He was weary, and at last he longed to find the line of least resistance and follow it; he had done hard things for a long time, but now he wanted to do something easy.
Under the new genius--who was already urging that the paper should be made a daily--the "Herald" could get along without him; and the "White-Caps" would bother Carlow no longer; and he thought that Kedge Halloway, an honest man, if a dull one, was sure to be renominated for Congress at the district convention which was to meet at Plattville in September--these were his responsibilities, and they did not fret him.
Everything was all right.

There was only one thought which thrilled him: his impression that she had come to the hospital to see him was not a delusion; she had really been there--as a humane, Christian person, he said to himself.

One day he told Meredith of his vision, and Tom explained that it was no conjuration of fever.
"But I thought she'd gone abroad," said Harkless, staring.
"They had planned to," answered his friend.

"They gave it up for some reason.

Uncle Henry decided that he wasn't strong enough for the trip, or something." "Then--is she--is she here ?" "No; Helen is never here in summer.