ll, we may let it stand; and if he
doesna get well, I shall seek counsel o' God before I take a step
farther. In the meantime David is doing his first duty in nursing him;
and David will stay in my house till I see whether it be a case o'
murder or not."

For three weeks there was but the barest possibility of Robert's
recovery. But his youth and fine constitution, aided by the skill of
his physician and the unremitting care of his nurse, were at length,
through God's mercy, permitted to gain a slight advantage. The
discipline of that three weeks was a salutary though a terrible one to
David. Sometimes it became almost intolerable; but always, when it
reached this point, Dr. Morrison seemed, by some fine spiritual
instinct, to discover the danger and hasten to his assistance. Life
has silences more pathetic than death's; and the stillness of that
darkened room, with its white prostrate figure, was a stillness in
which David heard many voices he never would have heard in the crying
out of the noisy world.

What they said to him about his wasted youth and talents, and about
his neglected Saviour, only his own heart knew. But he must have
suffered very much, for, at the end of a month, he looked like a man
who had himself walked through the valley and shadow of death. About
this time Dr. Morrison began to drop in for an hour or two every
evening; sometimes he took his cup of tea with the young men, and then
he always talked with David on passing events in such a way as to
interest without fatiguing the sick man. His first visit of this kind
was marked by a very affecting scene. He stood a moment looking at
Robert and then taking David's hand, he laid it in Robert's. But the
young men had come to a perfect reconciliation one midnight when the
first gleam of consciousness visited the sick man, and Dr. Morrison
was delighted to see them grasp each other with a smile, while David
stooped and lovingly touched his friend's brow.

"Doctor, it was my fault," whispered Robert. "If I die, remember that.
I did my best to anger Davie, and I struck him first. I deserved all I
have had to suffer."

After this, however, Robert recovered rapidly, and in two months he
was quite well.

"David," said the minister to him one morning, "your trial is nearly
over. I have a message from Captain Laird to Robert Leslie. Laird
sails to-night; his ship has dropped down the river a mile, and Robert
must leave when the tide serves; that will be