as as painful as it was strange. She had
many unhappy and some rebellious thoughts that night. But God did not
forsake her. The same place of refuge that had sheltered her in former
times of trouble was open to her still, and when Christie awoke in the
morning it was to meet a smile as calm and bright as that she had often
seen in her dreams. For a little while it seemed to her she was
dreaming now.

"If I shut my eyes, will you be here when I open them again?" she asked.
"Oh, Effie, I have so longed for you! You will never leave me again?"

"Never again," was all that she had the power to answer.

That day they removed her from the public ward to the room she had at
first occupied, and Effie became her nurse. They were very quiet that
day. Christie was still under the influence of the strong opiate that
had been given her, and worn-out with anxiety and watching, Effie
slumbered beside her.

On the second day they had a visit from Gertrude, and Christie quite
roused herself to rejoice with her over Effie's coming. When the young
lady declared, with delighted energy, that all Christie wanted to make
her quite well again was the face of her sister smiling upon her, all
three for a moment believed it. She was to have a week, or perhaps two,
in which to grow a little stronger, and then she was to go home with
Gertrude till she should be strong enough to go to Glengarry with Effie.
No wonder she had been ill and discouraged, so long alone, or worse
than alone, surrounded by so much suffering. Now she would soon be well
again, Gertrude was quite sure.

And she did seem better. Relieved from the terrible pain which her
diseased limb had so long caused, for a time she seemed to revive. She
thought herself better. She said many times a day that she felt like a
different person, and Effie began to take courage.

But she did not grow stronger. If she could only be taken out of town,
where she could have better air, Effie thought she might soon be well.
But to remove her in her present state of weakness was impossible. And
every day that followed, the doubt forced itself with more and more
strength on Effie that she would never be removed alive. The daily
paroxysms of fever returned. At such times she grew restless, and
sometimes, when she would wake with a start from troubled and uneasy
slumbers, her mind seemed to wander. A word was enough to recall her to
herself, and when she recognised her sister's voic