case, which with a few shy words they presented to her. Mary, poor thing, was overcome with pleasure. "It's awfully good of you," she said. "I've done nothing that I wouldn't have done for any of the cottagers." "We know it was you who saved him. You--you snatched him from the very jaws of Death." Mary paused, and held out her hand. "Will you promise me one thing?" "What is it?" asked Colonel Parsons, unwilling to give his word rashly. "Well, promise that you will never tell James that he owes anything to me. I couldn't bear him to think I had forced myself on him so as to have a sort of claim. Please promise me that." "I should never be able to keep it!" cried the Colonel. "I think she's right, Richmond. We'll promise, Mary. Besides, James can't help knowing." The hopes of the dear people were reviving, and they began to look upon Jamie's illness, piously, as a blessing of Providence in disguise. While Mrs. Parsons was about her household work in the morning, the Colonel would sometimes come in, rubbing his hands gleefully. "I've been watching them from the kitchen garden," he said. James lay on a long chair, in a sheltered, shady place, and Mary sat beside him, reading aloud or knitting. "Oh, you shouldn't have done that, Richmond," said his wife, with an indulgent smile, "it's very cruel." "I couldn't help it, my dear. They're sitting there together just like a pair of turtle-doves." "Are they talking or reading?" "She's reading to him, and he's looking at her. He never takes his eyes off her." Mrs. Parsons sighed with a happy sadness. "God is very good to us, Richmond." * * *