n learn that best by
hearing it read."

Carl had grasped the spirit and meaning, and he already knew what was
coming. But he proceeded and somewhat hesitatingly read it through.
Having done this, he was in the act of handing both letters back, when
the good bishop, with a wave of his hand, said: "Now read my reply,
please, _that_ is the most important thing--read slowly, please."

The dismayed secretary felt that this was indeed crucifixion. Why had not
the doctor spared him this? Did he not know that the letter would come
under his eye? His first thought was to decline under the plea of
nervousness; then, he thought this would be cowardly and unmanly. No, he
would read, and at the close would decide. The bishop was a poor scribe,
and his writing was always difficult to decipher; so taking this as an
excuse, he plodded along slowly, and thereby gave himself a chance to
hide his real feelings. But still he found this a difficult task, for
his voice trembled perceptibly, and when he came to the latter part,
where the father said he would welcome his son back to his home and
heart, he stopped, his head dropped upon his hand on the table, and the
paper fell from his grasp to the floor. The bishop arose quickly, and
caught him in his arms, or he too would have fallen. In a few moments,
with the assistance of Alice, Carl was laid upon two chairs. The bishop
with the assistance of the registrar, who was hastily summoned from the
next room, bore the unconscious secretary into another room and laid him
upon the bed.

The terrible strain had been too much for the young man's weak condition.
It was not long, however, before he slowly opened his eyes, and, looking
up, he saw Alice gazing at him with anxious solicitude, while with her
soft hand she was bathing his temples and brow.

Then all the circumstances came back to him, and he heard the gentle
voice of the young girl bending over him. "Carl, dear," she was saying,
"you are better now, and will soon be all right again."

"Alice," said the young man, faintly, "I shall never be all right again.
It is too late."

"No, it is not too late, Carl," was the smiling reply, "you have many
happy years before you. You are not strong. You must have a rest, and
then your strength will return and so will your courage."

Mrs. Albertson came in at this point, bringing a cup of tea and a
wafer, and succeeded in getting the patient to drink the tea. Then the
bishop returned quietly and t