of stupor most part of the day, only
moaning at times with the pain Dr. Gair was powerless to relieve. She
grew perceptibly weaker, and they feared to leave her a moment, lest
she should slip away while they were gone. So the days went by till
Sunday came round again. Dr. Gair came early that morning, and
looked, if possible, graver than usual.

"If she lives till evening," he said to the anxious watchers, "she
will recover, but I cannot give you much hope. Administer this
medicine every two hours; it is all I can do. I will be back before
night."

In after years Aunt Hepsy was wont to say that Sunday was the longest
day she had ever spent in her life. I think others felt so too.
Slowly the hours went round. Even into the darkened room the spring
sunshine would peep, and the twittering of the birds in the orchard
broke the oppressive stillness. At four o'clock the doctor came
again. Save for the almost imperceptible breathing, Lucy lay so pale
and still that they almost thought her dead. At sunset she moved
uneasily, and with a great sigh lifted her heavy lids and looked
round the room. A sob burst from Aunt Hepsy's lips, and Carrie
Goldthwaite's tears fell fast, for Dr. Gair's face said she was
saved. Her lips moved, and he bent down to catch the faintly murmured
words,--

"Have I been sick a long time? I am going to get well now."

The doctor nodded and smiled. "God has been very good to you--to us
all--my child," he said. "He has heard the prayers of those who love
you."

Carrie came to the bedside then, and bending over her, kissed her
once with streaming eyes. Aunt Hepsy moved to the window and drew up
the blind, and the red glow of the setting sun crept into the room,
and lay bright and beautiful on Lucy's face.

"I am glad to see the sun again," said Lucy wearily. "I seem to have
been sick so long. May I go to sleep now, Dr. Gair?"

"Yes; and sleep a week if you like," he said cheerily.--"Rest and
care now, Miss Strong, is all she needs to bring her round."

Aunt Hepsy made no reply whatever. She stood still in the window, her
face softened into a strange, thankful tenderness, and her heart
lifting itself up in gratitude to God, and in many an earnest
resolution for the future. She followed Dr. Gair downstairs, as she
had done that day a week before, and as he passed out caught his hand
in a grip of iron. "I'm a woman of few words, Dr. Gair," she said
abruptly, "but I won't forget what you've done for