rouble and by all the strange events of that
strange week; and together they talked of the accident and of Clara and
James and their oldest son; and then Mrs. Hardy said, as she drew her
husband's face near to her:

"Robert, do you still have that impression concerning the time left you
here to live? Do you still think this week is to be the end?"

Mrs. Hardy had a vague hope that the shock of the accident might have
destroyed the impression of the dream; but her hope was disappointed.

"My dear wife," replied Robert, "there is not the least doubt in my
mind that my dream was a vision of what will happen. There is no
question but that after Sunday I shall not be with you. This is
Wednesday. How lightning-like the days have flown! How precious the
moments are! How many of them I have wasted in foolish selfishness!
Mary, I should go mad with the thought if I did not feel the necessity
of making this week the best week of all my life; only, I do not know
what is most important to do. If it had been seven months, or even
seven weeks, I might have planned more wisely. Oh, it is cruelly
brief, the time! But I must make the wisest possible use of it. This
accident, so unexpected, has complicated the matter. I had not
reckoned on it."

How many of us do reckon on accidents? They always come into our lives
with a shock. Yet it seems possible that a man who lives very close to
God every day might be so ready for everything that not even the most
terrible catastrophe could make much difference to his plans for daily
life, least of all deprive him of his reason, as it has so often done.
Robert Hardy was just beginning to realise dimly that life is not one
thing, but many things, and that its importance is the importance which
belongs to the character of God Himself.

He began to talk calmly with his wife concerning what he would do that
day, and was still talking about it when James came in with a doctor,
who at once went upstairs. He was just from the scene of the accident,
and bore marks of a hard night's work. His first glance at Clara was
hard and professional. But as he looked he grew very grave, and an
expression of serious surprise came over his weary face. He laid his
hands on the girl's eyes and examined them; raised her hand and dropped
it upon the bed again. Then turning to the father and mother he said
gently:

"You must prepare yourselves for a terrible fact resulting from the
accident to your