Then Cuthbert leant over the corner of the table, and laid his hand on hers; she seemed to him so young and lonely in her despair. "My dear," he said, in his kind voice, "he would not think so Very strange things have passed; but though I don't see them quite as he does, he has made as noble a struggle as man ever made. And he _has_ conquered. He has mastered his weakness, and risen above it. It is a thing never to be forgotten. Even if we lose him--as may be--as may be--I cannot think--I cannot think, Florella, that he will lose himself. And--I think you must not fail him now. The conditions of the fight are very mysterious, and I could not say that our courage may make no difference to him. His perceptions are keener than ours." "I'll _not_ fail him," said Florella, with a light in her eyes. "I'll fight it out too." She went up to her room, and knelt down by the bed, and fought as hard a fight with her own soul as ever Guy had waged with his. If her thoughts could affect his, if her will could share in the struggle, she must not will for him a lesser thing than he had willed for himself. She would not pray only that Guy might live and not die; but that, at all costs, his work might be carried through, his victory completed. She must give him as he gave himself. She prayed the prayer of faith with all her waking will; but when at last, exhausted, she fell asleep, in her dreams she prayed that he might be given back to life. PART THREE, CHAPTER ELEVEN. WAYNFLETE OF WAYNFLETE. And Guy did not die. At first he lay in a state of collapse, hardly kept alive from hour to hour, silent, motionless, and apparently unconscious of all around him; but gradually there was some slight improvement, now and then a response by word or look, more power of taking food, and a stronger pulse. At last, about a week after the accident, on a calm sunny day, when Cuthbert was with him alone, he lay with open eyes, watching the window. "Cuthbert!" he said suddenly. "Yes," said Cuthbert, quietly. "What is it? Want something?" "Help me up, please. I want to look out of the window." They were the old imperative tones, and Cuthbert cautiously put his arm round him, and raised him a little. Guy looked out at the sunny garden, at the wooded hills, all round the room, and then up into Cuthbert's face. "Yes!" he said, "I thought so. The spectre's _gone_." "That's a good thing," said Cuthbert; "but now you must be very still and quiet. Lie back again. You're much better." "How's Jem?" said Guy, after a minute. "Well, he had a chill, you know; but he's safe at home with his mother." "Oh," said Guy, with a long breath, "the room looks so nice and natural! I've been looking at it for hours!" Then, "Don't have that bridge mended. It must be in a new place." "You recollect all about its being broken?" said Cuthbert. "Oh yes; I recollect everything. But I had to rest. I've _really_ rested." "Go on resting," said Cuthbert, quietly.