He felt an unwonted moisture dim his eyes, as he watched the delicate face, white as the hair that crowned it, and wondered if the wide, populous world could match her regal form and perfect features. "Mrs. Gerome, I think I can promise that Elsie will recover from her injuries; but a prayer for her safety would bring you more comfort than my feeble words of assurance and encouragement. The mercy of God is surer than the combined medical skill of the universe." "The mercy of God!" she repeated, with a gesture of scorn and impatience. "No, no! God set his face like a flint against me, long, long ago, and I do not mock myself by offering prayers that only call down smitings upon me. Seven years since I prayed my last prayer, which was for speedy death; and, from that hour, I seem to have taken a new lease on life. Now I stand still and keep silent, and I hoped that God had forgotten me." She covered her face with her hands and Dr. Grey drew a chair close to her and endeavored to make her sit down, but she resisted and shrank from his touch on her arm. "Madam, the wagon has stopped at the door. Will you direct your servants, or shall I?" "If she is not dead, tell Robert to carry her into my room. Oh, Dr. Grey, you will not let her die!" As she looked up imploringly into his calm, noble face, she met his earnest gaze, brimming with compassion and sympathy, and her lips and chin quivered. "Trust your God, and have faith in me." He went out to assist in removing his patient, and when they had carried the mattress and its occupant into the room opposite the parlor and laid it on the carpet near the window, he had the satisfaction of observing a favorable change in Elsie's condition. While he stood by a table preparing some medicine, Robert stole up, and asked: "Do you notice any improvement? She groaned twice on the road, and once I am sure she opened her eyes." "Yes; I think that very soon she will be able to speak, for her pulse is gaining strength every hour." "How did my mistress take it?" "She was much shocked and grieved. Maclean, where are her friends and relatives?" There was no reply, and, glancing over his shoulder to repeat the inquiry, Dr. Grey saw Mrs. Gerome leaning against the door. "Robert, have you killed her?" "Oh, no, ma'am! She is doing very well, the doctor says." She crossed the room, and sat down on the edge of the mattress, taking one of the large brown hands in both of hers and bending her face over the pillow. "Elsie! mother! Elsie, speak to your poor child!" That wailing voice pierced the stupor, and Dr. Grey was surprised to see the woman's eyes unclose and rest wonderingly upon the countenance hovering over her. "My dear Elsie, don't you know me?" "Yes, my bairn. What ails you?" She spoke indistinctly, and shut her eyes once more, as if exhausted.