pped away from her as fall the dead leaves from
the bough of that most tenacious of oak trees which holds its withered
foliage till the swelling buds of a new spring push it off. He was a good
man. She felt that to the innnermost core of her heart. She loved him.
She believed she would always love him. As for his being married to
Huldah, she would not inquire how that came about, how it could have
happened while she felt him to be promised to herself. There was--there
must be--a right way for even that to befall. She must love him and
forgive him, for only so could she face her life, only so could she patch
a little peace with herself and still the gnawing agony in her breast.
Long she knelt thus.

Who that knows even a little the wonders of the subjective mind, who that
has tested the marvellous communication between the mood of nurse and
patient, will doubt that the sick man, lying passive, receptive, got now
Judith's message of peace and relaxation. The girl herself, powerful,
dominating young creature, had been fought to a spiritual standstill. She
was at last forced to her knees, and the atmosphere which her passionate
struggles had long disturbed grew serene about her. Even a wavering note
of something more joyous than mere peace, a courage, a strength that
promised happiness must have radiated from her to him. For Creed's eyes
opened and looked full into hers with a wholly rational expression which
had long been absent from their clear depths.

"Judith--honey," he whispered, and fumbled vaguely for her hand upon the
coverlet.

"Yes, Creed--what is it? What do you want?" she asked tremulously, taking
the thin fingers in her warm clasp.

"Nothing--so long as I've got you," he returned contentedly. "Can't I sit
up--and won't you sit down here by me and talk awhile?"

Gently smiling, Judith helped him to sit up, and piled the pillows back
of his head and shoulders, noting almost with surprise how well he
looked, how clear and direct was his gaze.

"I've been sick a long time, haven't I?" he asked.

"Yes," the girl replied, drawing up a chair and seating herself. "Hit's
more'n six weeks that Uncle Jep an' me has been takin' care of you."

He lifted her hand and stroked it softly.

"A body gets mighty tired of a sick fellow," he said wistfully.

Judith's eyes filled at the pitiful little plea, but she could not offer
endearments to Huldah's husband.

"I ain't tired of you," she returned in a low, choked voi