ago and more! Yes, I'll go to-night.
Oh, Margaret, what a blasted fool I am! I can't get myself in hand."
Suddenly he threw himself into his chair. "Here!" he ground out between
his teeth, "get quiet!" He sat for a few moments absolutely still,
gathering strength to command himself. At length he got himself in hand.
"No," he said in a quiet voice, "I shall not go tonight. I shall wait
till Dick is better. Just now he must be kept quiet. In the morning I
expect to see him very much himself. We can only wait and see."

Through the night they waited, Barney struggling mightily to hold
himself in perfect control, Margaret quietly doing what was to be done,
her whole spirit breathing of that self-forgetting love which finds its
highest joy in the joy of another. At the break of day the nurse came to
the door and found them still waiting.

"Mr. Boyle is awake and is asking for you, Miss Robertson."

"Let me go to him," cried Barney. "Don't fear." His voice was still
vibrating, but his manner was calm and steady. He was master of himself
again.

"Yes," said Margaret, "go to him." Then as the door closed she stood
once more before the Gethsemane scene. "Thank God, thank God," she said
softly, "for them the pain is over."

For half an hour she waited and then went up to the sickroom. She opened
the door softly, went in and stood gazing till her eyes grew dim. On
the pillow, face down, Barney's head lay close to Dick's, whose arm
was thrown about his brother's neck, and on Dick's face shone a look of
rapturous peace. As Margaret moved to leave the room Dick called her in
a voice faint, but full of joy.

"Margaret," he said, a smile breaking like light through a dark cloud,
"my head was broken, but I'd have all the bones in my body broken, just
to have Barney set them. We're all right, eh, boy?"

Slowly Barney raised his face, tear-marked, worn, but radiant with a
peace it had not known for many a day. "Yes, old chap," he said in a
voice still tremulous in spite of all his self-command, "we're right
again, and, please God, we'll keep so."

XXI

TO WHOM HE FORGAVE MOST

For three days Dick made steady progress toward health, but his progress
was slow. Any mental effort produced severe pain in his head and
sufficed to raise his temperature several points. As he gained in
strength and became more and more clear in his thinking his anxiety in
regard to his work began to increase. His congregations would be
waitin