or him? He called to her in a suppressed tone, and asked
her how she felt? That heavy sleep has not restored her, and her eyes
are burning under the slight handkerchief that binds them. But she does
violence to her sensations, and forces herself to answer that she feels
much better, and to talk cheerfully to Clement, who now gives utterance
to all the wildest speculations of his fancy.

Late, when the moon stands high above the woods, a shy small childish
hand is heard to knock at the vicarage door. The little village-girls
have brought a garland for Marlene; woven from their choicest
garden-flowers, and a bunch of them for Clement. When they are brought,
the boy's whole countenance lightens up. "Give them my kindest thanks,"
he begs; "they are such kind good girls! I am not well yet, but when I
have my sight, I shall always be on their side, and help them against
the boys." When the wreath was brought to Marlene, she pushed it gently
from her with her small pale hands. "I cannot have it here," she said;
"it makes me faint, dear mother, to have these flowers so near--give
these to Clement too."

Again she sank into a sort of feverish slumber; only the healing
approach of day brought something like repose. And the doctor, who came
in the morning very early, was able to pronounce her out of danger,
which indeed was more than he had hoped for. He sat long by the boy's
bedside, listening to his strange questions with a smile, benevolently
admonishing him to patience; and, filled with the most sanguine hopes,
he left them.

But to be admonished to quiet and patience after one has had a glimpse
of the promised land! In each interval of his duties, his father had to
go upstairs to that little room and talk. And the door was left ajar,
that Marlene too might hear these charming stories. Legends of godly
men and women, to whom the Lord had sent most heavy trials, and then
withdrawn them. The story of poor Henry, and of that pious little
maiden who would have sacrificed herself in her humility; and how God
had guided all to the most blissful consummation; and as many of such
edifying histories as the worthy pastor could find to unfold.

And when on the good man's lips, story would unconsciously turn to
prayer; or his wife would raise her clear voice in a hymn of
thanksgiving, Clement would fold his hands and join--but he would so
soon break in with fresh enquiries, as to prove his mind to have been
far more present with the s