"I am so glad," she answered, with a deep sigh, and dropped off into a quiet slumber. Hour after hour Ray sat there, and day after day. At times Daisy was herself, and conversed understandingly with him. At other times she was in a wild delirium, and talked incessantly of what she called Ray's mistake, and now God would bless him no more. She would plead with him to be true to duty; again she would beg him piteously not to leave her. From the outset the doctors had given but little hopes of her recovery. Every effort to reduce the extreme temperature had been unavailing, and each day she grew weaker. One Sunday morning she came out from a prolonged stupor very feeble, but perfectly rational. She smiled at Ray, and said, with deep pathos that brought tears to his eyes: "Poor boy! you are having a long and weary watch; but it will soon be over. I have loved you so, and have been so anxious to work by your side. But not my will, but his will, be done! Promise me, Ray, you will take up your chosen work when I am gone, and carry it on faithfully to life's end. If Jesus is willing, I shall be near you, after all. Better this than a living separation." He controlled himself as best he could, and gave her the desired promise; and when, a few moments later, she sank into a stupor again, he left her in Edward's care, and went across the hall to his own room. Kneeling by the bedside, he began a prayer of most humble confession. He acknowledged his mistake. He admitted that Daisy had been the idol of his soul, and that in his plans and in his work he had thought first of her. "O Lord," he cried, "it is not necessary that thou shouldst remove her, for me to know and do my duty. Thy will is above my will. I surrender all, even her, to thee. Forgive my sin. Restore to me thy favor and thy power. I will obey thy call. Nay, Lord, her life and her death are in thy hands. What is for thy glory, that wilt thou do." Over and over he prayed. Hour after hour passed. Not until he felt a peace he long had not known; not until the assurance had come to him that Daisy would be spared, did he arise from his knees. It was night when he again sought Daisy's room. Dr. Gasque and Edward looked up at him in astonishment as he entered, for his hair was sprinkled with gray, and he looked ten years older than when he left the room only a few hours before. "How is she, Dr. Gasque?" he asked, with a smile, the first they had seen upon his lips since his arrival. "Her temperature has gone down two degrees, and she rests quietly," he replied. "Really, if it were possible, I should think she was better." "She will live. God has promised it," Ray responded, with the old confident, positive tone he was accustomed to use in religious things. Again the two watchers by the bedside looked at him; and Ray, utterly unaware of the change in his appearance, gave them an assuring smile.