our natural strength, and ye'll just do my bidding in all things,
that you may be fit to meet all that is before you--since it seems to be
God's will that this work is to fall to you."

Allison went at the doctor's bidding. She wrapped herself up and went
down to the sands, to catch the breeze from the sea. It was more than a
breeze which met her. It was almost a gale. The waves were coming
grandly in, dashing themselves over the level sands. Allison stood and
watched them for a while musing.

"And each one of them falls by the will of the Lord. A word from Him
could quiet them now, as His `Peace, be still,' quieted the waves on the
Sea of Galilee so long ago. `Oh! ye of little faith!' said He,
`wherefore do ye doubt?' As He might well say to me this day, for oh!
I am fainthearted. Was I wrong from the beginning? And is my sin
finding me out? Have I undertaken what I can never go through with?
God help me, is all that I can say, and though I must doubt myself, let
me never, never doubt Him."

And then she set herself to meet the strong wind, and held her way
against it till she came to a sheltered spot, and there she sat down to
rest. When she turned homeward again, there was no strong wind to
struggle against. It helped her on as she went before it, and it seemed
to her as if she had come but a little way when she reached the place
where she had stood watching the coming in of the waves. The weight was
lifted a little from her heart.

"It is only a day at a time, however long it may be," she told herself.
"It is daily strength that is promised, and God sees the end, though I
do not."

Yes, daily strength is promised, and the next day, and for many days, as
she went into the dim room where the sick man lay, Allison felt the need
of its renewal. It was not the silence which was so hard to bear. It
was the constant expectation, which was almost dread, that the silent
lips might open to speak the recognition which she sometimes saw in the
eyes, following her as she moved. There were times when she said to
herself that she could not long bear it.

"In one way he is better," said the doctor. "He is coming to himself,
and his memory--his power of recalling the past--is improving. He is
stronger too, though not much, as yet. With his loss of memory his
accident has had less to do, than the life he had been living before it.
He has had a hard tussle, but he is a strong man naturally, and he may
escape