Then he passed through the crisis and got better, and I thanked God, thinking that my prayers had been answered; oh, how happy I was for those ten days! And then this happened:--My brother got a chill, a relapse followed, and in three days he was dead.

The last words that he spoke to me were, 'Oh, don't let me die, Bee!'-- he used to call me Bee--'Please don't let me die, dear Bee!' But he died, died in my arms, and when it was over I rose from his side feeling as though my heart was dead also.

I prayed no more after that.

It seemed to me as though my prayers had been mocked at, as though he had been given back to me for a little while in order that the blow might be more crushing when it fell." "Don't you think that you were a little foolish in taking such a view ?" said Geoffrey.

"Have you not been amused, sometimes, to read about the early Christians ?--how the lead would not boil the martyr, or the lion would not eat him, or the rain from a blue sky put out the fire, and how the pagan king at once was converted and accepted a great many difficult doctrines without further delay.