For nearly two days he dwelt in the valley of the shadow, and no one could tell whether the angel of life or of death would prevail. The doctor looked in every few hours, and did all that human skill could do. William, though too spent to talk, and almost too weak to open his eyes, was acutely conscious of what was taking place. To the onlookers it seemed as if he was passing into a condition of coma, but it was not so. He was fighting for life with all the will power he possessed. He had something to live for now. A new hope was in his heart, a new influence was breathing upon him. So he fought back the destroying angel inch by inch, and in the end prevailed. There came a day when Ruth again sat by his bedside, holding his hand. "I am getting better, sweetheart," he said, in a whisper. "Yes, William." "Your love and prayers have pulled me through." "I could not let you go," she said. "God has been very merciful," he answered reverently. "Next to His love the most wonderful thing is yours." "Why should it be wonderful?" she asked, with a smile. "You are so beautiful," he answered, "and I am so unworthy, and so----" But she laid her hand upon his mouth and smothered the end of the sentence. When once he had turned the corner he got better rapidly, but long before he was able to leave the house all St. Goram knew that Ruth Penlogan had promised to be his wife. Ralph saw very little of his sister in those days, she spent so much of her time in going and coming between Hillside and Veryan. Fortunately the affairs of the mine kept his hands occupied and his thoughts busy, otherwise he would have felt himself neglected and alone. It was not without a pang he saw the happiness of William and his sister. Not that he envied them; on the contrary, he rejoiced in their newly found joy; and yet their happiness did accentuate his own heartache and sense of loss. A year had passed since that memorable day in St. James's Park when he told Dorothy Hamblyn that he loved her. He often smiled at his temerity, and wondered what spirit of daring or of madness possessed him. He had tried hard since, as he had tried before, to forget her, but without success. For good or ill she held his heart in bondage. What had become of her he did not know. Hamblyn Manor was in possession of the gardener and his wife, and one other servant. There were rumours that some "up-the-country" people had taken it furnished for a year, but as far as he knew no one as yet had appeared on the scene. Sir John, it was said, was living quietly at Boulogne, but what had become of Dorothy and her brother no one seemed to know. One afternoon he left Dingley Bottom earlier than usual, and wandered up the long slant in the direction of Treliskey Plantation. His intention was to cross the common to St. Goram, but on reaching the stile he stood still, arrested by the force of memory and association.