oping, his eyes dulled with exhaustion. He had done his part. Lance
rubbed him down, blanketed him, working swiftly, his thoughts with
Mary Hope and her love and her fresh grief. He found Hugh, scribbled a
note to Belle and got him started on Jamie.

Mother Douglas moved her eyes, stared at him sharply when he went to
her. But she did not speak, did not move a muscle of her face. The
heart of Lance went heavy, but he could smile still at Mary Hope and
tell her that it was all right, and that the doctor ought to be there
in an hour or so, and that Belle would come, and that he loved her,
loved her, loved her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

BELLE LORRIGAN WINS

In the second-best suit of Aleck Douglas, with his wrists showing
strong and shapely below the coat sleeves, and wrinkles across his
back, Lance turned his own steaming apparel before the kitchen fire
and waited to hear what the doctor had to say.

In his mind was a great wonder at the inscrutable operations of Fate,
that had twice brought tragedy into the Douglas house while he himself
was permitted to bring all his love, which without the tragedies might
have been rejected; which had sent him hurrying to Mary Hope on this
day of all the days when he had longed to come. He could not believe
that blind Chance had irresponsibly twisted the threads of Mary Hope's
life so that these things had come upon her. He was abashed, humbled,
filled with awe of the tremendous forces that rule our destinies. For
perhaps the first time in his life he stood face to face with
something beyond his understanding, something against which his
arrogant young strength was powerless.

The doctor presently came to him, beckoned him to the doorway and
preceded him into the rain-washed yard, where the late afternoon sun
shone with dazzling brightness after the storm.

"I think she'll live through this," the doctor began abruptly. "It was
not the lightning, altogether, though she undoubtedly did receive a
severe shock. There has been a predisposition to paralysis, which is
the true nature of this attack. Her right side is completely
paralyzed, and so far as I can determine after a more-or-less
superficial examination, her vocal chords are also affected, making
speech impossible. Her left arm is not affected, and her mind seems
fairly normal. Too much work, too much worry, too much monotony--and
she has reached the time of life when these things are most apt to
occur. Her husband's dea