But his hardy constitution triumphed over the foe, and in a week's time from the night he first set foot across the threshold of Figeon's Farm he was held to be out of danger, though excessively weak and ill.
During the long nights when his hostess had watched beside him, thinking that he was either unconscious or delirious, Paul had seen and heard more than she knew.

He had heard her read, as if to herself, strange and beautiful words from a book upon her knee--words that had seemed full of peace and light and comfort, and which had sunk into his weary brain with strangely soothing power.

Some of these same words were not quite unfamiliar to him--at least he knew their equivalents in the Latin tongue; but somehow when spoken thus in the language of everyday life, they came home to him with tenfold greater force, whilst some of the sweetest and deepest and most comforting words were altogether new to him.
And as his strength revived, Paul's anxiety to hear more of such words grew with it; and one forenoon, as his nurse sat beside him with her busy needle flying, he looked up at her and said, "You do not read out of the book any more, and I would fain hear those wonderful words again." "I knew not that you had ever heard." "Yes, I heard much, and it seemed to ease my pain and give me happy thoughts.

It is a beautiful and a goodly book.

May I not hear more ?" "I would that all the world might hear the life giving words of that book, Paul," said the good woman with a sigh.