At first he did not know where he was; then he recognized Ruth, and then his father.
How still, how dusky, how clean everything that surrounded him was! Delightful repose stole over him, pleasant weariness soothed every stormy emotion of his heart.

Whenever he opened his eyes, tender, anxious glances met him.

Even when the pain returned he enjoyed peaceful, consoling mental happiness.

Ruth felt this also, and regarded it as a peerless reward.
When she entered the sick-room with fresh linen, and the odor of lavender her dead mother had liked floated softly to him from the clean sheets, he thought his boyhood had returned, and with it the wise, friendly doctor's house.

Elizabeth, the shady pine-woods of his home, its murmuring brooks and luxuriant meadows, again rose before his mind; he saw Ruth and himself listening to the birds, picking berries, gathering flowers, and beseeching beautiful gifts from the "word." His father appeared even more kind, affectionate, and careful than in those days.