rd upon his bed and sounded a quick
alarm. All that night Stormfield sat beside him, his eyes grave, his
brow furrowed anxiously. At intervals a woman came to the door, then at
a sign from the watcher disappeared noiselessly. Thereafter Murray was
never left alone.

A day or two later he complained of this over-attention, saying that the
nurse's constant presence annoyed him, but Stormfield paid no attention.
After a time the physician startled him by inquiring, abruptly:

"See here, Murray, what did you take?"

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you do."

"Why--What makes you think I took anything?"

"Come, come! I'm a specialist; I have some intelligence."

There was a pause, then the sick man finally admitted, "I took
twenty-five grains of cocaine."

"_Twenty-five grains!_ God! It's incredible! Eight grains is the largest
dose on record. You're dreaming, or else the drug was stale."

"I was particular to see that it was fresh."

Stormfield paced the room, shaking his head and muttering. "I wouldn't
dare report such a thing; I'd be called a faker, and yet--there are no
hard-and-fast laws of medicine." He stopped and stared at his patient.
"What the devil prompted you to do it--with such a wife?"

"That's just it," the latter cried, miserably. "Oh, you've done for her
a great injury by saving me, Doctor. But I won't allow it. I--won't!"

"I see!" The doctor went to the door, where he motioned some one to
enter.

A woman rose from her chair in the hall and came swiftly to the bedside.
Her face showed the signs of a long and sleepless vigil, but her eyes
were aflame with a hunger that held Butler Murray spellbound and amazed.

"_You!_" he said, weakly. "When did you come?"

"I have been here for days," she answered. "Did you think I could stay
away?"

"My--Muriel." He held up his shaking arms, whereupon she knelt and took
his tired head to her breast.

"I thought I was doing right," he confided, after he had told her
everything, "but I see now that I was all wrong."

"God will name the day," she declared, simply, "and until He does no man
can say 'I will.'"

"Are you quite sure you have acted wisely in showing me my folly?
Remember we are poor. Even yet I might make you rich again, for there is
time, and--I'm not worth this great sacrifice."

"Sacrifice? This is the day of our triumph, dear. When we had all those
other riches we never knew contentment, love, or happiness. Now we can
start again, with