"I will try, Miss Crawford, and you must pray for me," he said humbly. Very willingly did she promise that she would. Then after a little further conversation she took her leave, saying she would come again soon. As days and weeks rolled on, Phil became gradually stronger and better, but still the slightest movement of his back was torture to him, and he could not even turn in his bed without assistance. He became at length weary and sick with hope deferred. "Doctor, shall I never walk again?" he said one day to Dr. Bethune, in a half-tired, half-impatient voice. Receiving no answer, he supposed his question had not been heard, but as Dr. Bethune at that moment turned hastily away to another patient, he had no chance of repeating it. When Miss Crawford came that afternoon accompanied by Millie, he made the same inquiry of her. But she hesitated, and Millie's lips quivered as her eyes met her brother's. "O! Do tell me," he said anxiously. "Surely I shall walk again some day!" Then very gently Miss Crawford told him his spine had been so injured by the fall of the burning wood that the doctors feared he would never recover from the effects, though in time he might perhaps walk with the help of crutches. "What! Lie still all my life long?" he moaned when she had finished. "Never walk nor run again! O! I can't bear it. I'd rather die." A sob from Millie broke the silence that ensued. "O my darling brother," she said, as she knelt by his bedside, "I will be legs, and feet, and arms, and everything to you, if you'll only let me. Uncle knows about it, and he is so sorry for you. He would have been to see you, only he's afraid that the sight of him would distress you. And he says, Phil, that he'll never touch that dreadful drink again as long as he lives, and that you shall never want for a home as long as he has health and strength to work for you. And he means it, dear. He is so good and kind now." All this Millie sobbed out at intervals, but Phil made no reply. "Don't think it unkind of me," he said presently, "but I'd rather be alone for a while. I can't talk about it yet." So they said good-bye to him, and Miss Crawford did what she had never done before. She put back the thick black hair from his forehead, bent down, and as she kissed him, he heard her whisper, "'Nevertheless not my will, but Thine, be done.'"