‘He hopes you will. You have a splendid constitution, he says.’ ‘But there is a chance that I may not?’ Margaret could not speak. She would have broken down, and she was determined not to do that. On her brother’s face was a look of satisfaction, as of one who heard that a long-expected haven was in sight. Then that expression passed away, and was succeeded by a wandering, troubled gaze. ‘I would like to see Duncan Cameron,’ Alec whispered. ‘Do you think my father would send for him?’ ‘I am sure he would, dear; I will go and ask him now,’ said Margaret, as she kissed her brother and softly left the room. Mr. Lindsay was not well pleased to hear of Alec’s wish. ‘It is a stranger he wishes to be with him at the last,’ he said to himself bitterly. But he set off himself to walk the five miles which lay between the farm and the nearest telegraph office. That evening Duncan Cameron was at the farm. Little was said between the two; but Alec seemed to find comfort in his friend’s presence. In a short time Mr. Lindsay beckoned Cameron out of the room. ‘You are a doctor,’ said the old man, in a hard, constrained voice. ‘What do you think? Is he likely to recover?’ ‘I cannot say,’ said Cameron. ‘He is very ill, and very weak. If he were a patient of my own, or a stranger----’ ‘Yes?’ ‘I should fear that he would not live through the night.’ The old man turned away without a word, went to his own room, and threw himself on his knees at the side of his bed. He could not pray. But under his breath he whispered: ‘Oh, my son, would God I could die for thee! Oh, Alec, my son, my son!’ And the tears ran unbidden down his withered, weather-beaten cheeks. Meantime Cameron had gone back to the sick-room, and there he sat down to watch by his friend, while Margaret rested. ‘Cameron,’ said Alec, speaking slowly and with pain, ‘when I am gone they may put on my tombstone, “Born a man, died a failure.”’ ‘Hold your tongue, man.’ ‘I have been a failure in everything I ever tried,’ whispered Alec. ‘I wonder why I was born--it seems to have been such a useless existence.’ ‘_You_ say that, and you believe in a God!’ exclaimed Cameron. ‘If you don’t, you may talk about useless existences, and so forth. But if you believe in a God, you must believe that there is a reason, and a good reason, for everything, whether you see it or not. If there is a God, and God determined to make you, it was better that you should live. And if you failed, it is better that you should fail, because if God had wished you to succeed, He might easily have brought that about, I suppose?’ ‘Yes, it must be so. There is comfort in that.’ ‘Of course there is. There is more than comfort in it. There is everything in it. And yet men go on saying they believe in God, and grumbling at every stone they strike their foot against.’ A long pause followed. Alec was hardly able to speak, but a faint smile crossed his face. ‘You are always the same, Cameron.’