Family Pride

"Shall I send for her?" she asked, but Wilford answered: "No, I am satisfied with you," and holding her hand he fell away to sleep.

This was the first day of her being with him, but there were other days when he was not so quiet, when all her strength and that of Morris, who, at her earnest solicitation, came to her aid, was required to keep him on his bed. He was going home, he said, going back to Katy's; he had punished her long enough, and like a giant he writhed under a force superior to his own, and which held him down and controlled him, while his loud outcries filled the buildings, and sent a shudder to the hearts of those who heard them. As the two men, who at first had occupied the room with him, were well enough to leave for home, Marian and Morris both begged that unless absolutely necessary no other one should he sent to that small apartment, where all the air was needed for the patient in their charge. And thus the room was left alone for Wilford, who grew worse so fast that Morris wrote to Katy, while Marian followed the letter with a telegram, bidding her come at once.

* * * * * Slowly the wintry night was passing, the fifth since Morris' letter was sent to Katy, and Morris sat by Wilford's cot, wondering if the morning would bring her to him, when suddenly he met Wilford's eyes fixed upon him with a look of recognition he could not mistake.

"Do you know me?" he asked, so kindly and with so much of genuine sympathy in his voice that the heavy eyelids quivered for an instant, as Wilford nodded his head, and whispered: "Dr. Grant."

There had been a momentary flash of resentment when he saw who was the watcher beside him, but Wilford was too weak, too helpless to cherish that feeling long, and besides there were floating through his still bewildered mind visions of some friendly hand, which had ministered to him daily, of a voice and form, distinct from the one he thought an angel's, and which was not there now with him. That voice, that form, he felt sure belonged to Morris Grant, and remembering his past harshness toward him, a chord of gratitude was touched, and when Morris took his hand he did not at once withdraw it, but let his long, white fingers cling around the warm, vigorous ones, which seemed to impart new life and strength.

"You have been very sick," Morris said, anticipating the question Wilford would ask, "You are very sick still, and at the request of your nurse I came to attend you."