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His mother fell upon his neck and cried, while Mattie stood by pale and anxious. Inside the parlor could be heard the mumble of men’s voices.

In such wise do death and the fear of death fall upon country homes. All day the house had swarmed with people. All day this mother had looked forward to the reconciliation of her husband with her son. All day had the pale and silent minister of God kept his corpse-like calm, while all about the white snow gleamed, and radiant shadows filled every hollow, and the cattle bawled and frisked in the barn-yard, and the fowls cackled joyously, what time the mild, soft wind breathed warmly over the land.

Mattie cried out to her mother, in quick, low voice, “Oh mother, how is he?”

“He ain’t no worse. The doctor says there’s no immediate danger.”

The girl brought her hands together girlishly, and said: “Oh, I’m so glad. Is he awake?”

“No; he’s asleep.”

“Is the doctor still here?”

“Yes.”

“I guess I’ll step in,” said Herman.

The doctor and George Chapman sat beside the hard-coal heater, talking in low voices. The old doctor was permitting himself the luxury of a story of pioneer life. He arose with automatic courtesy, and shook hands with Herman.

“How’s the sick man getting on?”

“Vera well–vera well–consederin’ the mon is a complete worn-out–that’s all–naethin’ more. Thes floom-a-didale bezniss of rantin’ away on the fear o’ the Laird for sax weeks wull have worn out the frame of a bool-dawg.”

Herman and Chapman smiled. “I hope you’ll tell him that.”

“Na fear, yoong mon,” said the grim old warrior. “Weel, now, ai’ll juist be takin’ anither look at him.”

Herman went in with the doctor, and stood looking on while the old man peered and felt about. He came out soon, and, leaving a few directions with Herman and Chapman, took his departure. Everything seemed favorable, he said.

There was no longer poignancy of anxiety in Mattie’s mind, she was too much of a child to imagine the horror of loss, but she was grave and gay by turns. Her healthy and wholesome nature continually reasserted itself over the power of her newly attained woman’s interest in the young preacher. She went to bed and slept dreamlessly, while Herman yawned and inwardly raged at the fix in which circumstances had placed him.

Like many another lover, days away from his sweetheart were lost days. He wondered how she would take all this life in Cyene. It would be good fun to bring her down, anyway, and hear her talk. He planned such a trip, and grew so interested in the thought he forgot his patient.

In the early dawn Wallace rallied and woke. Herman heard the rustle of the pillow, and turned to find the sick man’s eyes looking at him fixedly, calm but puzzled. Herman’s lips slowly changed into a beautiful boyish smile. “Hello, old man! How do you find yourself?” His hearty, humorous greeting seemed to do the sick man good. Herman approached the bed. “Know where you are?” Wallace slowly put out a hand, and Herman took it. “You’re coming on all right. Want some breakfast? Make it bucks?” he said, in Chicago restaurant slang. “White wings–sunny–one up coff.”

All this was good tonic for Wallace, and an hour later he sipped broth, while Mrs. Allen and the Deacon and Herman stood watching the process with apparently consuming interest. Mattie was still soundly sleeping.

Now began delicious days of convalescence, during which Wallace looked peacefully out at the coming and going of the two women, each possessing powerful appeal to him: one the motherly presence which had been denied him for many years, the other something he had never permitted himself to hope for–a sweetheart’s daily companionship.

He lay there planning his church, and also his home. Into the thought of a new church came shyly but persistently the thought of a fireside of his own, with this young girl sitting in the glow of it waiting for him. His life possessed little romance. He had earned his own way through school and to college. His slender physical energies had been taxed to their utmost at every stage of his climb, but now it seemed as though some blessed rest and peace were at hand.