"Meantime, I confess I shall find satisfaction in the fact that you are not far away, and we can see each other often," she responded, smilingly. Ray believed that he was thoroughly consecrated to his work at Easton. He certainly never worked harder, nor prayed more fervently for God's blessing on his labors; but month after month passed, and not the slightest fruit appeared. Ray grew discouraged. He began to feel he had made a mistake in accepting his pastorate. Had he not, indeed, made his first mistake in not going to the foreign field? Had not his course been based upon a doubt of God? If he had only trusted God and gone forward, might not God have made it perfectly possible for Daisy to have gone with him? Had he not put Daisy first and God second? and was not his toil fruitless because God would not consent to any such arrangement? He opened his Bible and read the story of Jonah. "He was troubled until he went back to his duty, and took up his appointed work." He commented: "Shall it be so with me?" As if in answer to his question the door bell rang sharply. A moment later a telegram was handed into his study. With trembling hand he tore open the envelope. It grew so dark around him he could scarcely read the single line written on the enclosed page: Come at once. Daisy is sick--perhaps dying. EDWARD. A train left in fifteen minutes. Mechanically he made his preparations, was driven to the station, and swung on to the last car of the already moving train. How slowly it went!--would Daisy be living when he arrived? "Oh, God! not this blow--not this blow!" he repeated over and over again. "Afton!" finally the brakeman called. He arose as one in a dream and staggered out to the platform. Harry Gasque met him. Neither Edward nor Dr. Gasque had come--was this a harbinger of evil or good? "Harry," he gasped, "is she living?" He did not know his own voice, it was so unnatural in its huskiness. "Yes," Harry answered, as he helped Ray into the waiting carriage, "Father and Edward and Dr. Platt and Dr. Blanding of this city, are in consultation now, so I came for you." The great Dr. Blanding had been summoned then. The case must be critical. Yet only three days before he had heard from Daisy, and she was well. "What is the disease?" he steadied his voice to ask. "Typhoid pneumonia," his companion briefly answered. They reached the house. Edward met him at the door. "Calm yourself, Ray," he said, soothingly. "She is calling piteously for you, and for her sake you must be calm." "For her sake!" Edward could not have used wiser words. By a mighty effort Ray gained control of himself. He was very pale, but outwardly calm, as he entered the sick room. He bent over the sufferer, fair and beautiful even in her delirium, and never so inexpressibly dear to him as now. "Daisy, I have come," he said, gently.