t the
windows, and the old lamplighter was balancing himself unsteadily on his
ladder at the corner. On the mulberry tree near the crossing the broad
bronze leaves swung back and forth in the wind, which sighed restlessly
around the house and drove the naked tendrils of a summer vine against
the green shutters at the window. The fire had gone down, and after she
had made it up very softly, she bent over Harry again, as if she feared
that he might have slipped out of her grasp while she had crossed the
room.

"If he only lives, I will let everything else go. I will think of
nothing except my children. It will make no difference to me if I do
look ten years older than Abby does. Nothing on earth will make any
difference to me, if only God will let him get well."

And with the vow, it seemed to her that she laid her youth down on the
altar of that unseen Power whose mercy she invoked. Let her prayer only
be heard and she would demand nothing more of life--she would spend all
her future years in the willing service of love. Was it possible that
she had imagined herself unhappy thirty-six hours ago--thirty-six hours
ago when her child was not threatened? As she looked back on her past
life, it seemed to her that every minute had been crowned with
happiness. Even the loss of her newborn baby appeared such a little
thing--such a little thing beside the loss of Harry, her only son. Mere
freedom from anxiety showed to her now as a condition of positive bliss.

Six o'clock struck, and Marthy knocked at the door with a cup of milk.
"Do you think he'll be able to swallow any of it?" she asked, and there
were tears in her eyes.

"He is better, Marthy, I am sure he is better. Has mother been here this
afternoon?"

"She stopped at the door, but she didn't like to come in on account of
the children. They are both well, she says, and send you their love. Do
you want any more water in the kettle, ma'am?"

The kettle, which was simmering away beside Harry's bed, under the tent
of sheets, was passed to Marthy through the crack in the door; and when
in a few minutes the girl returned with fresh water, Virginia whispered
to her that he had taken three spoonfuls of milk.

"And he let me mop his throat with turpentine," she said in quivering
tones. "I am sure--oh, I am sure he is better."

"I am praying every minute," replied Marthy, weeping; and it seemed
suddenly to Virginia that a wave of understanding passed between her and
the i