The time we deem ourselves the strongest, we are often reminded of our weakness.

Before Edgeway retired for the night, he went back to see Betty.

Harold was beginning to stir restlessly, and she was leaning over him, stroking his hands lovingly.

"Miss Emmit, if you don't mind, I would like to keep watch with you tonight. There must be something I can do for you, and I hate the idea of leaving you up alone when you are so tired."

"O, I am used to this," she returned, smiling gravely. "I feel no fatigue whatever. Thank you for offering to stay."

"O, if you don't want me!" said Edgeway, in such a sudden bitterness, that Betty looked up in troubled surprise.

"I have not offended you?" she asked anxiously.

"You? O, no, only Fate! She has a knack of always boosting me out—therefore she displeases me! You understand?" he asked with a slight smile.

She nodded her head smiling.

"I think I do. You are just a trifle lonesome, aren't you? We will have a good heart to heart talk on Tuesday. I have not forgotten your promise to study 'Mormonism.'"

"On condition, you know," he answered, the smile becoming genuine.

Edgeway went to his own room, with a restless spirit that promised little sleep.

"She understands?" he said to himself. "The deuce she does!"

On the broad arm of his chair lay a book. He took it up for inspection.

"Book of Mormon!" He fingered the leaves, half amused, half serious. Curiously he began to read.

"Simple trash! How can she be led away by such fancies," he thought cynically, after reading a few pages.

"But the language is pretty good," he admitted. However, he kept on reading. Gradually his interest was awakened. Then it became stronger and stronger. The night wore on, but still he sat, absorbed and wondering.

Meanwhile, Betty knelt in fervent prayer. Thus she spent the entire night.

At stated intervals, Betty gave Harold the medical aid that George had ordered.

Harold's restlessness soon ceased. By daybreak, he opened his eyes full upon Betty with clear gaze, as if awakening from a sweet sleep.

"How did you come here?" he asked Betty in surprise. "Where is Mus? Where am I?" he asked, looking around the room in wonder.

"Don't be alarmed, dear," she answered, taking his hand fondly. "You had a slight hurt, and were brought in here. Cousin George will take you home today. Mus is all right."

The boy was full of questions, all of which Betty answered soothingly. The sun was just peeping in his window, and the darkness of night had flown.

George came early in the morning. He expressed considerable surprise at Harold's condition.

The boy was so rejoiced at seeing him, he begged him to stay. But George pleaded urgent cases demanded his time.

"Where's Mus?" asked the boy disappointed.

"Mus is busy preparing things for your return home. She is quite worried about you."

"Poor Mus," said Harold, regretfully.

"Betty," said George in a professional tone, "you look tired. You must take a little rest yourself."

She looked up at him. His usual healthful countenance was drawn and haggard. Doubtless he had been greatly shocked with Harold.

"And you?" she returned anxiously. "I never saw you look so worn. Have you been up with a case all night?"

"Yes, a very serious one," he returned with a shadow of perplexity. He leaned over Harold fondly.

"Be a little man, sonny. I'll come for you this afternoon."

The boy nodded gravely, and Walter turned to Betty.

"Goodbye," he said.

His tone sounded cold and formal.

She crossed to the door with him, and was about to accompany him downstairs, when he turned to her and said:

"Don't trouble to come farther, thank you. Goodbye."

How unnatural he was! His manner cut her, and she stood silent, embarrassed with the fervor of her own feelings.

He glanced at her quickly.

"What is the matter?" he asked, almost sternly.

"You seem so changed, Dr. Cadman. Have I done wrong?"

"You—done—wrong?" he said, in the same hard tone. "No! But when a man wrestles with the hardest problem of his life,—One which tears at his very heart-strings in its solution, he must be stern or completely lose himself!"

He held out his hand to her and she took it.

A momentary thrill from his warm pressure,—then a great loneliness engulfed her heart, and she knew it was because he had left her presence.

"Will I never cease striving?" she asked herself fearfully, as she turned back to Harold.

That afternoon there was some commotion in the neighborhood, when an ambulance-coach drew up in front of the boarding-house, and Harold was carried out and placed in it.

Betty and Dr. Cadman accompanied him.

When they reached home, Alma awaited them.

"And Betty, my dear Betty,—this has brought you to us once more! You don't know how I have longed for you!" And the two women embraced fondly.

"And this gentleman who saved Harold—I must see him soon," continued Alma, busily fussing about Harold.

Betty saw plainly that she was extremely nervous and hysterically joyous.

"Are you going to stay with us now?" asked Alma.

"I will stay a few hours," returned Betty, smiling.

"Only a few hours!" exclaimed Alma, disappointed.

"Yes, Alma, but I shall come often, until Harold is better."

When Edgeway called for Betty, she went down to him directly.

"Come into the library a moment," she said. "Dr. and Mrs. Cadman will be down very soon. I want you to meet them."

She led the way, and he followed her. Betty had not been in this room, since she had directed the men in the hanging of Will Lambert's picture, George's gift to his bride. With this thought, she unconsciously turned toward the portrait.

First she looked casually, then her gaze concentrated. She stopped abruptly in a remark to Edgeway.

"What has struck you?" he asked quickly. "You look as though—"

"Those eyes!" she exclaimed, excitedly clutching his arm,—then she stood speechless.

He turned and followed her gaze. Will's eyes looked at them both with a life-like expression.

"Why, Miss Emmit," exclaimed Edgeway in surprise. "That is the picture of the Salvation Army man!"

Betty made no reply. She stood staring at the portrait, too dazed to think.

George entered unobserved, and stood watching them keenly.

Finally Betty turned to Edgeway.

"You must be mistaken," she said in a voice little above a whisper. "That is Harold's father; he is dead."

"Then I've seen his ghost!" returned Edgeway, unpersuaded.

Betty's heart beat quickly. The longer she looked, the more certain she felt she had seen Will Lambert.

"How could it be?" she asked falteringly.

George came forward quickly.

"Betty!! Mr. Edgeway! Be careful! Say nothing before Mrs. Cadman. The shock would kill her now. What you surmise is true. Will Lambert lives!"

A fearful cry made them turn.

Rigid as a statue, white as death, they beheld Alma! Her lips moved, but she uttered no words. Her eyes gradually roved from their excited faces to the picture smiling on all.

For a moment her gaze was fixed and burning.

"Will!" she cried in a wild ecstasy.

Then she quivered piteously. As she fell, George caught her in his arms.

***********