"Ah me, ah me!" sighed Wade. His head was bent and his heart was stooped; it must be all over. "For so long a time have I been about this mountain, and the object of my coming, though faithfully sought, has not been found; my purpose remains yet unfulfilled. The tortures I would have inflicted upon others have been turned upon my own heart. My soul is sad. I give up, I give up, for all time. There are now no murderous intents in my heart, there are now no evil designs in my life. Would that I was at peace with everybody. All my heart's desire is peace, sweet peace, that I might spend the balance of my days amid the sweet perfumed mountain flowers and about this dear little stream with whose swiftly running waters I have raced so often, always with her, the sweetest and most beautiful of all. Dear wild flower of the mountain!" Wade raised his head until he looked into the beautiful blue of the heavens. The gleaming stars, arrayed in silvery brightness, looked down on him. "Speak, lights of God, speak to my waiting heart, speak to my burdened soul and tell me, if you can, what the future holds in store for me. Am I to continue in hell on earth for my evil life? If so, tell me quick that I might dash my head against yonder rock and end the torture now. If not, speak, that she might live. God save her, let not her present illness separate us forever. It would blight my life; it would kill me. Save her that she may save my soul from a torturous hell; save her that her sweet life might be a blessing to the great, big world beyond this mountain, which she so much longs to see." Jack felt much better--as does anyone after a faithful prayer. He felt that his prayer had been answered already, and rose in great haste to make his way back over the mountain to the bedside of Nora. He had not seen her all day, had been afraid to see her lest he should find her cold in death, but rather spent a great portion of the day in prayer for her immediate relief. When he arrived at the cabin of Peter Judson the flickering candle-light was still in the window, burning low. His heart sank; it was emblematic of a low ebbing life. With bowed head and unsteady step he went in. Old Rover, still lying quietly and silently on the porch, did not rise at Wade's approach, but wagged his tail in recognition. A death-like quiet pervaded the place, a solemn stillness overspread the home, but he was encouraged to go on, with a feeling that matters were improved. Old Peter met him at the door, and to his anxious, questioning stare he said: "She's much better; the danger is over." "Thank God," came in broken whisper.