finicking about Agnes. Taking
pen-knife from her pocket, she ripped the boots off George's feet,
pulled off his socks, and in less than three minutes more was laving
his feet and legs to the knees in hot mustard water.

Fully half an hour did she continue her exertions with the sick man
before he recovered his senses sufficiently to recognize her. As he
did so, he started up, and gazed a long time at her--like one in a
dream.

"George, do you know me? I am Agnes," said she, in a very soft, but
trembling voice.

He reached his hands along the bed-clothes to take hers, apparently to
ascertain if she and he were still in the flesh, or were spirits of
the other world. There was magic in the warm eager pressure of her
hand, for instantly Harkness appeared to gain his full senses.

"Agnes! Agnes! have you found me? Thank God for this. I am so glad to
see you before I die. It takes the thorn out of my pillow, and puts
felicity into my heart to see you again. I know by this you have
forgiven me."

"Hush, George, there's nothing to forgive. Do not talk, you are too
sick. I have come to nurse you. And, with God's help, you shall soon
be well again. With God's help--there, dear, you are all the world to
me!"

There was an intensity of love in the whispered words that thrilled
George's heart. Agnes's lips touched his ear as the last accents were
breathed, so low that he alone could hear them.

"Thank you, O, my darling, my Angel. Twenty fevers shall not kill me
now," said George, but in a very weak voice.

Brave heart, George! Loving heart, Agnes! But fate willed
otherwise. You were to be united, but not then, not then; not until
you both had crossed the mysterious river which has but one tide, and
that ever flowing in at Eternity's gates, but never returning.

Hour after hour Agnes battled with the demon fever which was gnawing
at the vitals of her beloved George. At intervals her care seemed to
get the better of the disorder, and to cause it to loosen its
grip. But, alas! after twenty-four hours of unceasing toil and
anxiety, poor devoted Agnes was forced to endure the mental agony of
seeing Harkness die. The last thing he did was to smile up in her
yearning face, and try to thank her for all she had done for him. His
voice was gone; but she knew what the slowly moving parched lips were
saying for all that. Slipping her arms under his shoulders, Agnes bent
down, and raising him up ever so gently, she pressed him to h