"I trust, sir, you will do us the favor to remain, if the others feel inclined to go," said Harry. "It would be a great comfort to my wife, who has been under a great strain. We have long desired to make your acquaintance, and our pure, highland air ought to refresh you." "I shall have to be off bright and early in the morning, then," was the reply. The three younger men departed, after a substantial country supper; and as Margaret continued to sleep, only rousing enough to take nourishment, Harry and Laura had Dr. X. all to themselves. They almost sat at his feet, as he told of case after case, that to him, as a man, was hopeless, which yielded to Divine inspiration when that was resorted to. "Some laugh at the old man," he continued, "and ask why I study my cases at all, and do not give them all over to Providence. My answer is this: As a man endowed with genius has to toil for success, so a soul endowed with faith is obliged to use all earthly means available to an end; God gives no premium to the idler. As long as I live I hope to dig deep into treasures of wisdom and knowledge; but I expect, also, to put every case that baffles human wisdom right into the Divine hand." He was a genial old man, and the evening spent with him was something Harry and Laura remembered all their lives. He was up in the morning long before they were, and captivated the children by a joyous frolic with them. This was no small refreshment after so many days of sad faces. He went in to see Margaret just before he left. All the soul had come back into her face, but she was still too feeble to speak. She had a wistful look in her bright eyes, but not an anxious one. "Keep the knowledge of Mrs. Grey's death from her as long as possible," he said to Laura, as he took leave. "Wear a white dress when you go to her room, and assume a cheerful look. Of course, your own physician must watch her with constant care." Laura had great self-control, and was able to appear as usual when in Margaret's presence. And in a week or two her recovery became very rapid. Now the question was how to break the news to her. Strangely enough she had not asked for Mrs. Grey, or expressed surprise at not seeing her. "How soon do you think you shall be able to go home?" Laura asked one day. "I don't know; are you tired of me?" "No; but when you go we are all going too, and we ought to get away before cold weather." "That reminds me," said Margaret, starting, "of Mabel's portrait. Did I ever finish it?" "Not that I know of." "I ought to go home and finish it. Laura, why didn't aunty come when I did? We were to come together; why didn't we?" "You forget things, dear. You have been very ill, you know." "Yes; I suppose she has gone back to Greylock. But why doesn't she write to me? Perhaps I was cross to her when I was sick, and weaned her from me. Was I, Laura?" "No, indeed."